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

It was when I was traveling down one corridor that things got really
interesting.
I had yet to meet any real life in these catacombs, with the exception of the
cranium rats. Most of the things that moved bit, fought, or snarled, undead
born of the otherworldly stirrings of dark and dismal planes beyond. You
can't exactly have a friendly conversation with any of 'em. Of course, I was
exploring with an eerily quiet warrior-mage and a skull who turned inane,
mindless chatter into an art.
So of course I was surprised when the walls started talking to me.
Down one of the corridors the stone sweated with the damp air, and stale,
moldy-smelling water flowed along the cracks. Over the years they had
carved deep runnels into the walls. The carved stone faces that decorated
the tomb, perhaps as guardians or watchers, were heavily scarred by their
ceaseless weeping.
As I passed one of the twisted stone faces on the walls, it called out to me in
a creaking voice that sounded like the shifting of boulders. Its voice was a
slow groan, as if it wearily struggled to force out each word, "Immortal...
regard me. I am... Glyve. I would have... words with you."
I jumped, "WH-- H-How did you know I'm immortal?"
"I see... a burning purpose... within your shell. I see... many things in the
falling... dust of these... tunnels. You lack... something essential... and that
keeps you... from death's sweet embrace."
Regaining my composure, I straightened up and listened. There were
stranger things in the Planes, after all. "What did you want to say to me?"
"Listen: This place holds... much danger for you. Treachery awaits you... on
the surface... and your way is... long and winding. At the end... you will
find... what you have sought... but you may not ... want it then."
I blinked. "Are you some sort of oracle?"
"Oracle? No... I observe. That is all."
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