On the night spent on the precipice, Charlatan stays up late for first watch, taking his sister’s place. The paladin sits in her usual silent contemplation giving Charlatan a rare moment of honest introspection
Burn you and to hell with your stupid girlish fantasies.
You’ve already sold your soul to that witch of an elven goddess and now you sell your mind and body to the first shitstain from the underdark to come stinking up our lives.
What will I tell our father?
What will happen when I’m old and father and brother are dead?
I might be a disinherited fool of a half-breed, not knowing where to go and what kind of monster I might meet next, but at least I wasn’t alone in that.
And now you’ve taken that away from me.
Empty night, Miz’ry! It was our mother that left us! We would not be alive today if not for father. Much though you hate him- you owe him and humankind your life and yet you decide to spend it on the drow.
If the only way to make you see reason is to show you how weak these chittering slaves of demons really are then that’s what I must do.
“Vola,” Charlatan says as the paladin looks towards him, away from her silent vigil. “If we get out of this alive, will you teach me how to fight?”