Zeldrith Angothane's page

In an uncommon moment of perceptiveness, Zeldrith decides to stay back from the group's interrogation of Nualia, joining Ethan and Arrian near the treeline. Shaking his head, he sighs as he watches the others dealing with the mad aasimar. "Talk about crazy - that one's angelkith, you know, though you wouldn't know it from that arm of hers. She had all sorts of drawings of what she thought she'd become once she burned the town - spikes all over her, bat wings like my cousin Irie, that sort of thing. Respect or no, the townspeople liked her at least - she threw that all away, and for what? Now people who don't know her don't respect or like her because she looks like she's demonspawn, and people who know her mostly want to stab her repeatedly because she's a horrible person. Plus, when she dies - probably within the next five minutes, if Ano's tone is any judge - she's going to a horrible place where she'll suffer forever. I mean, I've got the hooves and all that, but I still have friends and faith and all that - how deluded do you have to be to give up every chance you have for happiness for eternity?"

He shakes his head. "Makes you wonder why the evil gods even make offers like that. Makes you wonder why the good gods don't, at that! I mean, Desna talks a lot about being at peace with yourself and all that, but if Iomedae said she'd get rid of your horns and such and make it so people like you and make sure you go to a beautiful place after you die, why, I'd bet you sails to pinch you'd see demon-blooded tripping over each other building orphanages, giving money to the temple, that sort of thing."

"And my people would know. We Shoanti are the descendants of those who survived. If the Azghat had contingencies to let them return and restore their old empires, they'd have risen long ago!"

Zeldrith raises his eyebrows, interjecting. "The Varisians, too, if the legends are true. Anyway, those ancient wizards were powerful, Donimah - more powerful than you, at any rate. How do you know what they could and couldn't do? In all the old tales, they were always cursing people they didn't like - turning them to stone, sometimes. What if that statue beneath Sandpoint is actually Aldarist or whatever her name was? Those Thassilonians made at least a few things to last - there's that whole dungeon beneath Sandpoint, for one, and they say half the city of Jol is just people living in the buildings of Torandey. What if only some bits broke - the part that keeps those wizards alive stayed together, and the part that lets them out after a few years sunk into the sea? I mean, we've stood on the stones of Thassilon, felt them beneath our hooves - they're still real enough to..." He trails off, glancing down - after a moment, he scowls. "Desna's tears, I think I stepped in something down there - that bugbear's blood, like as not. Prakeikimas, I'll have to take care of that - don't think Ameiko would like me leaving bloody hoofprints all over her floor."

Following behind Donimah is a wiry Varisian man, dressed in the sturdy clothing of a traveler. Below the knee, his legs end in cloven hooves, and blood from a handful of serious wounds along his side soaks his duster, the tiefling wincing at each movement. Though his battered longsword is held at the ready as he emerges from the trees, he lowers it as his black-and-red eyes scan the clearing, seemingly embarrassed to have missed the fight.

At Ethan's offer of aid, he follows gratefully, nodding in thanks to the cleric as a seven-fingered hand comes up to tip the brim of his hat, and he grins - or at the very least, shows an impressive number of fangs, which he seems to think is the same thing. "I'm much obliged to you, Brother Sower. I'm Zeldrith Angothane, if we're doing introductions." His mismatched gaze flicks over to where Nualia is tied against the tree. "It seems you've met our 'friend' Nualia - if you don't mind my asking, Brother, what brings you out here? I haven't heard much of wandering Erastilans; always thought that was more our thing - Desnans, I mean. You some sort of mendicant, friend, or did the Father send you?"

...If there's a new player actively waiting to reunite with the rest of the party, shouldn't we be working towards getting back to Sandpoint, rather than getting sidetracked on yet another tangent?

We can deal with Nualia later, if she even comes up at all - frankly, I'd prefer to face the main threat of this section of the adventure with the aid of a divine healer, not to mention that it seems downright rude to keep our new player waiting forever while we go through weeks of combat against a spellcaster, arguments, interrogations, et cetera.

Zeldrith scowls as Ano bolts away from the group yet again. "Ah, velnias - Ano, come back! There's nothing you can do for her now!" Sighing at the amurrun's impulsive nature, he rushes into the maze after the others, his longsword at the ready.

As the conversation turns to the intricacies of spellcasting, Zeldrith grimaces. "I'm afraid I've never been one for theory - I mostly just do what seems like a good idea at the time, to be honest. I mean, the words feel right, and the way I move my hands feels natural, but I couldn't for the life of me tell you about all the 'thaumaturgical constructs' and 'theoretical bases' for any of it."

"As far as we know, the ancient Thassilonians didn't regard Divination as an equal to the remaining seven Schools. But clearly Tammerhawk's doing SOMETHING right, because he's the best Speaker we've had, and may even be elected for a second term next year when his current eight-year term ends."

Despite his ineptitude in the more intellectual side of the arcane, Zeldrith tries to follow along as best he can, clearing his throat as Donimah expounds on her experience in academia. "Well, I don't know much about the Cyphermages, but back in my mercenary company, I saw the sort of squadron commanders you get when you promote specialists above their level of competence. Promote an infantryman, he doesn't know how to handle spellcasters, promote a cavalryman, the supply line collapses - and those high-and-mighty officer types aren't any good either, all full of ideas out of a book, the sort that only work in your mind."

The tiefling shrugs, tilting his head to one side as he tries to find words for his thoughts. "Maybe this Tammerhawk's so good because he's got an impartial perspective - not too much of one thing, not too much of the other. He doesn't know any of your Thassilonian schools better than the rest, so he can handle all of them. And if he's got the actual front-line experience, as it were, the one of him would probably be worth a dozen bookworm types to your organization. I mean, you just talked about how you deal in the real - you wouldn't want to be put in charge of all those brain-bender types, would you? It's the same principle."

I think that should be most things taken care of at work - apologies again for the delay. In response to Donimah's question, I'm a plasma physicist - our lab's working on coil design and testing for stellarator technology.

I've tried to get caught up as best I can - we're preparing to head back to Sandpoint, yes?

Apologies for my delay in posting - there's been a bit of a workplace emergency at my lab. Nothing dangerous, but one of our instruments failed spectacularly, so my group is on "autopsy" duty to make sure it doesn't happen to the other ones. I'll try to get something posted tomorrow if I can.

Well, if he wants to come back, I'm all for it. I know he had mentioned some health issues, but if he'd like to return, I think that's his prerogative as a recently departed player.

Zeldrith's eyes snap open as Arrian heals him, and he struggles to his feet, raising his longsword in a defensive stance. Noticing the dead goblin and the fleeing enemies, he relaxes, letting his sword drop. "Thanks for the help." Shaking his head, he glances down the passageway where Nualia fled. "Desna preserve us - that's your friend, Ano? I don't know if we can continue like this - we need some help, at the very least."

At Juriya's words, he nods. "Probably just a sellsword, by the getup. Not enough robes or crazy eyes to be a proper cultist, I think. Pay's good, but things start getting strange, you don't know what to do or if you can leave, so you stay on - I mean, with this business, who hasn't been there before? It's all mild-mannered scholars and 'explore the ruins' and 'tenth share of the treasure,' and then all of the sudden you're running for your life through snowdrifts taller than you are with half a dozen madmen chasing after you, all because you didn't step back quickly enough when they asked for a 'volunteer.'"

Realizing himself, he blinks, clearing his throat. "...Not that I know anything about that." After a moment, he moves down the corridor where the man had vanished, calling out for the human. "Look, friend, we can talk this out. You're a mercenary, right? I know the life, and I don't imagine you're getting paid enough for all this cultist stuff. Look - Sandpoint's a nice enough town, and there's a reward being offered to stop your nutty employer. Help us take her down, and you'll get a cut, sound fair?"

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (1) + 10 = 11

Apologies for the delay - Zeldrith is now leveled up and ready to continue!

Personally, I'm in favor of getting this mercenary before we head back, but I can understand if you just want to wait until the recruitment is over.

I'm not trying to be short, but at the same time, I raised my concerns in PMs, and they were largely ignored. My intention is not to metagame, but I think it's worth mentioning that I do have access to the books for RotRL, and most of these encounters explicitly don't group together like this, fortifying their positions when the alarm is raised rather than seeking out the heroes - as much of a meat-grinder as RotRL is, there was at least an attempt at encounter balance within.

Plugging the numbers into the encounter calculator, this fight was initially an EL 9 encounter. After I raised my concerns, it was lowered to 'only' EL 7. That's not a fun, challenging encounter, that's an abattoir.

Indeed. GM, you should probably stop bothering Arrian about Judgement - when Persephone left, it was made fairly clear that Arrian, as our only member capable of healing, was going to be our divine healer, which, while not entirely proscribing him to one course of action, means that as the encounters grow more challenging, he actually spends less time doing interesting things and more time dealing with the party's injuries. The more you punish the entire group for Arrian treating the injuries sustained in your poorly balanced encounters, the more injuries need to be treated, and the less Arrian gets to use his combat abilities.

Quite frankly, I'm on the verge of dropping this game, and I think others feel the same way. Don't punish us because you don't understand how PF1E's combat works.

Stabilize DC 10: 1d20 - 3 ⇒ (15) - 3 = 12

Zeldrith manages to breathe slightly easier, though he's still in critical condition.

...and that's Zeldrith unconscious and bleeding out. Quite frankly, I agree with Arrian - I think it will be a TPK.

Will (Different Creature Type): 1d20 + 3 + 4 ⇒ (4) + 3 + 4 = 11

As the bugbear falls, Zeldrith scowls, but when one of the goblins in the hallway casts a spell on him, he collapses, writhing with choking laughter.

I didn't think I got two attacks, but if that's how Spellstrike works in your campaigns, I guess I'll take it.

Longsword (Weakened): 1d20 + 7 - 2 ⇒ (5) + 7 - 2 = 10

Concentration (2 Hero Points): 1d20 + 6 + 8 ⇒ (8) + 6 + 8 = 22

Zeldrith scowls - trapped between the goblin warlord, the greased floorboards, and the bugbear, he has nowhere else to go. Glaring at the bugbear, he grips his blade tighter, arcane power crackling down its length, and slashes at his foe. "Ever fought in the Goblinblood Wars, big ugly? Let me show you some of the tricks I picked up!"

Longsword (Spellstrike, Weakened): 1d20 + 7 - 2 ⇒ (20) + 7 - 2 = 25 - An additional +3 if he's holding a metal weapon.
Confirm: 1d20 + 7 - 2 ⇒ (14) + 7 - 2 = 19 - An additional +3 if he's holding a metal weapon.
Damage (Arcane Strike): 1d8 + 3 + 1 ⇒ (7) + 3 + 1 = 11 - Slashing
Shocking Grasp: 3d6 ⇒ (4, 3, 1) = 8 - Electricity

If that confirms, both the spell and the longsword crit, upping the damage to 22 S and 16 E.

My target will be the mount rather than the goblin - if we can trap him in here while the mercenary guards the tunnel, we might be able to make some progress.

Zeldrith scowls, staggering back as the goblin slashes across his chest - rallying, he retaliates, stabbing the giant lizard with his longsword. "Ano! Ano - we'll get them later. We could really use your help here!"

Longsword (Weakened): 1d20 + 7 - 2 ⇒ (15) + 7 - 2 = 20
Damage (Two-Handed, Arcane Strike): 1d8 + 3 + 1 ⇒ (8) + 3 + 1 = 12

Zeldrith strides forward, his sword raised defensively, only to stop as he realizes that the mercenary isn't making any hostile movements. "Um... mind moving, friend?" He glances back at Juriya, raising his eyebrows. "He is our friend, right? Not about to gut me, yes?" Turning back to the human, he shrugs, readying his sword against hostile foes.

Readied Longsword (Weakened): 1d20 + 7 - 2 ⇒ (13) + 7 - 2 = 18
Damage (Arcane Strike): 1d8 + 3 + 1 ⇒ (3) + 3 + 1 = 7

Condition - Anyone who is not the human mercenary or a member of the party gets within stabbing distance.

Eh... if it didn't, Zeldrith will simply sword him repeatedly - problem solved!

I'm going to wait to see if Charm Person worked before I go - I don't want to attack someone who's already on our side, after all!

Reflex: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (16) + 3 = 19

Zeldrith's hooves scrabble for purchase against the slick cobblestones, and he staggers back out of the spell's range with a curse. Moving around to the side of the table, he fires another spell at Nualia as he glances at the recumbent form of Arrian. "If you can get off that table, we can flip it - archers can use it like a barricade!"

Ray of Frost: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (15) + 3 = 18
Damage: 1d3 ⇒ 3 cold.

Arrian, you can use a move action to move 5 feet, even while prone - if you can get off the table, we can probably flip it to upgrade the level of cover we're getting.

Apologies for the delay. Magi have a lot of options to sift through, but I think this is a particularly good pick, given that Nualia is covered in metal. Shocking Grasp - the armored foe's bane!

Zeldrith scowls, continuing his attack on Nualia - as Donimah and Juriya make their way down the stairs, his mismatched gaze shifts to them, and he motions them down quickly. "Stay clear of the door - hostile mage has us in his sights!" The tiefling's eyes flash white with arcane power, and he reaches out his seven-fingered hand for Nualia's throat, reciting arcane syllables as electricity crackles between his fingers.

Longsword (Weakened, Spell Combat, Concentration -3): 1d20 + 7 - 2 - 2 - 3 ⇒ (9) + 7 - 2 - 2 - 3 = 9
Damage: 1d8 + 2 ⇒ (8) + 2 = 10

Touch Attack (Metal Armor): 1d20 + 4 + 3 ⇒ (9) + 4 + 3 = 16

Concentration (Casting Defensively, DC 17): 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (15) + 3 = 18

Shocking Grasp: 2d6 ⇒ (6, 4) = 10 electric damage, no save.

GM, a quick note - attended nonmagical items (which would include the sword Arrian is wielding) do get a save to negate Shatter - they use their wielder's Will save.

I understand if you want to let the ruling stand, but I thought I might as well let you know for future reference.

Fortitude: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (12) + 4 = 16

Zeldrith scowls as the attack drains the vitality from his body, but after a moment, he rallies, vaulting the low table in the center of the room to get protection from the unseen spellcaster. "There'll be more where that came from - clear the door!"

He slashes at Nualia, his weakened muscles still enough to level a powerful blow at the corrupted aasimar.

Longsword (Weakened, Power Attack): 1d20 + 7 - 2 - 1 ⇒ (17) + 7 - 2 - 1 = 21
Damage (Two-Handed, Arcane Strike, Power Attack): 1d8 + 3 + 1 + 3 ⇒ (1) + 3 + 1 + 3 = 8

Zeldrith scowls, stepping forward to cover both the stairs and the entrance to the wing of the complex where Arrian and Ano wait. "Entrance is clear - move in!"

Casting Shield - AC is 21 for 3 minutes. Also negates Magic Missile for the duration - thought I'd mention with what appears to be a caster behind the woman.

Hearing the panicked shouting from down the hallway, Zeldrith's eyebrows raise - seeing that Arrian has Ano taken care of, he dashes in that direction, drawing his blade. "What's going on? I heard shouting! Not Donimah-shouting, Juriya-shouting, and I think that's bad!"

Seeing the dog-like creature, he scowls, leveling his blade at the monster. "Arrian! There's something here - I don't think it will let us past. I'll hold this corridor in case Ano doesn't come to her senses."

Readied Strike (Dog-Creature Enters Melee Range): 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (18) + 7 = 25
Damage: 1d8 + 5 ⇒ (4) + 5 = 9

Will: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (19) + 3 = 22

As the yeth hounds' horrible baying washes over the group, Zeldrith's eyes widen, and his knuckles go white as he grips the hilt of his sword, but after a moment, he rallies. Glancing around to see the rest of the party in various states of retreat, he rushes after Donimah, as it seems the others are otherwise preoccupied, calling out to the rest of the group as he does so. "Ah, rupūžė - anyone who's able, fall back to the stairs! We can hold out there if we barricade the doors!"

Zeldrith shrugs, gazing up at the tentamort with a critical eye. "It doesn't seem terribly mobile. And there is a door there. We might have to go through this thing later, but if it's so deadly, maybe we check the other doors, see if we can find a way around?"

Zeldrith strides up beside Ano, slicing at the remaining goblin dog in the hopes of killing it before it can turn on them. "And here I thought goblins smelled bad! Watch those teeth - this one's ornery!"

Attack (Longsword): 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (17) + 7 = 24
Damage (Arcane Strike): 1d8 + 5 + 1 ⇒ (1) + 5 + 1 = 7

Zeldrith Angothane wrote:

Apologies for my radio silence - the tight schedule at work notwithstanding, I couldn't honestly think of much to say, as the pace of the game has been kind of slow recently. I am still here, however.

Also, I have not in fact received any PMs from Arrian - perhaps you got the wrong address?

I sent a PM to the GM.

Ah. My apologies - I misunderstood you.

Zeldrith follows close behind Arrian, his sword ready. At Ano's words, he glances back at the catfolk, raising his eyebrows. "Actually, if this place is Thassilonian, it would be quite good to know." He grimaces, his mismatched gaze sweeping the room with somewhat greater diligence than before. "They had an interesting sense of humor, those wizards - and they didn't much care for intruders."

Apologies for my radio silence - the tight schedule at work notwithstanding, I couldn't honestly think of much to say, as the pace of the game has been kind of slow recently. I am still here, however.

Also, I have not in fact received any PMs from Arrian - perhaps you got the wrong address?

Zeldrith spares a glance in the direction of the entrance, grinning as the goblins fall like cut wheat and nodding to Arrian as the half-orc steps into the gap. "Just mopping up the stragglers at this point, eh?" He grins at the goblins, or at the very least shows them all his teeth as he blocks a clumsy knife thrust at Arrian by snapping his fanged jaws shut on the offending goblin's wrist. "Tell you what, little fools, why don't you just leap off that cliff there, save us all a little trouble?" He shrugs, slashing at another goblin as he continues to address them in a distressingly cheerful tone. "It's no skin off our noses if you want to fight - we can and will kill each of you little green runts, but we wouldn't say no to your making our jobs a little easier. What do you say?"

Five-foot step to get up next to Arrian. Bite attack against the lower goblin, longsword against the upper one.

Bite: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (18) + 1 = 19
Damage: 1d6 + 4 ⇒ (4) + 4 = 8
Longsword +1: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (4) + 7 = 11
Damage: 1d8 + 5 ⇒ (2) + 5 = 7

Zeldrith scowls, striding past Arrian and into the smoke. "Pray to your gods, little fools - you'll be meeting them soon enough!" Drawing his blade, he buries it deep into the first goblin he comes across, backing into a corner so he can hold off against the horde.

Longsword +1: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (18) + 7 = 25
Damage: 1d8 + 5 ⇒ (1) + 5 = 6

Zeldrith draws his own blade, advancing cautiously alongside Arrian. "This would be the perfect place for an ambush... watch your backs."

Apologies for the radio silence - I'm back from my vacation and will try to catch up.

Happy holidays indeed.

Ah. My apologies, I had missed that.

To be clear, Zeldrith's short fuse does not extend to his player out-of-character - frankly, I think that if we managed to redeem Nualia, it would be great. Much like Ano said, however, as the worldliest and likely most cynical of the group (though Donimah is strong competition), Zeldrith takes a bit dimmer view of the situation than I think OoC is necessarily justified.

Besides, the situation very strongly reminds him of his time in the wars. Since this attitude carried him through a four-year tour of duty alive, he is taking a bit of an 'if it ain't broke, don't fix it' approach to a similar situation many years later.

Thought I should clarify in the Discussion area about what I'm trying to do here. Part of Zeldrith's... strong feelings on the matter are due to his own experiences with similar situations in the Goblinblood Wars. Also, to my mind, the wrath-linked tiefling's adjacency to the wrath-linked Runewell and his intermittent visions might supernaturally shorten his fuse, so to speak.

To a certain degree, though, it's an OoC attempt to get us back on track for the module. We've known our next target for over a month, but we've been moralizing about if we can kill an evil person who's been trying to kill us for most of that time. Frankly, I think we should start looking at moving on, if only to give our GM a chance to actually post something related to the main plot.

Zeldrith scowls as Ano storms off, turning to Arrian as he speaks up about convincing Nualia to change her mind. "And what then? If we talk her down, who knows if she'll truly change, or if she'll go back to planning an attack even bigger and more destructive than the last? Even if her little tryst in the smuggler's tunnels made her what she is, she still managed to fool everyone in Sandpoint for months! Even gone five years, she's still got that fool Ano in her pocket!"

He shifts his glare to Juriya, crossing his arms in an unspoken dare for her to argue with him. "As for what Ano said, about what I'd do if our roles were reversed? I'd still kill this Nualia in a second. During the wars, when Corporal Marin turned on us at the Spire, I didn't stop to see if some wizard's spell had scrambled his mind. Didn't ask him if his head was turned by hobgoblin gold. One of us was going to die - it was him or me. I chose him." He glances down the street where the furious catfolk had just retreated. "Pretty soon, Ano's going to have to choose. I pray to all the gods she makes the right choice."

As the group leaves the Cathedral and continues their discussion of Nualia's circumstances, Zeldrith follows behind, seemingly not interested in their conversation but still unwilling to leave his friends behind. At Juriya's words, he scowls, speaking up. "Look, why she's trying to kill us isn't important. I'm sure that back in the wars, you could have written whole books about the hobgoblins we fought, why they decided to bother organizing the tribes into a unified force, all that. A soldier on the front doesn't care about all that - the key point here is that they're trying to kill us, and that we know where they are massing so we can kill them first."

His mismatched eyes flick back and forth, searching for enemies, and his hand strays close to the hilt of his sword as he shifts his stance to put the comforting mass of the Cathedral's stone walls at his back. "If we're bound for Thistletop, let's go already. Those little psychos are quiet when they want to be - the more time we stand around jawing about it, the more time they have to sink their grubby little claws into Sandpoint's underbelly."

Again, the +1 longsword is probably the bulk of what Zeldrith needs - I don't think much else would be necessary on him, especially given his low ranged attack modifier. The longsword is probably better than anything else he can use in melee, and he isn't built for range, so bombs and such are unnecessary.

Zeldrith: The +1 longsword unfortunately might be the source of most of the party's wealth. :(

Apologies - I can sell it, if you'd like. I seem to recall that Zeldrith was using it, though - I hadn't thought we'd be selling it if it's in active use.

Zeldrith already has a chain shirt, and I'm more or less saving money until he unlocks medium/heavy armors (2/3 caster in full plate will probably be helpful), so with the +1 Longsword, I don't think he needs much in the way of gear.

Juriya, if you're looking solely at weight and Dex caps, might you want to consider the haramaki? Spidersilk bodysuit really only has +1 Dex cap and -16 lbs on a suit of studded leather - a haramaki would allow you to add magical enchantments onto your armor, weigh a quarter as much as the spidersilk armor, and remove Dex cap entirely.

As Ano heads into Father Zantus's office, Zeldrith stays behind in the main area of the Sandpoint Cathedral, glancing around idly as he waits for Ano to finish. Seeing that Father Zantus was interrupted in the middle of sweeping the vast cathedral's floor, he picks up the broom resting against the wall and continues the old priest's work, quickly falling into a rhythm as his mind strays back to when he would do the same task as a child in his family's store. As Donimah enter with her query, he glances briefly up from his task before nodding to the exceptionally boring door Ano and the Father had retreated through. "Meeting about the troubles. The assault on Thistletop won't be easy - you want to make peace with your gods beforehand, then there's altars around here."

Returning to his sweeping, he continues for several more minutes before addressing Arrian. "To be frank, I'm more than a little worried about how that kid ended up - the one from Ano's vision, I mean. My family's had generations to get used to having a strange child every once in a while, but... you hear stories about what people generally do to monster children. Midwives drowning them, mothers going nuts - I'll be honest, that kid's future wasn't exactly promising. No matter how much of a freak they look, little babies haven't exactly had time to do anything worthy of death, right?" He shrugs, shifting position to sweep the area around where his hooves were. "I mean, who's the real monster in that situation? The baby or the parents? Makes you think."

"I don't think so? Other than the pregnancy vision, all I saw…well, heard and smell…was weird. I heard moans, and I smelled something…like… Oh Gods…Father Zantus better have the answers I need…"

Zeldrith grimaces almost imperceptibly, interjecting quickly to distract his friend from the nauseating thoughts. "Well, maybe... maybe it's not your friend's fault, then, yeah? I mean, after all, I think us two were the only ones to have visions down there - proper visions, I mean - so maybe your friend's head got blasted full of all those evil thoughts, like ours were but worse? None of this would really be her fault then - all this would be on those crazy old wizards." Glancing behind him, he sends a death glare at Donimah, daring her to interrupt with another tangent about how great the Thassilonians were.

The ex-mercenary puts an arm around Ano to console her as he quickens his pace to match hers, the sound of his hooves on the hard-packed dirt of the road drowning out the softer sound of her footsteps. "Look at it this way, if your friend can't be held responsible for her actions, we'd be doing her a favor by killing her, right? Stopping the thing that's taken her face before it can taint her memory? We can talk with Father Zantus, but I think he'll say the same thing. And the longer we delay here instead of taking Thistletop, the more likely it is that someone's going to put two and two together, same as we did."

Leaping up from his seat, Zeldrith rushes after Ano, redirecting her down a side street so that she doesn't pass near the Clovermark house with all the subtlety the other members of the group have come to expect of him. "Hey-Ano-I-think-I-heard-that-High-Street-will-be-closed-how-about-we-try-R aven?" He clears his throat as he catches up with his catfolk friend. "You know, Ano, since I'm new here in town, I was thinking I might try and see some of the sights down this street here at this specific moment for some reason. It's on the way to the Cathedral, too, so there's that."

Steering her down the side street and away from another violent confrontation with her mother, Zeldrith casts about frantically for something to justify his intervention in Ano's affairs. "There, aren't you glad we came down this way? Now we can see... um... that alchemist's shop that-" Narrowing his eyes, the tiefling sniffs the air experimentally. "-smells like cheese for some reason. You know, I don't think I even want to know..." He laughs nervously. "Well, Ano, how many people can see they've set foot inside of a Thassilonian ruin and lived to tell the tale? And then there was that freaky little imp - it's definitely something to remember for the future. Hey, did you feel anything weird when you stood near that flame pool down in those catacombs? I thought I felt a little tingling in my hand here, and I was wondering..." He trails off, looking hopefully at Ano to see if his babble is helping to distract her from her recent confrontation with her mother or the prospect of having to kill her old friend.