Axol approaches the fallen elk, unsheathing a small blade from his belt. However rotten its flesh was, cooking it would surely make it safer to eat, he'd just have to power through the excruciating torture of stomach aches. Before he could even get near it, however, the creature dissolves into the snow, leaving Axol visibly confused and his stomach displeased. [color=0072bc]"...Perhaps the Gods are trying to dissuade us from harming you further."[/color] He says to himself as he patted an apology to his belly. He then turns to where Rachel and Bromann stood, and is quickly discouraged when he finds no signs of a bread basket on the former's person, but thought it odd that she was very transfixed at her dagger. [color=0072bc][i]"Everyone here's odd... Thankfully, I am of sound mind."[/i][/color]

The sellsword, hungry and dissatisfied with the small battle they had, now bears a scowl on his face, walking towards the rest to regroup. [color=0072bc]"Seems everyone is fine, I don't know about the one with the mechanical friend, though."[/color] He says, responding to Rachel's query as he nodded towards Curly. [color=0072bc]"It was a good fight, though. You. Bromann. Rachel."[/color] He gives each one of them a small nod in spite of his sour mood, but makes no effort to make eye-contact with any. Then, his eyes land on Andrea, remembering the ritual she used and how the dead rose and fought at her command. He ponders quietly for a while, though his brows furrowed with great effort as he thought back on the creatures they slew. 

He turns to Bromann beside him. [color=0072bc]"Weren't they undead, those creatures? Like the ones Andrea summoned?"[/color] Axol asked, not necessarily accusing the pointy-eared woman of further suspicion, but curious on how the others think of her abilities. He still doesn't fully grasp the concept of keeping his voice down, but unlike before, he recognizes that he probably shouldn't have spoken that so loudly, and behind her back. [color=0072bc]"Forgive me. I'm just hungry..."[/color] He then lowers his head, placing one foot after the other as he kept himself quiet, not wanting to provoke the pointy-eared woman with his brash behavior. Though his mind kept bickering questions at him... [color=0072bc][i]"Could she bring Aena back? Should she be brought back? What would she say to me... What would I even say to her?"[/i][/color]

Suddenly, he sprints. The snow on his boots flying as he ran with a speed that seemed unfit for his size. He quickly crouches down in front of a fallen soldier, whose body is eaten away by snow and time. [color=0072bc]"Ale!"[/color] Axol screamed at the top of his lungs, turning to his companions with a smile so wide it seemed uncanny. Without a second to lose, he snatches the flask from the corpse's belt and removes the cap, then chugs it down like it was water. He then got up and walked back to the others, still drinking from the stolen treasure. The sellsword withdraws his lips momentarily from the cold metal to speak. [color=0072bc]"Not ale. Wine. Good enough."[/color] Then he dove back down, slower this time, relishing the taste and warmth it brought to his belly.