Harbull turned to follow the others further into the mystery. He was the last to see the blood, but he smelled it... along with the vomit and sweat and fear. Sadly it came as little surprise to him... humans seemed to enjoy killing each other as much as Halflings enjoyed... not killing each other.
Back in the Moot murder was a rarity... a loud argument would set the rumour-mill churning for weeks... but since going out in the wider world of Men Harbull had seen a Halfling's lifetime of fist fights, knife fights, beatings and brutality of all sorts... maybe even a killing or two (he couldn't be sure). Somehow he'd been fortunate so far and escaped having much of it visited upon him... though he'd been thoroughly threatened, insulted, catcalled and demeaned... asked to cook and forced to dance. He suspected his size and youth bought him a certain modicum of mercy... or something... but Men are impatient creatures and often seemed annoyed at him for nothing more than an innocent question or exuberant laugh.
He'd discovered the best way to move amongst Men was to keep up a sour demeanor and not look them in the eye... and this was a hard act for a good-natured Halfling to maintain.
He'd happily relaxed that with Werner soon after meeting him... these new partners seemed to be friendly as well... except maybe that Elf, weird thing that it was.
Harbull took up a similar watch in the new room... watching the way behind them, his dagger in hand.
His head raged with questions but he knew it was best, for the moment, to remain silent.