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

through the branches of a great tree.
I returned the odd greeting, "Hail."
The man met my gaze, his eyes burrowing into mine. His weapon drained of
its black color, resuming its shimmering I had noticed before I spoke to him.
"Your eyes have the weight of one who has traveled far to be in this place."
I shrugged, "You could say that."
The man's gaze didn't waver from mine. "I am known as Dak'kon." The
emphasis he placed on the word “known” struck me as odd... yet familiar at
the same time. "You... are not known to me."
"You are not known to me."
"We are beneath the same sky in this matter, then." Dak'kon was silent for a
moment, still studying me with his coal-black eyes. "The Planes number
many infinities, yet you are here. I would know why you have come to this
city."
"I'm looking for answers... there's much I don't know, and I've forgotten
even more."
He nodded, gesturing to the seat next to him, "Speak your questions. I will
hear you."
I sat down. The metal of the stool was warm, like every other surface in this
bar, "Your features are... unfamiliar to me. What are you?"
"A githzerai," he said simply.
"A githzerai?"
"A githzerai is one of the People," again without an ounce more than
absolutely necessary.
I blinked, "One of the people?"
"A githzerai," as flat as before.
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