Jo'Resfo was happily strumming his lute as the party approached the gate, trying to block out the nasty, discordant sounds that always seemed to be spilling from their Dunmer's mouth. The young Khajiit hated negativity, and always had, always trying to spread his optimism to all he encountered, but had long since given up on Zanvon. Still, he was very surprised and almost dismayed when the Dunmer's spurts of insults were replaced with spurts of blood. 
     "Oh no, poor Zanvon," he exclaimed it with an almost-believable level of anguish, then, much more quietly added, "If only there was something we could do to help him..."
     Jo'Resfo was conflicted for the first time in his life about healing an ally, but thankfully he would not be forced to reveal his position on the matter, for his attention was soon occupied with the approaching bandits. They didn't seem friendly at all, but Jo'Resfo prided himself in not judging others. Still, as he saw his companions preparing for battle and heard the bandit leader ordering their deaths, he supposed that maybe, just maybe, it couldn't hurt to be prepared, just in case these bandits might actually be planning to attack. Using one hand to cast ebony flesh on himself and the other to trade his lute for his blade, he entered a novice combat stance, hoping to be quick enough to parry their blows, and perhaps dissuade their attackers with his honeyed tongue. 
     "Gentlemen, gentlemen, is all of this violence truly necessary? Would it not be much more enjoyable and much less dangerous for all of us if we settled down and talked out our differences over a meal instead? I have been told that I am quite the cook."