"It still has no taste and now I feel really-"
Zolgrish doubled over, spitting out blood all over Salaark's carpet. The growing flesh had crushed the flute and the resulting glass shards had pierced through his lungs causing him an internal bleeding.
"I want you to know that I made sure that none of the silver from your mines was misplaced." Inxialot shook Lith's hand while the small undead took care of his master.
"Why did you do that? We never talked and the only thing you ever said to me is 'off with the head'." Lith asked.
"I need a minute of your time and help with a delicate matter." The King of Liches stole a glance at Raagu. "Damn, why are the pleasures of the flesh accompanied by so much pain?"
After emptying his flute, the Lich chewed it. The shards of glass made an unsettling sound under his teeth and Lith could smell both wine and blood in his breath.
"What the heck are you doing?"
