Fanlomen had expected ... well, anything that wasn't this, really. It was truly horrifying, in all the possible meanings of the word. He didn't blame the others for turning away, or for their more severe reactions. The very air around the elf seemed to crackle as his mental state threatened to unhinge slightly. I am in control, I am my own master. My mind is my own, and I am its master. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, and even though the pungent smell of death and corruption filled his nose, he fell back on his training. I am here because it is my duty. I am stronger than the evil before me. The presence of the bull displays the urgency, and is the first solid clue we have found. There is nothing to fear. Fanlomen opened his eyes in time to see Set put the animal out of his misery. A kind act, Fanlomen thought to himself. The animal had experienced more suffering than even being slaughtered for food could have brought upon it.

As everyone else backs away from the stench and the awful sight, Fanlomen observes and examines. He attempts to guess the age of the wounds, though he admittedly knows that the presence of flies and maggots was telling that this was no recent event. The nature of the cuts themselves were obvious to him any everyone around him. Putting that together was a poor sign for their investigation though. The cultists may be entrenched in this town deeper than he had thought, if a family with 'more money than sense' was supporting or abetting cultists.

Fanlomen finally speaks for the first time after this whole ordeal, loudly enough so that those who are seeking the comfort of fresh air can hear him as well. "Should we attempt to show Chief Moeller what has happened here, or should we dispose of ... the carcass?"