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

"So I turned to the Xaositects, and thank the Powers they were willing to
help me on one of their mad whims. For the price of a moldy potato carved
in the shape of a Bariur's nose, they gave me Xoraskavitt, who they swore up
and down and by their eyes and arse that he could translate anything
chaos-written."
"Did it work?" Oudilin strums his lyre, the strings sweet and freshly-tuned.
Epetrius purses his lips, "A thought experiment: Pretend that you are trying
to inspect an insect under a magnification device. It is a species who holds in
its belly something that will unlock the secrets of the Multiverse, and the
only lenses you are handed are hunks of irregularly-shaped granite. That is
what it is like working with this mephit."
The Guvner sighs, "But nonetheless we were able to piece it together over
the months, and in that time I've grown somewhat fond of the creature. The
tome is maddening to read and the words continuously shift if they aren't
phasing in and out and through existence, but I can manage now, thanks to
Xoraskavitt's help. Though quite frankly, sometimes I think the Xaositects
had the richer end of the deal."
With that, the Guvner flips open the multihued book (which at the moment
is giving off a slight smoky scent) and pierces a page with a firm finger,
"Now, allow me to continue our tale..."
Chapter 45
I tried to lose myself in the din of hawkers and buyers, merchants crying out
their wares and the rabble of hagglers in heated debates over the proper
price of the goods. One would think that in a crowded marketplace as this
one less voice would go unnoticed.
I sighed, feigning interest in an Arborean apple.
"I dinnae understand what yer down about. 'E was just a stupid skull."
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