[b]sheogorath
[b]and i say to myself, what a wonderful world
Hunting had been sloppy, mostly given his habit of rambling and scaring prey away, much to the annoyance of his companion, but an NPC had accompanied him upon asking anyways, and for that Sheogorath was grateful. Together, the pair hauled a deer carcass back into town, an arrow wound piercing the skull. The NPC had said it was better to use arrows than bullets, because a gunshot could spoil the bone, splinter it to pieces, and Sheogorath had said that he held the desire to keep the skull for himself as decoration, and a trophy for his first successful hunt in nearly half a year.
They lit a large cooking fire upon the beach, as the NPC taught Sheogorath how to skin and butcher the animal, and, placing a makeshift, forged metal grill atop the blaze, gently placed slabs of meat on top. Over time, it began to sizzle, and the smell of it drifted throughout the seaside town. Sheogorath's mouth watered, he had always enjoyed the taste of deer, though it was a delicacy he hardly ever got to enjoy. There were so few hunters in the Badlands, most people just scavenged their food, though over time, the store shelves grew increasingly bare of preserved canned goods and stale chips. Now, hunting was more important than ever, and perhaps a garden would be nice as well. The NPC had run off to fetch an assortment of clay plates and silverware they had crafted themselves, and returned shortly afterwards with a smile upon their face. The meat had been cooking for quite some time. It was time to eat.
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