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

lips." He waggled his eyebrows in anticipation.
"Quiet down, Morte. We're staying... for a while, at least," the man looked
like an idiot, but I wanted to at least give him a chance.
He began speaking with a somber tone: "Death. It is what awaits you at the
end of life's journey." He coughed slightly, then raised his eyebrows
dramatically, waving his hands at the same time: "Death is not an end! But a
beginning!"
"Beginning of more suffering," Morte whispered.
"For when you die, you shall not cease to exist, no! Far from it! The Outer
Planes shall welcome you to their breasts! There, a new life... one such as
you have never known, awaits you there!"
"That's for sure," Morte added again.
"You shall cast away the tattered cloak of this life and become one of the
faithful, a petitioner! As a petitioner on this Outer Plane, your life's journey
shall truly begin!
"If you have been a goodly sort of gentleman, steadfast in charity and
goodwill toward your fellow bloods, perhaps the light-blanketed slopes of
Mount Celestia shall house you when you die. Your spirit shall pass on to
this place, dwelling as a petitioner in the beauty of golden mornings, soft
sunlight that caresses..." He sighed dreamily.
"And eternal boredom," Morte muttered, sticking his tongue out.
"Perhaps you lived your life to betray others and get ahead, giving lies
instead of truths, back-stabbing others, all to accomplish your own goals.
Cold, Blood-Red Carceri, the Plane where all turncoats fall when they pass
on, shall be the cage that imprisons you. As a petitioner on this Plane, you
shall live a life of treachery and treacheries, of lies and lying, knowing a life
without trust."
"Looks like we know where we both are going to end up when we die,"
Morte added, rolling his eyes.
The lecturer hunched over; his eyes darted back and forth. "And perhaps
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