>>5617375>>5617338>>5617078>>5617075>>5617041>>5617468The face that looks back at you from the mirror is… Familiar. That is remarkable in and of itself, you suppose, since you haven’t really seen this version of yourself in many months. It makes sense, though. To your soldiers and disciples, perhaps Dragon King Theral is the ‘real’ you: your potential, your draconic-tinted Reptilian heritage fully realized, face and body armoured in shining scales. It definitely how you’ve portrayed yourself to the world, as you took on more and more titles and made more and more promises. Prince of Love! Copper Dragon King! Knight Ascendant! Heir to Bloodrise! You are the hope of your forsaken and struggling race—once and future MASTER Race—made real!
But… That’s not really you.
Obviously, neither is ‘Long Wang’. That’s literally just a name you recycled from ancient history, in a spur-of-the-moment decision. The flat face, smoothly scaleless and beige-pink, DOES echo certain of your features… But it is not YOUR face. It never will be. You may have a human grandparent, but that heritage is a stolen thing, acquired strategically. It is not your TRUE heritage, your TRUE identity. You will never, EVER be a human, nor would you aspire to such a sorry state. Oh, you may be more tolerant of the mammals than most of the Master Race, more similar and sympathetic to the warm-blooded ‘surface scum’, but you are OF the Master Race—THEY are your people!
The face that looks back at you… THAT is your face. It is not masked by layers of <Dragonshape>, molded by your Novice Fleshweaver’s carefully-crafted magical manipulations to be more human OR more dragon. It is the face of the Dragonborn that looks back at you from every limpid pool of stale water you drank from as a young male. It has the yellow-pink, not-quite-copper scales and accursed reddish locks of hair which you lamented so often as a youth. Why did you never shear them? Maybe it’s the same reason that, even now, your subconscious regards it as your TRUE self. This is you, ‘warts and all’ as the dwarves say, and it is THIS self that you embody in your dreams.
“Uh, well, that’s real sweet an’ all,” Irinnile interjects, “But our pretty l’il princess ain’t gonna’ like it.”
“Are you sure?” you ask, still surveying yourself. “She HAS SHOWN AN ATTRACTION TO THE… Exotic.”
“Babycakes, there’s a biiiig fuckin’ difference between fuckin’ with some hunky oriental guy’s long wang and, like, doin’ the do with a double-dicked dragon-dude, ya’ know what I’m sayin’?”
