Brush with Death in a Cave of Dragons

We tried to lure Azurewrath out of his entrenched location, but I figured it was far-fetched. Mockery, taunting, and challenging honor seemed to unmove him from around the corner of the cave. I was tasked with sneaking around and taking a peak, where I saw drakes and a few people and the large draconian beasty man. This was going to be difficult; he was not alone.
 
I reported these findings to the vanguards and our strategy was thus: Makaan and I would, from the darkness, take a few shots with arrows at the enemy group. This should lure them back towards us, where we'd be more strategically placed. Makaan and I have experience trading places in this combat, like we did at the autumn temple in Timberpass with the patrolling reavers. Next, Makaan and I would try to keep them in a tight spot for Avindir the mage and Calliope the priest to hex and smite respectively. This was a tight formation, but I fear it was poorly communicated.
 
Battle rarely ever follow dreams, and I feel convinced that Vulgan, Batis, and Aeoton were mocking us this evening.
 
Calliope broke rank, or was unaware of the rank, and chose to join us with the "pot shots"; this meant our swapping formation was out of step and Makaan was left exposed. Swiftly, drakes and axe-wielding warriors surrounded him and Calliope. Makaan valiantly tried to hold them off, but he was taking blows left and right. Any attempts I made to punish their positions and strike was met with failure; I could not land a solid hit.
 
When Azurewrath joined the melee, he proved overwhelming to our already overwhelmed position. Makaan had no room to reach into the giant magic, Calliope had no step to retreat, and I was rapidly being bit down to size from the drakes. Makaan fell back a bit, only for Azurewrath to fly overhead and block his path. Their dance allowed me to be surrounded and I took a mortal blow.
 
I don't know how long I was down; I just remember a splash of a potion landing on my face to return me to consciousness. The only sight I remember was a warrior heaving a great axe into my torso. The sound it made, the cold I felt, and the burning inside me is indescribable. I felt the embrace of Quorin's oblivion creep into my sight and heard the cries of Thuses's ravens herald my arrival.
 
A silvery flash of moonlight filled my being, quickly knitting me back together. It hurt, icy in a way I've never felt before. Calliope's prayer was quick, minor, but enough to get me ambulatory. I got up and found Azurewrath's ashes scattered in a large space, a warrior being consumed by what are apparently stirges, and the warrior who cleaved me almost in two ready to give up. I shouted at him to get out of here, then saw Makaan bleeding out. I don't know if my sanguine pool sapped my spiritual force, but I put as much of it as I could into Makaan to try and stabilize him. With all of us able to walk, we retreated back up the rocky ledge and watched the stirges fall, the drakes slink behind the heel of the remaining warrior, and our path deeper into the cave unblocked.
 
I almost died this evening. My soul might have touched a toe on the final road. I need to spend time to reflect upon this. I swear I can still feel the bite of the axe inside of me. I never felt such an invasion into my body like that before. I think I must be shocked by the experience, for my thoughts circle each other in this time.
 
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We found the kitchen, treasure, and a clutch of eggs. The kitchen was filled with blood and stench, nothing new there. The treasure included silken hand wraps with Auran prayers to the sky, a mithril pan flute dedicated to an elven usurper spirit of the moon, and an obsidian warhammer glowing with the memory of molten earth. All in all, fitting for a cave of dragons.
 
The clutch of eggs was more divisive in the group.
 
We found a chamber with three black dragon eggs, a day or so from hatching. Dragons are magical, intelligent, and dangerous beings, with black dragons having a reputation of being exceptionally vile and cruel temperament. Makaan, unsurprisingly, wanted to destroy the eggs before they hatched. He saw their potential for evil as justification. Avindir, also unsurprisingly, wanted to try and rear the three dragons. He loves dragonkind and wouldn't want to see unborn dragons needlessly destroyed.
 
I was reminded of a lesson Master Sopai gave us about morality. We, instinctively, label something as "good" or "evil" based on its qualities. If a drunken man were to swing a sword at an innocent person and strike them, then it is fair to say the blow is "evil" in this dichotomy. Now, is the act of the swinging before the blow evil? Almost certainly it will connect, and the connection is an evil event, so it can be safe to say the action immediately leading up to evil carries some of its future event's morality. But what if they were arguing before the swing; would the argument be evil? Would the drinking before the argument be evil? How far prior in the chain of causality, the web of fate and logos, can we trace evil to an action? And when we are seeing these early events, how certain must we be before we can intervene with a grim hand to prevent evil?
 
How confident must we be when we believe evil will happen?
 
Makaan has a code of ethics firmly rooted in preventative action. I feel he is too severe in life, but I understand his position. Avindir is a more sheltered scholar and wants to believe in the majesty of dragons. Calliope didn't know much about that morality, but felt it wrong to kill unborn children for the potential cruelty they would unleash.
 
I voiced a few of these lessons, proud of Master Sopai's voice in my own. After some heated ultimatums being drawn in sand and backing away from it, we agreed to let the eggs hatch and observe for one day. Likely, the three dragonlings would fight each other and only one would survive. Afterwards, we would take the surviving dragonling to the Order of Metal, where they could hopefully be more equipped to render judgment than our four unprepared and foolish selves.
 
I assured Makaan that I was ready to help take down a dragonling if I felt it was a threat, but that I wasn't ready to condemn a possible being who had free will and agency for actions they haven't even thought of committing yet. I am afraid my position was foolish, but I cannot yet unshackle myself from the spiritual idealism I was raised in. I don't want to ever reach a point where the monks' lessons are discarded.
 
In retrospect, my indecision in personal choice and repeating Master Sopai's lessons speaks to my own spiritual turmoil inside of me. I let the man who cleaved me go, no punishment. I hadn't the energy or the mind to enact anything. Was that right? He actively, purposefully, tried to kill me. He almost did. I almost died.
 
I can still feel the axe in me. I know the divine blessings stabilized me, but I can feel how my gut isn't quite right, how it is slightly out of order. I have no more spiritual breath to purge these wounds deep within, nor do I know how many are physical and how many are echoes of the song of battle from earlier.
 
I need to meditate upon this.