"Speak to the land. Call on your ancestors and lay bare your deeds. Fear will take you and you must hold your ground, Bone Rider. In the half-world all is stripped away. So it was for me. I stood naked and defenseless and called to the One who Devours. There is no aid there. There is nothing but him."
Pashira nods at Vel's unspoken question.
"You may take no weapons, nor any armour. No staff, no orb, no symbol or totem will help you. Bring only that which aids the skills of your hearts and minds. You are a clan, you will help each other. Only one need be consumed for all to be reborn."
Vel
With obvious reluctance, Reason divests himself of his armour, javelins and mace before slowly putting his holy symbol on top of the pile.
He places a protective hand around his amulet and his precious books and spends a few minutes transferring potentially vital supplies to a smaller bag. The set of his spine clearly shows his mistrust of the process.
Pashira looks not unsympathetically at the preparations.
"I can offer you no other way. Believe that my need was great before I made this journey."
"I survived. I was reborn and remade as Kargzant, which was the one wish of my heart. When I walked into the fires many years later, I was honoured among the People and the Sun Stallion set me to guard the halfworld for all time. The need must be great enough or your fear will consume you, not the One who Devours."
Pashira looks over the preparations and nods approval.
"I will hold the gate for your return. Travel well. Journey wisely. May you find what you seek."
Standing before you, he raises his hands and invokes the gods of Kargzant, head thrown back and legs akimbo. As the words rise, his body blurs, turning misty and through him you see the Bone Plains. It is as if a mirror has reflected itself through him. If you walk forwards, you will leave his tomb and re-enter a shadow version of Kargzant.
As Kia moves to join the group, the tremor becomes more violent and focuses around you, sending Arianwyn and Whiteclaw sprawling.
Then the fear begins. Something enormous and primordial is rising beneath you. Unimaginably huge, utterly alien, it seeps into you, mind and body, looking for weakness. Every rash action, every harsh word, every fear you have ever suffered rises unbidden and unwanted, seeking to overcome you.
Vel
Your companions and your surroundings blur around you, and as though you have been granted a second layer of vision, you find yourself in a sick room. Someone - who you know you should remember - lies dying and it has fallen to you to comfort them in their last moments. Memory and fear tug at you as you struggle to overcome your darkest imaginings. All the thoughts and all the terrors you have ever pushed to the darkest recesses of your mind are piling in on you.
Whiteclaw
Drawing on your own strength, you push the intrusion aside, concentrating on the loyalty of your companions and your own unique place in their world. The attack comes again, creeping inexorably into your mind.
Weakened at last, you have no choice but to succomb. Around you, your companions become your enemies, not your pack, not gnolls, merely something for you to devour.
Arianwyn
Although you know this cannot be happening, you feel your body turning to shadow and chill fear engulfs you. The Prince of Frost himself draws out your lifeforce, binding you to shadow and servitude for an eternity. Memory and fear tug at you as you struggle to overcome your darkest imaginings. All the thoughts and all the terrors you have ever pushed to the darkest recesses of your mind are piling in on you.
Vel
The tiny fragment of your rational mind comes to your aid as it has always done.
The enchantment seeking to engulf you is primal force, latching on to your own terrors and turning them against you.
For the primordial mind behind the assault, this is the only approach it can take. It is bound by chains far older and deeper than any you can properly understand.
You see also that in your acceptance of your weakness, you will find strength and understand that some fights are not meant to be won.
Even as your healing skills fail you, you accept and withstand the pain it brings you and absorb it into yourself.
You are aware that you now face deeper terror, but you have succeeded in conquering your own darkest fears at least.
Whiteclaw
Reason flinches as Whiteclaw unexpectedly turns on him and claws wildly at his leg before she rises and lopes terrified away.
Arianwyn
Never letting go of his self-belief, he stalks his own fear, barricades it into a corner and blasts it into oblivion. The Prince of Frost is dismissed as though he had never been and Arianwyn waits for the next assault.
Whiteclaw
Vel, Whiteclaw and Arianwyn are free to move and plan their next step if they so wish. All three are aware that there is more to come, even if the form of the next assault is uncertain.
The shadowy undead watch silently, moving only when Whiteclaw briefly left the circle, looking hungrily towards her.