Rolled 20, 17, 19, 7, 10, 17, 9 = 99 (7d20)
>>5215815>20And by the grace of The Dark Gods, it works! The Fleshweavers gather around, looking quiet as if they’d like to pin you to a slab and vivisect you next to your Degenerate-like creation… But as you explain, with eloquence and tact, the ways in which Henzler’s ‘chimericist’ theories can build upon and better their own, they soften in posture, weaken in resolve. They glance nervously amongst themselves as you describe the disaster which might have befallen them—a Great One destroyed, a heart wasted for naught, not even enough material to recnstitute this great, unimagined hope.
“It is a distasteful thing,” you admit, “but we have been down in the depths too long… Our methods are great, and wondrous, and effective… But old, and without the innovations of centuries of magical and alchemical theory. We have little practical application. By applying your NATURALLY greater serpentine intellect to the methods which the ape-folk have CHANCED upon, you can refine them—and The Great One—into something truly new, spectacular, and UNRIVALLED in its capacity for glorious, righteous tyranny!”
They might have been furious. They would have been justified to cast you out. Instead…
Instead, they offer you a red cloak, and invite you as the eighth member of their circle—for this ritual, if not permanently—to aid them in this great work.
No, that’s not right: you aren’t just a PARTICIPANT. Your argumentation was so skilled, so confident and convincing, they let you reach out across your demonic connection to Head Chimercist Henzler and draw froth her expertise. Together, you do not AID the Fleshweavers…
>20 AGAINYou LEAD them.
“Do not fail,” one Serpent Priest whispers to you, a harsh-but-fair warning. You can only imagine what terrible shame—what grisly fate—a failure here would bring.
“We will not,” you say, your shell of (false?) confidence yet-unshattered.
‘We won’t,’ Henzler assures you, ecstatic at this opportunity, ‘Even the destruction of the dragon-chimera would bring such INFORMATION to bear as to make our next attempt all the better!’
That is… Less reassuring than perhaps she intended. You feel Irinnile’s hands on your shoulders, an intangible, psychic massage of comfort and support.
‘You got this,’ she says, and you really do feel it. You look up at the the Dragonborn, who fights and flinches, smoke pouring from between parted lizard-lips in the centre of a ritual circle be, beneath the great cauldron.
<SOULBOND BONUS>
<HEARTBREAK PENALTY>
<FLESHWEAVER MAGE CIRCLE BONUS>
<DC: 12 to not damage the Dragonborn; 14 to begin mending it; 17 to markedly improve it; 19 to perfect it>