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

into the fold and for her unwavering belief in the final peace of True Death.
Perhaps it would have shamed her cause, but the gathering chose to
remember. And in a moment of weakness, one by one several Dustmen
shed a single tear, and no more.
The third heresy belonged to Soego and Soego alone.
He chose to mourn.
~~~~~
"If I may ask… are you all right? You look... tired."
Soego managed a weak smile, and the corners of his mouth twitched
slightly, "I have recently taken ill... minor fevers, nothing more. Sometimes
they make sleep... difficult."
"Anything I could do?" the stranger offered. He was gray-skinned and
terribly scarred, and if it weren't for Soego's heightened sense of smell he
would likely have mistaken the man for another zombie.
Soego shook his head, "No, no. Thank you for the concern. I will endure."
"Hey chief! You gonna rattle your bone-box all day or are you coming?" the
traveler's mimir called.
The stranger gave Soego a polite smile before he left, "Thank you, Soego. I
hope you feel better."
Such a kind man, if a little naive and ignorant of Planar ways. Poor clueless
sod.
"Tch," Soego chided himself for a moment, having forgotten to ask the
stranger's name. But no matter... the Dustmen would see him again in due
time. Death came to all in the Planes, after all.
With that, the weary Dustman closed the door.
"Good day." a familiar voice addressed him.
Soego looked up, "Remn." Like Soego, Remn had been an orphan adopted
302