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

She raised her eyebrows. "Now that's an unusual request. I don't know, it
seems pretty foul-mouthed already..."
"He! That's 'HE seems pretty foul-mouthed,' Kimasxi 'Bladderdung'... you
scruffy, goat-gammed harlot!" Morte snapped.
"You wish you had legs like mine, you pitiful wretch of a bone-box! I can
walk, run, dance... what do you do? Bob around wishing you had a pair,
goat's or otherwise!"
The two of them laid into one another, exchanging barbed, blistering insults
and clashing with razor-edged tongues. More than once I was tempted to
cover my ears, and even Annah looked impressed at the battle.
At last the two stopped their bickering, and an eerie silence settled over
them as they eyed one another hatefully. Finally, the tiefling made a
grudging admission to Morte: "You're not bad, really. Not bad at all."
"Better than you, perhaps?" Morte waggled his eyebrows at her. "Eh? Eh?"
Kimasxi narrowed her eyes at Morte. "Don't push it, skull."
"I won't, tiefling. I will admit I might have learned a thing or two, though...
good thinking, chief!"
~~~~~
Clad in an earthen peach-brown gown, the next fetching young woman had
a far-away look in her soft, sea-green eyes. Her honey-blond hair was pulled
back and coiffed in a high, elegant style and was decked with fine ornaments
that served only to frame her lovely face further.
"Greetings..."
She nodded to me, "Greetings. I am Yves, the Tale-Chaser."
"What a coincidence! I, too, chase tails," Morte chirped.
Yves continued, unperturbed. "Have you come to trade tales?"
"Why are you called the 'Tale-Chaser?'"
540