The scene that the Dark Urge witnesses feels akin to one he has experienced already, something like his final conversation with his father, but clearly not meant to be witnessed.
The black figure that addresses Enver Gortash is a shadowed mirror of his own, its eyes somehow empty but deep and unfathomable. Wisps and tendrils of smoke connect the two, flowing out of the human and appearing to feed into the vision he sees. Being confronted by a face like his seems to confirm something he already knew.
The Archduke of Baldur's Gate has a pained but angry look in his own eyes that seems to both offend but also not surprise Bane.
There seem to be words exchanged in all this, but when lips move it is not clear, and there are not sounds so much as feelings that somewhere there are.
Tell me that Raphael was lying and I'll believe you.
A bitter laugh that says No, you won't.
It's the clearest part of the exchange between the two of them. But the rest has a feeling of finality. Certainty that Gortash's part in this plan has come to a rather premature end.
But he will have what is promised to him. A Black Hand still exists coiled around some inner core of Enver Gortash, but the tethers of smoke holding them together outwardly shatter when it clenches.
And only when that clenching hand finds itself closing around nothing does Bane even appear to realize that they are not alone.
The Dark Urge might sense a presence at his back before he is back in his own body.
Enver Gortash moves, his fingers clenching at the runed ground beneath them as the world is present again. His lungs gasp in fresh oxygen as though for the first time and the sound of it rings painfully in his ears, and it intermixes with a thousand small things that are suddenly too vivid: the shuffle of feet, the murmur of voices, the creek of the floorboards and even the city out beyond.
He sees a familiar room around him brighter and more vivid than he had ever known it.
The others gathered are not certain what to make of the spectacle before them when they come through the portal. The two initially fallen, and it is only small details that tell them they have seen something like it before, in the temple of bhaal. They wait, tense.
But when Gortash finally moves, there are immediate changes that just seem to be there as soon as they blink. In pallor, in little ways in shape, and as he casts a look about in confusion: in his eyes.
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The black figure that addresses Enver Gortash is a shadowed mirror of his own, its eyes somehow empty but deep and unfathomable. Wisps and tendrils of smoke connect the two, flowing out of the human and appearing to feed into the vision he sees. Being confronted by a face like his seems to confirm something he already knew.
The Archduke of Baldur's Gate has a pained but angry look in his own eyes that seems to both offend but also not surprise Bane.
There seem to be words exchanged in all this, but when lips move it is not clear, and there are not sounds so much as feelings that somewhere there are.
Tell me that Raphael was lying and I'll believe you.
A bitter laugh that says No, you won't.
It's the clearest part of the exchange between the two of them. But the rest has a feeling of finality. Certainty that Gortash's part in this plan has come to a rather premature end.
But he will have what is promised to him. A Black Hand still exists coiled around some inner core of Enver Gortash, but the tethers of smoke holding them together outwardly shatter when it clenches.
And only when that clenching hand finds itself closing around nothing does Bane even appear to realize that they are not alone.
The Dark Urge might sense a presence at his back before he is back in his own body.
Enver Gortash moves, his fingers clenching at the runed ground beneath them as the world is present again. His lungs gasp in fresh oxygen as though for the first time and the sound of it rings painfully in his ears, and it intermixes with a thousand small things that are suddenly too vivid: the shuffle of feet, the murmur of voices, the creek of the floorboards and even the city out beyond.
He sees a familiar room around him brighter and more vivid than he had ever known it.
The others gathered are not certain what to make of the spectacle before them when they come through the portal. The two initially fallen, and it is only small details that tell them they have seen something like it before, in the temple of bhaal. They wait, tense.
But when Gortash finally moves, there are immediate changes that just seem to be there as soon as they blink. In pallor, in little ways in shape, and as he casts a look about in confusion: in his eyes.