(Lobo speaks up while trying, in vain, to pat down his hair)
Well, uh, after that little crab incident and then the machine room, I think we deserve something sweet.
(He extracts a jar of honey comb from his backpack and passes it around. Will be counted as one days food rations in game.)
This seems like a suicide mission to me, now. We’re either going to die in here from the monsters or the lizard men are going to find us tomorrow and kill us anyways.
And I’ve never seen one of those gobbo mutant things before. Nasty little things, they were. And then those crossbow-dog-things.
This place is all kinds of fucked up. It’s no wonder those hunters hadn’t come back, what with all the horrible things in here.
This all just feels really bad, kids.
Hopefully those huntsmen don’t start shooting shit at us when we find them. I’m becoming really impatient with this place. I might have to kill them for that. Or maybe they’ve turned into some kind of mutant like those gobbos did. Either way, I’m ready to get the hell out of here. And the sooner the fucking better. I need to find something to get this hair back down; I look like a freak!