>>5216751You lament the necessity of the carnage you saw in your dream… But not so much that you wouldn’t bear witness to that—enable that!—and more, for the future which waits beyond the flames. To abandon Degeneracy and become something greater… To usher in a new Age of Scales! What more could a snakegirl want from life?
‘Maybe a dose of double dragon dick?’ Irinnile suggests.
You ignore her—well, you TRY to. Her <WANT> has grown in the absence of your enablement, and when she speaks of such things you feel certain parts of your anatomy grow warm and moist—a side-efefct of the soulbond. Despite this, when you don you red Fleshweaver cloak, though, it is NOT to attend to her inconsequential sexual urges—
‘Aww.’
—but to go see The Chaplain.
‘Ooo, daring!’
‘NOT to fuck him,’ you snap.
‘Aaaawwwwww,’ the succubus groans.
The vision you saw was glorious, it’s true, but it was also very optimistic—perhaps unrealistically so. You have spent long enough in Hawksong, and here in your people’s forward base, to know that there is a very good chance that a direct war would be a disaster. You cannot create an army of Dragonborn in without years of investment, even with all the Fleshweavers’ and Henzler’s arts combined. Between their (shudder) gryphons, and magical technology which seems to outstrip your own race’s by CENTURIES in some cases, it would be an uphill battle, even BEFORE the massive difference in population is taken into account.
“This is why I believe that we should aim for as stealthy and surgical a conquest as possible,” you tell The Chaplain, in your exclusive, private audience.
He seems unconvinced, though.
“They are mere mammals, short-lived in most cases on an individual level, and short-lived even as a race where the elves are concerned,” he says, dismissively. “They are weak, whatever their numbers.”
“What we just did should have made it clear that there's a lot to learn from the surface civilizations,” you say frankly, “and indiscriminate slaughter would waste precious knowledge and resources.”
“You forget yourself… Infiltrator,” The Chaplain criticizes you for your directness, your defiant insistence in spite of his words.
…But he does not call you ‘Degenerate’.
“I remember my mission, and my duty. A duty to you, our people, and our Gods. This duty is best served by acquiring that knowledge, and conquering the humans of Hawksong by subtler means.”