Centaur tastes like.... Chicken!

So turns out the guy is alright. He didn't stab me, I didn't shoot him, everyone is happy. He did, however, try to warn me not to hang around the dungeon, which was nice. There was a hint of unsteadiness in his voice when he said, but nothing to speak of. It was like he had more than one reason for warning me. Oh well. If he wasn't going to stab me, I wasn't gong to complain.

I moved my hand away from my holster, since the man was obviously not going threaten me. He strode past as he re-sheathed his sword, so I followed out of the dungeon. The smell was beginning to get to me anyway, and, quite honestly, I had two choices: Stay to find out if something other than this guy had killed those centaur, or gone with the man who may have been strong enough to take on two centaur... I voted the latter, for obvious reasons.

We walked out of the dungeon and over toward the fire pit. In the twilight, I could see that the camp was set up recently, as there were still bits of it packed up in the man's bag. It looked like the man was planning on venturing into the cavernous dungeon ahead, which worked just fin for me, since that was the direction I was heading in anyway. How could I possibly pass up the chance of joining forces with a seemingly ridiculously powerful individual when faced with untold amounts of danger?

So I said, "So since neither of us are making a big deal about our being here, and obviously neither of us consider the other to be a threat to our respective persons - i.e. you're not shot, I'm not stabbed - I believe an introduction is order. You already know my name, but my full one at that is Reginald Bligh Falstaff. I am pleased to make your acquaintance! Let's be comrades!"

Maybe that was coming on a bit strong, but hey, given the circumstances, I would have asked to be friends with a retarded bipolar crack junky if he could heft an axe and save me from the odd threat. Besides, imagine the conversations we could pseudo-have!

Anyway, I did thrust forth my hand and he accepted it. We shook and he introduced himself as Ferron. Just Ferron. I'm not sure if there's more to it than that or not, I mean, I gave him MY full name, but not everyone kisses on the first date, right? Anyway all thoughts of the intentions of this Ferron, or the limits of his divulgence, were set on the back-burners when he offered me meat.

Yes!

Yes yes yes yes YES.

Lord, you have no idea how hungry I was when I hopped out of that cab. I doesn't seem to matter how many dead carcasses I come across my apatite needs sating, so I was super happy when big scary Ferron decided to share with me some of his burnt jerky. Tasted a lot like chicken for being pseudo-horse meat...

Next time on "Reginald's Recipe's": Join me as we hunt for rare and delectable dungeon fare, mysterious meats your mom's fridge would be jealous of, and stumble into adventure on the way! Till then,

Reggie

Seriously, MORE Carcasses?

I could smell two things, one delicious, one decidedly not...
As I was walking up to the dungeon entrance, a fire was burning just outside. The good smell was coming from a spit hanging over it, but the near-fetid smell of old meat was growing increasingly powerful as the relative distance to the dungeon threshold lessened.

The makeshift campsite was devoid of life at the time, the only thing resembling life being the hunk of meat charring with each flame tongue licking the blackening skin. The setup looked pretty recent though, and since there was no one outside (with the exception of Mr. Rotting Boar), reason dictated the owner of the campsite would be inside, and not too far away. Maybe if I'm wandering in, I should do so cautiously...

A silhouetted man, and a moderately large on at that, was bent over what appeared to be carcasses. MORE carcasses? Seriously? I'm not sure I like the amount of death surrounding this place...  Without being too abrupt, I called out to the man, maintaining an appropriate distance so as not to fall victim to the possible blade of a possibly surprised person (possibly a person?).

"He- hello? Helloooooo?" The man didn't seem to move too much, so I ventured slightly closer, calling again, "Hi there, I'm Reginald. Is that your site out there? the one with the burning flesh- ha!"
Reginald tripped over a hoof on the ground. Attached to a body. Of a horse. Well, kind of anyway... I supposed it was a horse-man, a centaur if you will. Regaining my composure, I patiently awaited the reply of the man before me, leather-clad hand on my gun's holster.

Hopefully I won't have to use it.

Till Muse yields News,

Reggie

Before the Entrance

My driver had to stop outside of the dungeon ahead, for fear of moving closer to the source of the disfigured boar-man located outside. What could have caused such a transformation in what I can only hazard a guess at as previously being a man? Strips of gold swirl around the body, through the hair, on the skin, and traces could be seen inside the mouth now agape and gathering flies. I tipped my driver and he headed off back in the direction of town. I suppose that the dungeon is the only logical destination now... since there isn't really a suitable location to set up camp outside or make arrangements before heading in... oh well.

Just before the disfigured form on the ground rested a taxi car, doors ajar and trunk open. The window had been smashed in, or maybe smashed out? Smashed out seemed to make more sense since the fragments of glass - the likes of which seemed to have previously belonged to the now obvious hole in the windshield - now lay on the hood. At a glance I could tell it had been rifled through by someone in search of something as the various compartments inside were open and their contents strewn. There were even marks on the ground hinting at the likelihood that someone had probed the undercarriage for what it was that they were after.

Whether it was robbers searching for valuables or an owner seeking a lost item, I couldn't tell, but the search had been thorough. The trunk was also, and notably so, empty. Devoid of any material. Pristinely kept even. You could have eaten from the floor of it (assuming you liked traces of carpet fuzz, I guess... the point is that it was super clean). It looked like whoever it was had vacated, anyway, so I didn't mind checking the cab myself. Judging by the amassing flies on the pig-type-man's gilded body the place hadn't been frequented lately, and that the clothes near him were of a driver of some sort, and that my cabby seemed fairly frightened by the scene, I was willing to wager that no one had seen or heard anything about this (or simply not cared, or was too afraid to believe it maybe?) and so no one would really mind my going through the things of a person dead and without interested relations.

Curses. It looked like it really was stripped of anything useful to anyone other than a cab driver. There was mini-LED located in the glove box so I hooked that onto a belt loop, but not much else... Not even a rope or breakdown kit! Either the people who were here before me took everything of value or this cabby was seriously ill-equipped to deal with whatever event might occur... I hope this guy was a AAA member ... -_-

I set off towards the dungeon ahead, satchel slung over my shoulder, staff in hand, gun in holster, and heavy sighs out of the way. Stepping over the poor bastard who looked like he was once a person, I marched over the entrance, contemplative. What fate awaited me if the ugly, dead mug of that were-boar-thing was any indication of the average end met those whose curiosity gripped them more than their wits?

Mostly I was thinking about how much more ironic it would be if his curiosity had him turned into a feline form. Then I hummed happily at my self-amusement. The world is a funny place if you're willing to listen to it's jokes ^^

Until my Muse strikes next,

(preferably without the involvement of spiky objects)

Reggie