Rolled 4, 98, 88 = 190 (3d100)
>>5709906The Green Dragonborn might have once been too dull and even docile to understand and resist such a trap as this. His genesis and mental development were those of a trapped laboratory animal, and alchemical experiment beaten into tortured subservience… But those days are gone. Even before the diadem, two decades of cultivating a Dragon Soul with the Copper Dragonborn has awoken in him the deeply-ingrained soul-instincts of True Dragon. Now with the <CALIRTY> to see what is happening—the sheer, brazen IMPUDENCE of it!—one draconic instinct rises to the surface:
“DUHSTUHROOOOOOOY!”
“Wait, what are you—”
A gout of dragonfire engulfs a half-dozen members of the Master race before anything else can be said or done. Quickly, the remaining Serpent priests make to form protective sigils—to defend themselves with barriers or hide themselves with illusions. The SIlkscales of the harem scream. The Red Dragonborn squawk and screech in the pre-vocal enthusiasm of young hatchlings beholding a delightful light show… And, perhaps, find something awakening in them as well.
None of them are the Great Green Dragonborn’s concern, though. For decades—a century!—he has longed to do what he does now. Not since his great escape ahs he been given such opportunity to let loose! With the diadem upon his brow he does not lose himself, not completely, but nor can he bring himself to worry about some tiny, scrawny females or silly children right now.
“HUH HUH HUUUUH, YAAAAS! DUHSTROY YOU ALL! LIHTUHL WEEK WUNS!”
“Stop him, you fools! Wait, no—the hatchlings! Don’t let them get away!”
Two dice for the Green Dragonborn's rampage, DC 30/50/70; One die for the nine hatchlings' escape, DC 50/70/90 