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

on from there. The denizens of the Clerk's Ward sure had some class. "I
know you've picked up a lot of stories in the Hive. Have you heard any
stories of Ravel Puzzlewell?"
At the mention of the name, Annah spat three times and made a semi-circle
over her heart. "Hssst! Are yeh daft?! Don't be mentioning her name, if yeh
value yer life!"
"Why?"
"She's the evilest o' the Gray Ladies, she is." Annah's voice dropped to
almost a whisper, as if afraid of being overheard. "Filthy mean, an' with
more power tae toss around than some Powers. It's said she's all a-brambles
through and through - even her heart. It's said yeh can NEVER kill her, 'cause
her body's like a tree - yeh lop off one limb, an' there's always another still
growing somewhere else across the Planes."
"You speak as if she's still alive."
"A-course she is. She has t'be." Annah's voice dropped again. "How would
yeh kill a thing such as her? That's why the Lady had to MAZE her, so it's
said."
Annah was a bit more tight-lipped after that, and left to lean over the bar
and swish her tail as she ordered a bitter-black ale. I cocked my head a little,
gazing a bit at the firm crescent of her rump.
Damn that Morte for rubbing off on me.
"Remarkable girl," Grace said with a sigh, "Such a fire in her... perhaps it is
the fiend blood in her veins."
"What's born in the bone will be bred in the flesh, eh?" I grunted.
Grace gave me one of those mysterious smiles, and gazed at me over the
rim of her glass, "Well, I am hardly one to speak on the role of heritage."
I nodded, "True. What can you tell me about the tanar'ri?"
"The tanar'ri are fiends - some call them 'demons.' They have embraced evil
for chaos' sake. They dwell upon the poisoned planes of the Abyss where
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