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

She stared past me, and recited a story long-practiced and enchanting,
"Once upon a time, a girl came to an oracle who was rumored to know many
things and asked of it a boon. Her life was in need of direction, so she asked
this oracle as to what would give her purpose...
"Now, the oracle was not evil, but it was vague and tended towards drink,
which caused it to be obscure in many matters of judgment and focus. Its
only answer to the girl's question was that within one story that she would
hear in her lifetime was the truth that she sought. The girl went off and
collected stories, which she chases to this day, not knowing which of the
thousands hold the truth.
"Such is the danger of a foolish question and the wisdom of an unspoken
one."
We traded stories then, one-for-one. I told her of my stint in the Mortuary,
of the Alley that gave birth to a new segment of the city. I spoke of
Reekwind's odiferous curse, of the guttered segment of the Hive that
became the Alley of Dangerous Angles. With a heavy heart I recited the tale
of Pharod, whose lies had damned him and who sought salvation in vain, the
story of Ignus whose heart burned with the love of flame.
She taught me new stories in turn.
'Chapters of Dust.'
"There are chapters in the Dead Book, the massive tome in which the
Dustmen keep that records the passing of all that lives into the Eternal
Boundary. In this Book, there are chapters that are naught but dust, and it is
believed that the names therein are lost souls who cannot die, but must
suffer life eternally until history itself dies and grants them release."
'The Clock and the Quadrone.'
"Once upon a time, there existed a modron. It was newly-created, its logic
fresh and untested, and it had come to Sigil, following the commands of its
modron superiors.
"It knew of nothing but commands and dictates, of obedience and passing
along the orders of its superiors. For you see, modrons are only aware of the
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