Three stooges

The dark haired Eyulf smiles as he sips the red wine in front of him.
“Do you think those three adventurers will give Dovmont much trouble?”
The hunch-backed and grey Rhold bares his yellow teeth in response. “Unlikely. There were only three of them with no magical support. Their only healer is a Paladin and I hobbled him with that cursed sword!”
Staring through his crystal glass into the roaring fire of the living room, Eyulf falls silent for a moment. “This little wheeze of yours has served us well for the last few years. Tricking small groups of idiot adventures into facing a much larger force than they had prepared for, having them killed and taking their stuff but…”
Rhold smiles again. “What’s wrong old friend? Do you have one of your ‘bad feelings’? Don’t worry. Not one adventurer has returned in all the years we’ve been doing this. Dovmont’s Redshirt clan has never failed us. ”
Eyulf’s smile slips now though. “But these three were part of a larger group. A group that was able to kill that sea serpent. What will we do if they get help? What will we do if they return?”
Rhold’s smile falters a little. “They will not survive, but even if they do, we have my guards, my magic and your knives. Trust me, we’ll be fine.”