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

I turned to face a man with rough, leathery skin with the same pale yellow
cast as Dak'kon and other githzerai I had seen. Yet his features were more
gaunt, skeletal, as if his skull had been drawn downwards. His face was
angular, his nose small and highly placed, and his ears tapered to points and
slashed as if by a ritual knife. A tracery of tattoos and scars covered his body.
While Dak'kon's manner of dress was more austere, this one was dressed in
strange, gaudy leathers that look more ornamental than combat-ready. His
eyes were like two small black stones and they pierced me with their
unwavering gaze. "You are the human seeking memories," he said, flatly. "I
can help you."
"Who and what are you, stranger?" He seemed githzerai, but lord he was
ugly.
"I am Yi'minn. I am a githyanki angler. My people are the undisputed
masters of the Astral Plane, where the gods go to die and the memories of
the dead float like leaves in a pool. My duty is in retrieving the memory
cores of the dead and gleaning them for information. I can locate your
memories. You have only to pay the price."
"What price would that be?"
"It is a matter of a mere few coins. The price is negotiable. I ask for two
hundred. You will determine the value of the memories I find and pay
accordingly."
After splurging on spells and items my coin pouch might've been a touch too
light for his request, but the githyanki seemed quite generous with his
terms. "Sounds good. What do I have to do?"
His beady eyes glanced side to side a moment, "If I am to bait my hook for
your memories, I will need some of the memories you currently possess. I
also require a place of concentration and quiet. If you will follow me, we will
journey to one such place and I will make you whole once again. We go
alone, with no companions."
I nodded cheerfully, "I suppose they can wait for me to return. Lead the
way."
The streets were cobbled in what once might have been luxurious blue
stone. Patches of polished azure still glinted, though they lay like scattered
434