Posts from [GROUP] Feanor and Slırr Auto-translated

As Sligra was slowly being dragged along, the horses began to move forward at a slow pace.

Sliirr, who seemed to have resigned himself to his fate, only let out a quiet whimper as another stone hit his rear. And the goblin's eyes couldn't help but notice Feanor's strange actions.
- The wet mage is trying to escape! Look! - Sliirr shouted, - Stop him before it's too late!
Of course, he wasn't doing it for no reason. The goblin naively believed that in return, they might let him go. Or, at worst, they wouldn't throw him off the tower.

Ceres let go of Sligar, causing him to bump into the stone path. --Hey, wait, where are you going?

“Oh, I’ll get you for this someday, Slaer!” Feanor shouted, kicking the horses even harder, and they began to gallop faster.

You don't know how they started galloping. Well, let it be.
Ceres didn't manage to grab the horse by the reins, but instead, she knocked Fëanor out of the cart with a powerful air blast.
--You'll learn! -- she said maliciously.

Sliirr, taking advantage of the moment, tries to quietly crawl away.

“Hey, you, simpleton!” Feanor shouts at him. “I couldn’t escape on horseback, so how could you possibly escape by crawling!”

Peyramat's assistant held Sligr firmly by the legs. "I'll help now!" Cerea shouted to him. Together, they dragged Sligr into the tower, into a special dungeon. Feanor waited for his turn. Well, it seems they can't form a cohesive team yet!

After waiting for the assistant and Cerera to leave, Sllirr started banging on the grate (or door) with all his might. After all, it had worked last time.

But not this time: unfortunately, the door wasn't magical. The dungeon was made of stone, and the door was wooden with metal parts. There was one bed and a metal mug: rusty and crooked, with a broken rim. There was a small window, about three or four meters above the floor.

- Nasty mages, - grumbled Sligar, climbing up the wall towards the window, - why won't they leave Sligar alone?

Fingers slipped: the stone masonry was, unfortunately, too wet for such maneuvers.
Feanor was grabbed and placed there as well.
“Well, can you manage on your own?” Cerera’s voice came from behind the door.
“I probably can’t, but I hope the teacher will come soon and help. Maybe even today.”

Another crazy escape plan popped into Feanor's head: wait half an hour, lift the bed, and place it vertically against the wall, put a mug on top of it, climb onto it, and break the window with his fist.

The plan could have actually worked: the bed was the perfect height. But it was too heavy: some parts were metal, some were wood, made of damp, old timber. It would be difficult to turn it over alone.

Realizing that he couldn't move this bed on his own, Feanor told Sligir his plan and asked for help.