Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-26288702-20161008211047/@comment-28358106-20161016031710

I ride in the back of the column, as we gallop along the narrow track. I can't help but wonder what awaits us within the castle grounds, but that doesn't concern me as much as what I'm going to do once I get there.

This is the worst possible plan. Of every possibility we could have chosen, the absolute worst choice is what we are here to do: ride into his home territory, assault his stronghold, and kill him. If Hound couldn't achieve it on his own, there isn't much I can contribute to the cause. This is madness. I'm a doctor, and no stranger to the macabre, or the darkness, or the undead. I spent lifetimes outwitting a Dark Lord born of my own black desire, and what I'm likely to find here is nothing new to me. What bothers me is the idea that we will succeed where a myriad others have failed.

Ride in, stop his plans, and kill him. Sheer, bullheaded stupidity.

But I'm not here to be the voice of reason, despite the fact that it is my strongest asset, and my greatest strength. I'm a sorcerer, yes. I am powerful, no doubt, even more so that now I own the True Glyph. But I shouldn't be here. I'm not a fighter. Jorge, yes. He can't even die! But me? No.

Not unless Hound knows something I don't. And I don't like secrets.