DM POST: A New Plan

This conversation happens two weeks after Ricin wakes up from his coma, which in turn happened about two weeks after everyone got back from the encounter with Specter. After you told him what happened, he left for two weeks without communicating anything to anyone. This is what is happening moments before where we will start on our next game evening.
Key things to know: The Pentad is the name of the Wizard's Guild.

  He stood in the ruins of his old home. Once the finest bar in the city, now a withered husk, a description that seemed to match himself. Balthor would never walk again. The proud old dwarf's injuries were to extensive, even for magical cures. Already he was finalizing the plans to return to the Dwarven Undercity in a few days. Ricin turned and thrust his fist into a charred post that still stood in the wreckage. He didn't flinch at the pain or at the blood that began to drip down his knuckles; his mind was overrun with all of the happenings of the past month.
  
They had told him everything...

  He knew it was true. He had scoured their minds for any details that they may have left out, omissions or even half-truths. There were none, they were honest. He could now recede into his mind and "watch" the events unfold, reconstructing them from an objective standpoint. Indeed, it was though he himself were there with them. Yes, they had told the truth....

     .....but was that enough? How closely did they resemble the lawless guilds now? Were there any differences now? What separated them now from those they had once sought to stop?

....SHOULD THERE BE?....

  The thought shook him from his contemplation.

...OF COURSE WE MUST BE!...

                          ...ARE YOU?...

He had no answers for the second question. He stood in place, agonizing over the question. He replayed his every action since he had started his campaign. He walked through them all, until he came to what lay ahead. 

Specter

 Again the stories of the capricious entity came to his mind. No, not entity, rather Specter were his own inner demons awakened and manifest. Deep down in the darkest corners of his mind, was he really any different? And further still, did he possess the discipline to control that potential within himself? Specter had indeed toyed with every member of the party. He had made them each face their worst fears, their deepest regrets, biggest failures, or whatever else would cause them the most pain. He had even known of the potential for sending the group back, to relay the news, to plant the seeds of doubt and guilt that could potentially give birth to himself in the first place. Ricin understood that Specter had played the game perfectly, that HE had played the game perfectly.

  He let his mind wander, unable to control the direction of his thoughts no matter how hard he may try. He tried to find solace in the chaos, to let his mind think of everything and therefore nothing, to get lost in the white noise of his own thoughts, but to no avail. Just when he thought he had regained his presence of mind it was interrupted by a single thought:

...What now?...

Indeed, that seemed to be the only important thing left to decipher. What should he do about his companions? What should he do about himself? He pondered the options: reconciliation, abandonment, wiping their minds of any memory of him so that they could move on without him in whatever path they chose.

No, that is not an option. Try as he might, he could not blame them for what had happened. The Pentad came for Balthor, but not because of what they had done to a peon from the Efreeti. No, he knew that they had come for him. They had finally pieced enough about him and his plans to decide he needed to be removed. Unfortunately, that put everyone else in the scope of their wrath as well. 

...This is not their fault... he thought as he looked again at the burned out bar... this is mine...

"Boy", a rough voice called out from behind him. He turned to see Balthor approaching, leaning heavily on the crutch tucked under his arm, his right leg dragging limp behind him as he came on.   "It don't do no good to be lookin' fer a reason"
"I'm not trying to..."
"Bah! Don't ye try and lie to meself. I'm older an' wiser than yerself by a few centuries at least". A small smile crossed both of their faces at the truth of the obvious statement.
"Ye canno' be knowin' everything boy. Nor can you stop all the bad in this city from happenin'. No one is askin' ye to.."
"You know they came here for me! You were nearly burned alive because of MY arrogance", Ricin interrupted him before Balthor could finish his attempt as relieving his inner turmoil. Undeterred, the old dwarf stubbornly pressed on.
"Bah! Shut yer head! I was nearly killed because a good fer nuthin' sneak cut me legs out and then burned me Cellar. Weren't yer arrogance did that".
"No, but I am the reason they came", Ricin shot back. Balthor puffed out his chest and barked back at him, "Quit yer whinin'!"
He softened a bit a took a second to study the young man. Ricin had his eyes exposed, the blue light shining like to points of fire. He knew that he was in pain, it was clear to see. He saw the blood dripping from his clenched fist, noticed the slight lean to the left to relieve the pressure on his back. The fall from the roof had damaged him, more than he was letting on. Balthor did indeed feel pity for his young friend, but not enough to at least try to talk some sense back into his clouded mind.
"Ye can stand here and feel guilty all ye want, but it ain't helpin' nobody. They came here fer you, there is no doubt, but it wasn't for any other reason other than their evil bastards who are used to not being opposed".
"And?"
"AND Y'OPPOSED THEM YA DOLT! For someone who uses his mind for nearly everything, ye sure are thick in the skull sometimes", the surly dwarf finished.
Ricin showed no indication that he appreciated the humorous attempt to break the tension between them. Still, the old dwarf had come to have a few words with his young friend, and like it or not, they were going to be said.
"Ricin, you cannot stop. Listen to me hard boy. I have no regrets from my time here, nor should you. They need you boy, have no doubt. That group we gathered can do this, and from what they tell me of the future, ye ain;t for much time to get somethings sorted out".
"What do you propose we do about it"?
"That's fer ye to figure out be me guess".
"Very helpful".
"More helpful than yer being to anyone at the moment, includin' yerself. What do you expect outta me, eh? A full battle plan? No one has done anything like this before, remember?"
"Fair enough".
"Though, as to yer impending war, reminds me of a predicament from my adventurin' days with Marahir"
Ricin turned slowly to listen closely to him. Rare was the occasion when he talked about his time abroad; rarer still did he mention the old bard.
"Party and meself caught wind of an upcoming tribal feud between two giant clans"
"So what?"
"Exactly! If anything we were more interested in watching the scum kill each other. Unfortunately, there was a small village of settlers between the two tribes' territories. Were a battle to start, they would surely be caught up in the midst of it"
"So what did you all do?"
"Well, Marahir came up with a solution. He asked us a question. The same question I am about to ask you. 'What is the best way to have two giant clans not kill each other'"?
"Have them kill someone else"
"See, ye haven't lost yer whole mind"
"Well who volunteered for that wonderful job"
"We did"
"So I assume it worked"?
"Aye. Marahir went on and on about the songs he would compose of our heroic deeds. Of course, they only get sung out there in that settlement now."
Ricin took a moment to contemplate the dwarf's strategy. Mad though it may seem, the plan actually had some merit. But he couldn't do it alone....