Before the night is up, Rasereit does the dirty task of stripping the bodies of everything: clothes, weapons, rings, everything. He does his best to clean them of blood and folds them neatly to put inside each person's packs. The valuables he keeps, probably planning to pawn them in the next city, unless someone of greater moral scruples objects strongly. He does his best to remember the names of each individual and their intended final destination, so that some of their belongings and remains can be passed on in the next city.
He also says a few words for the dead in the Dog's name, "Nah that ye're truly free, follow that great Mutt 'ome, ye hear?" He sighs and shakes his head, "'Tis sick, that's what it is. Body snatchin', innocent simple folk like that, sick. If that's what this weapon causes, Ah'm glad Ah came along t'ensure that it's destroyed."
On the trail, Rasereit laments the deaths of the wagoners, but he recovers pretty quickly. "Ah seen a lot o' death in me short life s'far. These were bad, but not the worst Ah seen. At least 'twas quick."
About the time to stop for lunch, Rasereit points out a large, misshapen boulder in the trees. He leans down to Ogrin and says, "Oi, mate, say... Does 'at rock look a bit like a dwarven babe t'ye? Aye, Ah'd say it bears a strikin' resemblance t'an ugly li'l dwarven brat..." Indeed, the boulder does resemble a squat, fat baby.
Rasereit takes leave of the party during lunch, "Gotta look into somethin' me second pa tol' meh 'bout." He comes back an hour later with a grin on his face and a handful of lumps of some kind of dark metal in his hand. "Adamantine, righ' where 'e said it'd be! Jus' waitin' for someone who knew where t'look! Looks t'be enough for more'n a couple o' arrow'eads, eh? Ah'll bet Ah can peddle this off in a city for three hundred gold pieces, easy."
To Ogrin he whispers, "An' this is jus' what Ah could loose with me axehead, there's a good chunk o' the stuff in there, an' what's more, me pa told me there'a 'uge deposits buried away in the mountains. In the clanhold, they kept records o' the veins, an' wit' those books in our 'ands, we're 'alfway t'never endin' riches, mate." He winks as he tosses a lump of adamantine in the air and catches it. The dwarf seems to have all but forgotten the horrible events of last night.
[sblock=OOC: ]Spending 1 DM credit on Razh for 300 gold, and hopefully setting up some background for Wik's adventure.[/sblock]