Jamfoogle was completely taken aghast by the sudden developments. He had just somewhat been loitering around and relaxing his muscles when the last of the spiders had fallen. And a pair of survivors had come forth from what he assumed was the inn's kitchen. He prepared to bask in praise for all the lifesaving and heroism he had just engaged in, and was somewhat surprised when he heard it cut short. He looked over and saw the Half-orc, which he had assumed to be just a fellow adventurer, decapitate the woman in cold blood.<br/><br/>He drew his bow and let loose another snap-shot. It was instinct more than anything, for he had always fancied himself a fanciful hero and a protector of the innocent. To his dismay, his shot failed to hit its mark, and the brute faced him. There was a brief glare, and the contempt thrown his way was enough to be completely palpable.<br/><br/>Jamfoogle was about to go off on a rant when the child, of all people, started speaking some sort of gutteral language. The orc set off in conversation in this same unsettling language. Jamfoogle tried his best, but he had no idea what to make of it, or why the child seemed more annoyed than scared right now. As the two of them walked off to the kitchen, Jamfoogle followed in pursiot, an arrow still notched on his bow.<br/><br/>The kitchen was at an odd contrast to the main room of the tavern. There were signs of a struggle, but the spider that had gone in there was nowhere to be seen. Jamfoogle would have wondered about that if he didn't have other matters to worry about right now.<br/>Hey you mongrel! He called out to the half-orc. "I didn't go through all that trouble of figthing those spiders just so you can go and murder the survivors anyway!" the gnome was visbly quite angry, and somewhat uncaring about the size difference between him and durzol.