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

Apparently he'd never tried Gar-Bar root. "Then why haven't you killed
yourself already?"
"I have been looking for a means to end my life. Will you kill me?"
My eyebrows furrowed. "No. If you lack the conviction to kill yourself, I'm
not going to do it for you."
"It is not a matter of conviction..."
In the distance, I noticed Dak'kon had ordered a cup of that horrid, tepid
tea. He sipped it thoughtfully. "Then it must be another matter, then. So I
ask you: what is it about living that drives you to hate it? Surely living cannot
be as bad as you make it out to be."
"This is living?" The Dustman bared his teeth, and his hands clenched. "This
existence... this existence is a mockery of life. I do not wish to continue the
charade any longer. Death is silent... comforting."
"Maybe after the first death," I grumbled, but immediately wished I could
take it back.
The Dustman blinked, then sneered. "The first death? What, were you
resurrected?"
"Resurrected?"
"Resurrected... brought back to life... the magic required is indeed
powerful."
My hand twitched. I knew I had the weight of countless deaths pressed
upon me, so many that I knew the border between life and death well. I
knew how I could cull the slightest spark back into a cold body. I gulped.
"Who would be capable of such power?"
"A powerful sorcerer or priest... or one of the Powers... but not anyone I
know." He frowned and waved a hand dismissively. "And I don't believe you
know of anyone of that sort, either."
I scowled. If this whelp was going to waste his life like this- "You don't
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