Sigil: The City of Doors

He had heard that someone he might know was apparently dead, but the authorities weren't sure. They asked if anyone would come down to identify the corpse, and Fyne went down, hoping it wasn't who he thought it would be. Unfortunately, when he arrived and looked at the body, it was one of his drinking companions. He could tell by the scars and tattoos on the left side of the torso and leg. The rest was mostly unidentifiable because of the ooze that had gotten him.

"Yeah... that's Grint alright. Tattoo of a wolf biting a snake is pretty unique to him as far as I know. It's a shame. Don't think he had any family. He was a primer like me and was helping me learn about the city," Fyne explains to the attendant. "Sorry Grint. I'll drink one for you later."

Hive Ward D1 ME: 1d100 9

The attendant, who had escorted him inside and had helped him locate the body, nodded.

"What were Grint's ideas about death? Did he fear it?"

"No, he embraced it. Always going on about Valhalla or something. No clue, he never explained it in detail. But he wanted a warriors death. I'm guessing fighting an ooze counts," Fyne says with a shrug. "But I couldn't tell you for sure. You know anything about that?"

"Oozes? Death? Valhalla?" She asked, not sure what the man meant.

"I don't get it either. Just what he would talk about when drinking. But he was friendly and a good drinking buddy," he admits.

"Then perhaps his passing happened when it should have, and he can go on now. This is the most we could all wish for."

"Better than some deaths, worse than others. The acid burned skin makes it look like it was painful, but also pretty quick. The process of making your way to the other side isn't always so fast or certain in my experience. Sometimes a jerk needs something from you first and they drag it out until they get what they want."

"That is one way of looking at it." She was tired of doctrinal discussions for one day so she decided not to start another, especially that the Drow seemed to be a man of his own convictions. "I am Akh Uur Hoon."

"I am Fyne. Thanks for looking after Grint here. I'm sure he would appreciate it if he knew. But then, maybe he does," Fyne says with a shrug, not actually knowing one way or the other. "Most of the people I've watched die probably ended up in the Demonweb Pits or Arvandor. The rites for those beliefs I've seen countless times. But I haven't been outside those cultures for very long."

"I know rites for many cultures, including yours, Fyne. The diversity of people dying in Sigil necessitates that." Her halo circled quizzically. "How are you finding being away from home?"