Mudluk liked the way this one looked, it being part wet and part dry, like when he squeezed that stuff out of the little Halfing. His stomach gurgled at the thought of food. Food is down stairs and Mudluk is up here on stupid watch. He feared Turdik would feed what was left of the Halfling to the hounds if given the time. Turdik loved his hounds too much. Fresh meat should be for the masters not the hounds. He sighed and extended his arm into a shaft of daylight admiring the glistening creation stuck the tip of his claw. The nonstop bickering between Gamit and Stolud echoed up the dark staircase reinforcing his isolation. His back ached from being hunched over. He scraped off his sculpture on the sill carefully lining it up with his past efforts. The light sliced into the room at about knee height casting long shadows on trash strewn floor. From outside the opening appears to be the dark shadow of an overhanging rock near the apex of the cliff. The chiseled out stone aperature permitted a commanding view of a long forgotten ancient trading route and the approach to the outpost itself. That is if Mudluk would bend over and look out rather than marvel over the production of his nostrils.