Druid stands, silent and stoic, in the corner of the room as he waits for the rest of them to finish their preparations. They are all praying to their various gods and goddesses for guidance and aid, even though it will probably do nothing in the coming battle....swords, spears and skill win wars, not Gods or Demons - unless they are actually there in the flesh, which he admits, could happen - and they should be helping the fortification of the town. Instead, they are stuck in here, making sure that the statues are properly tended to. He resists the urge to snort; for somebody like Dawn, whose powers rely on praying, he can understand, but the others? Not so much. Druid doesn't know if he was a religious person or not, whether he worshipped the Gods of the Forest or any one God in particular, but newly raised? No, he sees no need to placate omnipotent beings that may or may not be there. He has not had personal experiences of them, he has not seen them or heard from them since he woke up, and so he doesn't actually think that even if they exist, they would be particularly interested in talking to him. He has all the power he needs in his veins right now, and the strength does not seem to diminish when he makes a blasphemous remark or thought...so even if they do exist, they obviously don't mind his disrespect all that much. Maybe because they're cooking up some horrible torment for him after his death, but he will think about that when he dies. Again. Really, death isn't the obstacle people make it out to be. He died - rather violently, if his gravesite and the condition of his corpse was anything to go by - and look at him now. Whilst not exactly healthy, he is walking and talking and fighting, which is more than many, many people can say. Of course, he lost his memories - thanks to the botch job that Streban made of the ritual - and that is more than a little inconvenient, but his answers are out there somewhere and the nature of this world is such that if you keep going your own way, your answers will find you. And even if they don't, he can hope that if he dies, he will regain his old memories upon shedding this mortal shell.<br/><br/>Druid shifts his considerable weight, and crosses his large arms. He is big - about six feet - with broad shoulders and a heavily muscled frame. He is not subtle by any stretch of the imagination, and if he moves, you will know about it. His arms are like treetrunks, big, thick and solid, and match the build of his legs. Imagine a great bear in human form. That's pretty much the stature that Druid has; big and strong and extremely intimidating to your average human. His hood is pulled down, revealing his long black braids - that used to be matched by a big bushy beard, but after it shrivelled up and died, becoming just a collection of whispy little whiskers, he had to shave - that fall down about his neck. He surveys the room, pursing his lips. They have to somehow repel an invasion from one of the Traitor Heroes armies, with very little preparation time, very few soldiers, no mages, no heavy artillery and only basic fortifications. Somehow, he has a horrible feeling about the coming fight, and he knows that it is likely that the others have considered it as well. They may be untrustworthy killers - Hazamir is borderline racist - but they aren't all stupid. He eyes the elf, but doesn't say anything. He may not like it, but Hazamir will fight or he will die with the rest of them. And then where would his vengeance be? No, they are all bound together, for good or ill, and at the moment they must trust each other. He knows of some of the crimes of some of his companions pasts, and he knows that Streban himself would not normally be the kind of man that a druid would ally with, but necessity makes for interesting bedfellows. In all honesty, Druid doesn't know why he agreed to be raised, but he did...and now he is bound to the quest through an oath he cannot remember. Maybe answers, as he said, will find him eventually.<br/><br/>He lets out a great breath, and steps forwards, completely ignoring Deanora. He doesn't trust her at all, and whilst her question was a good one, it is not the one that needs asking. Hopefully, his question will be answered in a way that also answers hers. She is not a battlefield expert, and he highly doubts that any of them truly appreciate the position that they are in, high as they are off of the other days easy victory. "Streban," he rumbles. Despite his size, his voice is actually relatively quiet and mild, though it is capable of making cutting remarks where necessary. He almost never raises his voice - no need, when you're the size of Druid; if he talks, people tend to listen - but his presence is obvious nonetheless. "I hope you have a plan. Unless you have one, this town will fall and we will all die...again." Even he knows the basics of battle. If their plan is to just man the walls and hope that they can hold them off, then they are all in for a nasty shock. They are all skilled individuals, that is not in doubt, but they are only a handful against an entire army. The ordinary undead are ok-ish soldiers, but they are vastly outnumbered and outgunned. "Surely, you would not lead us to seize a town without a plan in place to hold it against the inevitable counterattack?" Unless Streban has something truly magnificent up his sleeve, the battle can only go one way....and even if they do somehow win, that will only result in an even bigger, more well equipped army marching on their location, hitting them with so much force that they can't even hope to win. Even if each of their soldiers killed ten men for every one of theirs that fell, it would not be enough. He looks at Streban critically. He has had cause to doubt the mans leadership in the past, but if he seized this town without a plan to hold it, he is a bigger fool than Druid thought.<br/><br/>He doesn't know much about battle - he might have in his last life, for all he knows, but right now he doesn't - but it doesn't take a tactical mastermind to see that they are in an extremely desperate position. Artillery? Mages? They are outclassed. They need a plan if they are to win, and he doesn't think that Streban has one. If he does, he hasn't explained it to them and that is just as dangerous. Not explaining the plan to the rank and file soldiers, he can understand, but to his supposedly trusted companions? The main party? They need to be in on it so they can all do their best to see that it succeeds. It is true, of course, that no plan survives contact with the enemy, but even having an idea of what you want to accomplish and how you're going to do it is important for anybody fighting a battle. No great General who ever won a battle or a campaign went in with absolutely no idea how they were going to do it. Unfortunately, simply making it up as you go along will not win you anything in life, and they<em>need a plan.</em>Castor won't care - that single minded, brutish simpleton will stab anything you point him at - and Hazamir is too arrogant to consider the thought of them losing...as for Deanora, well, she worships Streban. If he says it will be fine, she'll believe him. Druid? He's more realistic than that. If they don't have a plan or some secret weapon up their sleeves, they will lose. He shifts his weight as he look sat Streban, waiting for an answer. He certainly hopes that it's a satisfactory one.