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

"Greetings, sword-ringer."
She hissed in irritation. "Your pleasantries are as dust. The sign of mourning
draws near - time is short, human. I would know your questions, then it is
my will you leave."
I gave Dak'kon a quick glance and turned back to her. "What did you mean
when you said I walk in the shadow of a pariah?"
"You walk with a pariah and you know not his history? He is quick to speak
other words, but of his history he has remained silent? Ask him of
Shrak'at'lor, of the fall of a mighty fortress to the githyanki, and see what his
divided mind reveals to you. Ask him how he speaks with Zerthimon's
words, but his karach is as mist."
Though her eyes met mine Kii'na was speaking past me. Each fierce word
was slung like a barbed arrow, and with each successful strike Dak'kon's
eyes became more downcast. His skin seemed to pale, and his karach blade
became as ash-gray as his eyes. A chill snaked its way along my spine, and
my heart seemed to stop. In that instant I could see my eyes mirrored in his
own, my deepest wish echoed back in the sigh of his blade wicking the air.
Dak'kon wanted to know himself again... but he also wanted to die.
"It is not Zerthimon's words that lack conviction," his voice was quiet but
firm, "It is their echoes that have been distorted."
Kii'na was just as resolute, "There is no doubt in how Zerthimon's mind is
spoken. Generations of zerth are as Rrakma's Jewel, of one mind on this
matter. Your stance carries with it a divided mind. The doubt is yours, an
echo cast from your own faithlessness."
"Your words speak not the mind of Zerthimon. They are shaped of angles
and hate, as if molded from Gith's mind itself," Dak'kon murmured. It was a
whisper that resonated more than a battle cry, one that bent the ear toward
him in its softness.
"You shall lie with the dead of Shrak'at'lor in shifting chaos, for you see all
with Vilquar's Eye. Your mind is divided, your karach weak!" Kii'na howled.
Like a bolt of lightning from a clear sky both zerth whipped free their blades,
each flowing sword keening as they cut the air.
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