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

"For millenia I lay in languor, feeling the millions of footsteps across my
walkways, listening to the mind-numbing murmurs of joy and wishes of
good fortune and prosperity. Until one day, long ago, it was time for the
Festival.
"They came from distant lands: magicians from Yudanii, whose coats held
nine hundred folds and just as many secrets; alchemists from Braen Woods,
who carried the Elixer of Truth; long-haired dancers of the Star People,
wearing gowns of spun moonlight; shirtless men of the Takka spinning
fire-staves and sweating with celebration. Each delegation came bearing
gifts, thanking Ileron and its people for the gift of happiness, and for
allowing them to see the dream of paradise fulfilled. They laid their gifts at
the Celestial Court at the Palace of Ten Thousand Suns, each more lavish
than the last, until finally, a young boy came to place his offering on the
altar.
"He was small, and young, and terribly malnourished, but he came because
Ileron barred no one from its pleasures. In a small box of pressed paper was
a crystal sphere banded with silver, pulsing with a sickly gray light. It was a
sensory stone, and it contained the memories of who you call the Nameless
One.
"I was intrigued, and for the first time I learned firsthand what it was like to
explore planes beyond my own. No dry books or texts on the Outer Planes
were these, no, but experience, rare and new.
"And so inspired I picked myself up from the world of Sen-Tau, taking my
veins which once fed the people sweet nectar, my bones which once housed
men and memory, the beating of my heart which once kept faith and joy
and hope. I took the history of Ileron with me, leaving behind only the
people and the memory of what once was, fading like a fecund dream as if
the city never existed.
"For many years I fled and the Gods of Sen-Tau chased after me. Many times
they tried to slay me and lay me back to rest on the world which I once
called my home... where I once was home. But the people of Sen-Tau are
scattered, wandering the planes and weeping with lament over losing what
they never knew. Each year that passes more of the People die, and each
year the power of the Gods fades.
"And so I hid myself here in Sigil, the City of Doors. Oh such wonder to stand
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