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

only a single key lying within: no body, nothing of worth.
"Well that's damn disappointing," I grumbled and snatched it up.
Walking through the arch once again I wasn't surprised when the key
thrummed in my hand and I was warped to one final chamber. A large
square chest stood in the center of the small room, and opening it I finally
found a worthy stash of goods, no doubt sequestered here by a past
incarnation waiting for a new one who needed these tools.
Finally. I happily helped myself.
When I was done looting a final portal opened up. Deep down I knew this
would take me back to the catacombs where Morte and Dak'kon were
hopefully still waiting. I would come back richer in supplies, seared with a
few new scars, and troubled by the dark revelations of my tomb.
~~~~~
Dak'kon turned as I approached, his eyes like polished coal. "It was known to
me you would return. Is it your will that our two paths become one?"
"Yes. I need your aid, Dak'kon. I hope I didn't keep you guys waiting too
long."
He shook his head, "Your path is mine."
Morte chirped, glad to see me again, "Whew. I was worried, but I knew
you'd be back, chief! Finally realized you needed me, huh?"
"Yeah... let's go."
"I tell ya, chief. I'm not letting you go this alone anymore. I mean let's be
honest, without a mimir like me around to give you the dark of things you
would've been dead ten times over. I'll be hanging around until you learn to
live off of the apron strings, but until then we're stuck skull-to-skill. Bestest
buddies we are, Morte and... well, we'll call you something eventually. After
all, big scary place like this it's just about impossible to find real friends..."
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