The flames roar from the clearing, reaching for the stars as lightning claws from the sky. Herakon watches from the carrion strewn trees as pandemonium ensues below. Bones rattle to the rhythms of Kapros as the Pyre Master pounds on skins of mortals stretched over logs. Varanus entrances the gathering through the eyeless pits of his swaying skull, while Gowlock howls the hymns of the hollow into the night. We listen with our body, mind and spirit as our mortal shells blister and sluff off to the ground, stamped into the earth by the dance of the dead.