As the group continues to debate the matter, Father Talton turns to Kandure and begins questioning him about the allies that he spoke of.
Kandure, who are these allies of which you speak? How quickly can we get there?
As the burly Lucidian priest continues to ramble on the normally coolly confident Kandure suddenly seems to become evasive.
It is… they are an organization with an interest in this portion of the Northreach and the surrounding kingdoms. A very old group that may know more about this foul magic used by Nargash.
Kandure pans his eyes across the party, but settles suspiciously on Talton for a moment before continuing on.
Oblivious to the ranger’s look Talton continues to speak:
What if some of us go with Kandure and the others head toward the tribes…just how much reinforcements can you get Kandure?
The woodsman shrugs.
Perhaps if some-or all-of you were able to delay the wights I could seek what aid I can. There are still those in the Northreach capable of repelling such a thing, if they can be roused in time.
Talton continues on, his voice rising and falling with the cadence of one used to preaching before unbelievers. He reasons that the distances to the surrounding villages are small and that the Company is stronger when united, he cajoles that the people of Veniset had offered succour to the party when on the road and he implores action before the matter becomes too late.
As Father Talton’s voice falls silent, eyes once more shift to Sebastian and Matrim. Both men seemed to weigh the options heavily. It is Sebastian who speaks first.
The Bard’s voice, normally florid and uplifting instead becomes grim and stern. He lays out the fears that possess half of the group: That left unchecked the wights, already a horrible blemish, could become a pandemic that could reap untold terror upon the land. Turning to Lornaal, who perhaps most fiercely feels the need to go north, Sebastian offers reason with the final words:
If not us, who?
It is Matrim alone who has yet to speak. The matter has divided the party right down the middle. The ranger shifts from foot to foot, absently scratching the head of the falcon perched upon his shoulder. Even the unflinching eyes of the bird seem to bore into Matrim, seeking a decision. There are many things to weigh, and no guarantee that all members of the party will bide by any decision. That was always the hazard in such a company with their differing beliefs and scattered backgrounds. It was also one of their great strengths.