The IIFA's running a commemorative exhibition at the moment. Its had to be a bit rushed to coincide with the current event, so sorry if its not up to the usual standard. There are some errors in it. I've had most of it check over by a third party, but if you see any mistakes could you message me with them so they can be remove. Thanks.
Edit: [Its a bit more explicit and gory than usual, so I thought I'd place this here as a disclaimer]
Title: Around the edge of a grotesque bonfire.
Hewn from the bleak rocks of Mhaldor's mountain, this circular platform is perfectly level. A titanic bonfire rises up from its centre, sending greasy black pillars of smoke high into the ferment. At the fire's very heart rises up two huge wicker-men, expertly crafted to resemble Lord Shaitan and Lord Apollyon stood loyally side by side. Although flames snarl brightly all across its surface, the structure does not succumb to their onslaught. Powerful magicks have been worked around this blazing idol to ensure it remains standing strong and steadfast. Within the bonfire's hellish depths rise up countless metal poles. Seven mortal sacrifices have been hung from hooks down each of them. These pitiful mortals scream and writhe in agony as the flames eat and bubble away at their flesh. A small platoon of daemonic Legionaries stand watch over the barbaric display. To the bonfire's east a huge holding pen has been crafted from iron and bone. Inside cower hundreds of bedraggled and dirt encrusted captives. Some wear the humble garbs of rural peasantry, but many more sport the ragged colours and heraldry of Mhaldor's enemy City States. Men, women, children and the elderly are there; none are permitted to escape Evil's far reaching shadow of terror. As each mortal sacrifice perishes in the flames (their corpses rendered chard and skeletal), the daemons replace them with fresh victims from this small internment camp. The fires harm not these hardy Inferno denizens, instead they simply clamber through unscathed. Each burnt offering is then handed over to bedraggled Mhun slaves who, under the unforgiving lash of Orc guardsmen, disappear away up the mountain side to a hidden location. Thousands of carrion birds swoop and saw around their secret destination in clouds of bleakest hunger.
I won a competition awhile ago to have Chris Bourassa paint a picture of Lodi. My profile pic is the end product.