Avar waved Keystone away, busy hammering away at a thick place of steel, sending sparks everywhere but his pristine beard. "Away with ye, boy, afore ye ruin me concentration!"
Saran had nodded upon his mention of the temple of Tyr, and the priests welcomed the monk carrying a hefty purse. A high ranking priest, marked by the holy symbol of Tyr, clad in the robes of a high priest one would recognize everywhere in the Realms. After a short inspection, he shook his head and put up a price of 100 gold pieces for the healing spells required to heal Keystone's grievous wounds without a scar.

Saran was out and about on the market, wearing robes similar to the working girls Keystone had seen the night before. Finished with her own shopping, she leaned against the wall close to one of the market exits and waited for Keystone.