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

Interlude
"What's gotten the gith's knickers in a knot?" Mikon bellows drunkenly,
"Tha' Dak'kon sounds like a fine warrior, 'e does... 'oo needs to concern
'imself o'er a pile o' moldy ole words on a platter?"
Epetrius' sharp nose wrinkles in disdain, "Good Harmonium officer, I grant
you the benefit of a doubt that you wouldn't say such things when sober,
since that is the stupidest thing I have ever heard. And that is speaking as a
member of the Fraternity of Order (as well as Twenty-Fifth of Two Hundred
and Twelve Keepers of the Keys of the Eighteenth Great Library in Mechanus
and High Scribe to the Libris Occultis on the Prime World of Tedrecon), for I
will say that I have sifted through my share of nonsense by merely rifling
through the first three alcoves of the Great Library."
Out of the corner of your eye you've been noticing the yellow-skinned gith
slipping in. They came in small groups, huddled together and dressed in
austere orange-grey robes. Their faces are stern, their weapons simple. One
carries a halberd whose blade shifted and flowed, blue as the sea one
moment and silver-green the next. Without a doubt she is a zerth, perhaps
one returning from a rrakkma band from the way she stands so proudly.
Naturally, the githzerai, perhaps ten to fifteen in all, crowd against the wall
of one end of the tavern, while the githyanki do the same on the other.
The tarnished side of the coin had always sent a chill down your spine. You
had served with githzerai before, fine, noble warriors. But the githyanki...
Where the githzerai listen with meditative calm, the githyanki stand tense,
chuckling at some points, snarling and spitting at others. Their clothing is
elaborate to the point of gaudiness. Their tattoos, piercings, and slitted ears
mark a high resistance (or perhaps love of) pain. Needle-tipped teeth jut
through their skeletal maws and their eyes are beady and black as a fiend's
heart.
You sip your drink. It's a wonder the two groups haven't burst into fighting
by now.
"Githzerai dogs!" one of the githyanki spits, "They never should have been
cut from the leashes of their illithid masters!"
449