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

"How can MORONS speak so much?" Fhjull grunted. "Speak. Speak. Feh!"
"I'm in need of some aid."
He emitted a strangled croak. "I have some few... very few... items that I
have accumulated over the years. They are... precious to me... but if you
need them..."
"I sure do. Let's see what you've got."
He snarled. "I entertain no thoughts of strangling you and leaving your
corpses for the trelons."
He had a nasty collection of fiendish weapons and charms: from cruel blades
to collections of worms.
"Feh... that is Hatred's Gift," he said of the axe, "a fine weapon for one such
as yourself. I don't think you'll want it... there is a curse laid on it. Perhaps
you would reconsider..."
Cursed perhaps, but I didn't like the idea of a fiend having a weapon such as
this.
"Those? They are kassegs," he pointed out when I asked of the larvae,
"parasites that will lodge in your brain and devour your mental energy with
no appreciable benefit... Feh! Cursed contract! They boost your mental
power, something you surely could use! Take them! Take them!"
"That old thing? Feh! That is the Gordian knot," he said when I curiously
eyed a complicated loop of string," Cut it, and you become twice the leader
you are already, heh heh. And of course it comes with its own price, one I
am thankfully powerless to stop."
And then I looked through his collection of scrolls.
"Bah! You will strip me of all my possessions! You want spells? Feh! This is
what I have, bloodsucker!" He rattled off an impressive list.
By the time I was done he was close to tears, "You have ruined, destroyed,
eviscerated one of the most unique spell libraries in the multiverse... for all
the good it will do you. I have no more spells to give you."
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