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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Kobold Stew" data-source="post: 6251728" data-attributes="member: 23484">Bartleby looks at the corpse on the ground, needlessly dead, and shakes his head. "I'm not sure I am, Tock." He pokes at the open wound, and grimaces."I guess I now have a reason to suggest we bind our wounds and catch our breath for an hour." He smirks. For a second time, he cleans his blade and puts it away. He picks up the old hobgoblin's blade and sheathes it, as a memento."Are we secure? We didn't wait a whole shift, so we don't know what schedule they are on. Does anybody see anything that would let us know when our friends here might be missed?" As he talks through these issues, Bartleby is holding his side, the blood leaking through. Bartleby crosses the room to where the large hobgoblin had emerged, from behind the corner at the end of the room. Is there a door that needs to be shut, or a position that needs to be guarded? As he does so, he passes by the old female's child, the skull helm and feathered spear lying on the ground.</blockquote>