A ghost set me on fire. Earlier, I was beating on a parasite that was hiding inside a metal shell. I found a gelatinous cube that had absorbed so much junk it had become sluggish and bloated. I reached inside it, lost a layer of skin on my hand, but retrieved an ice cream. Don’t laugh. It’s a very useful ice cream.
I’m playing roguelike card game Slay The Spire, and I’ve fought through packs of cultists, slavers and thieves, but now I’m on fire and I can’t do a great deal about it. I burn whenever I breathe. It seems unfair but this is partly a hell of my own making.
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