<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 looked a little surprised at the mention he was in Lorrimor's will. His brow knitted together with puzzlement, then relaxed, an expression of curiosity forming on his smooth face. "Tea," he noted, with just a hint of disappointment. "Tea would be... lovely, miss Lorrimor," Not the beverage of his choice for a funeral, apparently, but when in Ravengro... And then Quentan pipes up about ale, and Timo laughs softly. What an out-of-place sound in the graveyard! He realizes, and clears his throat. "I'll, ahem, second his proposal."<br/><br/>As they file back out of the cemetery, Timo glances aside at Kofi, looking him over curiously. In some way the larger man reminds him of his own people... but yet, so different in obvious ways. "I think, if you are permitted to share, that it would be worthy to learn that song you gave for Petros," His somewhat high voice is soft, almost reverent as he speaks of the song. he doesn't seem to expect an immediate answer though he does stay in step with the Qadiran for a good number of paces...<br/><br/>Yet somehow, with either surprising quickness or some sort of sorcery, it's Aelys his stride is matching, casting a curious glance at the half-elven woman from the corner of his eyes. After a quiet march, he opens with a smile. "Next time, a little more subtlety. Don't<em>start</em>with the bones of their ancestors. Start with..." His soft lips purse together thoughtfully. "Sour milk from their cows. A visit from their mother-in-law." The smile turns into a flashing grin. "The disfavor of a god or the favor of... something<em>else</em>perhaps." His eyebrows lift. "If you jump right to the bones, you look like you're overplaying your hand..." His voice lowers, head giving a tilt towards the donkey-rider in her swathes of clothing. "What do you think about that one? I don't think I've seen the like..." After all, it seems that Aelys might be an expert on strange things...