“Yeh, that’s right, always heard some hot temper was good for the humours,” Astrid says. Taking the piss.

She scrutinises the tableau, however, pondering the scene. She has very little concept of desecrating the dead; her clan’s burial practices alone might be considered desecration to an Andrastian. Axe to bone, blood smeared on the rock, limbs scattered.

So she considers, then she reaches out and sneakily adjusts a set of fingers.

One of the standing bodies is now giving a thumbs up.