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

Its voice was honey-sweet, effeminate and soft as down. It was frightened.
"Who... oh light of Atun! This is not the River of Golden Reeds!" she
moaned. "Why am I here? I have laid sacrifices thrice a year, sent gifts of
incense to the Alabaster Temple! My body was embalmed with resin, myrrh,
and packed with natron in the manner of the Old Ways. My lover placed a
coin upon my tongue as was the custom of his lands. Why do I not rest with
him in the afterlife?!"
"Silence now, until I bid you speak!" the elderly sage snapped. He plucked a
mummified head from the shelf by the ragged remains of its linen
wrappings. Its shrunken eyes had been pressed flat into their sockets by two
coins clinging as if glued to the dry flesh. Its lips were curled into a grimace.
Gold glinted past one chipped tooth. The sage dropped the grim parcel into
the brew with a splash.
"Your lover will join you soon enough."
The female skull was muted by Lothar's command, but Morte's shrieks
echoing against the walls were enough for both of them.
~~~~~
I whistled a merry tune as I waited for Annah and Dak'kon, happy to be
whole again, lips and all.
Sebastion's healing was astounding. My skin lost many of the subtle itches
and tugs I had never known existed, and ancient aches in battle-scarred
bones were gone. I had lived with them as long as I could remember (though
granted my memory only stretched back a few weeks) and to have them
gone... well, best I could describe it was that it was refreshing since I have
nothing else to compare it to.
"Fine day, isn't it?" I said cheerfully to a passerby.
"Pike it, Clueless."
Hrmn.
A slim, bony finger tapped me on the shoulder.
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