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

"Hey, do you think this embalming fluid would help with the itching?" I
grumbled, scratching away.
"Wuh? Thath thupid. Uour thupid." Poor Morte. That was the wittiest he
could be in his condition.
"Take a clot charm already, Morte," and eagerly he floated over to my pack
and nuzzled around in the depths, probing for one of the tear-shaped
crystals. I smeared a little of the fluid on my arm experimentally to see if it
would help with the itching.
Amazingly, it worked. Of course, it was replaced with a somewhat painful
burning sensation in my wounds, but it was certainly less annoying.
"That's surprisingly effective," I said, slathering the foul-smelling chemicals
over my itching flesh. If the stuff poisoned me, I'd recover, after all. And if it
ruined my skin, well. I don't see myself getting prettier anytime soon.
With a clot charm, Morte's swelling went down, "Auuuuuuugh it still itches!"
he scraped his tongue against his teeth. I held up the jar as I applied more
embalming fluid with my other hand and gave it a little shake so the
greenish contents sloshed within.
Morte grumbled, still trying to scratch his flesh. It might've worked better if
he tried rubbing up against the rough stone walls, but I might as well ask
him to tongue-wash these coffins while he was at it, "Yeah. Apply that stuff
to mucous membranes. Brilliant, chief."
I shrugged, "Hey, it was just an idea."
I offered the jar to Dak'kon, and he politely waved it away.
"You're full of brilliant ideas, chief."
I hissed as the burning chemicals faded to a dull warmth. Hells, I was lucky
the bugs didn't go up my loincloth... "I suppose you have better
recommendations?"
"Look, how about I pick out the next path? I've got a sixth sense about these
things."
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