And then he [Bedivere] threw the sword into the water as far as he might, and there came an arm and a hand above the water, and met it and caught it, and so shook it thrice and brandished. And then the hand vanished away with the sword in the water.

Stop following me, you creep!

You're only corpse camping if your standing there waiting to attack again when they come for what's left of their gear.

Far away, on the stony garrigues by the fading light of the harvest moon one could hear the musical calling of wolves.