>>5280889>>5280715>>5280573>>5280522>>5280478>>5280448>>5280445>>5280437>>5280434>>5280425>>5280406You spend some tome thinking it over, but ultimately you decide to declare your triumph and to share the spoils openly and plainly. After all, are you not a dragon? Well… No, but you WANT to be, and that means acting like one. A dragon does not shy away from the eyes of others, skulking about to avoid punishment. A dragon strides! A dragon SOARS!
You (alas) cannot yet soar, but you CAN stride. You do so boldly, from the armourer's smithy to the central gathering hall where food rations are doled out and Reptilians from underdark and surface alike stop in their travels to coordinate their personal and Serpent-assigned missions. Your pack is slung over one shoulder, hooked on the spikes of your ornate golden pauldrons. You step high, bringing feet down hard in a mighty march that echoes the halls like the tread of the giant dragon-kings of old. By the time you arrive, all eyes are on you.
“What in the hells?” you hear one Silkscale male whisper to a Steeltalon companion.
“I think that’s the Lesser Dragonborn,” another Reptilian murmurs.
“What is he wearing?” asks another. “Armour? Why?”
“In preparation for a journey to the surface,” you announce, causing them all to flinch and to bow their heads and avert their eyes respectfully. “A journey to subjugate the heretics in Bloodrise, in the name of the Dark Gods and their Grand Design. I have been chosen to lead this expedition, as a CHAMPION!”
Your fellows’ obligatory cordiality seems to turn to genuine interest when you drop your bag, unbuttoning it and spilling the contents out on a linen blanket like a cornucopia of ancient treasures. As you begin to tell the tale of how you acquired them from the abandoned areas below, their reverence grows.
“I’ve heard that travelers to that area often do not come back alive,” one Silkscale notes.
“Swept away by rivers, fallen into crevices, or lost behind rock-falls?” asks a Steeltalon.
“Or eaten by monsters,” suggests a third Reptilian.
“The monsters I encountered were not so fearsome,” you boast, “not to me.”
You tell the tale, earning additional esteem in the eyes of your fellows… Even if you do have to modify the story of your battle slightly, neglecting the mention the exact nature of the monsters you encountered and the fact that most of them were left alive.
The abridged and edited version still draws a crowd. This includes a Dragonblooded One who requests the staff, symbol of some distant relation who went missing; his clan sigil, a match to that on the officiant’s staff you found, supports this. An enforcer takes the badge with a bow of thanks and recognition… And, eventually, a Serpent Priest joins the crowd, too.
Or, rather, a Priestess, bearing the symbol of the Lady of the Rookery.