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

Sen-Tau, after all."
"I was thinking of protecting my patrons, you idiot."
Ileron blinks, looking back to the crowd, "Oh yes. Well, I'll just continue
then."
"That would be my recommendation."
Chapter 102
The pale desert noon blinded me, and I stumbled. I'd fallen to my knees, and
out of instinct I almost tried to catch myself with my hands. The searing pain
was a fast reminder though, and I had to snap my torso back to maintain my
balance and keep from getting a mouthful of sand.
"The Outlands again. This place never loses its charm does it, chief? We'll
probably want to find some shade and get you stitched up since you've
been... well, you know."
"Don't even say it, Morte."
"You're thinking it. That's enough for me," Morte grinned.
It only took a few minutes to get myself fixed up. Nordom held my arms in
place while Grace sewed me back up. I didn't need much to be held
together: with my natural regeneration, the splintered bone was regrowing,
blood vessels and muscle tissues were already knitting together. The nerves
were always the last to heal, however, and in that time my fingers twitched
with unconscious spasms as they wired. That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt like
the Nine Hells, though.
Annah was the first to see it.
"Oi. What's that, now?" she murmured, pointing to a line of dust thrown up
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