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

engrossed in whatever tale that Hamrys was relating. Occasionally he
nodded his head, but made no comments of his own.
"I can't see how you can stand that," I murmured.
The man turned slightly at my comment, just enough to acknowledge my
presence. He was a little pale of complexion and rather gaunt looking, and
gave nothing but a blank stare. Hamrys didn't seem to notice any of this and
continued with his stream of useless prattle.
"Are you... all right?"
The man continued to stare at me and slowly nodded. For a moment I
waited for any further response but he said nothing, only stared. I was about
to turn away in frustration (and in worry that Hamrys might notice my
lingering) when I noticed a strange, musty odor about Dimtree.
I stepped closer and sniffed, unsure what I'd find. As I did, a musty odor
filled my senses, an odor I recognized from my time in the mortuary. It was
the smell of dead flesh preserved by magic, muted by strong enchantments.
"You're a zombie, aren't you?"
The creature continued to stare at me blankly. Slowly, as if with great effort,
he began to reply to me. Only my ability to speak with dead made him
understandable. "Yes... I am... Dimtree."
"Why are you here, Dimtree?"
Dimtree slowly glanced at the shopkeeper and made a feeble gesture
toward him. Seeing this as a sign of interest, Hamrys redoubled his efforts in
telling whatever tale he is relating to the poor creature. Dimtree looked at
me again. "Hamrys... He talks... Hamrys never stops... Wanders town...
annoys Master, annoys everyone... Master create Dimtree... Tells Dimtree
talk Hamrys... Now Hamrys stay in shop... Master happy... town happy.
Dimtree sad..."
I winced, and my heart went out to the poor creature. "Is there anything I
can do to help you, Dimtree?"
The creature paused, then resumed his slow speech. I could almost detect a
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