<div class="floatleft">(https://36.media.tumblr.com/a09b70f2dd60f7810f597a90b761c57d/tumblr_nuswz8kTdZ1tk4029o1_1280.png)</div><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 14pt;">Timo Zoltikampa (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=546620)</span><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Stuff</div><div class="spoiler_body"><strong> HP:</strong> 13/13 | <strong>AC:</strong> 17 (<em>T:</em> 12, <em>FF:</em> 15<br/><strong>Init:</strong> +4 | <strong>Speed:</strong> 40' | <strong>Melee:</strong> +2 | <strong>Ranged:</strong> +2<br/><strong>CMD:</strong> 14 | <strong>Fort:</strong> +3 | <strong>Ref:</strong> +3 | <strong>Will:</strong> +5<br/><strong>Channel Positive Energy:</strong> 1d6, 5/5<br/><strong>Travel Domain:</strong> <em>Door Sight</em> 6/6<br/><strong>Freedom Domain:</strong> <em>Liberty's Blessing</em> 6/6<br/><strong>Prepared Spells:</strong> 0 - <em>Detect magic, Guidance, Light</em> | 1 - <em>Bless, Bane, Sanctuary<sup>D</sup></em></div></div><hr/><br/>Timo was uncomfortable in the lush chairs within the Lorrimor estate. Though he's certainly no kobold, the overstuffed seating could still almost swallow him. Still, he understood that opting for a seat on the floor, or some other more comfortably firm surface was more of a faux pas than the fact that he was feeling over-warmed and claustrophobic. At least he hadn't spilled any of his wine on the furniture in his efforts to get more comfortable.<br/><br/>The reading of the will brought his brows together. Every word was taken in, rolled over silently, and stored away. When the Councilor hurried off, Timo took the break to remove himself from his seat, evidently to refill his wine, but also to work out the restless energy in his legs. When the small one - the leper? - stood in her (its?) seat to pontificate, Timo smiled at a stray thought. maybe Senthaynatrix was as uncomfortable with the all-devouring chairs as he was.<br/><br/>"The councilman would have to know what tomes are in question. They were not named, and I suppose we will find out." A slender hand is waved towards the key Quentan is fondling. he nods when Kendra affirms that and goes to get the chest in question. "There are works that can drive men mad just by their presence," he notes to the dwarf. "Pennings by the mad. Words of gods darker than the chains of Nidal." A sip of wine. "And then there are the kinds of writings that, by their content, attract people with few scruples and lots of knives. If it worries Petros enough to place them under lock and key, I should think the worry is legitimate."<br/><br/>He opts not to sit, instead bracing his hip against the heavy chair, looking from the dwarf, to the pair of elves, then settling on the small one in her swaddlings. "You lot all knew the man much better than I. What do you suppose the "cause" is that was mentioned?" Another sip of his wine, tilting his chin at the small one. "Might we at also see who we're speaking to?" Ah, curiosity finally getting the better of him.