The elf crept, quietly, into the clearing. The buckles on her armor had been padded with cloth, the shine of the leather muted with a matte finish. The stealth was a precaution, but unnecessary in this instance; the only creatures around to observe were the buzzing flies. Behind the elf padded a large wolf, somewhat less concerned with the noise of its footsteps.
“Killed already,” the elf said to her companion after a brief look around. “All three of them. Someone… some people… beat me to it.”
The elf-ranger surveyed the ruined campsite. “From the looks of the grass here, they’d just completed a raid, probably on that little rest stop down by the river,” she thought aloud. “That probably got the ire of,” and here a pause to check the grass, “humans, I’d guess. And a little-one, a halfling or gnome. Looks like quite a fight, then they carried off the goods that flattened the grass here.”
The ranger knelt by each body in turn. Her wolf gave each corpse a casual sniff, largely uninterested. There’s no good eating on an orc.
“This one… knee broken, shot with a crossbow, skull bashed in. Probably in that order, I guess.” “Swordfight, from the looks of it. Pretty brave to go toe-to-toe with an angry orc.”
“Oh. Oh dear. Ha ha. Look at this, look at this here.” The wolf is more interested in the roasted meat on a stick remaining over the glowing campfire embers. “It looks like someone kicked this one in the stones hard enough to shatter its pelvis. My goodness. And judging from the bloat on his belly, the shattered bone cut him up inside something awful. Whew.”
“I don’t know who would — who could — do something like this to an orc, but I hope to find out someday. I owe whoever it was a beer.”