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

"The portal key to Ravel's maze is a piece of her, and you are of her blood. It
is close enough."
Kesai gasped. "You intend to seek her out?" Her surprise quickly changed to
an expression of wariness. "What... what would you need of me?"
"Your blood, most likely. Only a drop or two, I'm sure."
She nodded. "But... do you have some way to carry it? A piece of cloth, like a
handkerchief or something, you know?"
"One moment..." I dug around in my pack. Luis the Armoire had shot every
wad of cloth he had at us when we wrestled with him... I must've tucked one
piece carelessly into my pack. "Yes... here..."
Kesai took the handkerchief and gingerly pricked the tip of her finger on one
of her fangs. After letting several drops of blood soak into the cloth, she
returned it to me. "You're placing yourself in grave danger, you know. Even
if the stories of my mother are greatly exaggerated, she's horribly powerful
and completely evil. Good luck."
~~~~~
There were many things to be done before we left. It was the quest for the
rough balance of packing for a journey: as much stuff as you can carry to
cover all realistic contingencies, while keeping your pack light enough to not
be bogged down with a couple hundred pounds of junk. Given the richly
varied nature of the multiverse, it wasn't possible to cover everything.
However, with a little advice from an old friend it might be possible to
narrow down the range of what I had to cover.
Even though Ignus was gone, the Smoldering Corpse Bar was as hot and
muggy as always, the air sharp with the tang of burnt metal. I was probably
the only one sweating. Nordom and Morte didn't have any skin, Annah and
Grace had enough fiend blood that heat didn't matter, and Dak'kon was...
Dak'kon.
It was the kind of place where you'd peddle the darkest of secrets over a
mug of watered-down ale, and seedy enough where a barfight can end up in
a decapitation. A smiley old face was more than welcome here.
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