Despite the presence of a seemingly reliable guide Rabican couldn't help but feel on edge as the party ventured into Abbaethgar. Several times he found his hand had come to rest on his swords hilt as they made their way down the winding streets. More out of curiosity than anything else he allowed his vision to shift, allowing him to see the evil that dwells within the city.

When the party stops within the market district the paladin visibly relaxes - though still he keeps a watchful eye on the crowds milling around while the others talk.

The bustle around you seems to flow and move by a set of rules and customs you aren't quite privy to. As you worm through the crowd, you seem to zig where each citizen knows to zag. Pinkish eyes regard you with wonder and mistrust, but none seem to wish you harm in your crossing. All through the bridge, the muddle of tongues speaking and shouting advertisements and haggling deals is dizzying to your ears.

"Selectively bred for thousands of generations, from original stock as Lolth had gifted us. Now... If you could steer us toward a sign that'll say 'Aeraeo's', we can perhaps find a quiet enough place to think."

As you scan the crowded sides, you notice a dingy yellow and black sign flickering above a torch bearing the common lettering to spell "'Aeraeo's". It appears to be a tavern or inn, one of several connecting the myriad bridges spanning the city with the solid corridors of its residential and bureaucratic districts.

Hiath is content with observing the surroundings, and shows no indication of wanting to participate in the conversation. He is visibly on guard, but has seemingly abandoned the sword he has gripped tightly onto up until now.