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

“Greetings.”
The creature turned to face me and a series of symbols appeared around its
head. The symbols had a slight glow about them, and they just... hovered
there.
“Oh, for the Powers’ sake! Piking dabus,” Morte clicked his tongue with
annoyance.
“What’s wrong?”
“He’s a dabus. They ‘speak’ in rebuses, these annoying word puzzles. If you
don't know what he's saying, then we better find a native or some other way
to communicate with him... if we want to. An annoying bunch. My bet? They
can speak, they just would rather piss everyone else off by trying to puzzle
out what they’re saying.”
“What’s a ‘dabus?’” I had gotten used to asking questions, and Morte
seemed perfectly happy to answer. Funny how he was perfectly patient with
me but would lose it at a few word puzzles.
“Chant is they’re janitors for the Lady of Pain. They float around breaking,
fixing and patching up Sigil according to her whims. They’re worse than
corpse flies.” Morte sighed. “You can’t swat ‘em though, or the Lady’ll get...
upset.”
“And... who’s the Lady of Pain?”
Morte suddenly looked nervous, “Eh... she runs this city. You’ll know if you
see her: She’s got these blades around her face, she’s about the size of a
giant, and she floats off the ground, just like these guys.” Morte nodded at
the dabus, who was looking at us both. “Nobody knows much about her...
she doesn’t speak much. All you need to know is that you don't want to
make her angry. If you see her, my advice: run.”
The dabus waited patiently, its hands tucked into its sleeves. A series of
symbols materialized above its head, then they vanished and a question
mark appeared.
I asked the dabus several questions, trying to get a feel for the rebuses that
appeared above its head. It was extremely patient throughout our
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