"I think ith would be wither if there wath thomeone with more ranged abilithy riding on the carriage," he commented, slipping his white shirt on, as the fabric brushed against his newly stitched wound he gave a small gasp of pain. He hoped that it would get better soon but without any slaves or potions it would be tough going. Pulling the shirt over the wound and hiding it, he looked around at the group, it had suddenly dawned on him how strange they all were, looking between them all, he rolled his eyes. When his eyes went over Nyshara and the floating symbols on her head, his green eye stung with pain and as he looked away it stopped. 'how peculiar,'