"Hrm..." Sabastian crooned, melodiously pondering the current affairs as they stood presented. He was no man of the sword, nor of the cloth or tome, like his friends Chevik and Arineil. Truth be told, he lacked any sense of formal schooling in its wholeness. What he lacked in formal training, however, he made up for in cleverness and worldly experience, a vast reservoir of talent and knowledge at his disposal to outwit and out-plan his adversaries rather than meet them head-on in a square brawl. But this... this just seemed silly. A dead warlord who could pose a greater threat than he and the assembled might be capable of handling? It's a bit hard to swallow, really.
This "Bloodline" nonsense was another matter all together. Caring little at the time Chevik pitched the idea to visit the old seer, Sabastian now found himself rather unmoved by the turn of events. Sure, the catchy title of Schemer was a nice touch, but otherwise uninformative. Frankly, Sabastian felt a bit cheated by the lackluster turn of events. If it weren't for the potential excitement that might be entailed in this fiasco, he would've left right there and then, leaving the assortment of colorful characters to bicker amongst themselves.
"So, just to sum it all up, we're supposed to be the only folks who can stop this warlord whom -- back in his prime -- was nearly a match for a bunch of legendary heroes, who will destroy the Prime Material if he gets his hands on some two-bit rusted sword." Raze finally says, his long and awkward silence well-deserved as he dwelt on the circumstances he and his fine fellows found themselves in. "We're expected to trudge our way through a swamp that makes minced meat out of anyone foolish enough to step foot on its soil, meander our way through this abandoned civilization where he's buried, and destroy the sword. What's our exit strategy should he escape, hmm? What about those generals of his you mentioned, old man? Lets say he does manage to elude us -- not counting 'Oroz who Skims the Sea' or whatever his name was, of course -- this warlord would still have to amass an army before he could even consider invading the realm. That's men, weapons, armor, and siege equipment to buy us time. That leaves two viable options, as I see them: we either split up and begin the formation of our own armies 'just in case,' or we hit this chump fast and hard." the guileful rogue prattles, raising the occasional finger to list the various pieces of equipment and options as he does so.
"Just my two crowns and all that. Thoughts, Chevik?"
((OOC: Cripes you guys move quick >.>))
