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

eveal blackened, rotted gums. "Stories-for-coin, sirrah?" His breath reeked;
it smelled like this man has been keeping rotten meat stored inside his
mouth. "Stories-for-coin?"
I took a step back, "Who are you?"
The man snorted, thick with phlegm. "Names, names... who you are, who
you are..." His head twitched slightly every time he repeated himself.
"Names... dangerous, dangerous." He glanced at the ground and stirred the
dirt with his foot.
"Dangerous?"
"Knowing a name or bein' stuck with one, both's a mess of trouble." He
looked back up at me. "My name's a given name, not one asked for.
Reekwind." Once again I become conscious of his reeking breath and the
smell of urine and feces that surrounded him. "A given name, a given
name."
I glanced at Dak'kon, who stared ahead placidly. The smell bothered him
little.
Reekwind, eh? "Is that your real name?"
"Not my true name, true name." Reekwind mumbled on, his head twitching
every time he said the word 'name.' "A true name's a dangerous thing, gives
others power." He stared at me with his huge eyes and wagged his finger.
"Keep your name secret, keep it close, never let it out."
"What do you mean?"
"Names are like smells... things can track you with them." Reekwind
coughed, his eyes almost popping out of his skull as he did so. His cough
seemed to loosen his bowels, as he broke wind loudly, as if to accentuate his
point. "If someone knows a true name, it gives them power." He licked his
lips. "The power to hurt."
A chill ran up my spine. Was this, I wondered, why I remained nameless? I
should've taken Reekwind's words with a grain of salt; the words of an
addled vagrant meant little. But in a city of addled vagrants, Reekwind's
words cut deep.
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