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

"Tch, hey. I told you we shouldn't try tricking the big ugly armed gentleman.
Just ask politely, you know. No need to lie like a street harlot at the sight of
a silver piece. Speaking of which-"
I grabbed him before he could make an exit, "Oh no. You got us into this."
Morte clicked his teeth, "Now's not the time to point fingers, chief. I mean,
you've got me at a disadvantage."
I scoffed, "We aren't leaving until this dies down. We'll just have to hole up
here for a while. I'm not going to risk you getting smashed against a wall."
"Fine," he said. I let him go, and he calmly floated alongside me, "But we're
going to be in here a while. I mean, if you just went out there and let them
take a few pieces out of you, they might calm down and forget this ever
happened."
I tried keep from punching him, "That could work, but I don't know if I could
still heal up if they tore me limb from limb."
"There's always a first time, isn't it?"
I grumbled and made my way to the back of the bar, leaning against a
support pillar.
At my side was a man, standing stock still. He wasn't moving a muscle. On
closer examination, it appeared that he wasn't even breathing -- just
standing. His eye sockets were empty holes in his face. Contained within
their bounds was a flat gray light that seemed to dance with possibility.
Looking into the sockets, the eerie, empty feeling of a limitless void shivered
through me, as if I had gazed into a sliver of eternity. The head slowly
swiveled toward me (I noticed that no muscles appeared to move under his
skin as he turned), and he spoke in a pure, bell-like tone: "Well met,
wanderer. You have forgotten again, haven't you?"
I blinked "Do you know me, stranger?"
As he opened his mouth, I got that feeling of eternity again -- inside his
mouth, I could see no tongue, no teeth. It was almost as if this man were a
shell surrounding an illimitable expanse. "I have spoken with you before,
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