The Hands of Fate (IC)

[Noctemwolf]

Once the warforged placed the ring on his finger, Dike felt a small surge from the ring. He knew what it could do for him now, and he smiled.

This, is nice, he thought.

Fortitude check to see the angels face:

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(1d20+5)[10]

Though he tried, the light emanating from the angel was too much to bear, and he closed his eyes, turning his head away from the bright glow.

While listening to the angel speak, Dike grew more and more somber, the glow of confidence ebbing away from his face. If the Old Hands of Fate had been so strong as to kill a god... How could he handle them?

Perhaps it would be wise to learn about his teammates and learn what they could do. If he was lucky, some of them might actually be useful. Though he hoped none of them were making the wrong choice in risking their lives, he hoped sincerely he would live through this.

We're not actually fighting the Hand. Not yet, at least, he thought to himself.

He nodded his head in resignation to the angel's words.

"You have a few hours before their meeting--I suggest you prepare for any and every contingency."

"We're gonna need it."