>>5748706>>5748794>>5748802>>5748821>>5748878You recall one figure who could help with this matter, and it is he whom you shall seek out first and foremost: The Heretic! A half-human Degenerate born of a forbidden union with a Serpent Priest, his full-blooded fellows permitted his survival—impoverished, and on the fringes—for the unique insights he could glean, and unofficial service she could provide to those few who knew of his existence and whereabouts. Luckily, your first Beloved One was one possessor of that rare knowledge, and she passed it onto you.
Now, you just have to hope he survived.
The northern forward base is a shambles. Already old and ill-maintained outside of the most functional aspects, your brethren’s rebellion and escape left the place well and truly ruined. Even now, weeks later, if smells of burnt flesh and skin. The walls are caked in ash. Mural have been smashed apart by the passage of great bodies, while toppled statuary were trampled by hundreds of smaller feet in flight. The place is empty of life—Reptilian Master Race or otherwise. Those few scavengers—cave drakes, insects, bats, and their ilk—scatter in a secondary exodus as you and the other Dragonborn (and Olu, and Halle, and your brother’s attendants) make your return.
Hale groans to see it, wobbling with dismay-induced weakness at the sight of so much ruined history. Youa re unsure of her age, but you would not be surprised if she was hatched near to here, and raised here or hereabouts, just as you were. At the very least, it has been the meeting-place, worship-space, mess-hall and part-time quarters for your race’s operatives for over a century now, and you well know the special place this admittedly0spartan remnant of Reptilian legacy must hold in her heart.
Your brother’s freedom was worth it, but you still feel the loss.
“The one whom we seek dwelled apart from the rest of our kind, in a hidden alcove,” you note.
You speak the words almost more to reassure yourself than anyone else as you pass through grave-quiet halls, seeking without <Guidance> the path which the Serpent Queen—then Novice Fleshweaver—once helped you to trace. The rest silently follow, until you reach space so narrow that you must leave your fellow Dragonborn—TRUE Dragonborn, larger than you with their wings taken into account—behind.
“I will return,” you promise.
“Will wait,” your older brother confirms with a nod, before falling to the stone with a loud crash and shifting into a more comfortable position. His attendants gather around him to massage and caress him, and the younger Red Dragonborn begin to explore or to play with one another. You watch them for a moment, remembering your Wyrm Princess back home in the Bloodrise Mountains, and then you return to the mission.
