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

The dryad from earlier nods, "True or false, it does make a compelling tale.
After all, we need not believe it to enjoy it."
With the murmur of agreement rising and falling, Oudilin gives a respectful
nod, "Then I shall begin."
Chapter 1
The dreams came first.
Dark dreams. Bleak. Half-remembered visions of sorrow and shade best left
forgotten. Somewhere there is the distant squeal of metal on stone, of a
door opening, of something heavy being wheeled slowly into a lightless
room.
From far away, it seems, there is the smell of harsh chemicals and coppery
blood. The icy caress of bare metal. No, those are the senses of someone
else, some dim ghost whispers.
How can the void have a voice? How can darkness pour out a vision? But still
that cold, lonely horror that grips me is, perhaps, a nightmare of sorts. I
don’t remember the last time I dreamed, but I suppose this is something like
it.
A flicker of purple light, an obelisk with countless names etched into its
obsidian surface.
Another flicker, and a hundred skulls resting on shelves turn to face me.
Human skulls, animal skulls, the skulls of demons and angels alike, all behind
a curtain of mist that blurs my vision. They stare at me a moment. Curious,
mocking, and accusing.
Fire. Pain. Agony. The love of a mourning woman. So much PAIN. Enough
pain to slay a city, to break a world into endless weeping.
9