They call me Burnman. I am a skeleton that burns with a fire that does not burn. People still fear me. I can not wear anything, for the gases make it impossible to keep clothing on.
I am a soldier for hire, never fully trusted by those who hire me. They send me on dangerous missions they don’t expect me to come back from. I always do come back, and then I often have trouble getting payment.
I have one final talk with my employer, in which I tell them things no one else knows and sometimes make a short demonstration. After that, I usually have no trouble about payment. Although there’s little I care to spend it on.
I have my own, more personal quest—to find a way to quench the flames without quenching my life. I never tell the story of how I came to be this way. I can’t be bribed with drink, were anyone brave enough to drink with me. Yet, I long to find someone I can tell my story to.