At that moment, two Droxburg guard came walking around the corner, the three blood soaked bodies in full view and the sight of Tumbor stood but feet away.
One of the guard turned to Yulien, the nearest of the companions to him,
“The dwarf do this?” She simply nodded in agreement. “Beyond my pay grade!” he said turning and walking away. His fellow guard did likewise.
“Perhaps we can try being a little more discrete for here on in,” suggested Jax.
“I agree,” nodded Rohlen. “Do you have any suggestions?”
“I say we find ourselves a tavern. I find them to be a good source for overheard gossip and local knowledge.”
“At last,” boomed Tumbor slapping his rotund belly with both hands. “I was beginning to think none of you ate.”
“What of them?” asked Yulien. “Surely you had no plans to just leave them there.”
Before anyone could say anything to the contrary, a weak yet sinister voice interrupted them. It belonged to a raggedy aged fellow with long unkempt white hair. This clothes were torn and ill fitting.
“I shall take care of those, if you like. None will go to waste.” He rubbed his boney hands at whatever idea he had for them.
Rohlen could see his sister evaluating the intentions of the old man, but he knew they could ill afford the time it would take in satisfying her desire that all should be given a proper burial.
“We have no time for empathising with the dead!”
“All life deserve a burial upon their demise.”
“And I’m sure this kind man will see to it they get just that.”
The old man began bouncing up and down on the spot gleefully. “I will, I will,” he repeated over and over.
Reluctantly Yulien conceded and followed her brother in catching up with Jax and Tumbor who had already set off in search of a Tavern. Out of sight she could have heard the old man excitedly repeating,
“Fresh meat for the hound master!”