“A grand display of monumental proportions,” a voice said from an unknown location. “The great halls shall be full of heroic tales telling of your deeds this day.”
“Reveal yourself stranger,” replied Tumbor climbing to his feet, axe at hand. “What would you know of the Great Halls?”
“No consequence. But all that spilled blood will soon attract real predators.”
The dwarf laughed. “So the predator now becomes the prey.”
“You ignorant fool,” relied the mysterious voice, changing location. “She may have been inquisitive, may have even bashed you about a bit, but she was no predator!”
“Who are you calling a fool? And of course she, it was a predator. Look at those talons, look at my armour.”
“You’re the fool,” said the voice, this time coming from behind him. “Those talons are for hooking tree branches so as to get to lush foliage, also raking up roots from below the water.”
A small human-shaped figure appeared upon a tree branch, well out the way of Tumbor’s reach. His appearance was obscured by a hooded cloak, that cast his face in shadow, but there was no doubting him to be a Kender. Any weapons he may have were also well hidden.
“That’s right, she was a herbivore. The mighty dwarf has slain himself a plant eater.”
Tumbor huffed and began mumbling dwarven expletives to himself once more, heading back in the direction he thought was right.
“Going back to Greshfell are you?”
The dwarf grumbled louder and changed direction, trudging through the swamp water concious of the fact a small humanoid cloaked figure was following him through the tree branches.