The priest obliged and directed his healing magic along the scars that Keystone wanted healed. Skin bubbled up as if made of a strange, viscous syrup, mending the wounds before his eyes. The strange tugging feeling he got when Kaylee had attempted to keep his wounds shut was similar to what he felt now, as his muscles involuntarily shuddered and spasmed as the healing spell surged through his form. The priest finished his work, smiled and bowed to Keystone, taking the platinum with a grateful nod and leaning over to look at the mangled steel collar.
The man's elegant facial expressions underwent a few changes as he twisted and rolled the metal in his hands, grunting several times. He approached the altar of Tyr and pulled forth piece of cloth that rested there, wrapping the metal shard in it as he handed it back to Keystone:
"This is great evil and should be banished as soon as possible. The seal is damaged beyond recognition, but the power of blood magic is clear to see for anyone familiar with the divine or arcane arts. Such magic is forbidden even in Thay and has not been used in centuries. In different times, mages used to have dark rituals that would bind a spirit to an inanimate object, at the cost of their own life. Who would undergo such a horrific ritual I do not know, and this construct you have defeated could very well be several hundred years old. Tis a feat of great skill to have managed such a victory," the priest said, bowing in respect to the monk. "Bury and consecrate this when you can; the holy cloth will protect you from any influences it might have. I wish thee the best of luck, mighty monk."
Kaylee was quiet during most of the priest's speech, but flared up as the holy man suggested burying the metal shard. She quickly subsided and didn't come up in his mind again until he reached the market. The monk got the feeling that she left something unspoken or unshown, but the presence was suppressed the moment Saran saw him and met his gaze. With a clearly involuntary sense of protest, Kaylee fled back into the sword and remained there.
Saran and Keystone spent many hours in the market, purchasing many of the required produce for his cooking, but also for a few meals that the woman insisted on showing Keystone. Most merchants were overly friendly, as merchants are, particularly when Saran leaned over to inspect something they were about to buy. She watched the monk revel in the many stands with a smile often found on the face of a parent watching a child play with its favourite toys, laughing when the monk denied any help in carrying the many bags of produce. The surge of energy that rippled through his muscles, granting him much greater strength and stamina, was accompanied by a coy smile from the she-mage as they walked through the crowds. The woman, towering over most anyone in the busy marketplace, made navigating through the crowds easy. A few times Keystone spotted a thief approaching the pair, dismissing Keystone as a servant and attempting to swipe Saran's purse, only to be shocked by finding his hands empty and the purse merely an illusion. Saran seemed not to notice any of these attempts.
She turned to Keystone as they exited the market and entered a quiet street, heading back to the Rocksteady residence.
"Do you like it?" she asked, gracefully twirling in the middle of the street and nearly tripping over and scaring a gnome peacefully walking on the same street. Giving Saran a terrified look and Keystone a bewildered one, the small man hurried out of the way, chased by Saran's husky laughter. She finished her dance and paced even with Keystone, failing to suppress a chuckle.
"My my, some are so easy to scare!" she exclaimed, throwing up her hands in mock exasperation and readjusting her bodice. "The robe is but one of my many outfits to wear when shopping. One finds their prices quite a bit lower when one shows a bit of skin, don't you agree?" She leaned over in front of him as she did at the market, showing a little more than was appropriate. "Tis but a scheme to save a poor old lady some money." Saran chuckled and rose back to full height.
Back at the residence and in the kitchen, Saran (who had now shrunk to the size of a half elf, standing at about shoulder height for Keystone) followed the monk's instructions to the letter, darting around the kitchen at speeds that were hard to match for the bigger man. She didn't quite share his trained grace and movement, but did her clumsy best, wasting only a few ingredients on her attempts. She was genuinely amazed at this wonderful new food Keystone demonstrated, growing and grabbing his shoulders to watch every movement over his shoulder. The monk only saw nods as she memorized everything he did, from the creation of noodles to the preparation instructions.
When he was done, Saran, beckoned him to watch as she did some of her own cooking, pulling out some leftover dough and shaping it into rough oval pancakes, each the size of a ogre's thumb. Laid out across the table were about thirty odd dough medallions that Saran filled with a mix of pork and a few choice herbs. When all of the medallions had filling, she showed Keystone how to wrap them up into neat balls and bade him to do the same. When they were done, she dropped the balls into boiling water with what she explained were 'minty herbs'. A few dozen minutes later, with the water drained, a plate full of them drifted into the dining room of its own volution. Saran turned back to Keystone and nodded happily:
"I call these pelmeni. Tis a recipe from the northern barbarians in the Cloudpeaks. All the nourishment one requires in a small convenient package. Fill them with whatever you want, freeze and you have ready made meals for any time of the day. Good recipe for your travels, isn't it?"
Back in the dining room, Avar waltzed in, his muscles slowly receding to their normal form as the strength spell wore off. He grabbed a mug from the ever present cask on the table, heartily clunk it with Keystone's and Tim's, wiped the sweat from his brow and drained it in a single gulp.
"Bah!" With that one word, the dwarf proceeded to devour everything he could reach, chanting praises to Moradin, Saran and Keystone and occasionally throwing a vile look at the sword resting next to Keystone. When he was full(and half the table was empty), Avar gave a loud bellow, drained yet another mug of strong ale and sagged back in his chair.
"That be a fine meal, ye two! A dwarf could get used to such fine eatin'. Oh, and boy, ye're fisticuffs are all done, they just need some coolin' in the night breeze and ye can put em on in the morn. Tis like me father's father was watchin' me create them, mighty quick and fine smithin'" he bellowed once more, gave the whole company at the table a satisfied look and Saran a sly wink before jumping off and heading to bed. Tim soon followed his example, thanking Keystone for the good food and nodding silent thanks to Saran.
The woman, now left alone at the table and having eaten nearly as much as Avar, leaned back in her seat with a glass of what appeared to be the same ale Avar was drinking, and looked at Keystone, expectantly.
