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

The skeleton, its eyes aglow like two burning embers, looked me over... but
made no reply.
"Are you the Silent King?"
It shook its head, turning with an eerie grace and pointing eastwards. It then
turned to me once more.
"Are you Hargrimm?"
It nodded solemnly, the pendants suspended from its stave tinkling softly.
There was something disquieting about its silent, piercing gaze.
"Why have I been made a prisoner?"
"'Tis the will of the Silent King. The Living who are caught here are made to
languish in his halls until they join the quiet ones," it said in that musty,
ancient voice. It was rich with command, and trimmed with a formal
eloquence that was impressive, if not archaic.
"Could he be convinced to allow otherwise?"
After a short silence, its jaws creaked open: "'Tis doubtful, but perhaps.
Mysterious are the ways of Silent King."
"May I speak with him?"
It held up a bony palm. With a creaking groan and a puff of dust, its jaws
opened to speak: "No." Its voice, deep and resonant, echoed for a long while
in the vaulted chamber.
"But why not?"
Its voice boomed throughout the chamber and its staff cracked firmly
against the tile: "No living creature may pass the doors that lead to his
throne room; nor would I allow thee an audience even if such a thing were
possible. Thou shalt not see him."
This was a troubling situation. "But that's unreasonable! I need his
permission to leave."
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