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

well-hidden cranium rats that have come to spy here. Shouldst thou come
across any, be sure to slay them."
Well, this ought to be easy.
Chapter 34
It was most convenient that Dak'kon was walking down the hall just as I was
about to fetch him.
"Great timing," I said to him, "We were just about to get you."
Dak'kon nodded, holding up yet another skinned, gutted cranium rat by the
tail. "I am not so callous as to question the hospitality of these good people,
but we do need more coal for the brazier. It seems that the zombie workers
have forgotten again that we eat flesh cooked."
"If you're up for something a little fresher, the chief got us a mission to hunt
down any stray packs of the buggers and put 'em in the Dead-Book," Morte
chirped.
Dak'kon nodded to me and handed the rat to a slavering ghoul who had
been eyeing the morsel, "My blade is yours."
Bolts of ice flew past us, embedding themselves into a stone pillar, a wall,
the tiled floor. Despite their proficiency at elementary magics, the cranium
rats had poor aim.
Fight fire with fire, frost with frost.
Small detonations of icy splinters and waves of cold blanketed the area,
killing a few, softening up others. It was a simple matter, then, for us to mop
up in closer quarters before heading back for lunch. I must say, freshly
roasted cranium rat meat tastes much better.
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