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

Keldor's face was dry and heavy when he returned, and for the first time
since I met him he showed the weight of age. "It is done. My thanks for
resolving the investigation. You have but one task remaining to you. Sandoz,
father of Sarossa and Saros, one of our more vital members, has returned
from a harrowing journey. He has locked himself in his tower room and is
threatening to kill himself. Speak to him. Stop him."
~~~~~
Despite the expert craftsmanship of the furniture, there was a marked
austerity to the sitting room. Deep and elaborate vines were carved into the
wood, and the shelves were lined with odd knicknacks and gleaming
treasures... a fiend's paw, an ornate bronze dagger. It was decorated by a
man who went through the motions of the high life, a dry and hollow
attempt to appear stoic rather than a mark of pride.
Two guards flanked the solid wood door, and they greeted me with a salute.
"Greetings, sir. Did Keldor send you? Sandoz came up here and he's been
raving and muttering behind the door all day. I hope you can do something
for him."
"We'll see about that." I called through the door, "Sandoz! I need to talk to
you!"
A muffled voice came out from the bedroom, shrill with a choked sob. "Go
away!"
"Are you Sandoz?"
The voice snapped, "Who else would I be? These are my rooms, this is my
faction." It laughed bitterly. "This is where I'm going to die."
"Tell me about yourself, Sandoz."
"You want to talk? Is that what you want? How about you listen?" The voice
paused, and then gathered steam. "What's the point of it, that's what I want
to know. Why do we do the things we do? What's the thing that keeps us
driving, hm?"
"I don't know, what?"
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