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

"Chambers, vaults, corridors... filled with the dead, all a-sleep in their
coffins. Somewhere in those halls, somewhere there, lies something
miss-placed. Something mine."
"What is it?"
"A small thing, a trinket, such a trifle..." As Pharod spoke, his words started
echoing, as if two people were speaking... I knew I'd heard them before...
from my own lips. Gently, I touched the memory, and it was enough for me
to recall...
"...it's a sphere. Made of bronze. Ugly. Feels like an egg to the touch, and it
smells of rotten custard. Am I right?"
Pharod fell deathly silent for a moment, then nodded. "Yes... how much do
you hide from me, corpse?" He chuckled. "Did you return to see if I
remember what it is I want?"
"Why don't you get one of your Collectors to search for it?" I asked
suspiciously.
"Because the corridors need no more dead from this village." Pharod tsks.
"Strong, fast, clever... these are qualities my villagers do not have. They go
below -- they do not return." Pharod glanced at me. "Perhaps the dead will
welcome their own, hmmm? That is what I think, corpse."
"Do you know where this sphere is?"
"Ah..." Pharod's sigh was like shifting sand. "And why do you suppose I ask
you to look for it, corpse? I do not know where it is. I know it is buried deep,
far deeper than any villager has ever gone." Pharod tsked. "It may be in the
catacombs where the waters run deep, deep..."
"Very well... I'll do it. But I want to know what I'm buying with this trinket."
"There's a lot of knowing rattlin' around in my brain-box, corpse." He held
up a withered finger. "One of them is this bit of wisdom: everyone wants
something, whether they know it or not. There is much I know about you...
much that you would want to know..."
I scoffed. "I doubt you can tell me anything of value, Pharod." The bluff
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