Hugheson's soul had been smoldering for a long time, and its body had nearly run dry along with it.
It had been the Hunting Lord's chosen from the start, its body brimming with toxic Warp divine power. After being cleansed by the Omega Program, it was like oil thrown onto a blazing fire. With the Hunting Lord's soul utterly pulverized, leaving anything behind would have been next to impossible.
As Murphy and Triss watched in silence, Hugheson faded away inside its shattered power armor like something weathered by time. It didn't even leave behind ashes to be commemorated. It dispersed into the wind at the gnoll homeland like stardust.
It looked rather joyful, as if it were rushing toward true freedom.
Deathclaw keened repeatedly, as if sending it off. A weary soul had finally found rest.
Murphy promised to erect a gravestone for Hugheson in the swamp exclusion zone. Given the circumstances, it would probably have to be an empty tomb. Fortunately, Hugheson had a set of fitted armor for the Hunting Lord's chosen. When the vampire pulled the armor out of the ruined power armor, he appraised it on a whim and was surprised to find it was exceptionally high-grade.
It had been made from the finest materials in the Dark Mountains, and the chieftain's armor had been transformed by the Hunting Lord's divine power. If Murphy hadn't disliked the barbarian style, he'd have been tempted to take it home as a collectible.
"Honestly, isn't this going a bit too far? It's the poor guy's personal effects. The little players wouldn't mind, of course—in fact, the more 'authentic' the armor, the more they'd like it—but I still think this is a bit much."
From the look on Murphy's face, Triss could tell exactly what he was thinking. She couldn't