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

"Back for more, eh?" Ebb Creakknees leaned back in his chair. "Good t'see
ye again, lad."
"Who's this, aye?" Annah eyed Ebb suspiciously, "I don't drink with
hardheads, I don't."
"Former hardhead, lass, har!" Ebb laughed, patting his hefty paunch, "Too
fat to chase you down the streets of the Hive, not fat enough to keel over
dead. Workin' on that, though." With that he bit into the roasted lizard
haunch he'd been dining on.
Annah pursed her lips, but eventually took a seat.
"Now, tell me what you've been up to, boy. You don't seem as green or
clueless as you were when you first stumbled in here all goggle-eyed and
askin' your barmy questions."
"We've been looking for Ravel Puzzlewell."
Ebb paused, teeth gnarled around a piece of thick cartilage. For a moment
he stared at me dumbfounded, until a dribble of spittle wet his lips and he
swallowed quickly, "Why the hells would you be chasing a chit like that?
Women are always trouble, er... beggin' my pardon, madams," he indicated
Grace and Annah, "But Ravel'll live up to her namesake with what she'd do
to your entrails if you step wrong around her. If she still lives, that is."
"I think she may be holding my soul, or whatever allows me to die, prisoner.
If I'm going to find peace, I need to seek her out."
Ashen-faced, Ebb stared at me, his bluff and friendly demeanor gone. I
squirmed. It was oddly disturbing to see someone so naturally cheerful
suddenly so quiet.
"OI! CANDRIAN!" he barked across to the next table. Half the patrons
jumped and looked up, the other half were too sodden with drink to raise
their heads. In fact, the guy in the corner was probably dead, "Get yer
immaterial arse o'er this way!"
Candrian strode over, his limbs wavering like hot desert air as he moved.
The chains and spikes and knives arrayed around him should've clinked, but
the insubstantial nature of his entire body rendered his implements mute.
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