Leskan, a follower of the monastic tradition of the Hikazi, is the Provost of the Hanreth Chapter of the Hussians. A tall man with a shaved head, the left side of his face and body are heavily scarred (possibly as the result of an encounter with a dragon?).
The publican glances around and leans a little closer, lowering his voice, “now that you mention it, the scarred one has been spotted in these parts lately. Disappeared for a while, but now he’s back. But I dunno if finding him is really what you want. An odd fellow he is. Walks around acting as if he’s plane-touched, or something…talking all funny. And that scar…” (shudder) “If you’re gonna catch him in public it’ll likely be around the whorehouses down by the docks. Try Polenna’s Pearl. Good luck with that.” – Pug, of Pug’s Mug
A tall man wearing nothing but a baggy pair of hemp pants comes through the upper balcony window, and he drops to the street. When he hits, he shoulders into a deft roll and springs to his feet. Prominent scarring mar the left side of his otherwise handsome face. The scars extend down the left side of his torso.
Leskan leads you up a dark street of very basic single story dwellings, picks the most nondescript of the lot, opens the door and motions you in with an elegant flourish.
Inside, the house is almost bare, but filled with a sweet, smoky aroma. A single table stands in the corner. On the table is an oil lamp, a small bottle of what must be oil, and a couple of pieces of flint. On the plain wooden floor are three straw mats. There is also a chest and an earthen pot filled with sand into which incense sticks have been stuck.
Leskan closes the door behind you and waves you over to the straw mats while he goes to light the lamp, then light some more incense sticks in the taper, sticks them in the pot, and then drops into a cross-legged sit on his own mat, still shirtless. The air in the room is almost as chilled as outside, but Leskan centres himself and ignores it. Sweet smoke wafts through the room.