I hear the drums echoing tonight

The job of a naturalist and observer of tribal cultures is not always easy. I would point your attention, gentles, towards my current exploration of the native cultures of exotic...Steelhead City.



I arrive and the ritual is already in progress. I observe for some moments before I feel I properly understand the meaning beyond their strange and unusual movements.



I watch them carefully, making no sudden moves, matching their dances to the best of my ability.



Success! They seem to accept me! Perhaps I will be invited deeper into the heart of the tribe, to experience their exotic wonders, before returning to my homeland.



My attention is briefly drawn by one of the village maids, who has apparently decided to wear strips of patterned cloth wound around her shapely form, in lieu of more understandable attire.

She has a firearm strapped to her thigh. I am vaguely disturbed by this. I wonder to myself where she acquired such weaponry.



I believe then the priestess appeared, spinning in the center of the circle as we bowed and swayed, her servants in dance. Of course, I am not entirely sure of this, but it seems a most logical conclusion.



My attention again wanders, to the side of the dancing floor, where a large stewpot is bubbling away over a blazing fire. My curiosity gets the better of me--I must investigate more closely.



To my shock and horror, a pair of fellow naturalists have been captured and are being stewed alive! Savages!



True Victorians born, they accept their fate with aplomb and utmost grace indeed, holding each other as the flesh boils from their bones.



I do believe I shall depart before dinner is served...in case they had plans to have neko anthropologist for dessert!