The smell inside the tent is unpleasant to say the least: a nauseating odor both sweet and sharp, like a combination of unction, dried roses and spoiled milk. On the left side of the tent there's heavy breathing coming from two unconscious dwarves lying on stretchers. On the right side there's an apparatus distilling some clear liquid from some over sized insect. In front of you there's the corpse of a tall dwarf with a lump on his chest lying in a weird pose. Thick black blood drips from his mouth, which is being distended by a metal and leather contraption covering his head.
For a moment, the lump stirs and a steady stream of bubbly blood gushes from the corpse's mouth and nostrils. "OOOOOOOoooooooAAAH got 't, khekekekeeeee."
Suddenly, three ribs burst through the dwarf's chest and a metal object violently ejects the body, covering most of the tent's inside in bloodsplatters and landing in the back. An insectoid paw quickly contracts back in. The lump starts moving upwards, making the neck swell a grotesque size. In a flood of gore and stomach acid a flat worm protrudes itself from the mouth, sliding behind the table.
After a short whisper, a cloaked figure the size and shape of a halfling sticks his head up, facing the back of the tent. It walks away and picks up the object. As it stretches its wiry ivory arm high, you can see it's an arrowhead it's holding. "AAAAAAAhhhhh yeeesshhh RodddGGGGRRRRik, just in time. Kaytiss will be pleeeeeaaaaaaaased, yeeeeEEEEEESH," it says in a voice going from high-pitched to guttural, with the harsh consonants in Rodric's name sounding like someone is trying to saw through a brick with a bonesaw.