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

"Know that I am a Githzerai. Know that I am of the people of Zerthimon.
"It was Zerthimon who knew the Githzerai before we knew ourselves. He
knew what had to be done to free us. From his knowing, came action. From
his knowing, freedom was born. The Githzerai ceased to be slaves and
became a people.
"Know that I follow the Unbroken Circle of Zerthimon. His words are known
to me. His heart is known to me.
"All that remains is that I know myself."
What a sociable guy.
By the time we reached the gates to the heart of the mausoleum, we had
downed a good portion of our precious clot charms, the crystallized blood
dissolving on our tongues sent chills through us as the magic did its work,
stemming the flow of blood in our many wounds and renewing our battered
bodies.
In the center of the chamber was a mid-sized man in long robes of deep
black. His hair was neatly coifed and an impeccably trimmed goatee
complimented his handsome features. Noticing my arrival, he put down the
book he was writing in and strode confidently over to face us, smiling.
"Impressive... I must admit, I never thought you would make it this far."
I unsheathed my dagger. At least now there was something I could stab. "I'm
glad to have disappointed you... are you the one responsible for all the
walking dead?"
He chuckled and waved a hand dismissively. "Who I am is of no
consequence to you. What I want is the question that should concern you
most." As he spoke, he looked me up and down, as if somehow fascinated.
"Very well... what do you want?"
He took a step back and cocked an eyebrow. "I want... your blood."
I stared for a moment before speaking again. "Is that some kind of threat?"
The man started to answer, but stopped himself abruptly. An evil smile
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