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

glimmers in your Festive hall - use it like a cup, pour what you feel into it,
and know this: A-member me to a man who wears a skin of scars n' tattoos,
who seeks memories but has miss-placed them; if smart he is, he will know
the knowing of ME. Tell him to find me - or if I am not to be found, tell him
to come to the glimmer-stone, and we shall speak, my precious man and I."
The woman pauses, then hisses again. "NOD if you a-hear me, ragged
thing!"
I nod again.
"Ah... pretty, polite to a-listen so long... when he comes to the
glimmer-stone, tell the man to speak my name, and your pain shall not have
been in vain..." The crone's voice trails off, as if distracted. I try to speak
again, but there is only a sick gurgling noise, and flecks of fluid spatter
against my lips, trickling down my chin. Instinctively I try to lick them away,
but again my tongue doesn't seem to work. What happened? Who is this
person? Why am I... the world is growing softer, the sensations bleeding
away...
"Ravel! Ravel, it is I!"
Recognition that this was only a sensation, a memory stored within a stone
jolted me awake quick enough that I was able to cry out her name. The cry
sounded hollow, as if drowned out by the darkness I was slipping into...
There is silence.
"Ravel..?"
"Ahhh... my precious man." There is the slow shuffling of feet, and I feel a
sharp pinprick in my left eye; I gasp, and suddenly, barely, I can SEE - with
my one and only eye. I lie in a gray hut, upon a dirty floor, where blood, my
bright-red blood has seeped into the surrounding gray dust. I curl forward,
looking down. The film over my vision clears away a bit with each blink, and I
look down. My arms are gone, my legs have been hacked off at the knees.
Yet... I feel numbed, and there is no pain... only fear. There is someone
above, someone looking down on me...
I look up through my bloody, blurred vision, to see a horrid bluish gray face,
grinning with yellowed tusks. "Ravel is pleased - a-wondering I was if this
messenger would make it, for weak he was when his bits were placed on my
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