Rolled 6, 16, 2, 3 = 27 (4d20)
>>5361349>>5361330>>5361258>>5361252>>5361161>>5361150>>5361129>>5361127>>5361085>>5361080You are loathe to part with any of your treasures—including yours ‘apprentice, the Throat-singer, or your lover, the Herbalist. More than any possession, though, it is your comrades and servants who hold the most value. For this same reason, though you know revealing the conspiracy of the Mother of Dragons and her bug-brood would score a major diplomatic coup, you cannot bring yourself to ruin your relationship with Glowie (or chance her grandmother’s divine wrath) by exposing them. It is as the Master of the Insightful Eye revealed: your personal attachments are strength and weakness alike, but they sit at the very core of you.
Instead, you prepare to part with those things which, to your surprise, matter less to you: your hoard.
“You request… Further leeway?” the Chaplain asks, calmly incredulous. “And to abandon the mess which YOU have made, to go chasing after some… Green-clad monkey?
“The Yosefs are an ancient enemy of our people,” you reply. “And if you fear the exposure of our conspiracy, then which target could be of higher value than the mammal with a sword which detects and exposes us? He is already slaying our network of Infiltrators, advancing towards Hawksong!”
“Then we will send assassins,” the Chaplain replies, tiredly. “It is not the sort of business which requires the personal touch of… The likes of you.”
You wince at the implication of your lost favour, and you know you must win him back. The Green Knight is YOURS to slay… Not least of which because the diadem he wears is now all-but-promised to your brother. You cannot let him down.
“I understand your misgivings about this matter,” you reply, as diplomatically as you can manage, resisting the urge to gnash your teeth in annoyance. “I urge you to reconsider, though.”
“On what basis?” the Holy One scoffs.
In answer, you remove your belt. Your superior rears back, but you set the wolf-engraved buckle down upon the table between you, and the dwarven ask thereafter.
“Each of these is a powerful magical item,” you explain, “taken from a fallen foe. The Bloodrise is REPLETE with magic. The hills are ALIVE with it. There is orichalcum buried beneath that rock—iron, fed upon the blood of dragons, rich in potential. It can be infused with magic, to make MANY such weapons—enough for an army capable of conquering the entirety of those lands and refilling our coffers and armories with wealth and power we have not known for generations!"
[DC 16/17]
