Feel free to skip us over to the cabin.
Jantus and his group arrived promptly as expected, though the cyclops had not imagined so many to be coming. Had Jantus mentioned the number of faces that would be visiting the dead man's grave? Probably, but anything more than an estimate had slipped the Patriarch's mind. So many foreign eyes and faces was somewhat intimidating for the one-eyed leader who dedicated so much time guarding his pack; he knew Jantus to be somewhat peaceful and for the most part harmless, but Jefferson couldn't help but be on his toes. The group was gigantic; whoever this Skoll ghoul had been, he'd been popular as hell.
"Sure," Jefferson replied with a casual shrug of the shoulders. He knew how to be polite and make himself look presentable, but there wasn't much need. This funeral procession would be in and out in no time and the whole thing would be far behind him. His green eye subtly noticed a few strange looks he was receiving, namely from a few youngsters who were clearly less than excited to be there. Perhaps it was strange to them that they were facing yet another cyclops as if he and Jantus were members of some secret alliance.
He straightened his posture and nodded. "Sounds good. There's a smaller cabin a short walk away. The ghouls will be there when we're ready." He smirked some, mostly to himself and his wit, before leading the troupe with his three-legged limp, scars, and all. Had they not known better, perhaps they might have mistaken Jefferson himself for a long, dead ghost who fell to his wounds.