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

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It was thick and muggy inside, and the harsh miasma <strong>of</strong> ash and char<br />

thickened the air. The scent was heavy and hot, but my lungs quickly<br />

adjusted with each breath. In the center <strong>of</strong> the bar a series <strong>of</strong> grills gave <strong>of</strong>f<br />

heat and light, flooding the room with an em<strong>be</strong>r-bright orange glow. The<br />

steady pulse <strong>of</strong> light made the sha<strong>do</strong>ws twitch and dance in fickle against<br />

the few bar patrons here that slowly milled around, absor<strong>be</strong>d in their own<br />

business.<br />

In one corner I spied a pair <strong>of</strong> fiends hissed over thick metal tankards and<br />

crunched <strong>do</strong>wn on raw, reddish meat. Bone snapped under their jaws and<br />

the stench <strong>of</strong> sulfur wafted <strong>not</strong> so subtly from them. Best <strong>not</strong> <strong>to</strong> think about<br />

what creature yielded that stringy gristle.<br />

Writhing in the maw <strong>of</strong> a thousand lapping <strong>to</strong>ngues <strong>of</strong> flame, a billowing<br />

creature twisted slowly above an iron grill upon the floor <strong>of</strong> the bar. It may<br />

have once <strong>be</strong>en human, but now its skin was charred <strong>be</strong>yond recognition.<br />

Streams <strong>of</strong> fire formed a wreath around the creature's body, and the flames<br />

licked at the few remaining pockets <strong>of</strong> flesh, causing them <strong>to</strong> bubble and run<br />

like wax <strong>do</strong>wn the creature's skeletal frame.<br />

The heat surrounding this... creature... was incredible. To my surprise, the<br />

iron grill the creature floated above had sagged and <strong>be</strong>nt from the heat. At<br />

first, I thought the heat came from the grill... but now I realized it emanated<br />

from the creature. As I watched, flecks <strong>of</strong> ash drifted from the writhing<br />

corpse and floated slowly <strong>to</strong> the ceiling.<br />

"Greetings...?"<br />

The thing made no response. It writhed slowly within the flames -- it lived,<br />

but it didn’t seem aware <strong>of</strong> anything other than the fire that surrounded it.<br />

Its skin was flame, its heart was flame, and I knew, within some sha<strong>do</strong>wed<br />

corner <strong>of</strong> my memory, that this thing was dangerous.<br />

Just past the entrance there was a woman with fading bruises on her face<br />

and arms and a look <strong>of</strong> despairing longing in her sunken eyes. She might<br />

have <strong>be</strong>en pretty once, but those days were long ago. She turned slowly <strong>to</strong><br />

face me. Life pours in<strong>to</strong> her features, and the spark <strong>of</strong> sar<strong>do</strong>nic light that<br />

danced in her eyes now made me wonder if my eyes were deceiving me.<br />

"Welcome <strong>to</strong> the Smoldering Corpse, scarred man. I am Drusilla. And you<br />

must <strong>be</strong> clueless. Don't ask me how I know that. It just shines <strong>of</strong>f you."<br />

147

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