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Fortunately, by the time the Tortle tossed the great maul Alandra had sheathed her longsword. 

She hadn’t said anything else beyond her reminder to mend any wounds the goblins had if they truly sought to interrogate the creatures. As her hands caught the maul she looked at it closely before simply tossing it into the back of the wagon alongside the rest of the assorted items. She knew how to use a maul like most martial weapons, though she never had a taste for it. Two-handed weapons took up too much energy and she couldn’t use her shield in her off-hand. It was in her mind as the rest discussed things about the goblins and whatever else that she’d just pawn it off for a few gold pieces when she had the chance to do so.

She didn’t know Ironheart particularly well, or any of her fellows for that matter, so she didn’t have much of a reaction when the Tortle moved the body to the pyre he had constructed. Her late mentor would’ve agreed with his methods. Letting the man bleed out and writhe in pain in the back of the cart as they carried on would not do either of them any good. It was better to bring him to his gods and ease his suffering before they reconciled with the task at hand. Alandra had morals of a good person in her heart, but she was no fool. Perhaps had she known Ironheart better she would’ve interjected and insisted about his life or how he wished to be buried.

She took a breath as she turned back toward the conversation about goblins as her elf-like companion spoke, albeit coldly, about the task at hand.


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