Euon eyed the crumpled dead goblin at his feet. Then he eyed his walking stick. It was the first time Euon'd brained a creature with the stick, and he felt sick. A wave of nausea washed over him, and he threw up. Recovering, Euon turned slowly to Davaros. His own voice seemed to him to be tinny, a thousand miles away, and the words came like molasses in winter. "I think we are not done. There are more creatures just outside the inn's courtyard. Unless they have run? We should investigate."