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

"You are an abomination! I should bring retribution upon you now, and
deliver you to the Powers you have fled from!"
Ileron's cold smile deepens, "It is the right of all beings to seek freedom, girl.
You would bring me to justice, but at the price of murdering me and sending
me to be enslaved once again. This is the inherent contradiction in you
Mercykillers, that you commit such atrocious crimes to punish other
atrocious crimes. The winged serpent you wear as an emblem is eating its
own tail."
"Our cause transcends such petty concerns. It is the law itself that grants the
power to execute criminals." She places a hand on the hilt of her blade, and
Ileron has only to raise a hand to stop her.
"As I've said before you so rudely interrupted, justice stems from power. It
becomes obvious then that just as there are many forms of power, there are
many forms of justice. And I'm quite sure you've heard of mob justice."
The unnamed Mercykiller looks around her, at the unsheathed daggers and
scarred fists, the brass knuckles that have been slipped on and the fingers
traced through the air, leaving burning sparks of readied magic.
"A story..." she murmurs in an icy fury, "You condemn yourselves over a
piking story."
"Go on then. I'm sure you can see you're no no longer welcome here," Ileron
gives her a mocking wave.
The three shoulder aside the bar patrons on their way to the door, armor
spikes narrowly missing quite a few eyes.
Ileron taps his chin thoughtfully. "Hmm. She could prove to be quite
troublesome."
"Have no worry, troublemaker," Shara says, passing out more cold
beverages. "The Red Death has no jurisdiction over arrests in Sigil, only the
Harmonium can do that. And I have bribed enough hardheads to know that
they lack the single-mindedness of their twin bretheren."
"Hmm. I suppose even if that fails, I could claim to bear diplomatic
immunity. I am the last legitimate representative of the Prime World of
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