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

Fall-From-Grace spoke with a coldness I had never heard before. The air
almost became ice as she dissected Vrischika with her gaze. "That is
enough."
"Very well. Though you are the ones who came into my emporium."
Vrishchika looks to me and narrowed her eyes. "You... you're the scarred
man, who's been going around asking all the questions?" She looked me up
and down. "You sure look lost. Did you want to come in, really, or are you
just casing the place because you have nothing better to do?"
"Because Vrischika..." She indicated herself "...can help you."
I eyed her skeptically, "How can you help me?"
"I travel and trade extensively. I hear a great deal, I purchase a great deal,
and I own a great deal. Perhaps I can make you a great deal. Is there
anything that you desire?"
"Only answers to some questions..."
Vrishchika pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes into dangerous slits. "I'll
entertain any questions about the merchandise, but I'm not going to be
drawn into one of your famous
twenty-questions-about-anything-around-the-spire, understood?"
"What are you, Vrishchika?"
Vrischika sighed loudly. "An alu-fiend... a half-demon. My mother was
tanar'ri, a fiend, and my father a great king of mortals. Such a rude
question... but then, you're rather rude-looking yourself, aren't you?"
"What did you mean by calling Morte 'prevaricating?'"
"Prevaricating... misrepresenting, perjuring, dissimulating, lying... oh, did I
say that? I'd meant a floating, disembodied, pontificating skull. As in
dogmatic - always stating an opinion in a self-important manner." Vrishika
smiled innocently.
"You and Fall-From-Grace seem to care little for one another..."
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