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

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"You really love taking me past my comfort zone, <strong>do</strong>ncha, chief?"<br />

The rat-meat was aromatic and quite spicy, apparently marinated in some<br />

sort <strong>of</strong> herbal mixture <strong>be</strong>fore <strong>be</strong>ing cooked. It was a bit greasy and rather<br />

rich, tasting <strong>of</strong> some... other... meat I was sure I had <strong>be</strong>fore. The man looked<br />

at me expectantly. "Did ye like? Wouldst ye like a<strong>not</strong>her?"<br />

I picked a few scraps <strong>of</strong> meat from the rib cage, "Er. No thanks, we should <strong>be</strong><br />

going."<br />

~~~~~<br />

Iron Nalls was right where I left her. Gripping a nail with a callused thumb<br />

and bracing against the board with her foot, she yanked the thing out with<br />

one pull. By the look <strong>of</strong> her burly shoulders, she could've knocked out a few<br />

teeth on the backswing if I s<strong>to</strong>od <strong>be</strong>hind her.<br />

"Hello, Nalls."<br />

Iron Nalls straightened up and put her hands on her hips. "Back again, eh?<br />

What need ye this time?"<br />

"I was <strong>to</strong>ld <strong>to</strong> ask for you about the trash-filled archway in Ragpicker's<br />

Square. Can you help me?"<br />

Nalls nodded slowly. "It's a portal, ye know. Stumbled on it quite by chance,<br />

I did... alls ye need ta <strong>do</strong> is have a handful o' junk on ye when ye walks up ta<br />

it, an' ye'll <strong>be</strong> able ta pass right through. There's a small open space past the<br />

portal, an' a gate leadin' underground, but I figured no sense in askin' fer<br />

trouble so's I just turned around an' went right back. Here..." She handed<br />

me a handful <strong>of</strong> junk. "Use this, if ye likes. I was gonna <strong>to</strong>ss it away,<br />

anyhow."<br />

It was a few hours after peak when we returned, and the heat <strong>of</strong> the day<br />

made the garbage molder, <strong>be</strong>lching up a vile stench. I covered my nose and<br />

tried <strong>to</strong> filter the air through my teeth, but it left a greasy feeling in my<br />

mouth. Now and again I spat, and a few times the wad would sizzle as it hit<br />

metal cooked by the afternoon heat. With the decay quickening about me I<br />

glanced back and forth. Not even Reekwind would've buried himself and<br />

hidden in this rot (though it might’ve improved his own stench). No, I was<br />

listening for the groans and creaks <strong>of</strong> a pile that might collapse and bury me<br />

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