In the door way was strung a chandelier of sorts, not a pretty thing, but something to fill those who entered with dread and give the war lord the upper hand. Strung on the gun barrel of a fifty caliber sniper rifle were rotting pink lumps that gave off a putrid smell. As Kalib began to duck under it he saw a toe nail. Any sign of disgust and his mission was over, perhaps his life too. He greeted the lord like a brother, shared some drinks and listened to him boast.