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

"You need serve me no more, Dak'kon. I never saved your life; I only killed
you twice. You owe me nothing."
"No..." Dak'kon's forehead creased in pain, and his eyes stared through me.
"It is not your word that carries the weight, and your word will not free me.
The word that chains me is mine. The torment is mine. I know in my heart
that the chains remain. Words will not free them."
"Is there any way you can be freed?"
"You must die a final death. Yet your path is not death's path. There is no
resolution to this matter."
"I swear I will find one, Dak'kon. I will find one that sets you free. You are my
friend, and I this I vow to you for the harm I've done."
Dak'kon's voice became ragged, as if he had suddenly become sick. "Know
you have added other words to my words." His expression was pained, and
his gaze met mine. "Now you have chained us both."
The two of us glanced up at the sound of soft footsteps and the crack of
staff against stone. Hargrimm approached, with Stale Mary shuffling beside
him. In her hands she held the head of Soego: the skin had grown puffy and
gray with decay, and there was a slight sheen to the skin. His mouth was
parted in a post-mortem wail, and his red-glinted eyes had rolled back,
staring at nothing. A spider crawled along his cheek, and began binding his
lips together with its silk.
"The Triumverate has spoken," Hargimm said grimly, "Take the head of
Soego, traitor to our cause, and ye may leave in peace."
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