Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-7262318-20190224002438/@comment-5543592-20190225051600

"It means the dragon we've been hunting is somewhere else around here." Lurio said, turning his eyes to the sky. "Out of sight."

"Which makes the difference between them big." Nogugh complained. "That isn't the dragon we're stalking.  The one that was spotted at Dragon Bridge is most likely sitting up in its cave on a pile of jewels.  What bloody use is it to us?"

"That dragon is fucking golden." Yaden said. "Have you ever seen anything like it?  Do you understand?  We'll get more for its hide than we would for a normal treasure hoard."

"Your agreement is still binding." Svieva said neutrally. "Yaden's right.  Quite something to divide up, isn't it?"

"Hey, Yaden?" Gnuka shouted over from the their horses. The Orcs had dismounted and walked over. "What shall we use?  What'd a golden dragon spit?  Fire, for one.  Maybe Steam?  Acid?

"Haven't got a fucking clue." Yaden said, sounding worried. "Hey, Greybeard.  Anything in your 'Way of the Voice' say something about golden dragons, how to kill 'em?"

"How do you kill them?!" Ratid raised his voice, annoyed by the talk and lack of dragon slaying. "The usual way!"

"Adalmor, make yourself useful.  Call to mind some stories for us.  What do you know about golden dragons?"

The Greybeard smiled, straightening up. "What do I know about golden dragons?  Not much, but enough."

Yaden grinned indulgently. "We're listening."

"Then listen and listen well.  Over there, before us, sits a golden dragon.  A living legend, possibly the last and only creature of its kind to survive your murderous frenzy.  The very avatar, the phyiscal embodient of the dragon god of Time, Akatosh.  One does not kill legends.  I, for one, will not allow you to touch it.  Is that understood?  You can get packed, fasten your saddlebags, and go home."

Svieva smirked, doubting that was going to be taken well.

"Noble Greybeard." Lurio's voice broke the silence. "Pay attention to whom you speak.  King Ratib al Zi may order you, Adalmor, a monk, to fasten your saddlebags and go to hell.  But not the other way around.  Is that clear?"

"No," Adalmor said calmly, "it is not.  A Master of the Way of the Thu'um will not be ordered around by someone whose kingdom encompasses a barren desert, the borders of which are visible from the height of the decript tower he calls a castle." Adalmor swung down from his horse and walked out in front of them. "Do you know, Lurio, if I were to speak a word, you would be reduced to dust, and your whelp of a king something unquestionably worse.  Is that clear?"