The road back to town had been arduous and rather
pungent. Thankfully an unscheduled downpour had washed Bungo and Shallica’s
forms free of the heady mixture of greasy sweat, mud, and raw sewage.
The barbarian trudged into Derrowville and headed
straight towards the inn in a daze of exhaustion. He was still cradling
Shallica’s unconscious form, although in truth she had come to her senses some
time ago, and was merely staying quiet and feigning stretching in her sleep
intermittently as an excuse to variously grope and fondle Bungo’s herculean
physique.
Heedless of this, Bungo casually booted down the inn
door and lurched through the entrance. As his sleepy eyes adjusted to the dark
interior, he almost tripped headlong over the festering corpse of the Sauranite
Warrior he had vanquished almost a week earlier. It seemed that the
lizard-beast’s generous frame had proven too much for the villagers to move
unaided, and they had simply given up halfway across the room. With no other option open to them, they had
dressed the grim remnants with furs in an attempt to disguise them as some kind
of beer-hall bench.
It wasn’t very convincing.
With little energy left and in dire need of sleep;
Bungo climbed the creaking stairs to his room. He laid Shallica down on the
rough-hewn wooden bed; before dropping like a stone to the hard mattress with a
hollow thump and falling into a feverish sleep.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“My belly-box is empty! I need food!” Roared the
barbarian; the words were muffled by a huge mouthful of what the Innkeeper
described only as “Hero Sausage”, but realistically might well have been made
of the Sauranite’s processed remains. Bungo had awoken with a huge appetite and
had seated himself in the tavern; surreptitiously ordering every single item on
the menu and two of anything with meat in it. His words were accompanied by a
generous spray of half eaten offal as the rubbery foodstuffs escaped his
enthusiastic mouth.
Shallica had been dazedly watching the excessive overeater
for over an hour. In truth there had been several times when a crowd had begun
to gather to stare at the outlandish spectacle that was Bungo eating breakfast,
but she had chased them away; variously biting and scrabbling any who dared to
overstay their welcome. She was determined not to share him with anyone else,
and had barely tolerated the innkeeper’s presence, who was sweating nervously
on the other side of the bar, and had been quietly praying for the outlandish
pair to move on before he had another suspiciously smelly “beer-bench” to worry
about.
As the barbarian finished off a particularly chewy
chunk of sausage that curiously seemed to have scales, his meal was interrupted
by the sound of approaching hoof beats. The loud clacking sound came to an end
just outside of the saloon door. There was the tell-tale noise of someone
dismounting, followed by footsteps across the shoddy wooden decking. A moment
later the tavern was bathed in light as the doors were flung open and a tall figure
strode into the room.
Clad in a long black cape and wide-brimmed
traveller’s hat; the man was somewhat conspicuous to say the least. Bungo eyed
the new arrival’s grizzled face with interest as he approached the innkeeper
and they entered into a hushed conversation. Their whispered words were lost
entirely to Bungo; drowned out by the loud smacking noise as he heartily
slurped another sausage down.
It wasn’t until the innkeeper gestured reluctantly
in the barbarian’s direction and the man began to move towards him that Bungo
realised something was wrong. It was at that moment he noticed the large copper
medallion hanging around the man’s neck.
“A bounty hunter?” the question hung in the air for
a second, but was soon answered; the dark stranger drew a rapid-fire crossbow
from under his cowl and took aim right between Bungo’s eyes.
