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

Sigil... comes eventually. And then... he let the polluted waters above... flow
through our mouths... and noses... and eyes."
"Is there anything I can do to help?"
"I am cursed to... remain here until... fresh water passes my lips... There is a
... magical flask of water... in the ... Drowned Nations. Bring it to me... and
give me a taste of it... and I shall tell you... of someone... who can help you
unlock... its full potential... and you shall never... lack for water... again."
That could be useful. "Where is this flask?"
"I do not... know. There was ... an artist named... Chad who frequented...
these tunnels. He knew. Find him... and he may tell you."
"And how do I get there?"
"Through the Dead Nations... where the dead walk ... and rule... or through
the Warrens of Thought... where Many-as-One holds sway... Neither is
without... its risks."
I nodded to him, "Thank you, Glyve. I'll see what I can do to help you."
~~~~~
Scouting ahead and braving the dangers so my companions wouldn't be
hurt, I watched as a lumbering form hunched over, gnawing at a fresh
corpse. The leathery sound of meat tearing and bones crunching softly were
so basic and animalistic that I forgot that the creature's victim was human
once. It made it easier to watch in mute fascination.
The thing's movements were too quick and sure to be those of a zombie's,
and its form was much too large to be any normal humanoid. Its thick body
was draped in rags, and where cloth fluttered away thick fields of
gray-brown fur covered its massive, thickly muscled frame. A fat, wormlike
tail flicked and dragged behind it as it feasted on the corpse, possibly a
buried villager or thug dragged down from above somehow.
A giant rat. Ugh.
So when it started sniffing the air I knew it was too late to creep back. I
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