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

spells, "Who is she?"
"Her name is An'azi. She says she used to work in a meat-curing house here
until a half-month ago when the illness became too much for her to bear.
She was abandoned, evicted from her home, and left for dead. Speech pains
her and her illness has crippled much of her mind. She says there is nothing
she can give you of value."
"And?"
"Know that she will not recover. I can put her out of her misery. That is all.
As a zerth of the People, it is my responsibility to provide an alternative."
I was about to protest. Surely there was a healer at hand, or a potion we
could fetch. A short quest would do well to help me forget about Morte's
absence, if only for a little while.
But Dak'kon spoke with a rare, grim certainty that I found difficult to argue
against, "Then be merciful, Dak'kon."
Dak'kon drew his blade, and waited for the woman to prepare herself. She
touched the Unbroken Circle of Zerthimon he wore for a moment, and her
face was stoic. His blade is a blur, and when he has completed the stroke,
she lay bleeding on the hard stone of Sigil's streets. Her face was blank... she
felt nothing.
I swallowed and stepped back from the corpse on the ground. "I think... it
may be best to separate. If only for a little while. If we spread out it'll be that
much more efficient to find word of Morte." Dak'kon nodded as he focused,
and the blood slid cleanly off of his blade.
"Ach, I'm not going to play fetch-quest for your mimir, cutter," Annah
growled, "Jes come back to Pharod and say I'm done wit' yeh... 'e won't let
go o' me ear until he hears it straight from yer lips."
"Please, Annah," I said pleadingly, "Just let us find Morte and I'll be happy to
let you return to the Buried Village."
Her lip curled into a sneer, but she agreed.
"Aye. Fine, we'll look for that pet o' yours."
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