Azog smiles at Aidan. "Yeah, yeah. Meanwhile, i've already scouted the room at a glance, while you're still wrestling with the prehistoric skills to light a fire, in order to see. I guess this is a case of the weak leading the blind. And i'd rather be the weak one, how about you?" Becomming serious, he says: "Monks by the look of them, glass shards in one hand, guessing a potion vial. A bit of parchment in the other, might be your type of thing, that. Some metal on them, which is strange. I didn't think monks used weapons or armor. And no, i'm not refering to fighting monks, but rather the fat, bald, and stupid variety. The kind that lives in a monastery like this one and spends all day praying and stareing at their navels. What intrigues me the most is how they died. They backed a chair up against the door, which held it closed until we came along. So what happenned? This bears investigation." Moving boldly forward, Azog enters the room with the intention of examining the bodies, and especially the metal item. He muses to himself: "Could it be a knife? Did they kill themselves? Why in the hells would they do that. They had blocked the door in order to preserve their lives. Hmmm."