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(Scars do not appear to be cause of death –shock ... - Bad Request

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"How did you escape?"<br />

"The baatezu are a proud species. The thought that a tanar'ri could <strong>be</strong>st<br />

them at anything was in<strong>to</strong>lerable <strong>to</strong> them. So I challenged one <strong>of</strong> the<br />

proudest <strong>of</strong> the balor <strong>to</strong> a contest <strong>of</strong> improvisation, and my tanar'ri nature<br />

afforded me an advantage - you see, the tanar'ri are creatures <strong>of</strong> chaos, wild<br />

and unpredictable. The baatezu are more cunning, with orderly hearts. They<br />

understand improvisation, but they are <strong>not</strong> its <strong>be</strong>st practitioners. And thus, I<br />

won my free<strong>do</strong>m - and my path brought me <strong>to</strong> Sigil. It was there that I<br />

established the brothel, <strong>to</strong> give those lustful fevers that strike the mind<br />

more avenues <strong>of</strong> expression rather than the simply carnal."<br />

I knelt <strong>do</strong>wn next <strong>to</strong> her, "When we were in Ravel's maze, Ravel said you<br />

were <strong>to</strong>rmented... are you in pain?"<br />

Fall-From-Grace was silent for a moment, her gaze <strong>be</strong>coming distant. When<br />

she turned back <strong>to</strong> me, her eyes were a strange shade <strong>of</strong> azure, a shade that<br />

mirrored sadness and tears.<br />

"I will tell you this: the baatezu are <strong>not</strong> human. Their lusts lie in power, <strong>not</strong><br />

for the flesh, and they care <strong>not</strong>hing for raping or rutting as humans <strong>do</strong> when<br />

they hold a<strong>not</strong>her human prisoner. The <strong>to</strong>rments <strong>of</strong> the baatezu are far<br />

more subtle and far more damaging than any violation <strong>of</strong> the flesh, and the<br />

scars last far longer."<br />

For the first time she paused, as if uncertain <strong>of</strong> what <strong>to</strong> say. A cold chill ran<br />

through my bones... for Grace <strong>to</strong> <strong>be</strong> struck silent, even for a moment, was<br />

disturbing. It was a relief when she finally spoke, each word slow and<br />

deli<strong>be</strong>rate, "Ravel sees much with her black-brambled eyes, some things<br />

which are hidden <strong>to</strong> other's eyes, even things about their own natures." She<br />

shook her head slowly. "Sometimes... sometimes, the pain makes itself<br />

known. I have learned it is a…difficult thing <strong>to</strong> turn on one's nature."<br />

"Are you all right?"<br />

She smiled, very faintly, and she met my gaze. "Yes... you are kind <strong>to</strong> ask.<br />

The pain still makes itself known, but I came <strong>to</strong> terms with my nature many<br />

centuries ago."<br />

"Very well, th-"<br />

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