Iron-Scale's physical body lay on a stone slab near the fountain. He wasn't breathing. His eyes were rolled back in his head, showing only the whites. His scales were cold.
Surrounding him was a chaotic scene of mourning.
Dozens of Dust-Paw Kobolds were wailing, throwing dirt on their heads. "The Scaled One is gone!" "Who will yell at us now?"
The Mud-Skippers were hopping around nervously, checking his pulse with wet fingers. Swift-Tail and the Grey-Fins stood in a circle, their spears pointed down in a traditional lizard funeral stance.
Krug stood at the head of the slab. He held a torch of Violet Fire.
"He has returned to the Spiral," Krug chanted solemnly. "His soul was too heavy for the earth. We shall burn the husk so no one eats him."
Krug lowered the torch toward Iron-Scale's nose.
SNAP.
Iron-Scale's eyes rolled forward. His vertical pupils contracted. He inhaled. A massive, deep breath that sounded like a vacuum seal breaking.
HAAAAA!
He sat bolt upright.
