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

"Right! Now lissen up... this is th' seminar on th' War. If ye're 'ere ta lissen
'bout th' Blood War, take root. If ye're not, ye're in th' wrong 'all and ye'd
best 'ump yer soft, comfort-lovin' Sigilian limberstembs outta 'ere."
"The Blood War? More boring than listening to a Guvner recite laws. Let's
find some young Sensates who need to be indoctrinated in the ways of
passion!" Morte waggled his eyebrows in anticipation.
"No, Morte... I want to hear this," I said, hushing him quick, just as the rest
of the crowd let their conversations die in the air.
The man suddenly threw a dark eye over the audience, as if looking for
something. "An' further, if ye're tanar'ri or baatezu, 'ump yer scaly 'ides out
th' door. I's not lettin' ye ornery bastards bend an ear ta this an' then lissen
ta yer barmy arguments..."
Grace tilted her head ever so slightly, drawing a delicate finger along her
cheek in thought.
"...'cause this is no discussion on who's right." Behind us, I could hear the
sounds of something large leaving the lecture hall. "It just tells the Blood
War from the 'uman point o' view. I's not promotin' one side or another,
'cause they both stink in different ways."
The speaker became somber. "So... what's left o' ye're wantin' ta lissen ta
some Blood War stories... tales about th' War. 'Ere ta 'ear the 'orror of it all,
no doubt. Th' floatin' fortresses wove and weaved o' 'uman skin! Th'
Planes-wide battlegrounds th' Blood War be fought on!"
He bared his yellowed teeth: "Tales o' fiends lockin' fangs with other fiends!
Grar! Snrarrrr!" His snarl faded, and he looked suddenly bored.
"Well, lemme peel back yer lids an' crack yer bone boxes: 'tis all a steamin'
'eap o' barmy nonsense ta be dwellin' on that forge-dung." He spat in
derision, rolling his eyes wildly.
"I'll tell ye this, though: Ye can't imagine th' scale th' Blood War is fought on.
Nothin' ye've seen, 'eard, or participated in - nothin' compares: time,
numbers of 'legions,' sheer bloodshed... nothin' compares, berks. Ta try an'
imagine it - forget it. My advice? Simple: Stay away from th' big bloody mess
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