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

"I've heard the term 'mimir' before. What else can you tell me about him?"
"Mimirs are encyclopedias of knowledge. The owner may ask them
questions, and if they possess the knowledge, they will inform the user of
what it knows."
"And Morte is a mimir?"
"I don't believe so. Morte lacks the silvery metal that mimirs customarily
have. And he seems to have an attitude of his own. Such qualities are not
present in conventional mimirs." Grace shrugged slightly. "He may be one,
but he's unlike any I've ever encountered."
I grumbled, "I don't believe Morte is a mimir, either."
"Perhaps there is some test to verify his authenticity... but I would not do
one if you value him as a friend. If you do, then you must accept what he has
told you."
When we found them, Annah was deep in the bub. Without a word she
tossed the satchel of coins at me and steadying herself on the bar she tried
to stand. I caught her as she stumbled... Annah must've had quite a few. She
really wasn't a stumble kind of girl.
"Gerrof! Get OFF!" she snarled, ripping herself away from me, "I can stand
on me own..."
"What's with her?" I murmured to Morte as we went on our way.
"Angry drunk," he said, bobbing with a shrug, "Probably just another mug
away from shattering the bottle against the wall like a sopped-up harlot."
I chuckled, but beneath my grin I knew he was lying to me again.
~~~~~
Sebastion smiled at our approach. "Good day, cutter. It's good to see you
again."
I cut to the chase, "Actually, I want to talk to you about Dimtree."
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