To be honest, Pompulion had never been on the recieving end of a shadeling. For every occasion that he found the need for them they were used to achieve things that didn't require his presence, and now seeing their handiwork up close; he had a newfound respect for them, the sort born of fear.
And with the mention of this Manskinner, he realized he must be located near the barbaric nomads of this region. Pompulion was weary of barbarians, they always proved to be the unpredictable sort, yet if he wanted any chance to hold some power here he would need to know who he was up against.
"Now it is reasonable to want to avoid one with a name such as that, but would you rather have a murderous madman or live amongst the vile forces of the hells? Now if you would simply point the direction of the lands of the Manskinner, I would be much obliged. I would however ask that you would join me in leaving this foul place, or at the least let me help you bury your fallen." Gesturing in the general direction of the lump of meat that was once a man, not daring to take another look at his twisted form. He realized he would be leaving the shadelings to fend for themselves, but he was sure they wouldn't dare to renege on the pact.
Pompulion asks the hunters the direction to Manskinner's lands, offering to let them join him.