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

"Forever shall ye remain with thy companions, bound by every scrap of
power I can command..."
"Stuuup." Stale Mary struggled to speak as she shuffled up from the
bottom of the staircase.
"Stale Mary..." Hargrimm muttered, "This is thy doing?! Thou hast placed
our nation in peril! This man now knows the most dangerous of secrets of
the Dead Nations!"
"Nuuuugh. Uuuh wuuuh nnn ruughhht." It was
difficult for her to force out the words, but Stale Mary spoke with the
conviction of a mother protecting her ward.
"Mary..." Hargrimm groaned, placing its face in one hand. "Thy compassion
threatens us all."
"Cooompnnnn drruuvs uuuz tuuu prruuuhtk kwuuuht uuns. Coompnnn
mmmkus uuus wuurth."
Hargrimm loosened his grip on its staff and its shoulders slumped, as if
calming down. "So, thou hast come," It addressed me in a tired voice. The
skeleton turned to gaze upon the massive throne. "What thou seest here is
the end of our culture."
"Is that the Silent King?"
"Yes," a musty sigh sent a puff of dust through the air, "None must know
that the King speaks only silence."
I got to my feet, "How long has this gone on?"
"Luhnnngg."< Long.>
Hargrimm stared off into the shadows. "He stopped speaking to us long ago
-- he himself has left for the thrice-damned True Death." A trace of rage and
despair trickled into its voice. "He has abandoned us here to suffer amongst
the Living! We have become... the prey... of all that lives."
"Then why does he rule?"
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