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

"He speaks no more than necessary to guide us. Praise to the Silent King."
"Tell me of yourself."
It indicated its stave and robes. "I am called Hargrimm. I am the high priest
of the citizens here. I spread the word of the Silent King to his followers." Its
eyes took a faraway look as it recalled the distant, musty past, "I passed
away long ago, and found that beyond death lies only oblivion... fortunately,
I was able to step back at the last moment from the brink."
I raised an eyebrow. "Step back?"
"Yes, I awoke here. I wandered the catacombs for untold days before
stumbling into the throne of my lord, the Silent King. He spoke to me, and
from that fated meeting the Dead Nations was born."
"You mentioned followers. Who else is here?"
"We, the skeletons. Other undead - zombies, and ghouls. There were once
shadows, but they have long since fled. Sometimes, one of Living spends the
last of its days here. Also, far to the east live many cranium rats."
Hargrimm placed a hand against its bony chest, "We skeletons tend to the
quiet ones, the true dead, and obey the word of the Silent King. Our work
here has gone on for centuries. The zombies... they serve the Silent King and
the Dead Nations as laborers. They work beneath the guidance of Stale
Mary, the most intelligent and wisest amongst them."
"Tell me about Stale Mary."
Hargrimm's voice had a tinge of warmth as he spoke of her. "She is the most
intelligent of what some call the 'rotting herd,' those zombies which
populate the Dead Nations. Unlike many of us, her heart did not depart at
the moment of death. She was a compassionate soul in life, and is just as
nurturing in death. That is as much as can be said."
I glanced to the side and watched as a small group of ghouls huddled
together, growling and whispering in the dark. Unlike the zombies and
skeletons, who meandered about freely to perform their daily chores, the
ghouls seemed to stand apart with a silent dissatisfaction.
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