Rolled 5, 13, 4 = 22 (3d20)
>>5309878>>5309885>>5309890>>5309910>>5310023There is no time to waste! You muster your forces, leaving injured Ohle behind by necessity, and press on immediately. The eggs MUST be secured. The devils MUST be driven back, be in an empty-handed retreat or total extermination which ends the threat of their invasion. This is YOUR mountain, now!
None of your forces argue—not the Silkscale intelligentsia, not the kobolds, not Hapo. Even the fire-lizards fall into your furiously-paced march without objection. You bristle with urgency, and they all feel it in their bones, their muscles and ligaments, in the stem of their lizard-brains. A dragon marches to war—they follow. It is the way of things.
The fire-lizards, as Hapo forewarned, can only get you so close. The croak and groan as you reach one great chamber with many winding tunnels, carved smooth by escaping molten rock from the deep-earth. Lava lives here, bubbling audibly in the distance, lending a thermal energy which augments your darkvision. They wish to head for the place of greatest heat… But that’s not where the eggs are.
Luckily, your vision of <guidance> yet lingers.
“This way!” you declare, drawing your sword and pointing its luminous, white blade towards the tunnel-entrance in the red-black rock which feels most correct.
It’s a touch melodramatic, but it works, and you feel your forces rally, bracing themselves for battle with an inner steel to which your heroic flair lends additional resolve. They will need it…
[Athleticism check]
