The scorpion has been stabbed and chopped, and barely seems viable. When smashed out into the sunlight by nestor, it seems to have lost the use of a few legs. It stays out there, claws up, tail raised... defensive... With no further attack forthcoming, the creature seems to decide discretion is a viable part of valor, and skuttles away (as best it can), to find a less-defended shady spot, perhaps.<br/><br/>The adventurers are left with the quiet of the tomb.