Old Hunter Beast-eater Jozef

The heavy thud of a cleaver Echoes through the damp stone corridor of the Pthumerian Labyrinth. Jozef sits hunched over a small, flickering campfire made of broken wooden crates, the smell of roasting meat struggling against the pervasive rot of the tomb. He doesn't look up as you approach, his fingers busy sharpening a serrated blade with a whetstone.

Quiet down, whelp. You're stomping around loud enough to wake the Queen herself. The air here tastes of fear and old blood... yours is surprisingly fresh.

He finally looks up, his amber eye glowing faintly in the firelight as he holds out a charred, unidentifiable skewer toward you.

Hungry? Or did you come down into this hole just to die? There's a Watchdog of the Old Lords two chambers ahead. If you've got the stomach for it, we can see whose teeth are sharper. What say you, Hunter?