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

coppers, a strange picture frame of twisted metal, echoing with magic.
There was a spiked mace, also magical perhaps. Two charms of healing,
desperately needed, and a scroll. Excellent.
I helped myself to the lighter items first: the charms, the scroll, the purse,
the frame. It was when I lifted the mace that I should've been more careful.
Ah, if only I had but remembered my thief training, I would know of the
cunning traps that could be placed, even in a hovel such as this.
An ominous click was danger's herald, and I slid the mace into my pack
quickly. To my horror, a button had been left under the mace's head, and
another under the end of the handle. I froze in shock, only to be brought
back around by the clicking and light rumbles emanating from the box.
"T-TRAP!" I choked out, but I was a few seconds shy of saving myself.
A foul brown mist billowed from the crevices in the crate, a bilious fog a
rusty yellow. I was blinded as I stumbled back, and for a moment I felt
nothing. Perhaps it was a dud, or the venom had degraded over the ages.
And then came the pain.
The first whiff of the gas gave me the smell of my own blood, at first
dismissed as from the nosebleed I suffered earlier. But then there was the
burning sensation, a quickening fire that spread through my nostrils.
My eyes were in flames, and I pressed my hands there only to meet a
horrifying squelch as those tender orbs burst in my sockets, the milky
vitreous humors flowing down my hands and cheeks like thick, hot tears. I
struggled, trying not to breathe, but gasping in horror I had drawn the
poison into my lungs. I could feel the fiery flush of blood, a torrent of
crimson liquid iron flooding through my nostrils, pouring down my lips. The
burning agony was spreading through my skull, reaching my brain as flesh
and cartilage were dissolved, eaten away as I reeled in pain and terror.
I tried screaming to my companions, tell them to flee, but the poison had
already begun its work in my lungs. My chest was charred by the venom, the
inner lining of my lungs had liquified to the point that the best I could
manage was a gurgle. The molten remains of my esophagus and lungs
spilled from my lips, flesh sloughing off like fat melting from a bone in a cook
fire.
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