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

of her collapsing and whispering her last breath. Each day ticked by, one
closer towards that half-expected tragedy when you would have to begin
mourning, missing the matronly touch of their hands and the softness of
their words. It was how I felt towards Old Mebbeth, who healed my hurts
and taught me the Art.
So it was strange to think that matronly Stale Mary, mending her shambling
charges and laying the sleeping ones to rest, could potentially outlive you.
"Guh-guhruuuhhh..."
"It's good to see you, Mary, but I come on a dire quest and I hate to ask this
of you. My companion has been kidnapped by a powerful man who
demands a 'greater' skull for my companion's release. What should I do,
Mary?"
"Huuu?"
I sighed, "It's Lothar, the Master of Bones."
She stood swaying there, as if in a daze before she spoke again. "Uuu nuuuu
hnnn... prrrrvuhhhlll. Dnnngruuushhh. Hllldz sklll frnnn."
"Yes, Mary. I know I can't take any of the skulls in these catacombs. But- I
need your advice. I need a skull that would be fitting for Lothar."
She stood silent, gazing past me. For a long moment Stale Mary seemed to
consider the problem, and finally with a slow, careful nod, she gripped her
head in both hands. "Tuh-tuh-tuhk muhhh ssskuhhl..."
I was aghast. "Take... your skull? But that'll kill you."
Mary slowly shook her head side to side - her splitting lips formed what
might've been a sad smile. "Kuh-kill? N-n-nuuuh. Mmm uhhhlrrruhhhdy
dhhhud."