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

Vilquar's treacheries. In knowing Vilquar's eye, Zerthimon forced the Rising
to silence itself, so that Vilquar might think at last his treacheries had
succeeded, and the Rising had fallen. He knew that Vilquar's eye was filled
only with the reward he had been promised. He would see what he wished
to see."
"With greed beating in his heart, Vilquar came upon the illithid Zhijitaris and
spoke to his master of his success. He said that the Rising had fallen, and the
*illithids* were safe to turn their eyes outwards once more. He praised their
wisdom in using Vilquar's eye, and he asked them for his reward."
"In his greed-blindness, Vilquar had forgotten the knowing of why the
People had sought freedom. He had lost the knowing of what slavery meant.
He had forgotten what his illithid masters saw when they looked upon him.
And so Vilquar's betrayal of the People was ended with another betrayal.
Vilquar came to know that when Vilquar's eye had nothing left to see,
Vilquar's eye was useless."
"The illithid gave to Vilquar his reward, opening the cavity of his skull and
devouring his brain. Vilquar's corpse was cast upon the Fields of Husks so its
blood might water the poison-stemmed grasses."
"I never understood how you could bear to read that junk," Morte
grumbled.
"Go to sleep, Morte," I paused, "On second thought, why don't we talk. It's
been a while since we just chatted." Might as well keep him awake as long
as I could... his snoring might've lured some more Vargouilles our way and I
was already short one working arm.
He clicked his teeth eagerly, "Well, in that case, let me tell you about the
time I worked for the Archwizard Khelebak. Now this guy was getting on in
years, and stingy as a goat, though really in the sense that I can't think of a
good analogy for either of these things right now. Anyways, he set me up on
a shelf as a cheap burglar alarm, and one day this cute elvish rogue decided
she'd try a robbery with as little encumbering her as possible..."
Ten agonizing minutes later he was snoring away tucked inside a rag-filled
sack with our packs piled on top.
I whittled away the hours reading over my makeshift tome bleary-eyed,
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