>>5267316The surface world truly is a marvelous place, for all its infestation. You see evidence of the innovations which the fat and happy denizens of the Stolen Lands have developed, with their ill-gotten gains and over-ample free time. Sturdy and utilitarian weapons with intricate gylphs and ever-honed edges attest to the techniques of the dwarves, an especially hirsute and squat mole-ape you have heard tell of. All manner of gadgetry and gizmos comes form their lands, too. Both are replicated, with more experimental materials and techniques if less evident skill, by the humans—most populous of the surface races. You eye them, test the balance of various blades and polearms, and the heft of one very impressive-looking hammer. But no, no, too slow, and it does not carry the same SIGNIFICANCE.
The Silkscale merchants regard you in quiet awe and proper deference as you peruse their wares. They sense what your coming means: a Dragonborn deployed is the beginning of a new Age of Scales, surely! However, the cunning masters of subterfuge and manipulation that they are, they each try to press upon you their wares, and at a premium that they know the Priesthood can afford irrespective of the actual quality or utility of their goods. They spin false narratives of armies slaughtered with each butterknife and practice-bow.
“ENOUGH.”
You speak the word loudly but calmly, and will your Fearsome Presence into being. Heads bow, eyes turn away and downward. You take a deep breath, appreciative of the space the throng now give to you. Since growing into your legacy, and your seven-and-a-half foot stature, you have never known such consolidated and shameless attention. Though it is perhaps an ignoble thing to admit, it… Overwhelmed you.
>11However, your imposition of your will backfires. The merchants now are fearful to speak up, to boast their wares, to even proffer anything they are not certain will meet your requirements. They provide no information which you do not specifically request, terrified to anger you. In frustration, you rummage through one stall yourself, where the fine and smooth lines of the craftsmanship and the gold-and-silver filigree catches your eye and appeals to a deep-seated instinct to hoard.
