When the Necromancer speaks in elven, he makes an effort to pretend that he doesn’t understand it. It’s much better that he thinks I don’t, in case he decides to plot against me.

Jason dons his armor, and wears his magical pack with most of his stuff inside of it. Giving a winning smile for the nonexistent ladies, he flourishes his rapier, shields it, and readies his longbow and arrows. “Time to skewer some pigs.”