>>5196724Alhazred and Roth eat you at the table, though Roth is meticulously poring tallying the copper and silver coins presented to him by the two human children, and testing the quality of golden and silvery candle-sticks and the patina of fine dishware. Among them is a sword, a wooden shield, and a chain-shirt.
“Mostly plated or painted rubbish,” he says with great surliness, “but the coin is proper to this kingdom, unadultered. Good metal, worth keeping. And this old sword and this mail is good. The old male served in a military campaign.”
The meal, too, is most satisfying—not too seasoned, luckily, for while humans seem to enjoy an overabundance of spice and herbs, this family has far fewer of them available than the urban folk of Hawksong proper. You all end the evening full and content. It really is the safest and calmest you have felt in some time. It feels good to be speaking your own tongue openly, surrounded only by fellow Infiltrators and those two enthralled by your magic to worry about.
‘Enthrallment won’t last forever, though,’ Irinnile notes. ‘Well, maybe for the sexy momma’ an’ farmboy, but not th’ rest, without more effort.’
Night is almost upon you now, and the time has come to decide what to do with this farm, and the family who dwells there, before you take your leave.
What do you do?
>Feed the family [or some of them, specify who] to the Dragonborn—let him get a taste for the flesh of your enemies—and burn the place down to cover your tracks>Offer a pact to one or more of the humans [specify who, and what terms]>Stay another day, and travel tomorrow night—you are tired, you’re enjoying it here, and you plan to muster your strength to more deeply enthrall these humans [+hedonism]>Turn this place into a waystation for your kind, and a sanctuary should you later require it, with these human slaves to man it>Write-in 