The canteen of the Necro Market pulsed with life. Smoke and spice from roasted meats drifted across polished stone floors, mixing with the sharp tang of iced fruit juices. Froststone vents hissed softly overhead, spreading cold air through the wide hall. Skeleton waiters in pressed suits, masks, and gloves glided through the crowd with trays stacked high, bowing with uncanny precision at each order. At the center lounge, under the shadow of a great marble pillar, four kobolds sprawled on a bench, their tails twitching as they sipped their drinks.
The biggest leaned back, letting the cold air brush over his ears. "By the dirt, this breeze is cleaner than mountain wind. My scales feel like they've never known sweat."
His friend across from him waved a claw lazily. "Back in the swamp, I'd have to dig a ditch just to cool my belly. Here? I sit like a noble and the wind serves me."
