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

surprised me. A wave of hot air blasted in my face, and with my eyes
adjusted to the dim lighting, the flames of the crematorium were blinding.
The flames within that grand chamber roared with the fury of a sun, crimson
as blood, and I was momentarily entraced. Terrified, but entranced.
"You there! Hold!" cried a voice.
Damn.
The Dustman that walked up met me with a stony gaze, his unkempt
blue-gray hair a short and wild mane that framed a dead-gray face, "Are you
lost?"
I had to keep him talking, or he might alert the guards, "No, I'm not lost... I
just need some help."
"If you are not lost, what is your business here?" He eyed me suspiciously.
I had to think quickly, "I was here for an internment, but there seems to
have been a mistake."
"Who was being interred? Perhaps the services are taking place somewhere
else in the Mortuary."
I nodded knowingly, "That could be. Where are these other services taking
place?"
He gestured quickly, annoyance marking his voice, "Several internment
chambers line the perimeter of the Mortuary. They follow the curve of the
wall on the first and second floors. Do you know the name of the
deceased?"
I stumbled a little, and made a mental note to get better at lying. I pulled a
simple mash of syllables out of the air, "Uh... Adahn."
"That name is not familiar to me. Check with one of the guides at the front
gate... they may be able to direct you better than I," the Dustman replied,
shaking his head.
I thanked him and turned to leave, only to face an annoyed Morte, "You
know, chief, I'm just starting to like you, so do us both a favor and don't put
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