Monologue Of Sulfur

Sulfur and ammonia, the stench of the chemicals clung to the air coupled with the macabre scent of burnt flesh, a smell that simultaneously reminded one of a hospital and a barbecue. Three bodies lay torn asunder and charred on the streets of Tiber city, jagged black lines burnt into the surrounding brick walled alleyway. Sebastian Thorn was familiar with such scenes of flagrant violence, the handy work of an unlicensed mage, lightning was what had turned these people into charred corpses and burned the lines of dancing snakes into the walls, the question was why. What was the motivation for cutting down three innocent civilians, it only put the unlicensed mage at risk. There was something more to this story, he could feel it in his blood,
You could not simply let individuals capable of swallowing entire cities with flames walk unchecked. Ten years ago he had born witness to such madness, a city engulfed in darkness, it's inhabitants slaughtered in the streets by mysterious shadow like beings, he could easily remembering the splashes of blood with each step down streets laden with corpses, at the center of the carnage, a boy. A boy seeming near the age of eleven, should have been in school, was standing a midst such revolting destruction with a smile and glowing red eyes. The nightmares of that smiling face splattered with crimson haunted him on occasion still, the power of an mage was a double sword that could save humanity or destroy it. He had taken up the title of a Witch Hunter after the destruction of Blackwall in the event that became known as Walpurgisnacht, night of the
"To where" she inquired with her face awash with confusion. "To grab a drink, you're already dressed the part milady" his suave deep tone washed over her wrecking her common sense and took his hand in silence. Sebastian pulled her as close as he led her on a gentle strolled out into a city getting ready for the twilight, public houses where one could find food and drink were lit up with crystal laps that glowed with a soft white light. Free from the stench of death she could smell the scents of food vendors roasting meat in portable carts, it was a common scene in the lower quarter of the city that where the working class people lived. It was not often she came to such a rough area but her own powers gave her a confidence that only doubled with the man beside her. He picked out a fairly quiet public house tucked away in a corner, a mom and pop shop with mostly local patrons, the atmosphere of freshly cooked meats and gentle wood smoke was