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

made me antsy. I needed his knowledge as much as anything.
"I've learned another priceless bit of wisdom... for you, I give it for free: A
man is often wrong about a great many things, and a dead man is one who
has been wrong one too many times." Pharod licked his lips. "Much do I
have to tell you that one would consider of value."
He had a point. "Very well, I will see about finding this sphere for you... in
exchange for what you know."
"Very well, a deal struck, a deal made..." Pharod cracked his crutch sharply
against the flagstones. "A sphere for a peek inside my brain box. Now,
corpse -- there is no time to waste. Go to the gate at the south and east and
tell those slumbering fools to open it for you -- make haste, make haste."
"Hold a moment... I had some other questions for you before I leave..."
"Then ask!" Pharod smacked his crutch on the cobbles, as if passing
sentence. "Come, come, corpse, time's short and so's my patience."
"When you greeted me, you said something about taking me 'on a jaunt to
the Mortuary.' What did you mean?"
"You tell me, corpse -- perhaps the Dusties that live there are more to yer
likin' than some sweet-bosomed wench?" Pharod tapped his crutch on the
floor, the clacking echoing throughout the court. "Most forgiving of the
Dusties, to let you stride in and outta there as you please, considerin' you
don't have the decency to stay in the dead-book."
The image of those grim chambers came to me. Who would want to go
there? "I wanted to get into the Mortuary? But why?"
Pharod scoffed. "Corpse, you were so bent to git in there, now you spill that
you don't even know why's you wanted in there in the first place?
Sometimes it's a wonder why the Planes turn..."
"What is this place?"
Pharod's eyes rolled in his sockets, scanning across the ceiling, walls and
then the floor. "This here's Ill-Wind Court -- not a name of my choosing,
thank you kindly -- and the kip outside this Court is the Buried Village,
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