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

Blood for blood we traded blades with the Chaosmen. They howled
madness as they fought, moving their hands and feet in random patterns
that were hard to guard against. Their jerking steps had become an intricate
dance to dodge our blows, and in the distance, an unfamiliar chanting grew
in volume even as I felt the familiar thrum of the Art snapping into reality.
Damn.
Their skills were directly counter to the Way of Zerthimon, but effective in
their own way. Under the weight of our magic and steel, however, the
Chaosmen collapsed, and sifting through the smoldering robes of the dead
wizard I retrieved the key.
From there, it was a simple matter to sneak our way past the remaining
Xaositects, creeping behind the crates to safety.
We stepped out to the brisk night air, and while it wasn't quite the same
relief we felt when getting back out to the stink of the Hive after being
trapped in the Dead Nations for so long, it was soothing nonetheless to be
out of that warren of madness.
"I must say, cutter... I'm impressed. I thought for sure those animals would
chew you up good," chirped a familiar voice behind me, and again I nearly
jumped a foot in the air.
Sybil smiled, "Sorry. Well, I guess I should thank you." She paused for a
moment, then reached into her pouch and pulled forth a small, green gem.
"Here... this one's on the Dogs. See you around, cutter."
"Farewell, Sybil."
"Ach. I do hate that lass," Annah growled.
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