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

"Well, considering you've lost two of your other senses, I guess something
else had to pick up the slack."
He grunted, "Hey, better than a blood-soaked flesh-pit and a ghoul-filled
tomb." Ouch.
Morte chose a brass arch with blunt metal teeth curving towards us.
Somehow the metal had survived the centuries of moisture... it was too
unlikely that someone would've chosen to install a fresh new archway here
for the sake of aesthetics. The soft yellow luster, so unnatural against the
dull stone walls, was somehow inviting with a cold warmth that bordered on
surreal.
"Huh. Nice."
The large circular chamber was high-domed and empty, encircled with stone
cobbles and slabs pointing inwards like two dozen fingers. Our steps echoed
as we entered, and on the other end of the room a patch of white came into
view.
Bones. A pile of polished white femurs and ribs, skulls and skeletal hands.
They were crowded together with a purpose, as if they were a nest.
A cacophony of familiar screeches echoed from around the room. The whole
swarm of Vargouilles descended on us from seemingly every wall and
shadow in the room.
"Uh... chief? I think I'll leave the leading to you from now on."
I let my arms fall helplessly and groaned. "Oh son of a-"
*SCREECH*
*HACK*
*CHOMP*
*TEAR*
*THUD*
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