A grey mist evenly covered the grey, flat, almost featureless plain. Utterly still. No weather patterns disturbed the mist. It was as it always has been: a silent, motionless witness to the fugue plain. Almost nothing changed here—the plain, the Spire of Judgement, the Wall of the Faithless. The only change that disturbed the eternal mist was the coming and going of departed souls and the celestial entities that came to collect them. A ghostly, skeletal figure took a sip from a spectral goblet of wine. Hollow eye sockets surveyed the figure next to him, a three and a half foot tall warrior woman. The short woman would occasionally be a foot or two taller as her ghostly severed head would sometimes rise up away from her shoulders a little. Not too far away, a pair of divine beings were arguing. One was a celestial pixie. She was a delicate being floating on a large pair of butterfly-like wings. The colour of her wings was almost totally absorbed by the grey mist, robbing her of her beauty. The other being was a constantly shifting creature. One moment it was a black wolf, the other a black tiger, and yet another a black shark. Each form was an inky black horror, splattered with crimson blood. As with the pixie's wings, the grey mist robbed the red colour out of the creature's visage. There was no real colour here. No beauty. No joy. Only grey grief and despair. There was the odd spark of hope, but that was almost always dashed to pieces, leaving behind only weeping and gnashing of teeth. Marty's severed head looked about, bewildered. "Wha .. how did I get here? Where am I?" The skeletal spirit let out a dry chuckle, "You say those same words each time you come here." "What are you talking about? I've never been here before!" "You say that each time too." The skeleton took another sip from his goblet, the fluid trickling down past his ribcage to splash against his pelvis. "I'd ask how you ended up here, but..." he looked up at her floating head, and then down at her headless body standing beneath it, "... that seems quite obvious." Marty changed the subject, noticing through the mist the two beings arguing in the distance. "Who are they?" "Oh, those two? They're arguing over who gets to collect your soul... again." "My sou - ... wait ... am I ... " "Dead? Yes, but I wouldn't worry about it too much. If this goes the way it usually does, someone will cast resurrection magic over your remains, and you'll be pulled back into the realm of the living ... again ... if you're willing ... which you always are. So as I always say - the goblet is half full!" "... Oh... wait ... should I be talking to you? You're a skeleton, and I'm druish. If you're "undead" then it's technically against my faith to be conversing with you." "Ha, you say that each time too." ============================================== The shifter was currently in the form of a black dire lion. "That halfling has bathed the land in the blood of the mightiest prey! Its slaughter is the stuff of legend. I'm taking it to Fury's Heart!" The celestial pixie took a deep breath, summoned patience, then exhaled her response to Malar's beast, "Martoushca Leaffall of Peltarch is under the patronage of Sheela Peryroyl. She is to tend the orchards and fields of the Concordant Opposition as a petitioner to the Green Mother. We have been over this many times. You have no claim over her." The beast's body made sickening crunching sounds as it transformed into a great serpent. "Yesss ... as you have said many times before. Tell me, bug, how many dogmass must this halfling break before your "Green Mother" is no longer its patron? How many fieldss must it leave untended? How many sinss must it commit before your precious "Sheelah" rightfully rejects it?" The serpent began to coil about the pixie in a wide circle. It reared up, flaring out its neck to intimidate the celestial fey. "How many beasts must it slaughter? How much of the Blessed Beast Lord's dogma must it fulfil before he righteously lays claim to its soul, replacing your pathetic "Mother" as its patron?" The pixie paused for a moment before calmly answering. "She is under the Mother's grace." The beast coiled upon itself, melting into the form of a sleek panther. "Bah. "Grace"? Sheelah can't turn a blind eye forever. The withering fields, the wilting flowers, the blood of her slain cry out from the ground. Before long, Sheela will have to answer that cry with judgment and scorn. Malar shall be there to answer too." The pixie paused again. "Perhaps so... Tell me, beast, to what end? Why are you so eager to see this halfling as a petitioner in your realm?" The beast growled, "NOT a petitioner! Oh no. In the land of the living, she has been hunted by the servants of Malar and has overcome them. Not a petitioner. There shall be vengeance. She will be prey. Eternally hunted. Prey as mighty as this one would serve to prove the worthy in our realm. Those who tear her flesh shall ascend to greater glory. The worthy in Fury's Heart will tear her flesh forever!" The beast melted again into the form of a tentacled creature. The pixie straightened herself, "well .. that sounds utterly horrid. Be gone, beast, lest I report you as one of the Tanari unrighteously abducting souls for your own realm." The beast made an angry quivering flatulation. Before their debate could continue, divine magic surrounded Marty's disembodied spirit. The words of holy texts encircled her as a cleric brought her soul back into the land of the living - first the severed head, and then the rest of the body. "Seems like a moot point now." quipped the pixie. The beast disappeared into the grey mist. She unrolled her itinerary scroll and watched the name "Martoushca Leaffall of Peltarch" vanish from her list.