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

the Smoldering Corpse. It would be close by now.
"They say th' Blood War's been quietin' down," Annah murmurs, "That
someone's overthrown th' Overlord o' th' Abyss, or wotever it is."
"Just last week they say the Archduke Carrax of Baator was assassinated by
the same sod," Morte chuckles, "I wouldn't pay too much attention to
rumors."
A smile cracks on Annah's lips anyway, "Mebbe that's true too."
Cynic as he is, Morte shakes his head, "We all know the Blood War is too big
for anyone to change. Powers above, even the gods themselves can't end
the Blood War. I mean don't get me wrong, I love the chief and I know he
can lay waste to any sod in front of him, but he's no god."
"Nay, he's better than that." The smile doesn't leave Annah's lips.
"Look, I've lived a lot longer than you, Annah," Morte sighs, "And trust me.
You might look at these streets all shifting about and think the big things will
be different someday, but nothing in the Planes really change. Not in the
ways that matter. Not Sigil, not the Great Wheel, not the Blood War.
Especially not the blood war. So don't get your hopes up."
"I've changed," Annah murmurs.
Morte laughs at that, "Fiendling, deep down you're still the same
black-tongued bitch I've known all these years. And I love you for it, even if
your mams are sagging like old tree sap."
Again Annah bites her tongue and suppresses the urge to stab him. She
refuses to prove the damn skull right.
Finally they arrive.
It is a large park, at the heart of the Hive itself. A miracle, for a park of all
things to be at the heart of the stinking Hive. Stepping through the arch
Annah can finally breathe deeply. The air is sweet. The wind is clean, filtered
by the lush foliage that hangs down. There is soil here... real soil, with plants
brought in from the Beastlands and trees of every sort imported from
Arborea. They pass a faded plaque as they walk through the gardens,
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