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

hidden depths of the night. The first slash slit me across my back, and even
after the talon left my skin I could feel the wound cutting deeper. The cut
was fueled by vengeance, the midnight claws had been honed with hate.
I didn't need to repeat myself a third time.
I had been chased by thugs, pursued by angry rats, mauled by the undead.
But there was always the padding of footsteps or pitched squeaks. There
was always the sound of clattering bones or mindless groans echoing
through the halls. Somehow, the silence of the Shadows were more
terrifying.
Arcane missiles sizzled the air as I shot them behind me, bursting in a pops
of gray-black mist as they struck. I wasn't even sure if I wounded them or
not.
And then the tendrils wrapped around my throat and squeezed.
I shouldn't have been afraid... I had endured whatever the Planes threw at
me so far, after all, yet the Shadows were a sign of something deeper, more
primal. In the back of my mind I knew they were relentless hunters.
Impossible to hide from, massive in their swarms. They were relentless in
their hatred, as if tearing at sins unpunished.
I could feel my strength leaving me in a trickle, as if those tendrils were
drinking the warmth from my body. Those claws speared into me, again and
again, in a rain of pitch-black fury. The shadow had no voice to scream with,
no tongue to curse me, so it clawed and speared as if it could never cause
me enough pain.
The tendrils stretched, then snapped with the sound of a blade slashing
through the wind.
Annah.
I was still weak, but whatever held me dissolved into mist. Shaking as I stood
I watched as Annah slashed at the mist, trying to pull away from the ebon
claws. Each touch sapped her of strength as it did to me.
I acted fast. Pulling axioms and spells as fast as I could I blew holes in the
Shadows, tore them apart in eldritch fury. One by one they were torn
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