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>>5790785
The endless ice fields of the Northern Waste are far behind you now, the ground beneath you patchy with exposed rock and hardy shrubs protruding from the freeze. The odd copse of pine dots the landscape’s more habitable patches, oases of life among the stone and snow. And before you in the distance, growing ever larger as you approach, is a long row of jagged grey peaks topped with thousands of years of snow and ice. Though you had never seen them before these past few days, your mother’s voice is clear in your mind even now, telling you of the warm lands to the south and the vast mountain range that sheltered them from the worst of the endless winter. These must be the Grey Mountains.

You think back to the last time you saw her. Only a day ago you and your siblings, still lived in the great lair your mother had carved into a great glacier decades ago, wrestling with one another and gorging yourselves on seals and the horned whales that swam up and down the channels in the ice. This was how you had spent all the years of your life as you grew and matured, and though the lair never felt quite big enough no matter how deeply you burrowed or how many additional chambers were carved, it was home.

Then one day your mother summoned you into her treasury with a great roar, and when all her children had assembled she looked you over with one burning, orange, heavy-lidded eye as she lied upon her hoard.

“My children,” she rumbled in her deep, old way. “You are grown now. For nineteen full years I have fed you, and sheltered you from harm, and taught you the history and ways of dragonkind. When you hatched from your eggs you were feeble things with soft skins and bleary eyes, no longer than my foreclaw.”

She shook her great neck then, sending loose folds of skin rolling and dancing. “But now I see before me four drakes of the very highest quality. Four you were, and four you remain in spite of snow and scarcity. Your talons are long and sharp, your hides are dense with iron scales. You have outgrown the frailty of your youth and emerged as proper dragons.”

You and your clutchmates preened under the praise. So preoccupied were you all that none noticed the pointed gaze she fixed upon you.

“And now, upon the eve of the twentieth year of your lives, I see that you have also outgrown this lair.”

That brought the jubilation to an abrupt end, and replaced it with a din of clashing voices demanding to know what she meant and what she intended and for one to stop stepping on another’s tail and this and that, until what little patience she was afforded as a dragon failed.

>>5790790
“SILENCE!” Her roar shook the very glacier itself, dislodging chunks of ice from the roof and cowing her unruly brood. “No child can live on the hospitality of their parent forever. Eventually they have to venture out into the world on their own, to establish their own territory and plunder their own treasure. I have told you everything I know of the lands to the south, all of it in preparation for the day when you would go out and see them for yourselves. You know of the forests and deserts and lakes, though you have never seen them. You know of dwarvish axes, mannish spears, elven arrows and orcish swords. You know of the gold that lines their keeps. All this knowledge you will need, and more you will learn, and teach to your own offspring if you are lucky.

“But fret not. I do not now send you off like unwelcome vermin. I grant you three final boons.” She raised one foreclaw. “The first, one last night within my hall, to rest yourselves before your journey.” She raised another. “The second, a single trinket from my own hoard, with which to start your own collection.” Up went a third. “And finally I shall give you names, that your enemies may speak them and despair.”

That was yesterday, after which you were sent off to your chambers to sleep one final time. This morning, as promised, she had given each of you a single piece of treasure to carry with and, more importantly, a proper name of your own. As it isn’t awfully uncommon for young dragons to perish during their infancy, they are rarely named until the parent deems them strong enough to survive on their own. As such, to survive long enough to receive such a gift is a great point of pride for most dragons, and you are no exception.

Then she sent you all on your way, to pick a direction and go forth to meet whatever fate awaited you. Perhaps you would conquer great swathes of land like Smaug, whose sack of the dwarves’ mountain kingdom sixty-five years ago is a modern legend among your kin. Perhaps you would meet untimely death. Nobody could say for certain anything but from that day forward none of you would never be welcome in your mother’s lair again.

You glance back to the frigid plains where you know your old home must be, though you can no longer see it. Among your brood, you were unique in that you alone were fortunate enough to be born with a pair of wings. Leathery membranes stretched between long fingers that felt as natural as any other limb on your body, yet your kin could not conceive of the sensation. It is because of your wings that you are so far ahead; your ground-bound kin are doomed to crawl where they may, forced to circumvent obstacles and rough terrain that you can simply fly over.

You turn back to the approaching mountain range as it grows in detail the closer you get. For all that flight hastens travel, the views aren’t terribly bad up here, either.

>>5790792
What gift did you receive from your mother’s hoard?

>A ruby-encrusted knife with a golden hilt and pale, silvery blade, embossed with a symbol of an animal your mother told you was called a horse. The rubies gleam most pleasantly when they catch the light and the blade is well-made and still keen. You imagine it must have been quite a piece in whatever kingdom your mother plundered it from.

>A tiara of gold and silver, studded with all manner of gems through the intricate design. It is wrought in the shape of leaves and flowers, and like the plants it resembles it seems to twist and wind in on itself as you stare at it. Perhaps the possession of some long-dead elf lady? Whoever it belonged to before, it’s yours now.

>A book bound in pure gold, pages gilded from cover to cover. The cover is engraved with a depiction of a great battle, and within are peculiar squiggles that your mother told you was writing, or as she explained it, words that stay after they are spoken. Though you cannot interpret the writing yourself, the concept intrigues you to no end. Perhaps you can bully some lesser being into helping you.

>Write in

And what did your mother name you, o dragon?

>Grogwilith, a name in the elvish tongue of Sindarin meaning “terror of the air”, so named for your distinctive wings. All dragons are deadly, but the flying sort even more so.

>Nægelspere, a mannish word for a particularly sharp spear due to your long, lashing tail and the wickedly sharp spaded tip. It is one of your defining features, and a deadly weapon in your arsenal.

>Thrakabarzum, a name in the Black Speech that means “darkness-bringer” due to the unusually fiery glow of your eyes. Perhaps your mother was a religious sort.

>Write in

>>5790793
>A book bound in pure gold, pages gilded from cover to cover. The cover is engraved with a depiction of a great battle, and within are peculiar squiggles that your mother told you was writing, or as she explained it, words that stay after they are spoken. Though you cannot interpret the writing yourself, the concept intrigues you to no end. Perhaps you can bully some lesser being into helping you.
>Nægelspere, a mannish word for a particularly sharp spear due to your long, lashing tail and the wickedly sharp spaded tip. It is one of your defining features, and a deadly weapon in your arsenal.

Welcome to Dragon of Middle-Earth! I’ll be your QM. This quest is something I’ve been thinking about for a while and I’m excited to run it, although I’ll warn you that updates will be infrequent due to writing difficulties I might encounter and obligations IRL. Also, while I have a fair amount of knowledge about JRRT’s works, I’m no Tolkien scholar and I might get stuff wrong, in which case feel free to tell me so. I also don’t speak Quenya or Sindarin or anything, so I’m just running stuff through a translator when I need it. With that disclaimer out of the way, have fun!

>>5790793
>A book bound in pure gold, pages gilded from cover to cover. The cover is engraved with a depiction of a great battle, and within are peculiar squiggles that your mother told you was writing, or as she explained it, words that stay after they are spoken. Though you cannot interpret the writing yourself, the concept intrigues you to no end. Perhaps you can bully some lesser being into helping you.
>Thrakabarzum, a name in the Black Speech that means “darkness-bringer” due to the unusually fiery glow of your eyes. Perhaps your mother was a religious sort.

>A book bound in pure gold, pages gilded from cover to cover. The cover is engraved with a depiction of a great battle, and within are peculiar squiggles that your mother told you was writing, or as she explained it, words that stay after they are spoken. Though you cannot interpret the writing yourself, the concept intrigues you to no end. Perhaps you can bully some lesser being into helping you.
>Thrakabarzum, a name in the Black Speech that means “darkness-bringer” due to the unusually fiery glow of your eyes. Perhaps your mother was a religious sort.

>>5790793
>A tiara of gold and silver, studded with all manner of gems through the intricate design. It is wrought in the shape of leaves and flowers, and like the plants it resembles it seems to twist and wind in on itself as you stare at it. Perhaps the possession of some long-dead elf lady? Whoever it belonged to before, it’s yours now.
>Grogwilith, a name in the elvish tongue of Sindarin meaning “terror of the air”, so named for your distinctive wings. All dragons are deadly, but the flying sort even more so.
Mom really hated elves

>>5790793

>A book bound in pure gold, pages gilded from cover to cover. The cover is engraved with a depiction of a great battle, and within are peculiar squiggles that your mother told you was writing, or as she explained it, words that stay after they are spoken. Though you cannot interpret the writing yourself, the concept intrigues you to no end. Perhaps you can bully some lesser being into helping you.

>Thrakabarzum, a name in the Black Speech that means “darkness-bringer” due to the unusually fiery glow of your eyes. Perhaps your mother was a religious sort.

—

I’m fucking amped for this quest, it is already exceedingly based

>>5790800

Also, kudos on the timetable, you’ve selected. Lots of interesting things in the next 250 years in the middle-earth timeline

>>5790793
>>A tiara of gold and silver, studded with all manner of gems through the intricate design. It is wrought in the shape of leaves and flowers, and like the plants it resembles it seems to twist and wind in on itself as you stare at it. Perhaps the possession of some long-dead elf lady? Whoever it belonged to before, it’s yours now.
>Thrakabarzum, a name in the Black Speech that means “darkness-bringer” due to the unusually fiery glow of your eyes. Perhaps your mother was a religious sort.

>>5790793

>>A book bound in pure gold, pages gilded from cover to cover. The cover is engraved with a depiction of a great battle, and within are peculiar squiggles that your mother told you was writing, or as she explained it, words that stay after they are spoken. Though you cannot interpret the writing yourself, the concept intrigues you to no end. Perhaps you can bully some lesser being into helping you

For while our hide protects us better than armor than man, dwarf or elf has forged tenfold and our claws sharper than any of the races can forg along with our unmatched capacity for flight. Knowledge will be need wheher it be to fight the armies that will be rallied against, or to rule over others.

I suggest the name "Azwyr" meaning frost in Khazdul the language of the dwarves.

>Be a Dragon
>Go to Rhûn
>???
>profit

>>5790909

Sure, but consider that Sauron and Saruman are building power and will stop at nothing to mindcontrol a fucking winged dragon for the upcoming wars. Rhun is probably not very safe given its full of Sauron-aligned men who would like to deliver us to the prime Edgelord of the realms.

In fact, we should probably fear the Two Towers more than the elves.

Maybe better to knock over a smaller goblin tribe while we level up in size and will.

>>5790922
Yeah, I was joking a bit about that, still, it’s a thought that has merit in my eyes, they literally worship dragons after all. Sauron’s reach extends only so far, and Rhûn is very, very large. Besides, nothing says we can’t work with the dude once we get strong enough to secure a favorable deal with him.

>>5790793
>>5790880
+1 Support

>>5790930

Now that’s a legitimate point - become strong enough to secure a good alliance with Sauron rather than enslaved outright.

Of course, there’s also the ultrachad move of betraying Sauron at the right moment so that we can carve out an independent domain in the North while the men of the West party.

>>5790945
I wonder if we can plunder Smaug's horde after he dies, but before the dwarves can secure the place if we are quick enough

>>5790965
Eh, we’d have to be very close for that to be likely, in spitting distance really. I’m not all that confortable being that close to Smaug before he kicks the bucket. Besides, it’s not like dragons are gifted with future-sight. We aren’t Galadriel, lmao.

>>5790970
But what if the tiara is hers? Then we kidnap her and make her read the future for us!
This is an incredibly dumb and suicidal idea

>>5790945
That’s what I’m hoping to do, carve up a realm in the East, and grow large and wise enough to pose a serious threat on our own. Then we send our golden warbands out the West to do a little fighting for the Dark Lord, and then we betray him when the hobbits toss that ring of his down Mount Doom.

>>5790965

Good idea but also means that we’d have be close enough to the Lonely Mountain for a raid. Presumably Smaug would kill us for trespassing unless we were extra sneaky.

>>5790793
>>5790938

Sorry had to repost my, my original post was posted in haste.

>>A book bound in pure gold, pages gilded from cover to cover. The cover is engraved with a depiction of a great battle, and within are peculiar squiggles that your mother told you was writing, or as she explained it, words that stay after they are spoken. Though you cannot interpret the writing yourself, the concept intrigues you to no end. Perhaps you can bully some lesser being into helping you

For while our hide protects us better than any armor forged by man, dwarf or elf by tenfold and while our claws are sharper than any sword crafter by the children of iluvitar along with our unmatched capacity for flight. Knowledge will be needed to fight our foes that will rally against us, and when the time comes for us to rule over others for it is through the temperment of wisdom that we shall use to navigate the maze of diplomacy.

>> I suggest the name "Azwyr" meaning frost in Khazdul the language of the dwarves, the race we should focus our efforts against for they are the ones famed for their great halls under the mountains and great metll crafts. It is from there that we may be able to lord over the manlings who are the most malleable of the races.

>>5790793
>A book bound in pure gold, pages gilded from cover to cover. The cover is engraved with a depiction of a great battle, and within are peculiar squiggles that your mother told you was writing, or as she explained it, words that stay after they are spoken. Though you cannot interpret the writing yourself, the concept intrigues you to no end. Perhaps you can bully some lesser being into helping you.

>Thrakabarzum, a name in the Black Speech that means “darkness-bringer” due to the unusually fiery glow of your eyes. Perhaps your mother was a religious sort.

>>5790793
>A tiara of gold and silver, studded with all manner of gems through the intricate design. It is wrought in the shape of leaves and flowers, and like the plants it resembles it seems to twist and wind in on itself as you stare at it. Perhaps the possession of some long-dead elf lady? Whoever it belonged to before, it’s yours now.
>Thrakabarzum, a name in the Black Speech that means “darkness-bringer” due to the unusually fiery glow of your eyes. Perhaps your mother was a religious sort.

>>5791013
I support the name but for the item I will pick ,
>A tiara of gold and silver, studded with all manner of gems through the intricate design. It is wrought in the shape of leaves and flowers, and like the plants it resembles it seems to twist and wind in on itself as you stare at it. Perhaps the possession of some long-dead elf lady? Whoever it belonged to before, it’s yours now.

>>5790793
>A book bound in pure gold, pages gilded from cover to cover. The cover is engraved with a depiction of a great battle, and within are peculiar squiggles that your mother told you was writing, or as she explained it, words that stay after they are spoken. Though you cannot interpret the writing yourself, the concept intrigues you to no end. Perhaps you can bully some lesser being into helping you.
>Nægelspere, a mannish word for a particularly sharp spear due to your long, lashing tail and the wickedly sharp spaded tip. It is one of your defining features, and a deadly weapon in your arsenal.
I wish to tail-spear people to death.

>>5790793
>A tiara of gold and silver, studded with all manner of gems through the intricate design. It is wrought in the shape of leaves and flowers, and like the plants it resembles it seems to twist and wind in on itself as you stare at it. Perhaps the possession of some long-dead elf lady? Whoever it belonged to before, it’s yours now.

>Grogwilith, a name in the elvish tongue of Sindarin meaning “terror of the air”, so named for your distinctive wings. All dragons are deadly, but the flying sort even more so.

>>5790793
>4 northern young dragons are unleashed on Middle Earth, one winged and three without wings
By Eru Ilúvatar poor mortals, especially the men of Forodwaith, Dale and Rhun peoples. The dwarfs of the iron hills and Erebor might still hold against them.

>A ruby-encrusted knife with a golden hilt and pale, silvery blade, embossed with a symbol of an animal your mother told you was called a horse. The rubies gleam most pleasantly when they catch the light and the blade is well-made and still keen. You imagine it must have been quite a piece in whatever kingdom your mother plundered it from.
>Nægelspere, a mannish word for a particularly sharp spear due to your long, lashing tail and the wickedly sharp spaded tip. It is one of your defining features, and a deadly weapon in your arsenal.
nice to see a middle earth quest

>>5790800
I think it's a great thing there is a Lotr quest, so thanks. If you love the material and care for it, i doubt you will do visible errors seen in recent modern depictions (the series of lord of the rings, gollum game, shadow of mordor etc..).
I am surprised you choose dragons, since they are full evil and notoriously the bane of many armies, heroes and peoples alike, an interesting choice though.

>>5790922
There is a lot of land away from Smaug and the Dark Lord, if you don't want to being near them or are afraid : Northern Arnor, Forodwaith vast lands, the Grey Mountains and Angband. Or further south with Minidiath and Enedwaith.
Still the dark lord good servants get many prizes, so it's a genuine good deal with him but i can understand the desire for indipendence, even if with Sauron around ... good luck. I wonder were our siblings will go, not having wings doesn't mean they can't get far just that they don't get there immediatly.

>>5790800
Do all of our siblings have legs or some are snake like ? What are their names ?

>>5790793
>>A tiara of gold and silver, studded with all manner of gems through the intricate design. It is wrought in the shape of leaves and flowers, and like the plants it resembles it seems to twist and wind in on itself as you stare at it. Perhaps the possession of some long-dead elf lady? Whoever it belonged to before, it’s yours now.
>Thrakabarzum, a name in the Black Speech that means “darkness-bringer” due to the unusually fiery glow of your eyes. Perhaps your mother was a religious sort.

>>5790793
>A tiara of gold and silver, studded with all manner of gems through the intricate design. It is wrought in the shape of leaves and flowers, and like the plants it resembles it seems to twist and wind in on itself as you stare at it. Perhaps the possession of some long-dead elf lady? Whoever it belonged to before, it’s yours now.
>Thrakabarzum, a name in the Black Speech that means “darkness-bringer” due to the unusually fiery glow of your eyes. Perhaps your mother was a religious sort.

The golden book wins narrowly and Thrakabarzum wins by a landslide. I’ll start writing now.

>>5790793
What gift did you receive from your mother’s hoard?
>A book bound in pure gold, pages gilded from cover to cover. The cover is engraved with a depiction of a great battle, and within are peculiar squiggles that your mother told you was writing, or as she explained it, words that stay after they are spoken. Though you cannot interpret the writing yourself, the concept intrigues you to no end. Perhaps you can bully some lesser being into helping you.
And what did your mother name you, o dragon?
>Grogwilith, a name in the elvish tongue of Sindarin meaning “terror of the air”, so named for your distinctive wings. All dragons are deadly, but the flying sort even more so.

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You spread your wings out to glide on the warm current carrying you forward, catching the updraft. Thrakaburzum, Darkness-Bringer. That was the name your mother gave you. Your eyes began to burn with the baleful orange light of a dragon before any of your siblings’, and were always that much brighter.

“Like the Dark Lord’s own, which the tales say radiated both intense heat and deadly cold,” she had said.

Eyes, she taught you, hold a deep significance, and for dragons this is especially true for many reasons, chief among them the power of persuasion your kind hold over lesser beings. It is a subtle and difficult power to use, and thus far your success has been limited to the momentary dazzling of the feeble-minded seals that populate the northern wastes, holding them in place long enough for you to leisurely dispatch them by claw or tooth. Against creatures of more rigid will, such as the voracious ice bears with which you competed and occasionally hunted, your hold over them has proven much more tenuous.

Aside from that, she often said that the measure of one’s inner flame may be gauged by the intensity of the light that flowed from their eyes. That was a special point of pride in your youth which you took to mean - and still do - that you were one of the lucky few that would one day become one of the legendary fire-drakes, the greatest members of your species of which lofty figures such as Ancalagon the Black and Glaurung were counted. Surely it could only mean that you would one day join their ranks and add to the spoken annals of draconic history with conquests of your own.

It did, however, strike you as somewhat odd Mother had named you in the tongue known as Black Speech. Whenever she spoke of the Dark Lord, whom she credited with your kind’s very existence, she always did so with an air of reverence. Black Speech, however, was invented by the one who crowned himself as the second dark lord, whom mother showed none of the respect she afforded his old master.

“And why should I,” she had scoffed when you asked her why, “when he has given me nothing in return? By the Dark Lord I was given life, but I owe the usurper of the title nothing.”

So why, then, did she name you in that same usurper’s language, constructed for his servants? Did she simply choose it because the Dark Lord fashioned no script of his own? Did she suddenly have a change of heart regarding the King of the Black Land? Did she have some other motive entirely? You don’t know, and likely never will.

You snort with mirth. Inscrutable motives or no, she also told you that the utterance of Black Speech could cause physical pain in the ears of elves who heard it, and that suited you just fine. If they would fashion themselves as your foes, you would welcome the opportunity to break them by merely announcing yourself.

>>5792070
In your claws you clutch your other gift, the book encased in gold and decorated with warriors in armour much like the pieces in your mother’s own hoard. Dwarves, she had told you they in all likelihood were, since she had taken it from them during the nineteen-year war and the armour they wore was similar. When your mother first explained the concept of writing to you, you were terribly confused. Words that remain after they are spoken, yet without actually being spoken at all? Preposterous! Was oral tradition from one generation to the next somehow not adequate for those that went on two legs? Still, you could not deny the allure of such a prospect, and though you lack the means with which to interpret the busy little lines on the gilded pages, you suspect that you might be able to find a solution if you put your mind to it. Maybe if you could capture a lone dwarf…

A glint from below draws you from your rumination. The sun is high in the sky and the Ered Mithrin glitter as though dusted with adamants, and there, nestled in a well-hidden pass invisible from anywhere but the air, is a body of water connected to two thin streams and surrounded by greenery. A lake.

Without the distraction of your thoughts you are at once made aware of the weariness that afflicts you. It has, you reason, been more or less a half-day since you began flying south, and your wings ache dully from the effort. A displeasing emptiness gnaws your stomach and your gullet is parched. And now you find yourself above a tranquil vale, complete with crisp mountain waters and woodland likely full of plump game.

This, you think, would be a good time to settle down for a rest.

As you touch down on the bank, the first thing you notice is the sheer abundance of smells. Your nose, a truly sensitive organ through which you can glean much, is bombarded with all sorts of new scents to the point where you can barely keep up. Rich soil, tree bark, fragrant mountain berries, animal droppings, the acrid fear of those same animals hiding in the woods nearby.

You flex your claws and tear up the earth beneath you, sending up even more fascinating air, this time of damp and decomposing vegetation, and you take a long, deliberate sniff. Truly, the stories your mother told you of the southern lands fall utterly short of the reality. You think you could spend days here, simply getting used to the new world you have entered. Perhaps you might.

The dryness in your throat reminds you of why you landed here in the first place. Stopping just shy of the water’s edge, you crane your neck out over the lake and look down. Unlike the churning waters of the far north, constantly disturbed by shifting glaciers and ocean currents, this lake’s surface is almost entirely still. And in it you see, for the first time in your life, unmarred by misty ice or imperfections in metal or rough waters, your reflection.

>>5792073
What stares back at you from the pond?

>A head of black scales crowned with a messy crest of horns. A long snout with thorny scales protrudes outward from your face, a ridge running down the centre, with teeth protruding here and there from behind your lips like long knives at the ready. Your nostrils are smoking pits and your blazing eyes, set deep into your eye sockets like twin suns, complete an image of power and terror.

>A hide as white as the frozen wasteland from whence you came stares back at you, the living flame from your eyes forming a chilling contrast. Two long horns sweep back over your head and curve slightly towards each other as they taper off. You emanate what can only be described as a regal air.

>Bright yellow scales are instantly striking, made more so by the occasional streak of red running down your neck. Short but thick horns give you a stout appearance, as does your short but powerful snout, which is curved at the end with a razor tip almost like a beak. Combined with the two glowing orbs set into your skull, you appear as fire made flesh.

>>5792074

>A head of black scales crowned with a messy crest of horns. A long snout with thorny scales protrudes outward from your face, a ridge running down the centre, with teeth protruding here and there from behind your lips like long knives at the ready. Your nostrils are smoking pits and your blazing eyes, set deep into your eye sockets like twin suns, complete an image of power and terror.

Going for peak intimidation here

Apologies for not responding to any of your posts yet, I truly appreciate every one of them. In the meantime, what’s your favourite origin for orcs? The more popular corrupted elves version or the mannish origins Tolkien started to write near the end of his life?

>>5792074
>A head of black scales crowned with a messy crest of horns. A long snout with thorny scales protrudes outward from your face, a ridge running down the centre, with teeth protruding here and there from behind your lips like long knives at the ready. Your nostrils are smoking pits and your blazing eyes, set deep into your eye sockets like twin suns, complete an image of power and terror.

BLACK DRAGON THRAKABARZUM

This quest is cool as shit, OP.

>>5792077

Honestly part of the fun is not really knowing what foul atrocities were needed to create them.

Maybe some combination of corrupted elves crossbred with men?

>>5792074
Ah, also forgot to put

>Write in

Feel free to suggest your own colours and/or appearances, so long as they’re what you might reasonably expect a Middle-Earth dragon to look like. I just didn’t want to write a description for every possible hue.

>>5792078
Glad you’re enjoying it!

>>5792079
That Melkor fella sure was a piece of work.

>>5792074
>A head of black scales crowned with a messy crest of horns. A long snout with thorny scales protrudes outward from your face, a ridge running down the centre, with teeth protruding here and there from behind your lips like long knives at the ready. Your nostrils are smoking pits and your blazing eyes, set deep into your eye sockets like twin suns, complete an image of power and terror.


Gotta go with the cliche here chief

>>5792074
>A head of black scales crowned with a messy crest of horns. A long snout with thorny scales protrudes outward from your face, a ridge running down the centre, with teeth protruding here and there from behind your lips like long knives at the ready. Your nostrils are smoking pits and your blazing eyes, set deep into your eye sockets like twin suns, complete an image of power and terror.
It's the most fitting for our name

>>5792073
>A head of black scales crowned with a messy crest of horns. A long snout with thorny scales protrudes outward from your face, a ridge running down the centre, with teeth protruding here and there from behind your lips like long knives at the ready. Your nostrils are smoking pits and your blazing eyes, set deep into your eye sockets like twin suns, complete an image of power and terror.

Yeah, it’s only fitting that fucking darkness-bringer would be a pitch-black drake, lmao. Though I admit the golden scales are tempting.

>>5792087
>>5792098

Cliche or not, between the eyes and the wings, we’re shaping up to be an ultraCHAD throwback to the First Age dragons

>>5792074

>A head of black scales crowned with a messy crest of horns. A long snout with thorny scales protrudes outward from your face, a ridge running down the centre, with teeth protruding here and there from behind your lips like long knives at the ready. Your nostrils are smoking pits and your blazing eyes, set deep into your eye sockets like twin suns, complete an image of power and terror.

>>5792101
Ye, this quest is shaping out to be really cool, it’s helped by the stellar writing of Uruloki.

I have an idea, if we ever carve out a kingdom for ourselves, we should outfit our equivalent of a royal guard in our shedded scales, moulded and crafted into armour.

>>5792104
Only if the helmets look like wings and maws

>>5792104

I’m sure there’s a Rhunite prince somewhere who be amped at this possibility

>>5792077
I prefer the corrupted elves version, since it relates to how Melkor could never truly create something of his own. He only had the power to corrupt and change what was already laid out by Eru’s plan. It’s also the one I’m more familiar with, so there’s that.

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>>5792107
>>5792107
I mean, we won’t have to do much if we go to Rhûn, lmao. They have my favorite looking armour in the setting, other than the Elves and Gondor. I mean, look at this shit!

>>5792111

Sure but there’s a (provocative) idea that the information we are provided by Tolkien is filtered through Elvish biases and perhaps Melkor was capable of real creation after all?

A lot of what we know as readers of the Silmarillion is information delivered to us through Elvish accounts of “this Valar said this, that Valar said that”.

All that to say, Tolkien (intentionally?) left ambiguity in his main corpus so that shitters like us could fill in the gaps.

>>5792118
Huh, didn’t realize that. It has been a while since I’ve read the Silmarillion. I’ll stick to my guns about this however. Gotta remember Aulë also couldn’t breathe intelligent life into the dwarves, correct? He needed Eru’s intervention. Granted, Melkor is more powerful than any other Valar, but I think the point still stands.

>>5792125

Don’t get me wrong, I think the “standard” interpretation is the right one, but after reading about Fëanor and Galadriel’s actions a few times, you start to wonder how much of the Silmarillion is just PR and how much really “happened”.

No doubt JRRT would hate this take as postmodernist relativist trash, and I’m sure the real lore autists could easily refute this concept, but it is an interesting idea.

>>5792077
When in doubt, go for both!

>>5792114
Those are pretty cool, but the style of the horse armor and the shield is a bit on the lacking side, so we are going to need to fix that.

>>5792074
>A hide as white as the frozen wasteland from whence you came stares back at you, the living flame from your eyes forming a chilling contrast. Two long horns sweep back over your head and curve slightly towards each other as they taper off. You emanate what can only be described as a regal air.
Quest seems cool so far What are we in for bros? I don't know too much about Tolkien's work but I have the general gist of it

>>5792133
Its a really interesting theory from a meta standpoint, sort of a Gnostic view on the work's catholic leanings

>>5792074
>>A head of black scales crowned with a messy crest of horns. A long snout with thorny scales protrudes outward from your face, a ridge running down the centre, with teeth protruding here and there from behind your lips like long knives at the ready. Your nostrils are smoking pits and your blazing eyes, set deep into your eye sockets like twin suns, complete an image of power and terror.

>>5792101
I want the elves and dwarves to see us and say "FUCK WE MISSED ONE"
And then be in utter confusion that we are NOT actually that terrible of a person.

>>5792178

>not that terrible of a person

I regret to inform you that I will be pushing for full draconic sociopathy at all times, we are now mortal enemies anon

>>5792187
We will have the biggest of hoards!

I’m basically aiming for: if you excell, you’ll be rewarded, if you don’t… you’ll be lunch. Vader in dragon form, without the self-hatred, basically.

>>5792187
That's not incompatible, anon. For a dragon, not that terrible means not actively burning down villages for the fun of it, which is just bad for everyone involved. We can't tax them if they're dead, y'know. Not to MENTION the fact that doing all that attracts unnecessary attention. Really, it's just better to ask them politely, I'm sure they're reasonable enough folk to give us all their valuables.

>>5792074
>>A head of black scales crowned with a messy crest of horns. A long snout with thorny scales protrudes outward from your face, a ridge running down the centre, with teeth protruding here and there from behind your lips like long knives at the ready. Your nostrils are smoking pits and your blazing eyes, set deep into your eye sockets like twin suns, complete an image of power and terror.

>>5792133
Oh that one was easy to explain, way back in time, before Christopher changed in his own words "too Much" the silmarillion was an account of everything from and during the first age of Arda, by Feanor's enemies, of the house of Gondolin. In fact it was going to be called "Quenta Silmarillion" told from the point of view of one Pengolodh of Gondolin, who's then recovered work would have been found and worked on between Bilbo and Frodo until it was released posthumously by Frodo Baggins before he left Middle Earth. So, If we wanted to take anything for certain from the Silmarillion, just take the big picture and worry about the smaller details, Fingolfin did indeed fight Melkor, but did he really strike him only 7 times? Or was Feanor, all that bad? Was it just by Feanor himself that he caused the boats to burned to the ground that they had stolen from the kin-slaying, or was it from someone else?

>>5792074
>A head of black scales crowned with a messy crest of horns. A long snout with thorny scales protrudes outward from your face, a ridge running down the centre, with teeth protruding here and there from behind your lips like long knives at the ready. Your nostrils are smoking pits and your blazing eyes, set deep into your eye sockets like twin suns, complete an image of power and terror.
This quest if it's long lasting actually sounds cool as hell, thank you for running this OP, also seconding making elves and dwarves shit themselves from thinking another first age dragon is around.

>>5792074
>A hide as white as the frozen wasteland from whence you came stares back at you, the living flame from your eyes forming a chilling contrast. Two long horns sweep back over your head and curve slightly towards each other as they taper off. You emanate what can only be described as a regal air.

>>5792077
I'm late, but personally I got the impression that orcs (and likewise trolls) weren't truly beings in their own right, but more like nearly-mindless beasts possessed by evil spirits that relied upon the will of the Dark Lords to function as intelligent creatures, hence why after the Ring was destroyed and Sauron's power broken, the orcs that fought for him immediately abandoned all rational thought and began killing themselves or ended up like hive-insects without a queen. Tolkien's scrapped 4th-Age sequel also had as part of the premise that the orcs essentially died out within a generation of Sauron's defeat.
The case of the half-orcs who fought for Saruman is a bit trickier, which is no doubt why Treebeard considered their creation a horrific evil.

>>5792074
>A hide as white as the frozen wasteland from whence you came stares back at you, the living flame from your eyes forming a chilling contrast. Two long horns sweep back over your head and curve slightly towards each other as they taper off. You emanate what can only be described as a regal air.

>>5792074
>A hide as white as the frozen wasteland from whence you came stares back at you, the living flame from your eyes forming a chilling contrast. Two long horns sweep back over your head and curve slightly towards each other as they taper off. You emanate what can only be described as a regal air.

>>5792074
>A hide as white as the frozen wasteland from whence you came stares back at you, the living flame from your eyes forming a chilling contrast. Two long horns sweep back over your head and curve slightly towards each other as they taper off. You emanate what can only be described as a regal air.
I know barely anything about this universe but that OP image was really eye catching.

>A head of black scales crowned with a messy crest of horns. A long snout with thorny scales protrudes outward from your face, a ridge running down the centre, with teeth protruding here and there from behind your lips like long knives at the ready. Your nostrils are smoking pits and your blazing eyes, set deep into your eye sockets like twin suns, complete an image of power and terror.

>>5792074
>>A hide as white as the frozen wasteland from whence you came stares back at you, the living flame from your eyes forming a chilling contrast. Two long horns sweep back over your head and curve slightly towards each other as they taper off. You emanate what can only be described as a regal air.
idk about you guys but I want our boy to be King of the Barrows

>>5792074
>>A hide as white as the frozen wasteland from whence you came stares back at you, the living flame from your eyes forming a chilling contrast. Two long horns sweep back over your head and curve slightly towards each other as they taper off. You emanate what can only be described as a regal air.
This could be fun!

>>5792073
>A hide as white as the frozen wasteland from whence you came stares back at you, the living flame from your eyes forming a chilling contrast. Two long horns sweep back over your head and curve slightly towards each other as they taper off. You emanate what can only be described as a regal air.

>>5792074
>>A hide as white as the frozen wasteland from whence you came stares back at you, the living flame from your eyes forming a chilling contrast. Two long horns sweep back over your head and curve slightly towards each other as they taper off. You emanate what can only be described as a regal air.

>>5792074
>A hide as white as the frozen wasteland from whence you came stares back at you, the living flame from your eyes forming a chilling contrast. Two long horns sweep back over your head and curve slightly towards each other as they taper off. You emanate what can only be described as a regal air.

Having the darkness bringer being colored white and regal looking would be amusing.
Besides we apparently are going to be good at subtle mind control so looking impressive to draw people in should make it easier to lay on the mind bending.
The cliche option I think would leave us fighting our own intimidating presence whenever we try to convince rather then intimidate someone to do something and who wants servants that need to be in arms reach at all times.

>>5792074
>A hide as white as the frozen wasteland from whence you came stares back at you, the living flame from your eyes forming a chilling contrast. Two long horns sweep back over your head and curve slightly towards each other as they taper off. You emanate what can only be described as a regal air.
i just like it. but eh

>>5792077
can you answer them later then ?
if you can. At least the names of our 3 dragons brothers/sisters and what forms they have.

corrupted elves version, i stick to it. Melkor is not good in any way.

>>5792118
If by creation you mean : Discord, Destruction, Death, Abominations. Then i guess he is "creating" things.

>>5792178
>NOT actually that terrible of a person.
That can work with orcs, everyone else....is not someone that just kneels to a flying tyrant that will treat them has dirt. We are also walking evil so they know they would become slaves, unless we corrupt them in spirit or they are already corrupted in spirit (the men of the east realms were clearly corrupted in spirit by Sauron for example, even if two of the Istari tried to stop the process there), they would be ready to rebel or flee.

>>5792074
>>A head of black scales crowned with a messy crest of horns. A long snout with thorny scales protrudes outward from your face, a ridge running down the centre, with teeth protruding here and there from behind your lips like long knives at the ready. Your nostrils are smoking pits and your blazing eyes, set deep into your eye sockets like twin suns, complete an image of power and terror.

>>5792074
>A head of black scales crowned with a messy crest of horns. A long snout with thorny scales protrudes outward from your face, a ridge running down the centre, with teeth protruding here and there from behind your lips like long knives at the ready. Your nostrils are smoking pits and your blazing eyes, set deep into your eye sockets like twin suns, complete an image of power and terror.

Since we have reached the grey mountains, i imagine the next update will be our direction. Or if we stay here a bit more. Lots of options.
I would prefer to go west, there is a lot there and also not at the same time. Gundabad, Angmar, Barrows Lands for places already contaminated by evil. I expect in this places to be already some minor evil powers in place, that we will have to fight to submit and likely some amount of orcs. The Barrows Lands would have undead.
But even vast untouched lands with little presence and the ruins of Andor and their successors states (or the mountains with ruins of the elves and dwarves).

South Forodwaith would be the safest option for start a dark realm, isolated, familiarity with a similar terrain and still decent enough for humans to live. Humans tribes of hunter/gatherers in this case, an hardy but simple folk. Easier to submit than someone more civilized.
It comes with his big negatives, due to the location and tribal society. There is food and access to the vast sea, but for other resources its not quite rich if i remember correctly (there is mountains at the southern edge of Forodwaith so that would be a place to take).
And no matter the choice we pick, we have no clue were our other siblings will go. News of dragons coming down from the north will spread fast regardless (Forodwaith would be slowest), will cause a lot of fear.

>>5792074
>A hide as white as the frozen wasteland from whence you came stares back at you

>>5792074
>A head of black scales crowned with a messy crest of horns. A long snout with thorny scales protrudes outward from your face, a ridge running down the centre, with teeth protruding here and there from behind your lips like long knives at the ready. Your nostrils are smoking pits and your blazing eyes, set deep into your eye sockets like twin suns, complete an image of power and terror.

>>5792074
>A head of black scales crowned with a messy crest of horns. A long snout with thorny scales protrudes outward from your face, a ridge running down the centre, with teeth protruding here and there from behind your lips like long knives at the ready. Your nostrils are smoking pits and your blazing eyes, set deep into your eye sockets like twin suns, complete an image of power and terror.
I think this is the one that gives us the most options. The most apparent advantage is intimidation combined with our mind powers, but a black hide gives us cover at night. We could settle anywhere that isn't flat and barren, and given our guy has taken a liking to nature, we can appoint ourselves as protector of some forest or mountain range somewhere. Hide away during the day, come out at night, and scare the shit out of anyone that stirs trouble or disrupts the local ecosystem. Our name would grow a different connotation, we'd gain actual respect from locals over time for getting rid of brigands and invaders, and secure a consistent food supply from claiming the area. If society will advance technologically, our long term goal would be to legally establish our turf as a recognized natural sanctuary. The hideout we'd have can be a hoard of books, growing as our operation expands and as we offer privileges to study in our library in return for contributions or favors. Rather than asking someone to translate our first book, we'll ask to teach us how to read and write instead, ensuring we can read other things and we don't get hoodwinked. There's bound to be some hobbit or scholar we can obligate to help us by saving them from bandits. The white scales option is also good, but difficulty to hide guarantees we'll have a high profile at every step, for better or worse.

>>5792634
If this takes place after Sauron's defeat, elves will probably be out of the picture. Humans, hobbits, and dwarves are likely the folk we'll encounter, with remnant orc warbands here and there. We'll have to be careful not to draw the elves out of hiding for the wrong reasons.

>>5792077
The elvish origin makes more sense thematically.

>>5792711

I think QM already specified that Smaug took over Erebor about 65 years ago, which means that basically all of the Hobbit and LOTR is 100-150 years ahead of us.

Looks like the black dragon narrowly wins the day. I’ll get to writing.

>>5792372
Thanks, I thought for a long time about what would look good as a thumbnail on the catalog. Glad to hear it worked.

>>5792528
Your siblings will be elaborated on in later updates, if people vote for it. Right now they’re still crawling along the northern wastes in whatever direction they felt like heading.

>>5792634
Next couple of updates will be hunting some lunch so I can demonstrate the dice roll system, after which you guys can choose where to go next. Exploring the Grey Mountains a little more is an option, but certainly not the only one.

>>5792711
That’s definitely a route you guys could take. As an unbreakable rule dragons are greedy creatures that lust after treasure and a lair to keep it in, and Thrakaburzum is no exception. How you go about acquiring your wealth and lands, however, is completely up to you guys. Want to plunder strongholds like Smaug? Go ahead. Want endear yourself to a group of men and carve out your own kingdom in the east? Absolutely possible. Want to rally orc warbands to march on the realms of men, dwarves and elves? Want to strike deals with those same realms and fashion yourself as a very expensive but very effective mercenary? Join forces with Sauron? Aid Saruman for a handsome payday? Smash Radagast’s windows for a laugh? All possible. I’m here to write the story of the dragon you guys create, whatever that ends up being.

>>5792712
You’re right. You are currently in the year TA 2835, 65 years after Smaug sacks Erebor, about half a decade before Thrain II gets dwarfnapped by Sauron, etc. The timeline right now is exactly the same, but things will of course start to change as you impact them.

>>5792857
Quick question, but how large is Thrakabarzum? And how will he grow larger? Through simply aging? The amount he eats? The size of his hoard?

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You examine your watery copy slowly and deliberately, drinking in every detail as you twist your neck this way and that. You know what you look like, of course - you’re not so stupid that you don’t know the colour of your own scales, and you’ve seen the rough nature of your face many times in bits of polished gold in your mother’s hoard and the faces of icy cliffs up north. But Mother never brought any mirrors with her from her conquest, and the glaciers warped any image that hit them, and the gold was always too small to get a proper look. Now as you gaze into the crystal-clear waters of this sheltered lake, you are treated to a more clear image of yourself than ever before.

Your silhouette drinks in the light like a void courtesy of your scales, as black as boreal night. In contrast to the vibrant reflection of the azure skies above - or perhaps below - you, you can almost fool yourself into believing there is a dragon-shaped hole in the world itself. Two pools of flame break up the illusion, set deep in your eye sockets, evoking thoughts of liquid fire seeping out from the pits of the underworld. From the back of your skull rises a disorderly crown of horns, each with a wicked point, protruding up and out with neither concern nor need for symmetry.

You open your jaws, a little at first, then wider, then as far as they can go, exposing the shocking pink of the soft flesh in your mouth. Forked black tongue lashing out, you take a moment to admire in particular the twin rows of pale teeth set in your maw as though precious pearls in an oyster. You open and shut your mouth a few more times, appreciating the way that though they might look like a random mess of killing tools to an untrained eye, they interlock with one another perfectly, each fitting snugly into an alcove of its own. No disorderly snaggletooth are you.

After some minutes of pulling faces at the water, a grand idea suddenly takes hold of you. You rise up as much as you can on your hind legs and puff yourself up with as much air in your chest as you can handle. You hold it all for a beat, then in a moment you let the tension within you explode outward. Your wings snap open to their full span, the translucent membranes dark but not so much as your hide, and you expand yourself to your full size.

The display of power breaks the still peace on the lake, sending your reflection dancing madly as the gust of wind you created rushes along the water’s surface as a wave. Fish dart into their alcoves beneath rocks or rotten logs, and you register the motion of an even larger shadow moving in the centre. Your silhouette booms in size as you present the lake with your full majesty, and you grin as you behold the prime example of power and terror that is you.

>>5793168
The snap of a twig draws your attention and you wheel around, fangs bared. Immediately you see it, your keen eyesight picking out a shape in the greenery that does not belong. It stands in the middle of a small clearing, head quivering slightly under the weight of two massive antlers, and you can make out an odd protrusion in its muted grey-brown pelt.

A reindeer, you realise, and a fine specimen at that. Its coat has a promising healthy sheen to it and it is thick with fat and muscle. Seldom did such beasts move far enough north to come within range of your mother’s lair, but when they did they came in great numbers, and you and your clutchmates were treated to a glut of savoury, gamey, grass-fed flesh.

It then strikes you as odd that it is without its herd. A quick taste of the air from its direction tells you of acrid fear and, interestingly, fresh blood. Your empty stomach groans at the scent, but your curiosity is piqued. What to do?

>Fix the animal in place with your power and slay it swiftly. You’re far too hungry for games.

>Set upon the deer, forgoing your hypnotic gaze in favour of a merry chase! Meat is sweetest when it’s terrified.

>Give in to your curiosity and the situation play out. Something is afoot here.

>>5793169
>Give in to your curiosity and the situation play out. Something is afoot here.

>>5793169
>Give in to your curiosity and the situation play out. Something is afoot here.

I’m interested in letting this play out. It seems like it was chased away by it’s herd? But by what? Humans? Orcs? A wild animal? Perhaps a troll?

>>5793169

>Give in to your curiosity and the situation play out. Something is afoot here.

The beast is being hunted!

Ambush the hunters and perhaps we can find our first thrall

>>5793169
>Give in to your curiosity and the situation play out. Something is afoot here.
My guess is a warg band

>>5793169
>Give in to your curiosity and the situation play out. Something is afoot here.

Somethin' spooked it, let's see what.

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>>5792967
I’d say picrel is a pretty good approximation of our dragon’s current size, somewhere between 35 and 40 feet from tip to tip. A nice long size and more than a match for a lone man or elf, but still quite capable of being harmed by things like arrows and spears.

>>5793201
Oops, premature post.
As for growth rate, I think you’ll really start seeing a difference when you get your hands on some truly spectacular pieces of treasure. First age swords, elven jewellery, etc.

>>5793169
>>Give in to your curiosity and the situation play out. Something is afoot here.

>>5793201

Hmm good to know that our growth potential is based on hoard and not age. If we’re lucky and smart, maybe we can hit 1/2 Smaug size by the time he kicks the bucket

>>5793201
Definitely closer to drake status than dragon right now. Worth keeping in mind, thanks for the pic Uru.

>>5793169
>Give in to your curiosity and the situation play out. Something is afoot here.

>>5793169
>Give in to your curiosity and the situation play out. Something is afoot here.

>>5793169
>>Give in to your curiosity and the situation play out. Something is afoot here.
i sense wizard shenanigans.

>>5793169
>Give in to your curiosity and the situation play out. Something is afoot here.

>>5793169
>>Give in to your curiosity and the situation play out. Something is afoot here.

>>5793169
>>Give in to your curiosity and the situation play out. Something is afoot here.
Hunters. Our first treasures are near!

>>5793169
>Give in to your curiosity and the situation play out. Something is afoot here.

thank god, something tolkien related amazon HASN'T touched.

>>5793169
>>Give in to your curiosity and the situation play out. Something is afoot here.

>>5792857
cool thk

Rolled 15 (1d60)

Rolling for dick size

>>5793768
Lol

>>5793169
>Give in to your curiosity and the situation play out. Something is afoot here.

Unanimous vote for watching and waiting. Writing.

>>5793211
I’d say it’s a bit of both. Older dragons will generally be bigger than younger ones, but I like the idea that the more valuable a dragon’s hoard, the faster they grow.

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You narrow your eyes as the deer totters slightly, clearly doing its best to remain upright. It tries to still itself in an attempt to stay hidden, as though you aren’t staring it down even as it slowly but surely succumbs to blood loss. Seeing such vulnerable prey almost begging to be devoured sends your predatory instincts raring, even more so with the emptiness in your belly, but you rein your baser compulsions in.

Any lackwit could see that this deer is being hunted, and not just by yourself. But that begs the question, if the prey is here, where is the hunter? Nearby, you’d venture. But of what sort could they be? Some furred predator of the warm woodlands? The southern kin of the ice bears, or perhaps a great feline?

You look more closely at the protrusion and you at once deduce its nature. Many of the stories you were told involved clouds of these things whistling through the air like bolts of killing intent, burying themselves deep beneath the scales of many an overconfident drake. You have even seen some of their like before in your mother’s hoard, of dwarfish make with broad gilded heads and shafts of rich black wood, fletched with the feathers of some long-dead raptor.

There is no doubt in your mind. The object sticking out of the reindeer is an arrow, sunken deep into its side and likely grinding against its organs with every movement. And that can only mean one thing.

Two-legs. The people of the south.

Anticipation burns like a flame inside you. After years of hearing about them from your mother and gazing upon their stolen works, your first encounter with the southern folk is finally at hand! You wonder what manner of beings you have come across. Will they be dwarves, members of a remote surviving population, remainders from their great exodus from the Ered Mithrin after your kind drove them from their stone halls centuries ago? Or perhaps a roving band of the orcs that replaced them? Or are they men, or even elves? The deer lets out a low moan and stumbles, only barely catching itself.

Different options begin to array themselves in your head, and you watch all manner of scenarios play out in your mind’s eye. Should you claim the kill as your own, standing over its corpse as a conqueror from the north? Wait in ambush to slay them while they celebrate a successful hunt? Flee into the skies and hide your presence until you choose to reveal yourself to the world?

Eventually you choose another, wiser option. You elect to simply watch the situation unfold, staying unseen if you can and observing the situation before making any hasty decisions, and you press your body down into the marshy shoreline to hide your shape among the mounds and tall grass. A creature of fire and impulse you may be, but you can be a truly wily creature when necessary.

>>5794345
Minutes pass and your suspense builds until, on the wind, a new smell comes to you. You inhale deeply and pick out earthy notes like spice, smoke, loam and pine needles, though your lack of any of reference means you have little idea what that might imply. Whoever this is, they have a close relationship with the living land around you.

Still locked in place by its fear at the sight and sound and scent of dragon, the injured beast is taken by shock when an arrowhead erupts from its throat. Blood sprays across the sparse patches of snow and it scrambles forward a bit before finally succumbing to its wounds. It crumples in a heap and lets out one last choked keen, then falls dead.

Movement in the trees. Your eyes flick and land upon shapes coming out from the larger patch of forest. You count three in total, capering down the shallow slope towards their kill, and as they enter the open land you get your first glimpse of what, you assume, are members of the race of men.

The earthy spice in the air grows stronger as they approach, yet blissfully ignorant of your presence. The first thing you notice about them is the difference in height between all three. The tallest one has a head of long, dark hair and an equally dark beard, and he carries a long spear tipped with steel in his left hand. The second tallest, not too much shorter than the first but still noticeably so, shares the mane but lacks the facial hair, and carries with him a bow half as tall as he is. The shortest by far totters along after the other two, an infant you would guess, and giggles as he swings a small branch above his head like a sword. All are dressed mostly in simple grey and brown furs and leathers sewn with twine, but your innate keen eye for quality picks out the fine pair of boots that the bearded one wears, buckles and all. The way they glint in the sunlight is unexpectedly pleasing to you. Are they silver?

“Ho, Torold!” The bearded one laughs as he stands before the corpse, speaking something akin to, but not quite, the Éothéod tongue your mother taught you. “Your arrow sped well! Precious few can say they took such a prize on their maiden hunt.”

“A shame the first shot was not so fair. Perhaps we would not have had to chase it so far,” says the middle man with the bow, Torold. The smallest one says nothing, and simply pokes at the corpse with his stick.

>>5794346
Your presence is still unknown to them, but how much longer that will last you cannot tell. If you intend to make use of the element of surprise, you will have to do it soon. Or should you take your chances and listen for as long as you can, or perhaps even try to strike up a conversation?

>Leap from cover and engage them in combat! Conversing with such lowly creatures is beneath you, and you are eager to be the first among your clutch to taste man-flesh.

>Stay hidden by the water and listen to them. Jubilation might loosen their lips and let slip some valuable information. The location of a camp, perhaps?

>Reveal yourself to them without violence and attempt to speak with them. There is no need for bloodshed - at least not yet - and it could prove to be a valuable opportunity to see how these southern men think. (Specify any lines and questions you guys want to say! It’s much more fun that way and gives me somewhere to start.)

>Write in

>>5794347
>>Reveal yourself to them without violence and attempt to speak with them. There is no need for bloodshed - at least not yet - and it could prove to be a valuable opportunity to see how these southern men think.

>Circle around them (I am presuming we're in a clearing, if we're not then just approach slowly), stepping heavier with every rotation until we finally reveal ourselves. Just our eyes, shining beyond the treeline.
Gotta be dramatic.
>"Who are you, that would interrupt my hunt?"
We weren't hunting, but like fuck are we going to let them know we were just sitting around, admiring our reflection. That's not cool enough.

>>5794347
>Stay hidden by the water and listen to them. Jubilation might loosen their lips and let slip some valuable information. The location of a camp, perhaps?
A camp or village presents opportunities, they spawn food

>>5794347

>Stay hidden by the water and listen to them. Jubilation might loosen their lips and let slip some valuable information. The location of a camp, perhaps?

Let’s resist the urge to eat these guys and instead find out where they keep their treasure.

Also, we could sneak into their chief’s hut and dominate him this way.

>>5794347
>>5794388
>>5794397
Why risk being given false information, or give a premature warning of our presence, when we can...
>stay put and follow them back home once they leave

>>5794351
Supporting this, Let’s use our frightening presence to our advantage.

Other questions:

>From where do you hail, Northman? Speak quickly, My patience is not to be squandered…

>What other people live in this land? Roving Bands of Orcs? Other human tribes? Perhaps a rare colony of dwarves?

>Where did you get your metalwork? (Steel Spear, silver buckles… I find it unlikely that a settlement of men this far north could produce one. Perhaps they traded for it? If so, it’d be from a larger settlement, one that could interest us…)

>I am rather famished… You would do well to leave this deer in my care. (This is a statement, but look, we’re hungry af.)

>>5794351
>+1

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>>5794506

My general thought also - our scaly boy probably wants GOLD and SILVER more than he wants to dab on a couple peasants, you know?

The problem with following them back home is maintaining stealth, which isn’t very likely with how fucking big we are, and our black scales/blazing eyes. The bearded one looks like an experienced hunter as well…

>>5794541

Valid point, but we DO seem to have a pretty good sense of smell and obviously can fly.

Worst case - we track the smell of deer's blood as they haul the kill back home, staying well behind them. Presumably their town or village would be easy for us to spot from the air at night if we lose the trail.

>>5794547
At that point, what would we want to do with a village in the middle of nowhere? Presumably, Dragons are feared, and hunting one while it’s young is probably sensible. I’m personally okay with talking with them now because I think we could take both of the men easily enough in a fight. A whole ass village is another story. I’m basically looking to wring as much shift from them as possible, and then move on to more vulnerable targets.

>>5794555

We basically have the same plan, except I was planning to do a midnight raid on the chief's hut and steal what he has, rather than wrangle with these two-legged snacks. Presumably we could intimidate the chief into giving us some good intel about the local area as well.

AKA

"Where are the nearest goblins I could dominate?"

>>5794347
>>Stay hidden by the water and listen to them. Jubilation might loosen their lips and let slip some valuable information. The location of a camp, perhaps?

>>5794397
First, we cant do bestiality, we would never do it, and our cock would kill the women before the sex would even start. Second, they are clearly of dunland or rohirm origin, they would not have treasure that we would find worth the effort to hunt for. and 3rd, better to listen to what they would say on why their here and where they live, that way we can shock and terrify the entire camp into listening to us, before they get the bright idea to leave, or even worse, attack us.
>>Stay hidden by the water and listen to them. Jubilation might loosen their lips and let slip some valuable information. The location of a camp, perhaps?

>>5794347
>>Stay hidden by the water and listen to them. Jubilation might loosen their lips and let slip some valuable information. The location of a camp, perhaps?

>>5794347
>>Leap from cover and engage them in combat! Conversing with such lowly creatures is beneath you, and you are eager to be the first among your clutch to taste man-flesh.

Not of any practical use, but I feel that the first interaction with humanity should be murder if just to pop our cherry of killing and eating.sentient species.

>>5794347
>Stay hidden by the water and listen to them. Jubilation might loosen their lips and let slip some valuable information. The location of a camp, perhaps?

>>5794608
We are in one of the north parts of the Ered Mithrin. This men are likely from the valleys or are woodsmen. Both of this people live north, south of them live the beornlings.

>>5794347
>>Stay hidden by the water and listen to them. Jubilation might loosen their lips and let slip some valuable information. The location of a camp, perhaps?
Lets see if they have anything else to say. Beside the more they talk the more our reveal can be of greater effect. We already know their names.

>>5794347
>>Stay hidden by the water and listen to them. Jubilation might loosen their lips and let slip some valuable information. The location of a camp, perhaps?

>>5794608

>beastiality

Wh-what? I just meant Tolkien-style mental domination - we clearly have a bonus to intimidation given our eyes and appearance.

>>5794347
>>Stay hidden by the water and listen to them. Jubilation might loosen their lips and let slip some valuable information. The location of a camp, perhaps?

You’re going to try and stay hidden. However, as are a big black flying lizard with glowing eyes trying to hide your presence from a hunter in his home territory, it’s gonna require a roll.

This is as good a time as any to explain how the roll system will work:
>3 players roll 3d6 to make a total out of 18, with the best total being taken unless in the event of a critfail
>4-6 = Very easy
>7-9 = Easy
>10-12 = Medium
>13-15 = Hard
>16-18 = Very hard

Okay, three people roll me 3d6 and I’ll pick the best one. I reckon remaining completely undetected under your current circumstances is a fairly difficult task, so I’ll set the DC as 13. Good luck!

Rolled 6, 3, 5 = 14 (3d6)

>>5795257

Rolled 3, 6, 3 = 12 (3d6)

>>5795257

Dice gods do not fail us in this time of need.

Rolled 3, 3, 1 = 7 (3d6)

>>5795257

>>5795267

Well done anon.

For a 35-foot lizard, we are sneaky

>>5795267
Very nice, anon. You are a sneaky wyrm. Writing.

Sorry lads, I won’t be posting an update today because I stayed up late to write the past few nights and now I’m really tired. Apologies, I’ll post tomorrow.

>>5795632

No worries OP, we will wait patiently

>>5795632
Np take your time

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You force yourself down even lower, working your long body further into the mire. It would not do to be discovered just yet, especially when these mountain men are so at ease. Maybe their success will make them loose-lipped, and you shall glean from their words something of value. The bearded one, ever jovial, laughs again.

“Many a boy seeking to become a man has lost a deer outright in their haste, and of the herd you picked the largest and hardiest of all. Take heart that you needed only two shots, nephew.”

Nephew, is it? You suppose that the little clumsy one, who is still poking the deer, must be another of the same. Or could it be a niece? You certainly can’t tell, and unless there is some striking distance between the sexes you expect it will be quite some time before you can tell the males and females of their race apart by eye.

Torold smiles. “I jest, uncle. A fine stag he is, and he will go nicely with the others. Though I might be happier yet had my first arrow not erred. The great hunters in the tales only ever needed but one to fell their prey.”

“You are not a great hunter from a tale,” Torold’s uncle scoffs. “You are a whelp of sixteen summers and some, not a year from manhood who, though a fine shot with a short bow, still needs his uncle to do the tracking work for him.”

The short one stops poking at that, and a tense silence descends over the clearing, broken only by the whistling wind and the calls of unusual southern birds. A beat of tense silence follows before the eldest man groans loudly.

“Oh come, nephew mine, don’t be so grim! Is that not why we are here at all? I meant no insult. I say again, take heart. You are improving little by little.”

Torold stands for a little longer, staring at nothing in particular, before drawing a long sliver of metal from beneath his furs. A knife.

“I only hope it will be enough. Come, Bodvar, the meat must be dressed.”

All cheer gone from the clearing and replaced with a heavy grimness, you watch from your hiding place as the manling, now Bodvar, abandons his make-believe sword and kneels next to Torold, helping him as he splits the reindeer open and starts removing organs. The scent of viscera fills the air and your stomach pangs longingly, but you once again put your hunger aside.

You notice, between his cuts, that Torold’s knife is noteworthy. A steel blade, and one of fine quality at that, much like his uncle’s boots and the silver buckles that adorn them. You doubt that men who wear such simple clothes could achieve such a grade of metalworking; there must be some other culture in these mountains with whom they trade for their finer items. If you stay hidden, they might just tell you.

>>5797104
Little more happens for a time, until a new scent arrives on the wind. Similar but subtly different to the earthy smell of the three men before you, you can only assume that a fourth man approaches. Yet there is something different, as different from the men before you as the fat deer they are tearing apart, if not more so. It is almost greasy in nature, and smells of subtle rot. As the aroma grows more intense, you wonder what fresh sight you are to behold.

Your patience is rewarded when, as you predicted, a fourth man emerges from the forest at the slopes. He is the tallest yet, and unlike the others his stubbled face is framed with golden hair which flows like flame down his shoulders. He ups his pace down the hill, clearly catching sight of the trio before you. Your sharp vision proves useful in determining this particular man’s garments are of better make than the others’, with fuller furs and more even stitching, though not so much as the bearded man’s silver-buckled boots. He carries himself with a kind of confidence, different than the easy gait of the bearded man. By his left hip hangs something long wrapped in a leather sheath, and you at once know it to be a sword. However, you are more drawn to the sack that dangles from his right as it drips a viscous black substance. Not doubt, this is the source of the greasy stench.

The manling, Bodvar, is the first to notice the new arrival. He lets out a joyous squeal and takes off toward the sword-man, who scoops him up with a booming laugh. The other two follow not far behind him, Torold’s bare arms streaked with stag’s blood.

“Sidgier!” Bodvar shrieks, giggling as he is spun around and around.

“Little Bodvar, my brother in arms,” Sidgier the sword-man says as he sets the child down, “well met! I see you before me, but wherever is your sword?”

Bodvar runs to retrieve his stick and bares it before him in a battle stance. Sidgier unhooks his own weapon, still sheathed, and meets him in mock combat, parrying the young one’s blows. It reminds you of roughhousing with your siblings in the ice caves.

“Mind you aren’t slain, Sidgier. My nephew is more deadly than any foe you have yet faced,” says the bearded man with a grin in his voice. The two of them clasp forearms - a greeting between adult men, you gather.

“I do not doubt it. One day he will be a great slayer of beasts and things that lurk in the dark, and around the campfire they shall sing tales of Bodvar the Brave.” The two men break from one another and Sidgier smirks mirthfully. “Well met, Harald.”

Harald is the name of the bearded, booted man, then. With that you finally have names for each of the men present. Torold, with his bloody arms, forgoes it for a simple nod. Sidgier, though, is not as reserved.

>>5797108
“Ah, Torold! I see your arrows fly as swiftly as ever. That stag must have been a mighty one in life. He will go nicely with the beavers, though I must plead you temper your skill, for I fear if you keep your pace you shall pick these woods clean and leave nothing for the rest of us.”

All four laugh at that. Torold motions to the sack on Sidgier’s belt.

“And what of you? You have been busy up in the slopes. What have you got there?”

“Show us, show us,” says Bodvar.

“Aye,” Sidgier grins and undoes the sack, “I was stalking a deer of my own when, from the brush, a black arrows pierced its breast. It fell far too quickly and I knew it had carried a foul poison on its tip. I stilled myself and watched as, out from the shadows, crawled… this.”

Bodvar gasps while Harald and Torold nod in approval. In Sidgier’s hand, dangling from stringy black hair, is a misshapen, mottled grey head bereft of its body, dripping black blood from the stump. The features are pinched with squinted eyes and moist-looking skin. Sharp teeth peek from its limp mouth. The greasy smell is stronger than ever, and you realise that you must be looking at your first orc. It is a thoroughly ugly thing, and you get the rather satisfying impression that when he conceived of the orc race, the Dark Lord did not expend nearly as much time or effort bringing them into the world as he did for the first dragons.

“He was the chief of a party of four, and he carried with him a black bow and a quiver of poisoned arrows. They set to tearing at the poor beast before it was even dead, shoving great handfuls of bloody meat down their throats. In their gluttony I saw opportunity, and came up behind them, blade aloft, and smote the first two death blows before them were on their feet. The third drew a curved dagger but I met his blow and clove him across the chest.” He pats the sword at his side. “The leader by now had redrawn his bow and nocked an arrow, and I knew that if it so much as grazed me I would soon be bound for the Halls of Waiting. I feinted him and he fell for my ruse, and as soon as his arrow missed I was upon him. I took his arm off at the elbow, and sent his head following swiftly after.”

That settles it in your mind. This Sidgier is a warrior of some repute in these parts, and not for no reason. Though you are confident you would slay him rather handily, you cannot be sure if you would do so altogether unscathed. He is one to keep a cautious eye on, for certain.

Bodvar cheers at the conclusion of the tale, Harald and Torold congratulating him on his victory. As Torold returns to the deer and Bodvar goes swinging his stick, your sharp ears pick up whispers between the two elder men.

“Orcs this far from Gundabad…” Harald says darkly, “This bodes ill.”

>>5797110
“Indeed, my friend. I feared for your safety and came looking for you all as soon as I was finished with those four. I plan to return to the village with all haste, and tell the elders as soon as I do.”

“The dwarves as well. They will need to know if the hordes are expanding eastward again. I shall seek Grundin by the Red Road, he will see this orcish affliction dealt with.”

That piques your interest mightily, almost more than the delectable scent of muscle and entrails. Dwarves! Dwarves still live in these mountains, as your mother had long suspected they still did, at least to some degree. The fine metalwork now makes perfect sense. Dwarves are masters of craftsmanship. Dwarves create spearheads and knives and sword and fine boots. Dwarves create gold. The thought of your very own hoard of gold sends shivers of excitement running through your body, and your jittering would give you away if you did not control it so well. Seek Grundin upon the Red Road…

With that the two men join Torold in preparing the meat, dividing slabs of meat between them and hanging what they can’t take with them in a tree. Soon they are off on some unseen trail, presumably back to their camp or even the village they mentioned, and you are alone by the lake once again, the mannish population of the Grey Mountains still none the wiser of your existence.

But what now? You run your tongue over the inside of your teeth in thought. You have collected a true wealth of information; names, races, combat capabilities, trade relations and landmarks, and you have so many options that you don’t very well know which one to choose, aside from finishing off the meat and innards so wastefully left behind by the two-legs. As the gnawing void in your belly is replaced by the delightful pressure of a stomach filled with moist, fatty reindeer, you ruminate on what to do with everything you have found.

>Follow the men back to their camp, staying well behind them and tracking them by scent. Knowing the location of their camp is the first step to finding their village.

>Seek the orcs in the mountains to the west. You now know the smell of orc blood and so could likely follow Sidgier’s trail to the battleground by scent alone, then proceed from there. Perhaps the corpses have been found by a second hunting party?

>Take to the air and seek the Red Road, or even a dwarf hold. You can search the mountains much quicker by flying, and the thought of dwarf-made gold calls to you.

>Write in

Chunky update. It’s 3am and my eyes hurt.

>>5797111
>>Seek the orcs in the mountains to the west. You now know the smell of orc blood and so could likely follow Sidgier’s trail to the battleground by scent alone, then proceed from there. Perhaps the corpses have been found by a second hunting party?

Idea, we kill a fuckton of orcs, and from there we have 2 options
>A mostly cowed, subservient population
>Drop the corpses off to the dwarves for a "reward" (and implicit threat) and get some gold as a "reward"

>>5797111

>Seek the orcs in the mountains to the west. You now know the smell of orc blood and so could likely follow Sidgier’s trail to the battleground by scent alone, then proceed from there. Perhaps the corpses have been found by a second hunting party?

This is the obvious option.

>>5797118

This seems like a viable strategy - I don’t think we’re badass enough to take the field and lead the orcs to victory through sheer force alone though. Maybe we could find some means of a secret entrance to the dwarven hold

>>5797111
>Seek the orcs in the mountains to the west. You now know the smell of orc blood and so could likely follow Sidgier’s trail to the battleground by scent alone, then proceed from there. Perhaps the corpses have been found by a second hunting party?

>>5797111
The Orcs are a crude tool, but one we can use well. They are cowards at heart, we only need to bend them to our will.

>Seek the orcs in the mountains to the west. You now know the smell of orc blood and so could likely follow Sidgier’s trail to the battleground by scent alone, then proceed from there. Perhaps the corpses have been found by a second hunting party?

>>5797189
We don't have to be that strong, a dragon flying about is a logistical nightmare and makes it possible to singlehandedly siege a city by disrupting food deliveries. If we were to rule over the orcs, they'd be there mostly as an ego-stroking device this early on, though with good direction we may be able to make something of them. Especially if Shadow of War/Mordor type orcs are in play(I know those were uruks but I'm more referring to their intelligence and personality, rather than their strength and durability).

However, the option I'm more interested in is getting gold from the dwarves in return for gainful employment (Killing orcs and other threats, delivering important messages, showing up for important events so they can flex that they have a dragon that's willing to work with them, etc), just because I think that's an interesting way to go about things, rather than the "evil overlord" angle mostly expected.

Also, I want dwarvish dragon-armor. Mail for our underbelly would be most useful, not to mention a helmet with a visor to protect our eyes. Heck, maybe even JUST the visor.

>>5797111
>>Follow the men back to their camp, staying well behind them and tracking them by scent. Knowing the location of their camp is the first step to finding their village.

>>5797111
>>Follow the men back to their camp, staying well behind them and tracking them by scent. Knowing the location of their camp is the first step to finding their village.
I like the >>5797118 ork killing idea, but I feel we should set up the story first before just airdropping orc corpses. Our power of persuasion is strong, so why not use it on these manlings so we have "character witnesses". Elsewise the dwarves may think we are Smaug-come-again and seek to nip this draconic flower in it's bud

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>>5797111
>Follow the men back to their camp, staying well behind them and tracking them by scent. Knowing the location of their camp is the first step to finding their village.
I somewhat agree with >>5797300. The second plan described by >>5797118 sounds good, but it won't work without setting context first. Dwarves are notoriously stubborn, and coming out of nowhere won't help our case when requesting gold for killing orcs. Figure out where the village warriors and dwarves plan to confront the orc parties, work little "miracles" by killing orcs close by under the cover of night and leaving a calling card, act as a protector of sorts over the forest, then prudently reveal ourselves and negotiate for gold. It would snowball from there: we'll grow with the rewards we add to our hoard, we'll be able to take on larger threats, which will earn us larger sums to grow exponentially further, which will help us take on even larger threats, and so on. Keeping stable relations with reasonable people will get us what we want in the long term.

>>5797111
>Take to the air and seek the Red Road, or even a dwarf hold. You can search the mountains much quicker by flying, and the thought of dwarf-made gold calls to you.

What about taking over Moria? I know there's a Balrog in there, but I think it seems like a suitable hall for us to start a realm in. Harad or whatever Rhun is still an option I could vote for.

>>5797111
>>Follow the men back to their camp, staying well behind them and tracking them by scent. Knowing the location of their camp is the first step to finding their village.

>>5797420
There is multiple places in the north that don't have Durin Bane in them. Angmar, Gundabad, and many others.

One other thought, we could potentially sell our services to the dwarves by setting the orcs up for an ambush once we make some inroads with them - “for a small fee, I can help you exterminate the local pests before I go on my way”

We obviously don’t care about the orcs in the local area so sacrificing them for a chest of gold seems like a pro-move.

>>5797111
>>Follow the men back to their camp, staying well behind them and tracking them by scent. Knowing the location of their camp is the first step to finding their village.
Tiebreak for you OP.

>>5797111

>Seek the orcs in the mountains to the west. You now know the smell of orc blood and so could likely follow Sidgier’s trail to the battleground by scent alone, then proceed from there. Perhaps the corpses have been found by a second hunting party?

>>5797900
Thanks, I’ve been waiting for a-
>>5797911
Oh.

Well, since I already asked for a tiebreaker I’m gonna go with the first vote. We’re following the men back to their camp at a distance. Writing.

Okay, here’s my pitch -

1. Negotiation is highly unlikely to succeed with the men. Better to kill then outright.

2. We can sneak into the chieftain’s hall (or just smash through the roof), steal a bunch of treasure, and then escape the same way. Bonus points if we can kill the chieftain in stealthy fashion so we can escape safely.

>>5797118

Support, we shall build up our reputation as a champion of the people and in time our kingdom.

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As you slowly work the stag’s heart between your teeth, savouring the tough texture and flavourful vital juices that flow from it with every bite, you come to a conclusion. Orc hunting parties and dwarf strongholds, for all the promise they might hold, are little more than tempting ideas in your mind at this point. You have been given nothing to go on to seek out dwarf gold on your own aside from a landmark that might not even resemble its namesake, and the orcs Sidgier cut down may very well have been an isolated occurrence. What is to say you could find either? You could easily spend days chasing shadows and tricks of the mind if you proceed without caution, searching for that which is too well hidden or simply does not exist.

Yet why would you when the most obvious solution to all of your problems walked off into the tree line mere minutes ago? The small party of men have already given you a wealth of information, more than you could have hoped for in truth, and they might yet deliver you even greater prizes. They clearly know more than you do of the red roads and mannish villages of which they speak, and you need only follow after them to learn for yourself. You would be wise, therefore, to do so, staying far behind them to keep them unaware and find out where they intend to spend the night.

To this end you wait a little longer, gnawing at deer bones and licking out the marrow to occupy yourself as you let distance grow between yourself and those you intend to track back to their very doorstep. The sun has moved far westward and the sky taken an orange tint, the mountains and trees casting long shadows over the valley around you, before you decide that the time for action is on you. You set your nostrils close to the ground and inhale, the still-fresh earthy scent of the face of men, coupled with deer blood and orcish grime, leading you forward.

For a time you crawl slowly through the forest, winding your long body through the trees and taking care not to kick a stone or break a branch beneath your claws. The sunlight fades even more until it eventually disappears behind the snowy peaks completely, leaving you in the blackness of night by the time you finally find them. Your ears alert you to the sound of muted conversation and your nose picks up the familiar notes of treated wood, leather and fresh deer meat. You soon track the unique mixture of scents to a sheltered alcove in a cliff face, not quite a cave but welcome protection from the elements nonetheless.

>>5799347
It occurs to you, then, that there is no sign of a campfire. You see no flames, nor smell any burning foliage or roasting deer flesh. Peculiar behaviour for a race that, as your mother said, loved fire above any other tool and made a habit of spreading it wherever they went. Are they trying to hide their presence from the orcs? Could orcs be fooled by such a tactic? It hasn’t fooled you, that much is certain. Among the fragrant pines and crisp mountain air, their man-smell is far too conspicuous.

As you go to move closer, you stop short of a step. Your dark scales may blend perfectly into the blanket of shadow, but your flaming eyes are not so easy to hide. Should the sword-man or his spear-wielding companion look out into the forest on a whim, they would need to lay eyes on you for but a moment to know they were being stalked, and so you make the choice to close your eyes and let your other senses, all of them just as keen as your sight, guide you.

The voices become distinct as you approach through the brush, keeping yourself low to the ground but not against it. Torold speaks, his voice distorted as though chewing something.

“…until we found him standing just off of the lake’s bank, gazing off over the water, though as for why I cannot rightly say. I made use of his distraction and put an arrow through his neck, and ended his misery,” he says before swallowing.

“A shame we could not take more meat with us,” says the voice you recognise as Harald, “nor roast what we have. I would be glad for a dripping skewer of reindeer against this chill, yet here we sit munching on dry crusts and hard cheese.”

Bread? Cheese? You’ve heard of those before. You must admit your curiosity has your mouth watering, but you push the thoughts away. Now is the time to think with your head, not your gut. In the camp, Torold is quick to retort.

“Perhaps next time you will see to our meals yourself, or at the very least tell Bodvar to pack some salted meat before you leave him in charge of the provisions.”

A laugh rises among them at that, purposefully subdued. They fear an attack, you’re sure of it now. They might not be so quick to speak things that eavesdroppers such as yourself would like to hear. You stand in silence for a time, listening to them make small talk in the dark, when you hear it.

From the woods across from you, you hear what you would describe as a faint snuffling. You still your own breathing and strain your ears, and can make out two pairs of feather-light steps among the wet sniffing, one only a novice in the craft of stealthy movement and the other a master, breaking the leaf litter so gently that even your draconic hearing finds tracking them a challenge. You think perhaps some new form of southern animal, until the wind changes and the smell hits you. The very same greasy odour you smelled when Sidgier pulled the severed head from the sack.

Orcs. There are orcs in the wood across from you.

>>5799348
You hear them move closer, the footsteps distinguishable by their weight. The heavier moves behind the lighter, egging him on, and you hear brutal snarls. Then they stop, only a little closer to the man-camp than you are, and you realise that you are no longer the only one stalking them.

The orcs stand for a moment longer, listening to the mannish conversation - can they even understand the words they are hearing? - before swiftly scarpering away, the smaller one skilfully navigating the underbrush while his heavier companion lumbers after him.

There is little time to deliberate on what to do. Those orcs are likely headed back to some larger group to report their find, at which point a war host of orcs will descend on the men you spent so much time tracking. The outcomes of action and inaction weight against one another in your mind as you weight profit and loss against the time it takes a pair of orcs to dash across a patch of woodland.

>Pursue the orcs and slay them. You have invested too much effort in these men to allow some rowdy band of orcs to shoot them full of poisoned arrows and ruin everything. Besides, you are admittedly eager to test yourself for your first time in battle against two-legs, and a couple of orcs nobody would miss, not even their commander, would be a fine place to start.

>Follow the orcs, but do not kill them, at least not yet. You would have the full measure of the hunting party, and exchange words if you can. Orcs respect strength and dominance, and you have both in spades. And if your tongue and burning eyes prove inadequate in swaying them, well, you can let your teeth and claws take over negotiations.

>Allow the orcs to leave and watch the situation play out on its own. There is no need to reveal your presence to any party just yet, and if killing comes into it then you can enter the fray or stay out of it as you desire.

>Write in

>>5799350
>>Pursue the orcs and slay them. You have invested too much effort in these men to allow some rowdy band of orcs to shoot them full of poisoned arrows and ruin everything. Besides, you are admittedly eager to test yourself for your first time in battle against two-legs, and a couple of orcs nobody would miss, not even their commander, would be a fine place to start.
Debt accumulation is a go

>>5799350
>>Pursue the orcs and slay them. You have invested too much effort in these men to allow some rowdy band of orcs to shoot them full of poisoned arrows and ruin everything. Besides, you are admittedly eager to test yourself for your first time in battle against two-legs, and a couple of orcs nobody would miss, not even their commander, would be a fine place to start.
Fuck 'em. If we attack orcs we can still rule over them later, if we let these humans get killed that's wasted time and a wasted possibility.

>>Pursue the orcs and slay them. You have invested too much effort in these men to allow some rowdy band of orcs to shoot them full of poisoned arrows and ruin everything. Besides, you are admittedly eager to test yourself for your first time in battle against two-legs, and a couple of orcs nobody would miss, not even their commander, would be a fine place to start.

>>5799350
>Pursue the orcs and slay them. You have invested too much effort in these men to allow some rowdy band of orcs to shoot them full of poisoned arrows and ruin everything. Besides, you are admittedly eager to test yourself for your first time in battle against two-legs, and a couple of orcs nobody would miss, not even their commander, would be a fine place to start.

>>5799350
>Pursue the orcs and slay them. You have invested too much effort in these men to allow some rowdy band of orcs to shoot them full of poisoned arrows and ruin everything. Besides, you are admittedly eager to test yourself for your first time in battle against two-legs, and a couple of orcs nobody would miss, not even their commander, would be a fine place to start.

>>5799350

>Follow the orcs, but do not kill them, at least not yet. You would have the full measure of the hunting party, and exchange words if you can. Orcs respect strength and dominance, and you have both in spades. And if your tongue and burning eyes prove inadequate in swaying them, well, you can let your teeth and claws take over negotiations.

This is the clearest path to power.

>>5799359
>>5799369
>>5799372
>>5799425
>>5799491

You guys realize that in Middle-Earth, dragons are basically kill on sight for all the mortal races right? We’re literally the engineered product of fantasy Satan and it’s highly doubtful that by killing a couple orcs we’re going to convince a couple of barbarians that we’re a “good dragon”.

Would invite all of you to reconsider! It will be MUCH easier to take over an orc tribe than convince these men to be our friend.

>>5799350
>Follow the orcs, but do not kill them, at least not yet. You would have the full measure of the hunting party, and exchange words if you can. Orcs respect strength and dominance, and you have both in spades. And if your tongue and burning eyes prove inadequate in swaying them, well, you can let your teeth and claws take over negotiations.

>>5799350
>Pursue the orcs and slay them. You have invested too much effort in these men to allow some rowdy band of orcs to shoot them full of poisoned arrows and ruin everything. Besides, you are admittedly eager to test yourself for your first time in battle against two-legs, and a couple of orcs nobody would miss, not even their commander, would be a fine place to start.

>>5799603
Orcs are ugly and smell funny
I would much rather try and make friends with and eventually rule over men.

>>5799603
Take the easy path? Without even TRYING to do the hard, but more rewarding path when we can backtrack into ruling over orcs at any time? What are you, some kind of pussy?

>>5799350
>>Pursue the orcs and slay them. You have invested too much effort in these men to allow some rowdy band of orcs to shoot them full of poisoned arrows and ruin everything. Besides, you are admittedly eager to test yourself for your first time in battle against two-legs, and a couple of orcs nobody would miss, not even their commander, would be a fine place to start.

Remember to leave a calling card.

>>5799603
I do but it would be funny to have a good aligned dragon in the war of the rings.

>>5799350
>>Follow the orcs, but do not kill them, at least not yet. You would have the full measure of the hunting party, and exchange words if you can. Orcs respect strength and dominance, and you have both in spades. And if your tongue and burning eyes prove inadequate in swaying them, well, you can let your teeth and claws take over negotiations.

>>5799603
Men have often been servants of both Melkor and Sauron. It is possible that we might sway them to our banner, and they are infinitely more competent then Orcs. I am willing to roll the dice, and if it all fails we can resort to Orcs later.

>>5799350
>>Pursue the orcs and slay them. You have invested too much effort in these men to allow some rowdy band of orcs to shoot them full of poisoned arrows and ruin everything. Besides, you are admittedly eager to test yourself for your first time in battle against two-legs, and a couple of orcs nobody would miss, not even their commander, would be a fine place to start.

I'm interested to see what path this decision may lead to, perhaps the orcs have information we can get from them.

>>5799350
>Pursue the orcs and slay them. You have invested too much effort in these men to allow some rowdy band of orcs to shoot them full of poisoned arrows and ruin everything. Besides, you are admittedly eager to test yourself for your first time in battle against two-legs, and a couple of orcs nobody would miss, not even their commander, would be a fine place to start.

>>5799603
That sounds like something Sauron would say.

>>5799350
>>5799685
>>5799980
>Remember to leave a calling card.
Seconded.

>>5799350

Current voters tally.

> To pursue the orcs and slay them.

We have 9 votes

> To follow the orcs and let our claws do the negotiations if our sharp tongue is not enough.

We have 3 votes

> To allow the orcs to leave.

We have the red headed step child of the choices with 0 votes :(

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>>5799350
>>Pursue the orcs and slay them. You have invested too much effort in these men to allow some rowdy band of orcs to shoot them full of poisoned arrows and ruin everything. Besides, you are admittedly eager to test yourself for your first time in battle against two-legs, and a couple of orcs nobody would miss, not even their commander, would be a fine place to start

>>5799603
I am a Dragon with a plan. Part of the plan is to avoid stupid heroes breaking in my lair every week to kill me because I am stupid evil and everyone hate me.

>>5799350
>Pursue the orcs and slay them. You have invested too much effort in these men to allow some rowdy band of orcs to shoot them full of poisoned arrows and ruin everything. Besides, you are admittedly eager to test yourself for your first time in battle against two-legs, and a couple of orcs nobody would miss, not even their commander, would be a fine place to start

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>>5799685
>Remember to leave a calling card.

Something like this? I help you, you help me?

>>5800292

Seems like Mom taught us a few languages but no writing, so something abstract like a stylized dragon silhouette might be enough to get the point across (along with the heavily mauled bodies)

Really the worst part of killing the orcs is that we have to put our mouth on the grimy things

>>5800297
We COULD just light them on fire or use our claws... maybe pick up a tree and drop it on them.

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>>5800297
Something like this but better then?

>>5800299
>Use a big ass mace to fight
We are a civilized dragon, we do not eat dirty orcs

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Looks like you’re making sure the location of the mountain men remains a secret.

However, before I start writing, I’m going to ask you guys something. I’ve been thinking about how I want to do dice rolls going forward (now is the time to make any adjustments, after all) and I came up with picrel, a choice between the more popular method 1 and th method 2 I made up. I’d like you all to give your opinion on it, point out any flaws and suggest systems you feel are superior. I don’t want this quest to become too stat-heavy (very simple HP system and dice rolls will be for narrative purposes, so please keep that in mind when suggesting alternate sy

In any case, three players roll me 3d6.

>>5800412
I like method 1

Rolled 6, 1, 4 = 11 (3d6)

>>5800412
Let's try 2 to see if it's any good

>>5800412

Totally up to you QM, but I think I like the second system better. Ultimately I think they are mechanically identical?

Rolled 4, 4, 4 = 12 (3d6)

>>5800412

Rolled 5, 2, 5 = 12 (3d6)

>>5800412

>>5800421
nice

>>5800412

Forgot my roll

>>5800412
Second method seems nice

>Leave thread for a couple days
>Anons want to be a friendly dragon
Sounds interesting, but Thrakabarzum's nature as a dragon and their relations to the other races would probably make that impossible. I'm gonna try and swing for a 'lesser evil' sort of thing

>>5800687
I agree that with lesser evil, and I am hoping that is what we are. I'd much prefer us as the more subtle evil with moments of brilliant destruction interspersed. We have inherited the Dark Lord's power of persuasion so I feel we should use it to great affect.

>>5800687
>>5800780
My thoughts on what we should aim for exactly

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>>5800412
It's your call QM, we appreciate the effort you're putting into this. That being said, an average curve is produced when the numerical results of multiple dice are added. Keep the likelihood of various rolls in mind when scaling degrees of success of failure. My vote is on method 2. It's a more collaborative way to determine checks.

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>>5800326
That might take too much time to carve when we're pressed for time. Maybe a big X or a rough outline of our claws would suffice. A sideways triangle with a smiley face would definitely be a memorable sight and my personal favorite, however.

>>5800687

I’m aligned with you, anon. The lore is sort of unforgiving in this regard - we are a creature of darkness and therefore we really only be “good” as part of a larger deception or deceit. We have a big evi lizard brain and should act accordingly

The thing I have in mind is being a Lord over a land and that people pay us for that. Something like a cult to us.

We just fly over the roads from time to time and people bring gold every spring and winter. Orcs can't make gold unless someone tell them how. Man and dwarves just do that.

>>5801097

This is a good plan but we could obviously train orcs/goblins to mine if we had a captive tribe. Alternately we could create a big gobbo army and knock over a Dwarven hold.

>>5801097
Go to Rhun and take over.
Let them have a real dragon emperor

>>5801106
Orcs and goblins can be belligerent and unreliable. Sauron is one of the few that had the capability to micromanage them into a more cohesive force because of the kind of power he had. Human servants are nothing novel to LotR anyway no pun intended. However, cult worship can be a liability in the long term as cult members could start conflicts with neighboring regions and draw the ire of people we do not want looking our way. Our best way of avoiding complications in the future is refraining from unnecessary conflicts, not pissing off the local humans and dwarves, and incentivizing or obligating them to give us gold or other valuable things with as little enmity as possible. Helping with their orc problem and handling pest control in the area are just our means of doing that, and we just might find things worth stealing from the orcs whenever we raid their camps. Foresight isn't beyond us.

Well, you guys passed with flying colours. The DC was 8 since murdering a couple of orcs in the dark isn’t an awfully demanding task for a dragon like you guys. After your feedback I’ll be trying out the group rolling system for a bit, so you scored 15. Writing.

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You easily follow behind the orcs, the stench that trails behind them more than enough to keep your pursuit. You track them for a short while, letting distance grow between yourself, your quarry and the men you have taken such effort to keep oblivious as to your nature. It would not do to spook them now, before your plans have borne even meagre fruit. No, the secret must remain exactly that. They cannot be allowed to die until they have served your devices, and so these orcs cannot be allowed to live.

The orcs keep up their pace, and before long you judge the expanse of forest between yourself and the mannish shelter wide enough that the coming slaughter will not disturb them. You keep your movements as careful and deliberate as you can, your instincts telling you to maintain your present distance until an opening presents itself.

And present itself one soon does. The orcs, though adept at navigating the wood in the darkness, are not tireless, and they soon begin to flag. Their hopping gait becomes a hurried trudge through the fallen leaves and snow and twigs, stumbling over debris and one another in their clumsiness, and the growing scent of saltiness in their trail is telling of their exhaustion. You let your lips curl back and reveal a sliver of teeth, your eyes still firmly shut to preserve your cloak of shadow; your predator’s intuition tells you that this is the stuff of prime prey, tired and defenceless with nowhere to run or hide.

Eventually they come to a halt, and you know the time has come. You slow your own pace to a crawl and edge ever closer towards them, keeping to where you know there is plenty of cover for your silhouette to melt into as you wait for the perfect moment to strike. It is as if you are back in the frozen north, hunting some particularly oblivious seals by the cover of night on the great ice fields.

They seem to recover their spent stamina somewhat, and one of them breaks the silence with a guttural, wet voice.

“Curses on you, kurvanog snaga! Your pathetic pace will have us seeing the sun! Move, or I shall thrash you terribly,” he growls in a bastardised language that is at once Éothéod, Black Speech, and some other language you are yet unfamiliar with. Perhaps one from the distant east? Your understanding of such a mangled language is middling at best, and you gather little more than the gist.

“You are as tired as I am, Gimtog, and slower too,” the other pants, his voice higher and raspier, like dull claws rubbing against a dusty, sun-beaten stone. “I do not leave you behind to paw in the dark only for the ire of Chief Gajakt.”

“And do you suppose Chief Gajakt will take kindly to hearing of your snivelling? Up with you!” The larger one, now known to you as Gimtog, strides forward, and you hear the distinct noise of flesh striking flesh. His subordinate yelps and falls to the ground before darting back, hissing.

>>5802514
You smirk as the two orcs descend into animalistic snarls, now totally oblivious to any thoughts of danger lurking about them, and you easily take advantage of their foolish squabble. As the tension between them nears a crescendo, you once more begin to creep forth, now truly upon them. There little more space than the length of your own body separating you from them, then half of that, and then even less until the grimy odour of fatigued, enraged orc is all you can smell.

And then you are right there beside them, and their fate is sealed.

The small one is the first to realise something is deeply wrong, likely because you are quite a bit closer to him than his master. He stops posturing and sniffs at the air, and the battle-lust radiating from his skin is swiftly replaced by the rich, heady aroma of mortal fear.

“Do you smell that?” He asks, his voice trembling.

Gimtog snorts, too caught up in the quarrel with his fellow orc to realise his imminent demise. “Your nose is of no help to you now, weakling. I’ll bite it off and make a necklace of it, along with a finger for every time you talked back to me since we left camp, you rotten little-”

And then whatever he was about to say catches in his throat as your eyes flick open, bathing both orcs in a slight orange light as you summon the full force of your inner flame into them and project it outward. You draw yourself up above them to your full height just as you did at the lake, taking your time, making sure to savour every moment to its fullest and committing it all to memory. This is the first unveiling of your majesty in the world of the two-legs, and you have no intention of letting one bit of it go to waste.

You unfurl your wings, blocking out the night sky behind you and becoming a wall of impenetrable blackness save your eyes. You open your maw, teeth glinting like a wall of blades in a black void, and muster from within your chest the deepest, most predatory growl you can. And the orcs squeal.

Gimtog proves not only superior to his companion is size, but bravery as well, as he draws from his hip a long, curved sword, quite unlike the straight and heavily adorned ones from your mother’s hoard. Whereas they had glinted pleasantly in all manner of colours in what light managed to reach her most precious chamber, hilts and pommels gilded and encrusted as they were, the weapon in the orc’s hand was brutally utilitarian in comparison. It did not glint in the moonlight but rather shined dully - not polished, most probably to avoid giving its wielder away by its own reflectivity. Animal hide wraps the grip and the pommel is little more than a lump of iron. His armour is little better, rags and mismatched metal plates all that stand between the orc and a gruesome death.

>>5802516
You grimace at the sight of it. Your mother told you that orcs were only good for violence and had not the ability to make beautiful things, and it seems like she was right. It is almost a relief, you think as you put your forelimbs forward to meet Gimtog, who charges you now in the madness of his terror. You will lose nothing of value by eradicating this filthy beast.

With a shrill scream of both consuming terror and defiant rage, the larger of the two orcs swings his curved blade at you. In response you bring up a forelimb and meet it with a swipe of your own, easily batting the blow aside and sending the maddened Gimtog stumbling backward. You flex your claw and take a moment to ponder the ringing sensation within it, finding it not altogether unpleasant. Is it because this is what your kind were crafted for in the pits of Angband, to bring death and destruction and war, once to the enemies of the Dark Lord and now to the unruly offshoots of his armies?

A guttural war cry tells you that Gimtog is up and charging again. You strike out with your claw again, but instead of a mere counter for the novelty of it, this swipe of your claws is a true attack meant to maim, and it finds its mark.

Your claws cut the air and slice cleanly through the flesh and bone of Gimtog’s sword arm, the rotten rags that apparently pass for vambraces to the orcs of the Grey Mountains doing nothing to so much as slow them down. Gimtog screams again, though this time there is no fight in it, only fear and pain. The black, oily blood of orc-kind coats your claws and the stench is stronger than ever.

As the orc twists and writhes and covers the ground in black blood, you draw closer and open your jaws, growling as you do so. Gimtog looks at you, his red eyes wide, and he stops struggling as his gaze meets yours and his will is supplanted by your own.

“Kulkodar,” is all he has time to choke out before you take him in your jaws and rip him in two with a single bite.

You chew, then chew again, and then once more, letting the black innards of the dead orc cover your whole palate and giving it a fair chance before reaching your final and everlasting judgment regarding the flesh of orcs. You let the sickly-tasting meat drop to the ground in a lump of pulverised flesh, fabric and metal, and lick uncomfortably at the stubborn grease now flesh of your mouth. Orc meat tastes sour and, as you had suspected, overly greasy, with a seemingly inherent taste of subtle rot, and is stringy and full of gristle. Perhaps a drake of lesser taste might like it, and you could subsist on it provided you had no other option, but overall it simply isn’t for you.

You wonder, do orcs smell and taste so unappealing when they are torn asunder because the Dark Lord did not wish for his underlings to infight, or are their bodies simply revolting by nature?

>>5802520
The rustle of leaves in the distance catches your attention and you realise that in your curiosity you allowed the smaller orc to escape. Your inner hunter brims over at the prospect of fleeing prey and you set off into the woods after him, your much longer limbs carrying you forward and easily running down the already-spent orc, who gibbers in fear as he realises you have finished with his master and are coming for him next.

“Kulkodar! Kulkodar! Kulkodar!” There is is, that phrase again. You wonder what it means. A plea for mercy, maybe? You smile wickedly as a familiar tension builds in your legs. Unlikely.

You pounce forward at top speed and catch the fleeing orc in your foreclaws, and as you land atop his lower back with all your weight, your claws pierce through his body and drive themselves into the ground below. Bones snap and guts burst beneath you, and blood flows from his broken body like water.

He rasps and hisses, his survival instincts still pushing him to drag his doomed body to safety. He is alive only in the barest sense, for while his heart and lungs are intact his life is rapidly spilling out and draining into the forest floor, and he has precious little time left before shock or blood loss takes him. He still gibbers, utterances of “kulkodar” and other words yet unknown to you.

>Slay him, and put him out of his misery. You have no desire to have your claws embedded in orc viscera for a moment longer than necessary.

>Listen to the creature as he mutters his last breaths away. Perhaps you can glean some insight from his death ramblings.

>Interrogate the orc while he is still somewhat lucid. There are things you still need to know, and this dying orc is the best source of information you currently have. (Specify questions)

>Write in

>>5802521
>Listen to the creature as he mutters his last breaths away. Perhaps you can glean some insight from his death ramblings.
Interrogating a dying blabbering orc will do little good I think.

>Listen to the creature as he mutters his last breaths away. Perhaps you can glean some insight from his death ramblings.

>>5802521

>Interrogate

“Where is the lair of Chief Gajakt?”

Kulkodar obviously just means Dragon in whatever tongue the goblin is speaking - maybe Dwarvish or Rhunic?

>note from a fellow QM

Excellent writing, OP. You have a talent for succinct but flavorful prose!

>>5802521
>>Listen to the creature as he mutters his last breaths away. Perhaps you can glean some insight from his death ramblings.

>>5802552
>support

>>5802552
>Support

>>5802552
Switching to this

From: >>5802551

>>5802552
+1

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Life’s better with a character portrait.

Anyway, looks like the interrogation is set to win. That said, I either won’t be updating tonight or will only be doing a short one, not another 4-post-long one. I have to do some very important stuff play TF2.

>>5802552
Thanks, I really appreciate it.

>>5803135
Nice

Our plan to leave a mark on the ground is a valid option or you dont want that QM?

>>5802552
Support

>>5803135
Cool

>>5803192
Don’t worry, you can leave a mark if you wish once you’re finished with this vey unlucky orc. But since it will be the first thing that dear old Thrakaburzum has ever drawn/written, I’m gonna make you roll for it based on complexity.

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>>5803204
Here is my vote.

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>>5803233

What about this? Our logo should really have wings since we are a WINGED CHAD dragon

>>5803279
I considered winged symbols but I favored subtly. Most dragons do not have wings so I think it wise to not advertise that we are going to be Particularly nasty when we grow up.

>>5803233
Looks like that one sign in Dragons: Fire and Ice

>>5803135
Did you draw that? Solid work

>>5803286

This is a reasonable counterpoint so let’s go for your Ouruboros-style glyph.

>>5803135
That looks awesome. Do you post any of your other drawings anywhere? Have fun QM.

>>5803204
>>5803233
>>5803279
>>5803377
I don't mean to self aggrandize, but may I suggest >>5800970?

>>5802552
Support.

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The orc’s squirming intensifies as you withdraw your claws, sliding them back through his mangled innards. Almost rent in half yet still struggling for life, you’re quite impressed with the orcish ability to endure suffering, you must say. Perhaps he has enough life left in his draining veins to be of some use to you.

You pick the orc up in one claw and spin him around to face you, his ruined lower half hanging by mere strings and lagging behind. He goes to shriek but you fix your eyes on his and exercise your will over him, seizing the sound before it can escape his throat. Struggling for breath in the madness of his agony and terror, he goggles at you as you bring the tip of your snout right up to his face.

It suddenly occurs to you that these will be the first words you will ever have spoken to someone not a dragon. You must make them worth remembering, even if only to yourself, and elect to use the tongue of the Éothéod.

“Harken unto me, orc,” you say, as imperious and grand as one of your race ought to be, yet also keeping your tone even so that the half-dead beast might better grasp them. “Tell me of your lair and your leader, and where I might find them. Give me this, and I shall end your torment.”

“Kul… kodar… no…” The creature, wild in his last moments, simply chatters his teeth and spits up black blood over his chin.

You sigh. It would seem that in his pain the orc did not heed you, likely more a result of his death throes than any ounce of willpower he might possess, and your words did not hit their mark. That said, crazed though he may be, his eyes are still immovably locked upon your own. There is no doubt that this orc is under your power just as the seals and deer of the far north had been, so why does he resist?

You think, then, of how you had held the simple animals in place with your gaze, and a realisation dawns on you. From the moment you first immobilised a fleeing seal in its tracks years ago, you have only ever used the power behind your eyes to halt, to strangle, to imprison in a cage wrought of your sheer overwhelming will. You project your intent as a great grasping claw born of a desire to control, and so it is that whatever you affect has all control ripped away from it.

That, you now understand, is what you are doing to this orc. You are choking the words in his throat, preventing him from speaking as you wish him to while the muscles in his jaw work against him. He says nothing because he cannot wrestle himself free from your iron grip, and so can do nothing but sit paralysed as his lifeblood spews from his ruined lower half.

You see now. You must alter your approach.

You ease the glow from your eyes, feeling it become less of a raging inferno and instead envisioning it as something warmer, softer, almost enticing. Rather than attacking his will through simple brute force, you opt instead for subversion, trying to direct it or maybe mould it to your own desire.

>>5805479
“Where is your leader?” you say, slower this time, using every syllable to drive the point home into his savage mind. “Where is your lair?”

You feel something giving way inside the orc and he opens his mouth, mismatched teeth covered in thick blood.

“Ch… G-Gajakt…”

“Yes, Gajakt. Where, is, Gajakt?” You jump on the opening. Your eyes flare and you give one last push, and the diminutive orc in your claws breaks completely.

“R-river… cave…” he spits out, and even as his baser instincts scream at him you can feel your own power overwhelm them, drawing secrets up from inside him and dragging them out. “West…” he exhales, then spasms once, and finally succumbs to his wounds. The skinny orc goes limp in your grasp, dead.

You sit in silence, and stare at his corpse for a moment. Even in death, his red eyes are locked with your own.

You let the corpse flop from your claws in a heap, and wipe clean them on the detritus. The stench of dead orc clings to your nostrils like a stubborn itch that refuses to be scratched. For a brief moment you scan the orc’s corpse with a critical eye, but find his belongings even less enticing than the larger one’s. His clothes are little more than rotten leather scraps and his only weapon is a simple wooden bow, which, as Gimtog’s curved sword had been, is ugly and brutish compared to the mannish counterparts you glimpsed earlier but well capable of killing all the same.

You turn away, disappointed. These orcs hold little promise in the way of plunder, or at least nothing so valuable as your book.

You stop. Your book.

You left it behind, dropping it in the brush just before you attacked Gimtog. A wise - likely subconscious - move on your part that prevented the gilded pages from being fouled with orc blood. A terrible thought, that your one piece of treasure might have had a large portion of its value ruined by thoughtlessness, but now that the killing is done with your heart yearns terribly for it. You retrace your steps through the trees and follow the unmistakable aroma of precious, beautiful gold, and soon enough you spot its glint in the moonlight. You must have it, you must have it.

You snatch it up and brush it clean of dead leaves and twigs, and at once the feeling of emptiness inside you is filled. Shaking yourself free of the slight hysteria, you wonder if what you just experienced was a dragon’s intuitive knowledge of their hoard and when part of it is missing and unaccounted for. Your mother had told you many times that your kind know their hoard to the tiniest bent coin, and that should something ever leave it without your permission, you would know.

>>5805481
You fiddle with the cover and flip it open, the strange black lines on the pages as meaningless to you as the leaf litter beneath your feet. A slight moroseness comes over you; you should like to know what it says. Mother said the runes were dwarvish, and so it stands to reason that the only one that could help you interpret them is a dwarf. A shame, then, that your race and theirs are eternal enemies, and one of their kind would never help you.

You pause then, and look over at the shredded body of Gimtog, and a cunning plan begins to take form in your mind.

Eternal enemies, indeed. Perhaps…

>Leave a carving in the bark of a nearby tree. Your plan begins here, in the corpses of these orcs.

>Turn away and leave. No, it’s a fooling idea. You have better ways to spend your time.

>Write in

>>5805482
>Leave a carving in the bark of a nearby tree. Your plan begins here, in the corpses of these orcs.
Baby steps into having our own subjects.

Specify which design you’d like, if you want to leave one. I know people have already voted but I’d like a more representative vote.

>>5803233
Dracula’s gonna freak

>>5803393
Nah, I generally only post stuff on this site.

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>>5805482
>Leave a carving in the bark of a nearby tree. Your plan begins here, in the corpses of these orcs.
>>5805491
Here's a simple one

>>5805482

>Leave a carving in the bark of a nearby tree. Your plan begins here, in the corpses of these orcs.

Nothing ventured, nothing gained

>>5805482
>Leave a carving in the bark of a nearby tree. Your plan begins here, in the corpses of these orcs.

>>5805489
>subjects
Governing sounds busy and politics seem troublesome. This "favor" we're doing them will secure a steady flow of valuables and goodies soon enough. Let's not forget Occam's razor.

>>5805521

Ultimately I’m thinking about this as a “smash and grab” operation, I don’t think we’re really trying to settle here.

1) Basically, convince orks to attack dwarves in all-out attack.
2) hopefully make contact with dwarves and organize a doublecross against the orks for treasure (and a tutor?)

3) if we can’t organize the doublecross, simply lead orkish raid against dwarves and steal what we can, leave orks to be slain as we fly away

>>5805482
>>Leave a carving in the bark of a nearby tree. Your plan begins here, in the corpses of these orcs.
We may be evil, but that doesn't mean that we need to rabidly attack those who need not be our enemies.

>>5805527
I doubt dwarves would make a deal with a dragon, much less so soon after Smaug conquering Erebor.

>>5805531

Totally valid counterpoint but not all dwarves are aligned and they are just as prone to bad decision making as men are.

Anyways, we could always pull this plan off against the local men instead, they clearly have a stockpile of local dwarven goods for us to plunder. Maybe also a man who can read dwarvish runes?

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>>5805491
>>5805496
Making a symbol that's readily recognizable as a dragon might be a risky move and potentially compromise our plan. It has to be something that retroactively makes sense once we reveal ourselves. Our character is no Michelangelo as far as we're aware, so keeping it simple may be preferable, especially if we're in a hurry.

If suggestions are still open, I made some adjustments to better represent these >>5803135 proportions. Surely this will strike fear into our enemies.

>>5805482

>>Leave a carving in the bark of a nearby tree. Your plan begins here, in the corpses of these orcs.

>>5805527
Pissing off everyone doesn't sound sustainable, and as of now there isn't any reason why we shouldn't stay here. If Gajakt's horde is settled in that cave, then it is likely large enough to set roots in, and it's by running water too. We can snatch it from the orcs by organizing a raid with the locals and claiming it as our own. Letting us crash in the cave and sums of gold or other items of interest would be small prices to pay to fend off annihilation against the orcs. Besides, our guy really wants to try cheese.

>>5805549
Agreed. Ultimately, accumulating a hoard lends itself to a more settled lifestyle so why not subj- protect the locals for our benefit?

>Leave a carving in the bark of a nearby tree. Your plan begins here, in the corpses of these orcs.
I do so love it when a plan comes together.

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>>5805549
>Besides, our guy really wants to try cheese.

Looks like we’re drawing our first picture. I’ve looked through the thread and there seems to be a slight bias towards a serpentine creature like >>5803233, a depiction of a dragon but subtle enough that it could reasonably be something else, so I think that will satisfy most people. Besides, this is just a drawing on a tree, so there’s always the opportunity to change it later.

Three people roll me 3d6. It’s a pretty difficult task for someone who has never drawn before to accomplish, so I’ll set the DC at a healthy 15.

>>5806169
Let’s hope Thrakaburzum doesn’t turn out lactose-intolerant.

Rolled 6, 2, 5 = 13 (3d6)

>>5806397

Rolled 3, 3, 6 = 12 (3d6)

>>5806397
>Let’s hope Thrakaburzum doesn’t turn out lactose-intolerant.
You say that like it isn't your call, QM. kek

Rolled 2, 4, 5 = 11 (3d6)

>>5806397
>Let’s hope Thrakaburzum doesn’t turn out lactose-intolerant.

Cold-blooded lizard here, eating a cow is diferent for eating their milk?

>>5806408
>>5806409
>>5806414
> 16
Thraka is an artist!

>>5806408
>>5806409
>>5806414
>5+6+5=16
Good job Dragonbros

>>5806408
>>5806409
>>5806414
>16
That was a pretty steep roll. Our dragon isn't too bad at this.

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An impressive roll. You are an artistic wyrm. Writing.

>>5806431
Lol
Nice

>>5806421
We can make our OWN treasures!

Rolled 2, 3, 5 = 10 (3d6)

>>5806397
Rolling for lactose tolerance