Pain. Pain.
Where was the pain coming from? It wasn't like I had been struck, but my body felt cold — my blood particularly — and I was beginning to get really concerned about my breathing.
'Lira!'
Clara. Tristan. Baba. Everyone!
With a staggered, wobbly movement — almost falling over Victoria — I managed to cross the reception, entering the guild hall.
What I saw...
My eyes widened. The entire world around me seemed to take a sharp spin as an inhuman palette of blood scattered across the wooden beams, the walls, the tables and chairs came into focus. People. Everyone. Men were gutted all over the place, their bodies cold and drained of all color, all life. Some had even died on top of each other, collapsed in gruesome piles.
The bartender's body was struck to the shelf of ale by a sharp, rough spear — pinned there — so he hung in a macabre display, his prosthetic hand dangling down, head slumped forward.
