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

my own curiosity... there would've been a strange sort of comfort in that. It
would've definitely been better than the horrors my imagination conjured to
fill in the gaps. Seeing what was actually happening could only have soothed
my overactive mind, like tearing off a bandage to see the wound beneath
wasn't as bad as you feared.
When it was over, a rotund little man walked out. With one hand he wicked
away the perspiration dewing on his forehead, then wiped his palms on a
mustard-green shirt. The man closely resembled Pestle Kilnn, though
without the crawling skin and constant, subtle mutations. He smelled like
licorice root and pepper.
"Greetings again, sir, and well met. Now, what is it I, Pestle, can do for ye?"
"I was hoping to get some healing concoctions."
He smiled, "Yes, of course; yer reward, aye? Let's see, now... I'll manufacture
them for ye for nothing, of course... but I'll need the proper ingredients.
Hmmm... an oni's heart, or powdered hematite, or the hair of a deva, or a
thread from an aasimon's robe, or the blood of a regenerating creature,
such as a troll or..."
"Actually, my wounds heal very quickly."
Pestle raised an eyebrow. "Do they, now? Well, then, your own blood just
might do. Here... give me a sample, if you would."
I nicked my forearm with my dagger.
After drawing a small quantity of my blood and retreating to the back of the
store, Pestle returned with a number of what appeared to be hardened
drops of blood - clot charms. "Placed upon one's tongue, these will heal
existing wounds and aid the in the prevention of new ones, for a time."
"Farewell, Pestle, and thanks."
636