The last remainder of the dwarves run away screaming. They had not expected this small 'hunting' trip to turn into a massacre. One of the dwarves manages to climb upon a ledge, turns to the group and shouts some profusive language in the native tongue of the dwarves. One last middle finger and he turns around, jumping out of sight.

The camp, or at least what was left of it was rather small. Other then two cages there was also a campfire, a cooking pot with something weird bubbling in it. Probably a dwarven dish. Not the most culinary feat... Also a couple of small crates probably containing basic Dweller supplies. The most useful thing in the camp would probably a attachable flashlight that runs of a small personal container of Whale Oil. The dwarves were clearly scouting out the ruins before they were so rudely interrupted.