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Quoted By: >>5207197
You stride the raw-hewn tunnels, smoothed entryways, and eventually past millennia-old carvings etched into the rocky edifices by generations of your ancestors. Your footfalls are soft, near-silent, as you were trained, but in your imaginings they echo deep into the heart of the earth like those of a conquering giant, heralding your glorious return.
It helps that, genuinely, those of the enormous (albeit malformed) dragon-chimera behind you DO thus herald his coming.
This “Dragonborn” entity, artificially-created scion of your people’s glorious champion of old, will no-doubt be greeted with the greater respect and adoration of the two of you. You know this, intellectually. You are a Degenerate, so-called for your human-tainted heritage—descended, in fact, from the very humans who helped destroy the Great Green Dragon of old. Right now, though, this is YOUR moment, and he is just one of the many trophies of your victories.
It was YOU that liberated the Dragonborn from his long captivity, enslaved his creator with dark magic, and brought his mage jailers to humiliated ruination. It was YOU who undermined the Paladin King of Hawksong whose great-grandfather killed the Great Green Dragon in the first place—YOU who seduced and infected his son with demonic taint, who slew his Paladins, who turned his beloved surface-city into a hives of anxiety and mistrust. Who destroyed his great hope by stealing his centrepiece of his city defence plan, if not YOU?
Your true name may be shamed, hardly-spoken except to curse it… But as Ismena Rosgard, as Kamunu the Dancer, as Isabelle Romanov, as Zithra Half-Orc, a the Slayer in the Sewers and the Deadly Demonist of Hawksong Horror? You have become one of the great foes of Man, and a credit to your people and to your Dark Gods’ Grand Design!
Today, you are a Reptilian Infiltrator without equal in living memory!
To either side of your stride your fellow Infiltrators: ‘Roth’, your senior by decades, a dragonblooded hothead and curmudgeon who ahs been your ally from the first; ‘Alhazred’, a fellow Degenerate of a southerly extraction and a keen mind. On your shoulder sits little Hirschel, a lesser byproduct of the dragon-hybridizing experiments of the humans, preening himself idly as he looks about the darkness of your native realm in half-interest. Behind you crawls the Dragonborn, too titanic to easily walk upon his hind legs through these narrow passages, and before him are three others: the False Degenerate, a demonically-enthralled human-turned-Reptilian hybrid; an owlbear, once a defender of Hawksong mages’ dark secrets; a tentacle-dog, strange, lean, periodically useful, and kind of cute in a mutated sort of way.
‘And don’t forget me!’
It helps that, genuinely, those of the enormous (albeit malformed) dragon-chimera behind you DO thus herald his coming.
This “Dragonborn” entity, artificially-created scion of your people’s glorious champion of old, will no-doubt be greeted with the greater respect and adoration of the two of you. You know this, intellectually. You are a Degenerate, so-called for your human-tainted heritage—descended, in fact, from the very humans who helped destroy the Great Green Dragon of old. Right now, though, this is YOUR moment, and he is just one of the many trophies of your victories.
It was YOU that liberated the Dragonborn from his long captivity, enslaved his creator with dark magic, and brought his mage jailers to humiliated ruination. It was YOU who undermined the Paladin King of Hawksong whose great-grandfather killed the Great Green Dragon in the first place—YOU who seduced and infected his son with demonic taint, who slew his Paladins, who turned his beloved surface-city into a hives of anxiety and mistrust. Who destroyed his great hope by stealing his centrepiece of his city defence plan, if not YOU?
Your true name may be shamed, hardly-spoken except to curse it… But as Ismena Rosgard, as Kamunu the Dancer, as Isabelle Romanov, as Zithra Half-Orc, a the Slayer in the Sewers and the Deadly Demonist of Hawksong Horror? You have become one of the great foes of Man, and a credit to your people and to your Dark Gods’ Grand Design!
Today, you are a Reptilian Infiltrator without equal in living memory!
To either side of your stride your fellow Infiltrators: ‘Roth’, your senior by decades, a dragonblooded hothead and curmudgeon who ahs been your ally from the first; ‘Alhazred’, a fellow Degenerate of a southerly extraction and a keen mind. On your shoulder sits little Hirschel, a lesser byproduct of the dragon-hybridizing experiments of the humans, preening himself idly as he looks about the darkness of your native realm in half-interest. Behind you crawls the Dragonborn, too titanic to easily walk upon his hind legs through these narrow passages, and before him are three others: the False Degenerate, a demonically-enthralled human-turned-Reptilian hybrid; an owlbear, once a defender of Hawksong mages’ dark secrets; a tentacle-dog, strange, lean, periodically useful, and kind of cute in a mutated sort of way.
‘And don’t forget me!’
