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

eye of a mage, I noticed they thrummed with power: a resonance to them
that distinguished the symbols from your everyday tattoo. One was the
mark of a warrior, granting greater strength. Another was a symbol that
granted insight. Yet others told tales as bards would gathered about a fire.
As I explored the store, Fell patiently sorted his parchments, setting them
here and there knowingly even if there was no apparent pattern to his
actions.
Curious with the enigmatic creature, I took the opportunity to brush past
the curtain into the back room.
I wish I hadn't.
Long frames stretched out and laid against the walls adorned the room, with
human skins stretched across like leather being tanned. Scrawled across the
torn and distended flesh were tattoos, artful designs that seemed to tell a
dozen stories of triumph and tragedy. Pain and delight. I wasn't quite sure I
wanted to know how Fell had collected these.
He stood calmly, watching me as I stumbled back into the main room.
I coughed, embarrssed. "What are those frames in the back room, Fell?"
A caravan of symbols slowly materialized around Fell, one by one.
I shuddered at the thought of all those pelts. Were they mine or was Fell
exaggerating? I didn't want to know. "Saddened for me? Why?"
Another train of symbols formed around Fell, this time forming a circle.
"What do you mean?"
A long string of rebuses appeared above Fell's head, then surrounded his
arms like manacles.
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