>>5281451>Vote 2: Make a zealous appeal to the underclass—rogues, scouts, rough-and-tumble brawlers, and degenerates“Even you!” you declare, pointing at a Degenerate, whose Reptilian eyes widen in his lean, pinkish-skinned, fur-speckled face; a face framed by the sharp-tipped, elongated ear-flaps you take to be the mark of an Elfblooded One.
“Wh-what?” he says, pointing at himself and taking a step back, thoroughly uncomfortable at the sudden and direct attention (not all of it approving) from everyone else in the room.
“I am going to the Stolen Lands of the world above,” you declare, as your rhetorical target hastily turns his eyes downward in deference.
You have their attention now, though, and though you sense the Serpent priestess’ discomfort with your rhetoric, you take a breath, channel your Presence, and press onwards. A Dragon is fearless. A Dragon is Fearsome!
“I will need those with experience of surface culture. I will need thieves, and scouts, and brawlers. Those who are used to living outside of, and on the fringes, of our Great Society… And who long to prove themselves. The lesser-bred… The hungry… The ones who are ready and able to put their trust in the Dark Gods, and in ME, and abandon the world below for a world unknown! Those who would SEIZE destiny, SEIZE glory, SEIZE loot to fill a hoard such as no Reptilian has seen since the Age of Scales… The Age of Dragons! MY AGE! OUR AGE!”
Okay, maybe you got a little… Exuberant. The Priestess’ stories of past glory, and memories of your vision two nights prior, and of your meeting with the God of Death… It swept you up, up, and away. You felt… You felt as if you were flying!
>19 for Reptilian Empathy + Diplomacy…And so, it seems, did your audience. They soared with you, on wings of imagination, to a world and a future where dragon’s blood flowed in each of them—where they were kings and queens of a World of Darkness, a Master Race regardless of the purity of their bloodline. You see faces common in their blandness and uncommon in their ugliness alight with rapacious hunger, eyes blazing with the fire of ancient furies and distant glories, hearts full of hope.
And YOU… You are their hope.
“Who is with me?” you ask, a bit more quietly.
Their roar of reply is not quiet.
