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

they are much the same thing, really... do you happen to know of this bar
that my faction frequents?"
I had a hunch this fellow was hiding something, "Well, I'm afraid I can't help
you there. But I'm curious, could you answer some questions?"
He nodded. "Your request is reasonable."
"Can you tell me a little about the Dustmen?"
He paused for a moment... then nodded. "It would be my pleasure. We... the
Dustmen... recognize this life for what it is: an opportunity to experience our
passions before the next life. We sift through the dust of our past lives for
meaning before the next."
I coughed, "Uh... that is an unusual view for a Dustman."
The man blinked. "Well... I am not a common Dustman."
I shifted my weight as the awkward silence hung between us. If I knew more
about the Dustmen I could perhaps gauge what was wrong, but until then I
had best leave it alone, "Well, perhaps I should be going then."
The Dustman nodded and gave a final bow. "Thank you for your time."
I was about to turn away, when I suddenly had a feeling that something was
amiss. Suspicious, I glanced at Ash-Mantle again, just in time to see him
tucking something into his sleeves... it looked like something of mine.
"Hey! What do you think you're doing?!"
The man looked at me innocently, but I saw him tense up. "I'm sorry?"
I snarled, "You're no Dustman. You're a pickpocket."
His face was calm, expertly placid. For a moment he looked like he was
about to respond with a denial, but quick as a whip he leapt and took off
running.
"Hey! Get back here, you rat!"
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