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

It took an effort to stand, and I stumbled down the hall with Grace
supporting me. I could feel the chain link growing warm in my pocket,
resonating in answer to the portal's call. And there it was, a bending of
space, a twist of blue-white, and a long, broad desert opened out in front of
us.
We stepped through, and the caverns behind us crumbled in a crash of
stone.
Interlude
"How dare he?" she snarls, slamming a gauntleted fist on the table, "How
dare he?!"
The patrons around the Mercykiller withdraw, retreating into the press of
bodies despite the stuffiness of the air, saturated with sweat and damp
exhalations. The packed bar clutches the mass of body heat tight. Now and
again a draft blows through shattered windows and open doors, and
everyone breathes a little heavier, as if they could drink in the coolness.
Others wipe the sweat from their brows. Not you, however. No, you muse,
it's the kind of happy warmth that would put you to sleep... one of those
natural, comforting sedatives, like the laziness after a large meal or the
melting embrace of a loved one's arms.
Still, you plink down a few coppers for a chilled wine punch. It's odd order
on most nights as cold outside as this, but Shara Six-Blades had smiled
behind the counter and coyly suggested that patrons buy what they could.
The ice is sure to run low soon.
She's making a killing.
Ileron of Sen-Tau cocks his head, eyes flashing with cruel amusement. His
lips press tight, as if holding back a stream of scathing words. But all that
1038