>>5747216You refer, of course, to the chimeric affliction which was set in motion by your father, and by the late Chaplain of the northern forward base: a Fleshweaver-wrought malady that turns men into false Degenerates’, scaled and fork-tongued, before beginning to cripple their inner tissues to the point of infirmity, sterility, or even death. Much like a siege by your Dragonborn brethren, this is one more attack by your fellow Truly Faithful which you have spared Hawksong, in your benevolent generosity.
“And what am -I- to do?” Halle asks.
“Share whatever information you have kept in strategic reserve, Infiltrator,” you command her, and your expression silences any objection that she has not done so. “Spare no details. Albacete will carry out her duties. You, you will be attending to duties of your own… With me. We are going home.”
Halle bites back a groan, instead bowing her head in supplication and hurrying to gather her things. When you depart, you can’t help but notice that—for someone who so criticizes the humans—she has acquired far more knickknacks and tchotchkes that your thrice-as-old progenitor, which she lugs in her pack as she joins your and the Archer.
Your journey to rejoin the other Dragonborn is a quest that takes the better part of a day. You could travel further by carriage, but for a few issues. First and foremost, of course, is your mutual antipathy with equids. Horses sense something wrong about you, no matter your guise, and seem to reject you instinctively. The gryphon-mounts of the Holy Order of Hawksong are an even more dire option, filling your companions (oaky, and even you) with a subtle dread. Besides this, and in spite of your new ‘arrangement’ with mankind, you are instinctively reticent to share the location of your fellows Reptilians or your people’s aeons-old hiding places with the race of Man, even now.
(You somehow doubt it would score many pints with the Dark Gods if you DID, for that matter.)
As a result, you risk being forced to camp out for the night in the forested plains or scorched farmland away from Hawksong’s beaten path… Or else to press on through the dark.
What will you do?
>Travel all through the night—you will rest when you reach your Big Brother’s hiding-place>Find a farmstead and impress yourself upon the locals—you have coin to pay, and have grown used to comforts>Camp in the woods and fields, far from prying eyes, that you and Halle may shed your disguises, and the three of you may speak openly among yourselves>Write-in 