That's just how they strew their enemies in the northern wastes. Haphazardly.
As he wipes the blood and entails of his enemies from his wicked blade, Brom wonders idly about how they do things in other wastes. Frankly, the northern wastes are really cold and Brom's loincloth isn't really doing the trick.
Perhaps, Brom considers, his mighty brow furrowing, there might be some temperate wastes he could relocate to. Or perhaps, even an equatorial waste on a nice island somewhere, with a gentle offshore breeze. And poolside beverage service.
Brom could really strew some corpses in an environment like that.
~ I really shouldn't be left to my own devices...... edgar allen poe i am not.
