“That can be bad for your lungs, you know.”  Lorlin smiles.  “ but it’s fine with me.”  

Akkron chuckles at the Cleric's joke. "Indeed... perhaps someday I will free myself of the habit."

The lich leans back and uses Prestidigitation to ignite the pipe. As he inhales the smoke fills his ribcage, mingling with the dark mists rising from his bones. Then he blows out a cloud of smoke that takes the shape of a skeletal dragon for a brief moment before fading away. He pulls out the strange tome that he found in his study a year ago and opens it up to reveal the prophecy that he found, hoping to find a few clues as to what they need to do if they are to prevent the world's end.

"This might interest the three of you as well," he says, taking the pipe in one hand for a moment as he sets the open tome on the table. "Perhaps a few sets of fresh eyes will reveal more than I could find on my own. It is the prophecy that brought me here today."

In the book the following words are written:

On the final day of the Year of the Dragon,
The sun shall be as darkness and the seas as blood,
Brother shall take up arms against brother, father against son,
Death shall walk amongst them
The gods shall turn their backs, and frost shall consume the Nine Hells,
When the Tree of Worlds is cut down at the roots, all shall be consumed by darkness

"Not the most uplifting thing I've ever read, to be sure," Akkron says. "And it doesn't give the most favorable impression of our odds of success... but perhaps there is something here that I have missed which can give us a better idea of what our next steps should be on this quest"

"I uh...be my guest..."  Dabbert says, not sure if the zombie is being funny or not. 

When he sees the curling wisps of smoke he stares in a sort of...disbelief?  We'll go with that.  He looks as Akkron shows them the book, and the words written within, and pauses on the last line. 

"The Tree of Worlds."  He says, with inflection on the last word.  "Where uh...where is everyone from?"  

“Originally- Oerth, near the city of Greyhawk, if you’ve heard of it.   But I’ve traveled a lot since”. Lorlin says.   “You?”  

Noticing the soldier seems to be staring, Akkron takes in another puff from the pipe before deciding to answer Dabbert's unasked question.

"The reason that I smoke this pipe is because it is the easiest way to engage my sense of taste... did you know that every pipe and every tobacco has a unique flavor? I have spent many centuries sampling them in every combination that I can think of."

When Dabbert asks where everyone is from, Akkron does his best to answer.

"I think I began my existence in Ravnica, though I don't remember with certainty," Akkron says, sounding a little bit regretful as he mentions his foggy memories of his mortal life "I know that is where I learned most of my arcane abilities, but I eventually found it necessary to escape the never-ending political squabbles to make a home on the world of Toril. My realm is a kingdom known as The Shaded Isle, a barren rock of an island which I took up residence in with the hopes of avoiding conflict with either the mortals living in this world or the inhabitants of the Underdark. Though interestingly, a few people have actually voluntarily moved to my little island since I took up residence. I'm still not sure what they're doing there, but I have a mutual understanding with the local community that I won't bother them as long as they don't bother me. The three of you are welcome to visit sometime, assuming that we manage to save the multiverse, that is. Lorlin, as a fellow arcana enthusiast I'm sure you would appreciate my library, and I think that the others could certainly appreciate the little village..."

There is a deep loneliness apparent in the skeleton's words. He trails off, realizing that he's been rambling.

"Perhaps it would be best to think about that another time."

Dabbert shook his head.  

"I uh...no.  I didn't know that."  He says as he watches Akkron smoke.  "What uh...well.  That sort of..."

He almost says life.  It's obvious.  He corrects himself midsentence.  

"...existence must be...challenging."  

He listens to the Cleric and the Wizard before her answers.  

"Larkdust.  But home was the Veil.  I uh...when I was in the army, that was what home really was though.  Not a place, but the people.  Almost all the way up to the point when the dreams started but I uh...was pursuing my next step in life.  I suppose you'd say.  The dreams started, and I started looking for  way to stop them.  I thought they were premonitions.  Which, looks like they were.  I'm not sure where this is, though.  Where we are.  I'll take you up on uh...seeing other parts of the multiverse when this is done, and I've got my life back together.  Supposing we survive anyway."  

"It's... well..." Akkron sounds unsure of himself as he searches for words. "It's what I thought I had to do. My friend, just a piece of friendly advice: if someone who looks a lot like me tells you to embrace undeath to obtain all that you've ever dreamed of, it's probably because misery loves company. I will admit, there are a few perks... it's literally been over six thousand years since I last got a cold or a stomach cramp. But without the highs and lows of both pleasure and pain, all of existence tends to become a dull and tasteless affair over the centuries."

Another puff of smoke drifts out of the skeleton's Pipe of Smoke Monsters, taking the form of a gryphon for a few moments before fading away.

"It will be good to have a bit of company for a while," the lich says. "If we ever figure out what we need to do to prevent the destruction of the multiverse."