"Good morning, Commorragh! Yesterday's Dead Man Lottery ended with a grand total of 100,000 corpses! Thanks to the endless bloodbaths between Kabals, five groups were wiped out in Bleak Hope District alone overnight! And a Scourge unit got taken out too! I'd say you're all about to become torture fodder for the Blood Pity Association! Because the Trueborn nobles definitely won't swallow this insult!"
"Despair Slaughterhouse has suffered another blackout, and its Dying Star was sabotaged—another fine deed by those Laughing Thieves! The Kabal running the slaughterhouse can only pay a tax of five million slaves and fifteen quadrillion agony points to buy a new Dying Star from those star-stealing scum."
"Meanwhile, the Blood Pity Association's cleaners are collecting the bodies of idiots slain in assassinations and street fights. I'm sure they'll soon become fresh flesh-pots for the art societies!"
"And what about Peace District? Well, Peace District is still Peace District! I'm Charalad, your source for Commorragh news! As for yesterday's host, Hades, his head is right here! Let us begin a new day in Commorragh!"
Watching the Drukhari named Charalad hang Hades's head from the spike piercing his chest, Lin Fan felt that Drukhari television could no longer be described by a simple adults-only rating.
Over the past few days, Lin Fan and Khan had been waiting for the Bottom Line matches to begin. Khan meditated beside his motorcycle, cultivating his body and mind. His White Scars descendants were probably all much the same. Zen and motorcycle maintenance had defined their lives.
Meanwhile, Gukalad was in his grim art studio, carving the flesh of the Ork slaves and other Drukhari slaves he had bought, drawing out their suffering souls to prolong his own life. As far as Khan was concerned, as long as Gukalad did not abduct humans