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[right][hr][color=gray][b]Tir Afondael, The Kingdom of Môrogoed[/b]
Western Approach
[sub][u]Eꜰꜰᴇᴄᴛɪɴɢ:[/u] [@rush99999][/sub][/color][hr][/right]
[indent]“You said kobolds? In the Viridian Sea? Are you certain?”

“I saw them with my very own eyes. They are coming down the mountain on raft and foot. The old dragon is hungry.”

Cynfor Braenaru was not thrilled with the news that the Saethydd operative had given him, though it was news he needed to hear. His eyes were narrowed and his lips pursed as he stood atop his post on a large tree branch that overlooked the citadel of Tir Afondael. Cynfor had served as the vanguard of the western reaches for three centuries now and in that entire time he had not recalled an issue with the kobold coming to a heading. It was foreboding news, but it could have been much worse.

“We should parley with them. Give the dragon a fair tribute so they will not scorch our lands. Though I worry that my skill with the draconic language is lacking. But we have to act immediately whether it is with basket or arrow.” Cynfor responded, pushing his hand to his lips to contemplate the best course of action.

“Do you think they will respond to tribute favorably?”

“They have in the past, though that was before we were a glimmer in our father’s eye. I’d have to consult with the records, though if memory serves there is a fire we can set to an old pyre at the fork of the river that will cause them to consider and not cause issue. To not raid. The King has tasked us with not waging war.”

Cynfor’s thoughts went to the current Tywysog of all of Môrogoed, what the humans called the “elven high king”. He had met with and discussed military matters with King Caradoc Taranau on multiple occasions and none of them had been negative, though sometimes he thought his lordship to be too enamored with dancing with words like an arrow danced in the air. If these issues were not handled appropriately he would need to send message of his inability to solve a principal issue and his honor would be stained for forty moons. And Cynfor did not wish for so many cycles to be tainted by indecisions and over-caution. 

“Come, we don’t have much time. Kobold are not known to ask when they are told to fetch things for the old wise one.”

The ranger nodded, “How far is the pyre?”

Cynfor’s people called the old pyre, a designated clearing made of ‘dragonstone’ and ‘ironwood’ in what used to be an ancient watchtower, as the ruin known as Wal Ddraig. In a lot of ways it was a place that the human dual word of “holy site” described it well. It was sacred ground for not only the Deggwerin but also to some degree the Kobolds. A great battle had happened there once. A significant one that spoke of a different time. A time that Cynfor did not wish to see again.

“A fair journey west. At the mouth of the great river. Once we get there we light the pyre with dragon’s fire and wait.”[/indent]