Hoards, Hubris and Heroics

Now that they're safely dead, you indulge Skekk the Tempest with the honor of having once been your rival. Mortals have all sorts of strange ideas about dragons, and you know that there are bards' songs that must be nearly forgotten at this point about the "good" dragon Skekk foiling your plans to conquer the world or some such. First of all, you've never once tried to conquer the world, or even the Grand Duchy. That sounds just plain exhausting. But moreover, it seriously misunderstands draconic motivations. You had wanted the Crown Jewels of Risling because they complemented your scales, Skekk had stopped you because they felt like it. Rivalry and mutual foiling were something to do for a while before Skekk started compulsively challenging mortals to riddle contests and you got really into glassblowing. You're quite surprised by how genuinely disappointed you are to hear of their demise. The problem with immortality and peerless power isn't just entertainment but how lonely existence can be. Hopefully, this journey will be fun. If not, perhaps you should get your claws on some knights and make some draconid servants to be conversation partners.

---

Curiously when you explain that you can do literally everything and are far superior to a mere dabbler, Chandrak seems far more bemused than impressed. Maybe he's not as accurate a judge of character than he seems to think he is. Since you've ultimately decided to travel with another band you choose to stop thinking about him- he is no longer relevant to your existence.

---

You are firmly convinced that at no point even in the most distant of futures will there be a moment where you do not exist. But you're not a fool, you are aware that there was a time before you started to exist and that the world does exist beyond your own mind, even if it's not important beyond your own perceptions. The early days of that existence were the days of Slarin the Twisted. You're overjoyed to recall those days, and besides surely it will impress and make a good impression. "I know about the origins of orcs." You begin, ready to expound. "Two thousand years ago, Slarin the Twisted was the older brother of the King of Kirolseg who had failed to win his spurs and was always outshone by his sibling. He forsook the knightly virtues the Empire believes in, took up the study of darker magics and fled civilization to the most unsettled parts of the continent. One day he took primal clay and spun it on the giant's wheel and crafted a race of warriors to serve him. These were the orcs and he used them in his quest to destroy his brother and the entire Empire." You pause, getting ready to tell the story of how Slarin was slain, and his armies shattered but you belatedly realize that the look you are getting from Emelda is not exactly breathless fascination. She takes her hand from her forehead and just looks at you for a moment.
"He took primal clay and spun it on the giant's wheel? What does that even mean?" She asks. You realize that you don't actually know but fortunately she doesn't actually give you a chance to respond. "Look, I don't actually care about ancient history. Do you know anything about orcs in the present?"
Oh. A very different question.
"No, not really." You are treated to an incredibly heavy sigh.
"Okay so orcs like to live in foothills, or floodplains. Places with a lot of clay, or mud, things they can use to make more orcs. It's a constant but low-level problem since orcs aren't normally very good at sculpting. But recent patrols have indicated orc activity of unusual sophistication. I lost my squad to a huge orc recently, the kind you hear about in stories not in real life. I just know something is happening deep in those swamps, but the Archon Militant doesn't believe me, thinks I'm deluded by grief. Well, I'm spending my discharge pay on this expedition and I'll prove it or my name isn't Emelda Broadaxe."

You give a vigorous nod, as if your heart has been stirred by this speech and agree to lend your aid to this noble quest. You are immediately bear hugged by Sindri Riptide who assures you that you will have a wonderful time with him on this journey. You take your few supplies and load them on a very old and put-upon mule. You get the distinct impression that the budget for supplies on this trip is rather light. Too late to change your mind now. Your pack barely adds to the weight anyways, containing just your traveling funds, your staff and one thing left behind in your lair by a long dead adventurer you thought would come in handy.
[ ] A map of the region, long out of date and badly damaged by time, but a map all the same
[ ] Several feet of rope and a piton. Just plain, high quality rope, made out of….whatever you make rope out of you think it was originally used to climb your mountain. But it's your rope now.
[ ] Your favorite knife. It's made out of obsidian, covered in blood stains you've never been able to clean and has never chipped or shattered no matter what you try to use it to do.

You set out south upon the road. Emelda explains that it's about a day's journey to Banngard where you will rest for the night, get the latest information on likely places to look in the Greater Morass and then head out into the swamps. The road is well worn and shows clear signs of neglect. Old distance markers are barely legible, and you notice several plinths where once a statue of an eagle-the symbol of the Grand Duchy- was either empty or only partially intact. Since you have the better part of a day upon the road to spend, you resolve to learn more about the people you're soon going to be heading into an orc infested swamp with.

[ ] You've already decided to follow Emelda Broadaxe on this journey, you might as well get to know her more. Besides, she's actually local so you might learn more about the current state of affairs. Or you might just hear a lot about how much she hates orcs. Who can really say?
[ ] You know that there's no avoiding Sindri Riptide, so you might as well talk to him. You know why you've joined this mission, but why is he here? Maybe try and draw out some info on the Elflands while you're at it, to make sure that you can sell your chosen identity.
[ ] Agni is clearly a priest of some kind, but you don't know the names of any gods. It's the kind of information that has generally bored you. Praying for divine attention and favor is beneath your dignity. But it is also a topic you know nothing about, and that could be entertaining to hear about. Hopefully, he doesn't try to convert you.

By the time the sun is low in the sky and the outer walls of Banngard are visible, you are briefly taken aside by Emelda, who scratches the back of her head awkwardly before asking you a question. "Listen Wryss. I don't really know how exactly to ask this in a nice way but….well I'm only going to be getting us two rooms tonight at the Fat Bear tonight. Should I put you with Sindri and Agni, or with me?" It takes you a moment to understand what is being asked. She is intending to sleep separately from her male traveling companions and is asking you about yours. This is not something you thought about when making your mortal form and didn't include such….details. You came into existence fully formed and adult-there was no gender or (ew) reproduction involved. But a mortal would have such things. She's giving you a weird look; this shouldn't be a hard question to answer for a mortal. Ultimately you decide to.
[ ] Answer that you'll take the same room as Agni and Sindri. Quietly make the appropriate adjustments to your visage. You may as well be male.
[ ] Answer that you'll take the same room as her. Quietly make the appropriate adjustments to your visage. You may as well be female.
[ ] Tell her that her question is foolish, and you will not lower yourself to deal with such frivolity. She may place you in whatever room she pleases.

The journey to Banngard is uneventful. Though it is clearly not as well maintained as it once was, even in its present state the ducal road is serviceable, and you are traveling by daylight. You don't see many other travelers, but you see a few, and you pass by a trading caravan on the way. It seems that you are traveling on what passes for a main trade artery. Your party pauses for a time to swap information and goods with the traveling merchant, in the shadow of a ducal eagle statue missing its partner. They discuss orcs sightings, the price of grain, rumors about struggle for the Imperial crown. You don't pay that much attention of course, but as you idly browse wares and toss one of your coins in your hands you consider if there's anything worth getting for yourself. Not rations of course, that's someone else's problem to plan and provide. It's not your expedition after all.

[ ] Your eyes are caught by some sapphire jewelry. It's not nearly as nice as the crown jewels, and in your current state the blue won't complement your scales, but you want them anyway.
[ ] You are enticed by an unsorted collection of various scrolls. They could be about literally anything. How fun. You like scrolls. Sorting them will just be an amusing challenge.
[ ] You ultimately acquire a set of cooking spices and herbs. Now that you have a much smaller mouth and tongue you really want to try to experiment with some of these seasoning things. You're starting to see the appeal of this whole cooking thing.
[ ] Spend your rightfully stolen extorted hard-earned coins frivolously? Absurd. You have accepted that you will need to pay for things as a mortal, but you intend to avoid doing so as much as possible.

Most of the journey you spend in close proximity to Sindri Riptide. Fortunately, you actually speak the elven tongue so your long conversation that switches between Imperial and Elven is one in which you can hold your weight.
"Why am I down south you ask? Begins Sindri. "Well cousin it's simple enough. Fishing." You blink at him several times, certain that you've heard him wrong. "Back home is wonderful, but I decided that I wanted to try out freshwater fishing, and they say great things about what you can find in the lakes of Risling."
"How did coming here to go fishing wind up with you joining a group to go fight orcs in a swamp?" you ask, genuinely baffled. Sea Elves are strange.
"There's a lot of things worth hunting in that swamp." He answers, showing you a brief glance of some sort of naturalist's guide to the edible animals of the region. "The lobsters of the Greater Morass are supposed to be fantastic when cooked with the proper acids. Besides, traveling is much more fun with company. I love Zeno, but he's not much of a conversationalist. Life is long! Make some friends, enjoy the ride, catch some fish. That's the Riptide motto cousin."
You have no idea who Zeno is. You've actually been paying attention and you're certain there are three other "people" traveling with you and none of them are named Zeno. You are also unsure why he keeps using honorific forms towards an elder at you.
"Who is Zeno?" you ask, realizing you can just ask.
"Oh, have I not introduced him? My apologies." Sindri raises a hand to his shoulder, grabs what you thought was just some odd texturing on his scale mail and places a large eight-armed slimy creature on your shoulder. You freeze as a tentacle exploratorily prods your face, before sliding back down to its former position and resuming its camouflage. "Zeno is my hunting companion. He may not look too dangerous, and he is a little lazy, but he's a mighty, clever predator and I love to spoil him with new kinds of fish. He's very excited about eating a swamp lobster. It's not as exciting a reason to be out of the Elflands as yours, but it gets me traveling, and travel is good for you. He says you taste strange by the way."
Your reason for being out of the Elflands? Exciting? You're still trying to figure out what he means by this when he elaborates, clearly misunderstanding your expression of confusion and concern .
'I don't follow courtly politics much, especially in other principalities, but I've heard about the current succession crisis. Makes sense for an elf of your obvious age and magical skill to be spending some time abroad. But don't worry cousin, I've got your back."
Oh, so he thinks you're hiding from assassins and fleeing a succession crisis. That's probably fine.

Eventually Emelda frees you from Sindri's friendliness and asks you her question. You decide to answer that you can room with her. As soon as she's returned to the head of the group and leaves you briefly with your own thoughts you make sure to quickly adjust your form. Thankfully your many layers of robes are plenty obscuring, so no one will notice any changes but having decided that you might as well be "female" you tweak your illusion, curving your hips, adjusting your chest, ensuring that beneath your robes your silhouette matches mortal expectations. Mortal expectations are rather strange you think, but you did decide to play the part so you might as well commit. You're so concentrated at making quick subtle spell work that next thing you know you've gone from seeing Banngard on the horizon to being before it.
Just as you remember it the main keep of the city stands proud, surrounded by three successive rings of walls and fortifications. However, the city doesn't gleam with proud walls the way it once did. Shantytowns surrounded the outermost ring and have widely cannibalized it for building materials. The second ring and the rest of the defenses seem much more actively maintained but you're still amazed to see how things have clearly slipped. Emelda leads you to an actually manned and working gate whose guards let you in without trouble. Discharged or not, the guards clearly know and trust her. Beyond the gate the city is dark and cramped, overshadowed, and squeezed by walls on both sides. No one seems inclined to bother an armed band led by someone wearing the colors of the city's military but all the same you keep a wary eye. Things are nicer than they were outside the city but it's clear that those who can afford to dwell deeper, beyond more of the walls. You wind your way through cobblestone paths for some time before you come across the Fat Bear, which dominates the small courtyard around it. It is a squat square stone building that feels more like a fortress than a public house. In fact, it's probably a converted guardhouse. Above the stout oak doors, a polished brass plaque says simply "the Fat Bear." The reason for the name is made clear inside: a tremendous stuffed grizzly bear poses fearsomely in the center of the room, with arms and armor decorating all the walls. The air is thick with smoke and the smell of barley. A short scan makes clear that not only is every patron human, but they also all appear to be off duty garrison members. A thriving game of S'hang Stones is briefly interrupted by the arrival of your band, but only briefly. Emelda hands the proprietor a few coins and holds up two fingers and says, "Just for one night." All the soldiers go back to their game, no longer interested.
Emelda turns back to you and your companions. "I've gotten us two rooms for the night, " she says. "Wryss will stay with me and Sindri and Agni you've got the other. They're not exactly the most comfortable beds in the world but I can get a good rate and we won't have to worry about any trouble. There's still a good amount of time left in the evening. I need to pick up my axe- I left it to be repaired before heading north- and I need to talk to some former colleagues to hear where best to start looking. I suggest we split up, you all can take care of any errands you might need to and in a few hours come back to rest before an early start tomorrow." Sindri and Agni nod and head out immediately. You are slower on the uptake, since you weren't planning on any errands, and are just considering if you actually know how to play S'hang Stones when Emelda adds: "Wryss, I see that you've been traveling light. Do you need to get any components or implements before heading out tomorrow? Surely you can't be planning on just bringing a staff and a stone knife?"
It occurs to you that the presence of a strange elf shrouded in robes may be an impediment to any attempts to draw upon esprit de corps for information and she is trying to get rid of you for a little-while. A part of you is inclined to be contrary for the sake of it but you instead merely nod and depart for the evening streets. Maybe someone will try and waylay you as you go, wouldn't that be droll? The moon shines down upon you as you set out on your stroll, as you try and decide where exactly you plan to go, and what you're looking for.

(Pick one of each)

[ ] The outer ring, crowded and disorderly as it is. You might get attacked, and you might struggle to find anything of quality on the surface, but you might also be able to find smuggled goods and oddities in more lawless corners.
[ ] The inner ring, land of merchants and guild houses. Orderly, well patrolled, mundane- but reliably so.
[ ] The innermost ring, rich and exclusive. You're certain to be able to find high quality wares there, if you can find a place that will serve you.

[ ] You go looking for a place to acquire some sort of animal. Meeting Zeno has made you consider getting a familiar. You don't really need magical help, but many mages do. Improve your disguise and get a conversation partner- two birds one stone. Maybe you shouldn't use that saying if you get a bird.
[ ] The hunt begins for various components and ingredients. The sorts of things to make potions with or fuel a spell. People expect a mage to have pouches full of them. If someone tries to sell you dragon bones you probably won't laugh at or hurt them.
[ ] Tragically you currently don't have any claws meaning you'll need to find a good reliable weapon to supplement magecraft. You're sure you can find something, even if it definitely won't be as good as your claws.