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

If that was the kind of story Annah grew up around, that explained a few
things.
Yves smiled. "That was a wonderful, tale Annah; you should never hesitate
to share it. Now I've one for you and your companion - 'The Parched Land.'"
"Once, a large village was struck by a terrible drought. A farmer journeyed to
the Worshipping Stone, and again implored it as to the cause of the drought.
He asked the Stone why it did nothing when the fields were parched and
dying, why the animals and the people suffered while the Stone did not a
thing. 'Have we not given enough offerings?' the farmer asked, begging
almost upon his hands and needs. But the Stone did not respond; it merely
sat, and cast its shadow."
"Dak'kon... do you have a story to trade?"
"Ach! Are yeh some kind o' pikin' tard? Clappin' and squealin' for
storytime?"
"Ah, don't listen to her, chief. She's just jealous that her mams aren't as nice
as Yves' here," Morte dodged away before Annah could grab him to do
something horrid.
Dak'kon nodded solemnly in response. "I shall impart the tale of 'Ach'ali
Drowning.'"
Dak'kon told the story of Ach'ali, a foolish githzerai of myth who had
become lost in the chaos of limbo. Normally, a single githzerai may use their
focus and mental discipline to form the chaos around them into a small,
habitable environment. Ach'ali, however, asked so many useless and
unfocused questions in her quest to return home that her isle of matter
dissolved around her, and she drowned.
Yves smiled. "Fascinating, Dak'kon. Let me share with you and your
companion another version of your tale that I have heard..."
Dak'kon looked attentive, and perhaps a little surprised.
Yves continued to tell a different version of Dak'kon's tale, in which Ach'ali
was driven from the githzerai city of Shrak'at'lor for her constant, useless
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