"No, no, no. This can't be true," his hands are shaking. "No, please. Jiro?" The hallway around them weeps a sour liquid, like the belly of some enormous creature. Olan's lantern sputters and flickers in the dark, but he can see Jiro clearly enough - even if he can't believe what he's seeing. Jiro's leather gloves are split, with sharp barbs of bone piercing from his unbelievably long fingers. "Jiro!"... [click here for more]