Jannalor bows his head, "I will meditate upon your words my lady, and find the meaning within."

Concluding the ritual, he checks himself and his appearance, closing some wounds, and placing the magic cap on his head and using it to shift his appearance to one a little less remarkable. Just another person down on his luck. No mask, and certainly no signs that something is wrong with him.

Time to find the Society. He'd avoided them before. But before he'd had his brothers to rely upon, and it was just made abundantly clear that continuing on alone was not an option.

Spoiler: OOC
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Spontaneously casting two Inflict Light wounds, dropping Bless and Command for it. (2d8+10)[19]