<div style="text-align: center"><script class="js-extraPhrases" type="application/json">
			{
				"lightbox_close": "Close",
				"lightbox_next": "Next",
				"lightbox_previous": "Previous",
				"lightbox_error": "The requested content cannot be loaded. Please try again later.",
				"lightbox_start_slideshow": "Start slideshow",
				"lightbox_stop_slideshow": "Stop slideshow",
				"lightbox_full_screen": "Full screen",
				"lightbox_thumbnails": "Thumbnails",
				"lightbox_download": "Download",
				"lightbox_share": "Share",
				"lightbox_zoom": "Zoom",
				"lightbox_new_window": "New window",
				"lightbox_toggle_sidebar": "Toggle sidebar"
			}
			</script>
<div class="bbImageWrapper lazyload js-lbImage" data-lb-caption-extra-html="" data-lb-sidebar-href="" data-single-image="1" data-src="/proxy.php?image=http%3A%2F%2Ffotos.fotoflexer.com%2F42fa33791f30fbfef9a3b4db02885692.jpg&amp;hash=204d503ab591bed57d87ec42cadc9131" title="42fa33791f30fbfef9a3b4db02885692.jpg">
<img alt="42fa33791f30fbfef9a3b4db02885692.jpg" class="bbImage lazyload" data-src="/proxy.php?image=http%3A%2F%2Ffotos.fotoflexer.com%2F42fa33791f30fbfef9a3b4db02885692.jpg&amp;hash=204d503ab591bed57d87ec42cadc9131" data-url="http://fotos.fotoflexer.com/42fa33791f30fbfef9a3b4db02885692.jpg" data-zoom-target="1" height="" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" style="" title="" width=""/>
<noscript><img alt="42fa33791f30fbfef9a3b4db02885692.jpg" class="bbImage" data-url="http://fotos.fotoflexer.com/42fa33791f30fbfef9a3b4db02885692.jpg" data-zoom-target="1" height="" src="/proxy.php?image=http%3A%2F%2Ffotos.fotoflexer.com%2F42fa33791f30fbfef9a3b4db02885692.jpg&amp;hash=204d503ab591bed57d87ec42cadc9131" style="" title="" width=""/></noscript>
</div></div><br/>Arjan had all but forgotten his previous life. He'd changed his name, forgotten many old habits, and carved out a peaceful existence hermitted away in an eclectic little shack on the outskirts of a simple village. Far enough away that he didn't think any reminders would come knocking. The villagers thought he was some sort of magic man when really he just had medical knowledge beyond their years, growing up in a slightly more advanced civilization. Not even trained. He'd been owned by a surgeon, aiding in with his work enough that he'd picked up some basic and useful things.<br/><br/>His shack had been home to a witch doctor of sorts and they'd learned from one another. When the old man had passed Arjan took over full time, aiding the villagers with their ailments. No one was bothered by his unusualness, nor had they ever questioned where he'd come from. He was left alone and well respected but still kept separate from a lot of their direct rituals. It was the way Arjan preferred it. He fulfilled his purpose and healed the sick. Some superstitions surrounded the foreigner and Arjan fed into them, letting the local children make up stories that would leave him mostly unbothered.<br/><br/>It had been long enough that Arjan had gotten comfortable. A decade plus a handful of years, at least. Time went quickly when his time was his own. The shack had only really changed in that things had been added to it. Arjan didn't like to be rid of things, even those that had been owned by the healer before him. Silly little things to ward off imagined threats and then protection spells etched into the wood of the door. He'd adopted some of their own culture all the while scorning it at the same time. He liked to believe he was the more rational sort yet it all remained as a comfort to him. Even the brief visits of the villagers he'd come to know.<br/><br/>Arjan was dressed in a mix of old leather breeches and a shawl wrapped around him that was gifted by one of the women who he'd helped along through the birth of her first child. He wore a necklace of bone, carved from the teeth and fingers of the old healer. He'd been given it one of the few times he'd attended their funeral ceremonies. His dark hair had grown long, partially matted because Arjan couldn't be bothered most days. His facial hair had grown out as well. He couldn't have looked more different and he doubted he'd be recognized for what he used to be unless someone saw the brand on the outside of his hip.<br/><br/>He was sitting in his garden outside, relaxing with a pipe and some dried tobacco when he heard someone calling out to him, sounding like there was some urgency to it. Arjan set the pipe down and stood, going towards the noise. It was Rhiak and another whom he didn't have a name for, dragging forward the body of a sizable man. The healer didn't think, simply led the way back into hit hut, a cot already set up that he used for the sick, not all that far from his own sleeping space.<br/><br/>“Where did you find him?” Arjan asked, not questioning his features or style of clothing even as he was having Rhiak lift the man so that he could cut them away.<br/><br/>“I found his horse dead. Looks like they'd fallen,” Rhiak answered.<br/><br/>There was blood, swelling, and deep bruising. Alive, though he'd obviously been left to exposure longer than was desirable. Arjan pointed to the other villager, snapping at him to build the fire back up to produce more warmth in the small hut. It was then he saw the mark on the injured man's shoulder and his blood ran cold. Fury washed over his features and he snatched his hands away as if the man covered in some contagious disease.<br/><br/>“Get him out of my hut,” Arjan snarled, dumping the clothing they'd cut away down onto his broad and mottled chest. Rhiak looked puzzled.<br/><br/>“What, why?”<br/><br/>Arjan had turned away, thinking of an excuse that he could supply to explain his adamant refusal to treat this stranger. He wouldn't admit the truth.<br/><br/>“I do not have a good feeling about this man. There is sickness in his heart beyond what I can heal,” he said cryptically, tilting his chin up slightly. Next he was waving his hands, rambling in a language the villagers didn't understand. He knew it made him sound more ominous than he actually was. His home language, not the one he'd been taught after his capture and enslavement. Rhiak looked over at his companion nervously. Their healer had never refused them before.<br/><br/>“I was told to bring to you. If you turn him away you answer to someone else. For now, Arjan, you do what you can for him.”<br/><br/>Arjan crossed his arms, staring hard at Rhiak a moment before stomping off, gathering what he would need. He was not gentle with the man and it was likely a good thing he wasn't conscious, especially when he reset bone. Flesh was stitched tensely, Arjan's movements clipped as he silently seethed. If the healer was lucky he wouldn't wake up at all. He would do very little beyond what he was doing now and hopefully, this stranger from a world he used to know wouldn't be a problem of his for long.