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

A white-haired old man in dingy clerical robes scoffs, "Bah, everyone knows
he was Athar... if not he was one at heart. The man's power has bent the
Planes and challenged the gods. What more proof do you need?"
One of the Signers scoffs at the first speaker, "A Signer! Is this some test of
my convictions? Archived in my memories of the Hall of Speakers there is
clear evidence of the Nameless One's presence."
"No, a Taker!" another growls, "Haven't any of you heard the tales of his
ability to seize what he wanted from the weak? His prowess is legendary!"
"Xaos iS as Xaos dOes dID he rUMble nImiC StaRs! foUR leAVes fALlinG tHe
cAScaDes dO TEll sHIveRing liEs."
"Shut up, all of you!" Factor Epetrius snaps, "My word this is worse than the
half-baked squabbles of Namers in the City Court. I would think that faction
representatives would exercise an iota of restraint on claiming him as a
mascot until real evidence was presented."
"Well wot was 'e then?"
Epetrius' lips thin with impatience and slowly, very slowly, he knuckles those
smoked-glass spectacles back onto the bridge of his nose. You sip your ale,
hiding a chuckle with your mug as you bring the speared mollusk to your
lips. The flesh is tender, the butter rich with garlic and herbs.
Epetrius heaves a sigh. "In truth, none of this squabbling is explicitly
incorrect. Tales of the Nameless One scattered like sawdust and there's no
doubt that whispers of him have blown into many a faction's doors.
"True, there is one faction that this particular incarnation of the Nameless
One had joined, but first he had to deal with the task ahead of him. And oh
what a pleasant task it was..."
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