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

"And?"
"While this chill bathes you, you must tear off a scrap of your own skin, and
write a regret upon it with blood from your left index finger. The portal will
open, and you can discover the truth behind the Fortress of Regrets - and
perhaps meet its keeper."
I looked at him warily, "How do you know this?"
"Many alliances have I sought across the Planes. My search brought me to
the Fortress, where I spoke to its lord and keeper of its shadowed halls. No
doubt you should wish to return to Sigil now," he pointed behind me, "The
blood you have on your hands shall act as the key to this portal; simply step
through the door by which you entered, and you shall return."
"What can you tell me of the Fortress?"
"Its halls are dark and seem empty - but like you, it draws tormented souls
to it like a lodestone. Like you, it is empty and yet full of time's cast-offs. Like
you, it is a monument to torment. Shall I tell you of these souls, wanderer?"
I gestured for him to continue.
His bloody smile widened. "They are the souls of those who died in your
place. They have become shadows that you may live. They are your
shadows, the shades you cast upon existence, and they will find you,
wanderer, and they will make you suffer for their torments. You will receive
your due at their hands, you and those who are foolish enough to
accompany you."
"What can you tell me of this keeper?"
"Powerful is that one. You shall not best him, and you shall not be able to
wrest your mortality from his cold grip. It is lost to you. You have embarked
on an errand undertaken only by fools," Trias said, shaking his head.
"Foolish I may be, but I will know more about this keeper."
"A man's mortality is a compass that points his way in life. If it may be
grasped like an object, much can be learned about the nature of the man it
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