Alma doesn’t wait for the reactions of the others. He hears the mighty Barbarian explode in anger as he turns and slowly walks to his horse. He begins to pack for a journey, like an automaton he goes through the motions of preparing his mounts for travel.
Alma isn’t a coward… but we can’t win against so many… they aren’t some mindless horde of skeletons or zombies who will just run in a group as we pick them off with bows. If the “girl” still travels with them they could be possessed of highly advanced tactics. This is folly… Alma hopes beyond hope that he has underestimated his companions… perhaps overestimated himself. Alma is stunned by the sudden realization that it isn’t death he fears… but the rapidly following undeath that chills him to the bone.
As Alma finishes stowing his gear and securing his saddles and bags he turns to the group.
I will be needing a promise from one of you other then Talton, or Lornaal, because at some point we will end up engaging these beasts…. if we lose and you escape I expect you to return to destroy what I become… I will not continue in some quasi existence hunting and tormenting the good people of the north… I need someone who stands on a hill shooting or casting spells to promise me they will make sure my reanimated corpse does harm to no one else.
Alma waits for someone to make him a promise he knows they will be hard pressed to keep…