A glare, is shot from elven eyes to commander, as he again declares his spite for druids, and so much more venomous is his glare then, than before, for it is in the presence of a woman, whom in his eyes deserves greater respect than that. Still he holds his tongue, and hears her out, nodding with agreement, right up to the point where in druidic tongue, she poses her question to him. The nodding stops, head tilts aside, and brows knit. He's confused, clearly, unable to remember making so terrible a declaration. without answering her, he goes to the window urgently, gazing out into the night, and focusing a moment. Then his gaze turns back to her, replying in their secret language, "I thought I sensed something amiss, but I had thought I'd mistaken my own struggles to maintain patience with the intolerable soldier over there, for something far worse." Again brows knit, thinking this time, and then he faces her, "The... only thing I can think of, is Vidanya, my companion. She and I share a VERY close bond. I fear the anger that I felt, when dealing with the soldiers of this place, even though I held it in check, I may have unintentionally given her the impression that I had passed such a judgement. I... I pray you can forgive me this lapse in discipline. When my purpose here is done, I will lend my aid, I swear it, to restore order to the forest."
He turns about to face all present once more, and once more speaking in Common, "I do not mean to pass judgement for fear of what is not as well understood as some things, but not all lycanthropes are evil. It is a great and terrible power they possess, those that are most commonly heard of, are all too often the wicked ones. For just as with mages, the temptation to abuse power is a mightily seductive thing, and when a soul hasn't had the benefit of moral guidance, they are far more likely to surrender to that temptation. Then they are made haughty, reveling in belief that their power, makes them invincible and they can take whatever they want. But just like any individual, set apart from the rest of the world by what makes them unique, they crave the company of others like them. And so they either resort to infecting people with their bite, or join the company of like-minded lycanthropes, which are most often those that worship Malar. Those few who have the benefit of moral guidance, before they commit such acts as has made the world to hate and fear them, most often have the self-discipline, and discretion to not flaunt their power, but rather use it discretely for the benefit of all. These, hardly anyone even knows exist, because of the widespread belief that they're incapable of being good, they must keep themselves secret, for their own safety."
A short pause, and he finishes, "The short an simple of it, they're no more inherently good or evil than any human, elf, or dwarf. They have the capacity for extremes of both, and I'm well prepared to prove it, provided there is someone of authority here, who can cast the necessary spell to detect whether a person be good or evil."
A risky proposition, exposing his own lycanthropy, but well prepared to lay that on the line, if Kars would agree that such evidence needs be proven, and Cleira approves of taking that risk. If nothing else, he knows his own heart well enough after years of adventuring, patrols, the occasional vampire nest extermination, and one adventure through Underdark, thanks to the frequently hazardous magic experiments of a particular family of wizards, that his heart is strongly aligned with good. In fact he often struggles with his sense of justice as well, in order to maintain that essential neutrality required of all druids.
For Vailintin, these bite woulds, so long as his 'wicked' rapier remained close at hand, would only prove an inconvenience. As the wolves that had set upon him fell one by one, to his volleys of thrown dagger, the final one to fall, truly gives him some concern, as those jaws get close enough to clamp around his leg. The only saving graces, is that hard clamping bite, is a desperate dying attempt to wound him, and that his armor only comes off when in bed with a frisky lass, or bathing. In this case, his boot turns the jagged bite into a tight squeeze. Satisfied with his marksmanship, he retrieves rapier from the soil, and roughly kicks head of dying wolf away from his leg. Rapier is slid back into sheath, he kneels down to carve a nice big slab of bloody meat out of the nearest wolf, hoping to tempt the others with an easy feast. But first, he uncorks a vile vial of red fluid, and pours it onto the meat, and even rubs it in, lacing the meat with the Fiendish Drug, known as Agony, or Liquid Pain. Touching it may be harmless but swallowing it...
Despicable bait prepared, he seizes hold of a few random stones on the ground, and flings them hard as he can into the midst of the wolf-groupings concentrated around Veraka and Aurora, attempting to draw their attention, throwing in a, "Hey you slobbering inbred mongrels, over here!" The instant their attention appears drawn he remains ready to lob the meat into their midst, and flee, just in case they don't stop to fight over and devour the tainted meat. But until he draws that attention, remains prepared to pelt them with more stones, a distraction more annoying than painful, though still mildly painful.
1st: Tristian Gyssemitori (Moon-Elf, Dire Werebat, Druid)
2nd: Vailintin (Accomplished Tiefling thief of riches, hearts, and virtues.)
3rd: Millek Amephran (Hedonistic Satyr Ranger/Bard)