Grinning at his fabulous ability to anger the elf, Steven replies "Strong words from from a weak man, if ye had any brains at all, ye'd remember only Rao's healer can remove yuir curse, and even if ye did find a temple of Solonor, I imagine the clergy would kill you for blasphemy the first time ye uttered your familiar boast of 'I will be the greatest archer in all the multiverse' when any man worth his ale knows that job belongs solely to Solonor, oh yes I imagine Solonor's faithful servants wouldn't look too kindly on that remark. And if it's black hearts ye wish to discuss, who was it that threatened both me and Ian with death on our first day of travel, for nothing more than brightening the mood? And who's the one who does nothing but belittle his companions with insults and his own fantasies of grandeur I ask? You're nothing but an arrogant, blasphemous, womanish, idiotic, foolhardy, cowardly, greedy pointy-eared baboon! The fate you suffer is the one you deserve, be it by Rao's hand or Solonor's or your own, and if you wish to ever be restored, I suggest you keep your mouth shut before we just decide to leave you for dead." With that, Steven waters his donkey and awaits the deicision to camp or go further.
Steven is a small, wiry man wearing spiked studded leather armor and a long kilt of the Perrenland lowlands, his eyes are wild and dart about erratically as he speaks. Blue paint adorns his face in criss-crossed stripes above his eyes.