>>5338636>>5338512>>5338496>>5338462>>5338412>>5338341>>5338339>>5338334>>5338304>>5338290>>5338283There will be no more delays, you decide. It may mean a more humble beginning to your campaign against the dwarves, but this too may be a blessing in disguise: total war could risk exposure, and recruiting further allies could mean making more concessions to the Drow and Bogbarri… Or your own people. Would the Chaplain authorize such an action? Are you prepared to go home, to return to your caves and endless days of inaction, should he deny you your dreams?
No.
Shortly after waking, you summon your retinue—and the ten Bogbarri, the four Drow, and Agno—to your presence.
“Awe have dwelt in darkness, all our lives,” you begin your speech. “Ever have we suffered. We have been isolated, impoverished, denied even the wealth of the earth in which we burrow and hide. Here, in this place, we will change that. This is the Bloodrise—the realm of our ancestors, of the Red Dragon King! This is a LAND of darkness. This place BELONGS to the likes of us—to we who have struggled and suffered in such eternal night, waiting for our time!”
Your eyes settle first on the kobolds.
“…It belonsg to those stewards who have safeguarded it…”
Your eyes shift to the Drow next.
“…To those outcasts who have endured indignity, but found grace, in this depleted and miserable land-below…”
You look to the Bogbarri and their Boss next, and you flash back to last night.
“…To those who have fought, and lost, and clambered up from the depths to seize victory from that defeat…”
And finally, to the Novice, and your retinue who have served you well these last two months—longer than they ever expected to be away from home, in capacities they never expected to serve. Do any of them even realize how far you have drifted from your humble beginnings, or from your actual assignment?
“…To those who are the true heirs of these lands, and this world, and who will rule them once more.”
A cheer goes up, first from the mammals, then from the kobolds. Your own race is slow to react, uneasy with the brashness of the braggadocio perhaps, or perhaps even suspicious that you are overstepping your authority…
But then the Novice Fleshweaver steps forward, her eyes ablaze with ambition, and she lets loose a ululation of celebrations. It isn’t long before the rest join: Olu ad Paeris, then the Thief, then the Pit Guards, and then even the Translator, Merchants, and Cartographer.
You are all, truly, stumbling in the dark now… But, Dark Gods willing, you are stumbling towards glory.
