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

At the other end of the room, Lothar cradled the head over a cauldron,
bubbling with an opaque green soup. His fingers kneaded Soego's rotting
cheeks, tugged open his mouth. "There is wisdom in bones, scarred one," he
said reverently, "Brain matter rots, hearts wither, souls sublimate into
nothing. But bones endure, carrying in their ivory-pale curves secrets best
left forgotten, regrets and loves unnamed. Memories that sank deep into
the core of a man are fossilized for as long as the skull lasts."
"Lothar..."
He ignored me, and his eyes opened wide in recognition, "Ah... I see. A man
who lost his lover to a predator's cruel fangs, who sold his soul for her
return, and whose body was torn asunder by creatures of ravenous frenzy. I
have heard this tale before... from a foolish young bard on an isle a world
away, who sang his lover's name even as the waves swallowed him."
He dropped Soego's head into the cauldron with a splash, "Well, this one
will reveal a few Dustman secrets, at least."
The mane of raven-black hair swirled among the green foam like seaweed. It
bobbed a moment. The foul broth trickled into the open mouth, driving a
small spider out from its nesting place as it flooded. It dashed along the
forehead, needle-like legs circling the perimeter where boiling-hot soup ate
away at the edges of that shrinking island of flesh. Eventually that pale
haven was consumed as the head sank and the spider flailed, scrabbling at
nothing as it died with agonized futility fueling its final twitches. It only took
a moment for its body to dissolve, and in the bubbling green foam its slim
legs drifted as flotsam on the surface of a pond.
Annah wrapped her arms around herself as if chilled, too nervous to draw a
circle over her heart to ward off harm as she usually did. But despite her
superstitions and her fears she crept close at my heels as Lother led us
upstairs.
His bedroom was decorated much as I expected - a cage craft from a
creature's rib cage, a wall lined with animal skulls. He sat down in a chair
craft from several tusks, his staff still in hand. "Keep it quick, scarred one. I
cannot tarry all day."
"Why am I immortal?" I asked, crossing my arms.
496