>>5196717You nod, considering her idea. “Sso… You wish for a Reptilian-human hybrid to… Lay an egg, into which you will weave sspellcraft and dragon blood, to make a ssecond Dragonborn?”
Henzler blinks, then says: “Yes, in layperson’s terms, that is close enough to my intent.”
“You… Cannot mend the one you have already producced? Cannot make him whole?”
“It would be POSSIBLE, but harder. It would require major surgery, grafting, healing magic… Better to put him down or keep him as a back-up.”
You are incensed by how casually this ape-descendant speaks of ‘putting down’ a most noble dragon-heir. How dare she?! But… Well, you suppose your people, in their efficiency, might see things her way as well, when it comes down to it. Truly, Henzler has overcome much of her race’s weakness.
You leave Henzler to her mage-minded thoughts, while you join your two newest pets in the room. Both are undressed, their clothes scattered as by a farmland twister, and both are glossy with the sweat of exertion. Their eyes are still glassy, affected by your influence, but their positioning and the enthusiasm you heard coming from this room… Both lend themselves to the belief that neither was following your orders unenthusiastically or by rote.
You and Irinnile grin hungrily at the waves of now-generalized lust wafting off of them, at all that raw and primal energy exposed, and you set upon them like a beast from Hell.
<WANT: 12>
>Take time to question each of them, and to determine who might make good candidates to test out pact-making with Irinnile>Search the farmhouse for valuablesWhen you are done, sandwiched between the farmwife and her stepson and waddled by the admittedly slightly-itchy bedding of the cuckolded farmer’s freshly-defiled marital bed, they are as still as putty in your hands. They readily relinquish the location of their family savings, their heirlooms, their useful trade-tools and trade-goods. They are not rich, by any means, but they are not dirt-poor and some of what they offer up to you is potentially worthy of your attention.
“After dinner, you and the children will gather these thingsss up for usss,” you instruct.
“Yes, of course,” the farmwife—Gisela—says without difficulty.
“Alright,” the young man, Stefan, agrees.
Your curiosity is piqued, though. These two have clearly harboured some dark desires for one another, and the female’s attitude and countenance belie a deep dissatisfaction much of the time—you sense it roiling within her.
“Tell me,” you say, “what iss it you each desssire?”
They both seem confused by the question, so you rephrase it, in line with the notion you have been musing over: “If you were to make a pact for your very sssoul, what would you consssider a fair priccce?”
