[Pine]
In the dim light of the crypt the group found themselves in, Pine had listened to Zenari's words on what she had seen atop the keep, and the doubts that had been growing since Siax had fallen, only compounded. For all their struggles to get to this point, for all the preparations, the gear upgrades, the allies, it didn't feel sufficient. It didn't feel possible to succeed as they were.
He watched them talk, his own stillness more complete than it once had been. The thin border between life and death was closer to him now, so very fragile in the lingering mortality that could be snuffed out in an ill-timed stumble.
It felt impossible, what they were about to attempt, considering the location and conditions, but he dare not voice that to the others. Morale was important. Succeeding was more so.
And so Arctic Wind Through Pine reached out towards the Three, less in the way he would have with 'guides' and more akin to a cleric beseeching aid from their God. The Three might not be Gods any more, but Pine had nonetheless dedicated himself to them as if they were.
His thoughts, his worries, were mostly dedicated to the battle ahead, but he had other questions that had not been answered, ones that might be critical should they get to the point of success.
[DM]
Three of the sarcophagus lids suddenly opened, the noise of stone grinding on stone filling the small chamber.
In shock, you ready yourself to jump back, to face perhaps the guardians of this Fort but it is then you notice that the others are frozen.
From the tomb to your centre the familiar voice of Myrkul rises.
"You have seen death then. Our father of death, now reborn once more."
From the left the voice of Bane rang, full of authority.
"And you now know more about the nature of death and how it has been broken. "
The harsh voice of Bhaal boomed out. "WHY MORTALS DO NOT MOVE AND INSTEAD HAUNT AS OF LATE."
You now see the three forms, transparent and dim rise from the tombs. Myrkul is the first to speak. "And you now surely know that we, who once ruled death itself have indeed, died." A dry chuckle comes from the usually monotone figure. "Fitting, everything must die."
Bane, now upright, scoffs "Perhaps but it is not yet our time. We have put the work in, collected the errant pieces..."
Bhaal, towering over the others adds: "And the pact you made remains intact!"
Myrkul continues. "Indeed, we have tasked you to retrieve the essence of the dragon above."
"Normally a creature has its soul but dragons are different. They are creatures so attuned to magic that they are part of it, cognitive shadows upon the weave itself. When the creature is slain, as you put its soul to rest you must step further and find its heart. Consume it and it's mark upon the threads will be yours."
[Pine]
Pine would indeed startle as those sarcophagi opened, his claws, tinged in ruby, appearing in readiness, only for him to relax a little when it became clear that it was not a physical threat, but something else indeed. To say that it was a relief to see the Three was perhaps not quite right. All of them, in their own ways, were fearful and overwhelming, and yet their presence, no matter how unsettling, had never harmed him, although their wishes had thrown him into situations that did.
"If we manage to kill the creature, I shall do as you say," Pine would say, but for creatures knowledgeable of the races, of people, and perhaps on a fundamental level of Pine himself, it would be clear that the pragmatic confidence he'd had earlier in the campaign had withered. Considering all the battles planned and fought, it was easy to forget that the grave cleric was not innately given towards violence, not as Bhaal and Bane were, and being faced with the upcoming battle, his own morale was floundering in the face of the odds against them. Yet, more assured of their assistance in the task, he would not keep his own council, but once more turn to them for advice.
"For all our planning, I do not like our odds in this battle. The dragon has prepared its lair too well." His gaze would look towards Bane, the one most given towards tactical expertise. "From what Zenari has seen, the flat roof has no battlements, nothing to stop us from being swept over the edge with a bat of its wings, especially considering the ice lain down. Although we have harpoons to target its wings, I doubt even the spikes on the climbers kits will stop us from merely being dragged over the edge if we attempt to pin it down. Fire, even magical fire, isn't working, and the storm continues to build despite the amulet controlling the weather. It fights me, even now. And that is to say nothing of its breath weapon, or the fact it can fly out of range."
He would run a hand through his white fur, distraught.
"I do not want to fail you in this task."
[DM]
"Indeed." Myrkul would intine as the shade strapped aside allowing Bane to take centre stage.
The imperious figure would stride to the centre of the room, brushing past a frozen Idris and place a gauntleted hand on the floor. The metal left grooves behind as he traced out a shape. It slowly resolved into a small version of the keep proper.
Banes voice sounded less imperious, more scholarly. It was as if this was a classroom rather than a long forgotten tomb.
"Your greatest strength has always been the people you surround yourself with. The dragon will attempt to shatter that.
Ranged capabilities are not oft found on nature but when they are they are generally a means of distraction. The dragons breath is mighty but it's main purpose is not damage, it is to keep you away from each other.
Once you have split, the predator will pick it's pray and nothing will be able to save them then. Bait it's breath out and then stick close. A fine line to walk of life and death."
The hand would finish tracing out the map and point to the roof.
"The iced roof is intentional, for sure. But I would not retreat and fight from inside the Fort. The dragon would fly around, find openings and wear you down with his breath. Best fight it where you can see it. Consider grafting metal upon your boots to avoid slipping."
A quick movement and a dragon in flight has been sketched out. The gauntleted finger points to its wings.
"A final thought, a dragons greatest strength is it's flight, it's mobility. You must deny it that. Dragons innately resist magic but it's defences can be overwhelmed. Once it's resistances are out your best chance is your sorcorerous companion. Help her. Keep her safe.
Expect to be ambushed, trust nothing. Utilise everything, your environment, companions and circumstance."
With that the figure would straighten and simply peer at you.
Myrkul would add from the side. "You will lose friends today, I have little doubt. If the choise is between finishing the dragon or saving them it is one you may be called to make. Be wise, cleric of the three."
Bhaal would finish. "Death is here and it shall REAP no matter which way it goes."
[Pine]
As Bane stepped forth to speak with him, he would crouch down beside him, some of the accrued tention of their presence fading as the more logical teaching took over. Pine was eager to listen, to learn, and indeed had found himself far more given to considering battle tactics since he had first met Bane in the mine those weeks ago. He was not given to complex intellectual considerations, but clear facts based on the instincts of his opponent made more sense to him. His gaze tracked the gauntlet as it carved a depiction of the keep, his thoughts becoming more focused with possibilities and considerations than with something that had been bordering on defeated morale. Tactics; logic; instruction; he drank them in, and once more a level of calm had taken over him, no matter that the task had not altered.
"I think the dragon might be on the tower roof."
At the comment from Myrkul, he would look over to the shrouded figure, taking in that comment. He might not be boundless in intelligence, but he was wise, and especially with the three spirits of Gods surrounding him, ones that acknowledged that he was THEIR cleric, he did not miss the unstated warning there. Not a threat, he didn't think, but a warning to prepare himself for the inevitable fallout his choice would have, one way or another.
"I try not to be foolish," he would said, then turning back to Bane and inclining his head in acknowledgement and gratitude for the time spent laying out the foundations of his education for this battle.
Looking back down to the model of the keep, he would let his fingers trace over the edges of it, thoughtful, before standing.
Pine had never been one for prostrating himself in front of authority, and with all three of them in amicable conversation with their more powerful visuals hidden, he did not do now either. Their words were an acknowledgement of the task he was to perform, and of the fact that in this he was their hand, their weapon, to do that. The fear of failure was still there, but manageable, his emotions calm as they had once always been. The silence and time they granted him, in this frozen moment, was appreciated in more ways than one.
It was to Bhaal that his gaze finally turned; the one out of the three that he had the least in common with, and yet he was not unaware that the death through battle, through combat, was as much a part of this than any. Yet it was not the battle ahead that his thoughts had turned upon once more looking at the former god of assassins, but one that had passed.
"The assassin who killed me when seeking Zenari was very skilled, but he wielded a dagger that sliced through my armour as if it did not exist. If we survive this, I do not doubt we will meet him again. His path seemed set on his role rather than his allegiance. Could it be extracted from the quari and realigned with the Three?"
[DM]
In a flash Bhaal grew to nine feet tall, a bulky muscled form that howled with rage.
"ERRADIN" It growled and you could feel the hate radiating from the former god of murder.
"I know the Bastard. He was one of mine even if he did not know it."
The gruff ex god of murder, squeezed his fist, crushing something he held, the dust from it falling unto the chamber.
"What murdered you was not just him, he was forsaken the moment he dealt with those nightmares. His spirit is entwined with the quari scum!"
Bhaal turned his gaze upon you, the hate coming from them shifting into something lighter.
"Next time you meet you must prove the greater."
[Pine]
Although he had not done so before, as Bhaal rose in such abject rage, Pine would cower. It was the only sensible thing to do when faced with an enraged god, after all, no matter if that god was currently lessened in power. His heart no longer beat, so it did not race, his breathing did not speed up for he didn't breathe, but there was a far more profound stillness, one of prey rather than predator as he pressed back against the stone wall in the face of that anger, and only when the rage became more subdued, did he ease from the terror that had been instilled within him at being trapped in such a small place with such doom.
He would manage to nod, not trusting his voice to come out in anything other than a hiss of fear, all his fur standing on end, his ears still back, pressed to his skull.
If given time to come down from that precipice of terror, he would slowly straighten up, his thoughts turning back over the things said, and what had not been said. He had assumed that they had all known what had been happening to him, and yet that reaction, along with words that were worded more as supposition than knowing truth, made him question that. His gaze turned to Myrkul once more, although all three were within his line of sight in such a small chamber.
"Your father of death wished for me to go to the Mire of Dead Men once this task was complete," he said, his voice still holding a lilting timbre of a growl to the words while the fear still rode him from Bhaal's outburst. "He seemed curious as to what was going on there. I made no deals with him, but I thought it something you should be aware of, if you were not already." With the forthcoming battle ahead, he didn't know whether he would survive it, no matter the preparation, and so was ensuring that they had whatever knowledge he could provide, if they required a replacement some day soon.
[DM]
The three would peer at one another. "The father awakens" would ring out, spoken by the three as one.
Myrkul would look back down to you. "There is great work at foot at the mere, you would be welcome there after you honour your commitment."
The three ghostly figures start fading slowly, fading into the shadows.