I introduce myself as a travelling warrior looking to join their crew

You step forward, planting your battleaxe into the dirt with a heavy thud to punctuate your presence. The trio’s eyes are on you, and you let your deep, resonant voice roll out with a mix of confidence and charm. “I’m Dracarion, a dragonborn warrior wandering these lands. I reckon I was drawn to this dusty pit for the same reason as you lot—the relic in Kazgul’s Hold. Seems to me we might make a fine team, if you’re looking for someone who can swing an axe and take a hit.”

Lirien’s smirk widens, and she plucks a few notes on her lute, the melody light and teasing. “Dracarion, huh? Big name for a big man. I like the sound of that. We could use some muscle—Korvax here’s strong, but he’s not exactly graceful.” She winks at the orc, who snorts and keeps sharpening his dagger, though his lips twitch in what might be a grudging smile.

Korvax looks you up and down, his voice a low rumble. “You look like you can fight. That’s good. Last bastard who joined us couldn’t swing a stick without tripping over his own feet. Died quick in a goblin ambush. You better not be clumsy.”

Your gaze shifts to Sylvara, and as your golden eyes lock with her amber ones, a jolt runs through you—a flicker of something primal and familiar, her tail gives a subtle twitch. Could she sense the dragon beneath your cursed form? The thought stirs your blood, and the ever-present heat of your curse flares, tugging at your restraint. She tilts her head slightly, her voice smooth and laced with curiosity. “A warrior with a purpose. Interesting. What’s your stake in this relic, Dracarion? Gold, glory, or something… deeper?”

The air between you crackles faintly, though the others don’t seem to notice. Lirien hops down from the crate she’d been perched on, circling you like a cat sizing up its prey. “He’s got a tail, too. Bet that comes in handy. So, Dracarion, you in? We’re heading out at dawn—ruins are a two-day trek, and the road’s crawling with trouble.”