(Scars do not appear to be cause of death –shock ... - Bad Request

trail so unmarred.
But still that familiarity dug deep, an insistent buzz that deep down this
passage, danger lurked.
Well, I never had a sense of self-preservation.
The moment I passed through the arch I could smell it, the stagnant musk of
old magic crumbling with age. The walls of the chamber were unusually
smooth, as if hewn by an unnatural force. Yes, there was enchantment here,
ancient wards that seemed to be binding something tight. I probed a little,
feeling for the little threads, and each spiraled into the center like cobwebs.
It was there in the center of the chamber that it stood: a towering, empty
suit of armor - but the plates were suspended in space as if secured over an
invisible frame. Red veins ran across the length of the metal greaves, and a
huge, double-edged executioner's axe rested in its hand. Engravings
decorated the surface of the armor, the most prominent of which was a
crimson serpent with its wings outspread.
Morte hissed at the sight of that crest.
The armor was archaic and the shoulder blades were just that - a great ridge
of blades sprouting from the shoulder plates. I almost would have taken the
ridged blades as decoration, but they looked too heavy and dangerous to be
anything more than an additional weapon on an already menacing suit of
armor. The armor itself bore dents and other marks of battle and its surface
has been scarred by age and rust. It seemed to carry those pits and gouges
as marks of pride, like a thug whose skin was crisscrossed with his past.
I stepped forward and took a closer look at the battle axe. It was reminiscent
of an executioner's weapon; the head had been forged into the likeness of a
blood-red serpent with its wings outspread, the outstretched wings curling
to become the edges of the axe. The axe itself was huge; even wielded
two-handed it would require tremendous strength to use effectively. Yet it
rested in the disembodied gauntlet of the armor almost casually.
I looked up. The helm resembled the skull of some creature; curved metal
teeth lined the bottom edge of the faceplate, hanging down over empty
space. The helm rested in the air, its interior hidden in shadow.
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