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

I blinked, "The Prime? What's that?"
She cocked her head and looked at me oddly, "The Prime Material Plane?
The place where the belief the Outer Planes are shaped of is born? The
world? Stars, moons, and so forth? Belief and reality? I sure hope you know
what the Prime is, because it's an essential part of planar knowledge."
"Er- I knew that." I shifted my weight. By the looks in their eyes they weren't
buying it. "What are you doing here then?"
Kiarus sighed, "Visiting. Expanding my horizons. The Prime is a fine place to
be, but it's a little too... real, I suppose. My uncle gives each of his nieces and
nephews a few years in the planes, and allows us to remain here if we so
desire. I think I might so desire. I am fascinated and repelled. But then, I
suppose that's the nature of the planes, isn't it?"
The man's stern gaze made me a bit uncomfortable, and after exchanging a
few pleasantries we parted ways. My ignorance was a little more crippling
than I expected. I had to learn a few things if I was to stay here.
A slightly stooped old man waved me over. A full grey beard and a lion's
mane of grey hair framed his face, creased with the touch of time. He wore
a couple of shoulder guards as armor, and he kept a helmet nearby.
Wrinkled, pale fingers reached into a pouch of tobacco around his waist,
pulling out a pinch of dried leaf that he added to his pipe. He looked pretty
strong, but he was a little plump and also appeared to have some sort of
breathing trouble. The old man puffed away as he spoke, his voice gruff,
"Well, now, aren't you a sight, lad! Never have I seen so many scars
blanketing a fella -- like a scar cloak ye're wearing! Where you been --
hanging out in a grain thresher?!" He laughed. "Oh, I'm just jesting with ye,
lad, no offense meant and I hope no offense taken. I'm Ebb." He extended
his hand.
I took it. He may have looked like nothing more than fat and gristle, but his
grip was firm, his bones thick. "Greetings, Ebb."
"Now, I hereby tender my apologies for the unfair jesting, lad. Hope there's
no hard feelings; can I buy you a tankard or two of something to smooth any
ruffled feathers?"
151