each orifice disgracing, one facing me moves to say hellay

Lao doesn't really speak, during the battle with the chimera form. Only grunts and moans accompany each sweep of the winged arm, the horrible hundred-handed fingers, before he realizes Luxaar's fear, losing touch with his own.

Different body? Who cares? Just like Elma said: we all wake up each day as different organisms than we were the night before, cells morphing and changing. Lying there, broken, his voice still finds a way to issue from behind those gnashing teeth.

That shouldn't be possible, since vocal cords... But then, mims...

Doesn't matter. His voice still reaches.

This can't be the end.