>>5265190You pay a visit to your oldest friend, and perhaps the only being here who understands you: the OTHER Dragonborn, the first of your number.
In truth, there are thus far only the two of you, and (to your knowledge) no other true dragons. Some Reptilian clans claim descent from the Red Dragon of old, sovereign of the Bloodrise Mountains—it is from such a lineage that you derive your own claim to draconic greatness—but most have little to show for it but red scales, bony scutes, and a massive ego worthy of being second only to the Serpent Priests. However, the other Dragonborn is something else… Something greater, something indeed OTHER. As Reptilians are to kobolds, and lizardmen, this Dragonborn is to them! Perhaps, for now, even to you.
“Frrrriend…”
The voice rumbles through the corridors like an earthquake, shaking the very stones as your old friend—almost a big brother—senses your approach. You feel the usual swell of pride at being called such, for no other bears such an honour. But then, you are kin to the Great One in a way none of them are, for though you descend from different draconic lineages—he is scion to The Great Green Dragon who once rules forests and plains—you are unique specimens of true, natural royalty.
“FRIEND! I KNNNEW! ISSS YOU!”
The declaration is such a powerful boom that the sound—and the accompanying waft of acidic, forge-hot breath—nearly knocks you off your feet. You plant them, braving the welcome which always accompanies your visits to The Great One’s chamber. There, The Great Green Dragon’s sole living heir reclines in a natural repose on a well-worn outcropping carved into the stone, replete with finely-detailed carvings depicted conquests past and victories yet to come. Silkscale females, the most sinuous and subtle of the sex and species, attend to their glorious guest’s every need, bringing him fresh flesh-on-the-bone.
>Blackguard second-place finish has gifted (and cursed) you with AppetiteYou eye the harem and the ham-hocks alike with great hunger, catching a few intrigued glances back but far more flickers of fear and hastily-averted eyes. These females are, of course, all the sole possession of The Great One… For all the good it will do him. You look up and up his body, to the gleaming grin and shining yellow eyes of The Green Dragonborn—that which some would call the only TRUE Dragonborn, until such time as his clutch of younger siblings hatch until the careful ministrations of the Fleshweavers who created you all. You may be a mighty marvel, but the Green Dragonborn is a mountainous miracle, easily three times your height and at least six or seven times your weight, with massive, powerful wings and a true aura of Fearsome Presence that once shook even your bones.
Which is to say, he couldn’t mate with one of the females here even if both he and they were in season—not without utterly destroying her in the process. A pitiable waste.
