Murder in the dark. A most thirsty type of work

Taking a moment to review the mad swirl of activity that had just occured, Werner absent mindedly wiped his hands on his jerkin, further spreading gore around. Finally reaching the present in his reverie he looked with distaste at the bloody mess that had been sprayed, tossed, and thrown around.

"This is worse than a blindman's abbatoir...." his half jest died towards the end. The enormity of what had just happened settled in a bit more. Their had indeed been some cack handed butchers in here....there still where. What a terrible thing they had wrought. He suddenly felt the intense need for a drink. Perhaps....

Forgetting for a moment that their explosion of activity might draw attention, Werner turned towards searching the room. A tankard that had fallen half upright against a toppled stool looked promising. Picking it up he swirled the fluid in the bottom of the wooden vessel for a moment, suspiciously. Didn't look too thick, and the foam, well, it probably was a trick of the flickering right that suggested some pink in there.

He tipped his head and threw back the feeble amount of beer. It seemed like the best beer he had ever quaffed and a wave of warmth and relaxation washed over his body. As the last of the beer trickled down his throat he discovered a lump of something left behind and quickly spat it out, unwilling to dwell on what it could be. He turned back to searching the room.