<strong>The Tavern</strong><br/><br/>"40 gold pieces? You're ridiculous!" A man in the tavern shouted loudly as he stood up, knocking his stool back behind himself. He was wearing a thick suit of armor, though not thick enough, it would seem. The side of it was split open, revealing a deep, fresh wound underneath, wrapped in bandages, but still in very poor shape. The man across the table from him merely shifted slightly in his seat, slicked back his dirty blonde hair, and shrugged. "30 then, and that's your best offer." The man hardly looked pleased.<br/>"You can't charge people for healing, that's-"<br/>"You're not paying me to heal you. You're paying me to bleed for you. I'm a whore, not a priest. If you don't like my price, you can go to a temple for free."<br/>"By the time they heal me, the summons will be- fine."<br/><br/>The man grabbed at his pouch and counted out a hefty sum of gold, giving it to the healer, who calmly put it away in a pouch in his belt, his hand returning with a jagged knife. He stood up, black robes flowing behind him as he walked over to the armored man, gripped the knife's blade with one hand, and pulled with the other. He nearly didn't even wine as the blade bit deeply into his hand, instantly drawing a good deal of blood. With his uninjured hand, the man ripped away his customer's bandage, slapping his bloodied hand against the open wound. His customer's face contorted in pain, as he went though months of healing in a few seconds, his wounds closing, skin knitting over, muscle reshaping. After a few moments, the only evidence he was ever injured at all was the healer's bloody hand print and the slashed armor. As the healer went to sit back down, he ran a few fingers over his own wound, which sealed it off. His customer didn't bother to thank him, or even say anything, he just left. Most of the bar was silent after the spectacle, but thje healer didn't even seem to notice, or care. He was probably used to the attention. At the very least, he was suddenly much wealthier.<br/><br/><strong>City Streets</strong><br/>Of all the men clamoring to see Gwen, one in particular stood out from the rest. He was a little taller, with lighter skin than the average human. Not necessarily pale, but certainly not the peach or tan hue most people were. He was dressed in very fine clothing that didn't appear to be from any of the local regions. Giving an annoyed look at all the people he had to get through, he looked over Gwen. "Are you genuine? I don't have much money to waste on a scam." he told her, somewhat bluntly. He spoke with a strange accent, his words just seemed faster, more impatient than the local dialect. "I need to know if I'm going to find what I'm looking for by putting up with these summons jobs."