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

out of Sigil. Ah well. Just wait a generation gathering information in the
Outlands and even the Harmonium and the Mercykillers would forget. Time
and patience were often keener weapons than a Doomguard's blade.
And how powerful a weapon do I wield, if I have all the time in the
multiverse?
The slow, rhythmic clank of armor echoes down the hall, heralding his
approach.
He steps through the portal, glancing this way and that with the wariness of
a hunter. Then his cold, piercing eyes direct their gaze at me, bloodshot with
the labors of his tireless crusade. His ebony face is bedecked with scars,
carving puckered flesh into a cruel scowl that terrified his prey into
submission. Just watching him enter I could feel the force of his presence, as
if reality were bending to the will of his judgment.
His armor gleams in the dull torchlight, and his face is locked in fury. He has
come for me.
"You have found me, Vhailor. You have traveled a long way... I imagine it
was not easy finding me."
"Justice led me to you. Where you walk, you leave a trail of SUFFERING." The
man's voice rumbles, full of anger and fury and flesh and blood... he is
dangerous, but still he is only a man, and I have defeated many such men. "I
will see you brought before the Sigilian courts and punished. If you deny it,
then SAY it, and I shall judge you."
I scoffed, "I deny it. Judge me... then I shall judge you."
"Judge ME?" Vhailor's eyes burn and he grips his axe tightly, the muscle
cords in his neck and arm tightening as he begins to swing it, slowly,
menacingly. "You have no RIGHT to judge me."
"Yes, I have, Vhailor, for I know your heart - and my power gives me the right
to judge you. But I shall not judge you now: You must rest within this cage
until the day I can set you free to walk the Planes once more."
Vhailor turns from me, staring at the walls coldly. The wards are snapping
into place, rooting him to the spot.
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