The Battle of Death Mountain: Staging

[Harry Dresden]

There it was. That strange resonance that sounded so much like speech except it didn't need anything to do with normal things like ears or sound waves. Nealaphh seemed to have Harry-dar with how quickly it picked up on the wizard's presence. Or, the more logical part of Harry's brain supplied, maybe he's just on the lookout for other Primes to help with this. Containing his irritation at his self-conflict and how he couldn't even muster up blind distrust of what was almost certainly an Outsider anymore, he nodded in response to the entity's question. "For some reason, I seem to get into these dragon hunts with startling regularity. First the Rathalos and Rathian, now Volvagia. Though, this one is probably a good few steps above those two..." He trailed off, thinking about that fight and how Cindy had shown up, only to incapacitate an ally and disappear into the sunset with one of the artifacts. "Hopefully this time goes a little more smoothly."

Again, the wizard's though processes reached another conclusion just seconds after his mouth, when he realized that, with that green kid going after one of their strongest fighters instead of the dragons, that Inlumia fellow playing with freaking Hellfire like it was a toy, and Cindy's double-cross, it really could hardly go much worse, even if Volvagia was leagues upon leagues above the two Raths. "Though, I'm not just offering blindly. I'd like to know that we have a plan. That's where things all went to hell with the Rathalos. We weren't organized, we didn't know how to work together, and we let the thing run away and get help from its mate. So, Nealaphh, was it? From the looks of things, it's your show. What's the play?"