The source of the voice does not reveal itself, its word continuing to boom out from somewhere within the tower.

To Garrin:

"You claim you are no assassin, but admit you once were?  We shall see.  Is it just happenstance that brings a heavily armed war party, a white were-tiger in tow, to my door?"

"Favric... yes the charming little supplicant.  They warned me of your presence here, not that I wasn't already aware of the comings and goings within my demesne.  Would it surprise you to learn he serves a cult that seeks to return the mother of dragons to the Prime Material and usher in the end of humanoid rule?  Would it surprise you further to know they suggested they could lure you to me under false pretenses, that I might slay you and claim your belongings for mine own?"

"Insolent.  To plot murder on my behalf, or to think I would need to resort to chicanery to claim what I wish.  I am Venomfang."

"They offered precious gems if I would only pledge myself to their cause.  Beautiful, they were indeed.  It would have been such a little thing to claim them.  To offer a lie and vow to join in their doomed little larp.  Yet such an oath would be sacred and not something a dragon can make idly.  Besides, I have already pledged to unseat my treacherous cousin, and one can only have so many plates in the air at one time.  And so I turned them down and sent them away, never to trouble me with their nonsense again."

To Keashirryl:

"Why would I stay here?  Tsk tsk tsk.  You lack an eye for real estate, hellspawn.  A tower on a hill, with views of the river and the vast expanse of the Neverwinter Wood; a population of pliable twig blights to serve me; enough ash zombies to keep most pesky disturbances at bay.   I will never forgive her for the affront, but I must admit, Cryovain has displaced me into a finer lair than I could have imagined."

"And indeed, I plan to repay the white wyrm in kind.  Once my injuries have healed and I am once again at full strength, I will have my sweet revenge."

To any/all:

"If you claim to have come here on your own and not in the employ of my foul cousin - dubious though that claim may be - what is it that brings you to me?  I am not some petty lord, waiting breathless anticipation to hear the petitions of my subjects.  I am Venomfang and I have greater concerns than entertaining the visits of tourists."

As if to add an exclamation point, a roar emanates from within the tower, shaking the stone and fluttering your hearts.  [While this lacks the true 'frightening presence' of an adult dragon, you nevertheless feel a tingle of dread and your hairs prick up on end at the thought of what could be making such a roar.  Any nascent ideas that this could be anything other than a dragon are dispelled.]

Droknin, you can't isolate the tracks of the cultists from the twisting trails of ash zombies, twig blights and spiders that mar the dirt and grass outside the tower.

With the roar, T'laren resists the impulse to summon Neral't behind a rock and swap places with him.

He raises an eyebrow at Garrin.

"Haa!! A Were-Tiger, that was a good one." It takes a few fractions of a second, but eventually it dawns on Droknin that his fur happens to be white. "Wait a minute... I will show her I am definitely not an affront to nature... She even has the gall to call me a Tiger!!" Droknin takes a step forward. "Hellspawn?? You dare insult My Lady!! Now that does it!!" He rolls up his sleeves, if he had one, and takes a couple more steps toward the tower. The roar that follows does not budge him.

Athletics: 18 (For anyone trying to stop a very miffed Leonin)

Does anyone try to stop Droknin from charging the tower?

Garrin does not stop Droknir, instead calling out. "Venomfang, we don't want a lord or a sacred bond! We came here looking for the goblin keep. For some mutual benefit, we might work to lay Cryovein low! He's clearly a stupid, unclever being with no nose for a bad deal. He's decided strength alone rules, and I ain't got time for that!" 

Neral't appears in front of Droknin, shaking his head.

"I didn't use to have the luxury to be picky about my accomodation, I admit," she laughs dryly, looking up where Venomfang might be, based on the voice. She takes note of the fact that the dragon is not only young, but wounded from its previous fight.

When Droknin charges forward, it takes her a few moments of bewilderment before she realises what it means. That the Leonin is sensitive to his troupe being called a bunch of freaks did not end well earlier. However welcome it is that someone is willing to raise their word in her sake, she still considers such a fight an attempt at suicide.

She steps closer, so that Droknin is within healing spell range.

"She can't tell a tiger from a lion and a Leonin from a werewolf. That isn't a reason to leave caution behind. I don't mind being called what I am; that gives us no reason to fight yet."

She says that to prevent Droknin from running into something brashly, but she takes no physical attempt to get in his way. She puts her trust in Garrin to negotiate with the dragon - provided she stays calm despite the threat.

Drokin, T'laren's echo has appeared before you, waving you off but not physically trying to stop you.  Likewise, Keashirryl has urged restraint.  Do you hold back?  If not, what do you do next?  There is nothing stopping you from approaching the tower if you wish.

Droknin was about to swat the silly simulacrum of T'laren away, but then it seems to him that the others prefer to reason with the insolent Dragon. A low growl comes from the Leonin. "Very well then." He keeps the sword at the ready. Just in case.

The dragons seems to have failed to notice or chosen to ignore Droknin's aggression for now.

"Goblin keep?  The only goblin here, you brought with you."  Indeed, Droop has reappeared, scratching here ears and staring up in wonder at the tower with the booming voice.

"Wasn't there an elvish parable, about hunters seeking goblins but finding a dragon instead?  I don't recall that it ended well for the elves."

"... Yet you flirt with my interest.  You would make common cause against my cousin?  Hmmn."

Atop the tower, a large shape climbs into sight.  Either the tower has no roof, or else an opening big enough for the dragon to get through.  Her scales are a deep forest green and her eyes sparkle like emeralds.  Her torso, roughly equivalent in size to an ox, is mounted above four surprisingly long legs.  Her wings, one of which is tucked tightly against her body as though injured, are a lighter shade of green than the rest of her.  At the end of her long neck, her head is adorned with a frilly crest that begins at her eyes and runs down the back of her skull.  She stands as if to let you admire her for a moment, then hunkers down at the edge of the tower roof, peering down.

"The idea is tempting.  Repay the favor by sending my own squad of goons against Cryonvain?  Its delicious."

"Yet... I still cannot trust your intentions.  How can I know you are not just telling me what I want to hear, to get close enough to me to strike?"

(how close are we to Venomfang?)

You've just reached the end of the path at the top of the hill.  Before you stands a round tower with a cottage attached. Both are in good condition, at least compared to the other structures in Thundertree.  A door leads into the cottage, and several arrow-slit windows are visible in the tower. A pungent, acrid smell hangs in the air.

The top of the tower, where Venomfang is perched, is 40' above the ground.  

[Your placement here is arbitrary by DM, other than Droknin out in front with Neral't in front of him.  If anyone wants to be somewhere else, just say so.]

"I enjoy my life and prefer to keep my distance from danger. But... I admit, I didn't think you'd look like... This. I'd heard of Claugiyliamatar, with powers and shape changing and... I think if that wing doesn't heal soon, you may never get to that strength. That changes things."

"I mean... Do you have anything you can... You know, offer us some piece of power? Or even a sign of your endorsement?"

Venomfang scoffs.  "Of course!  I have much in my horde that I could... lend... which would show you were agents operating on my behalf.  Weapons, even, that would strike fear into my treacherous kin."

"But that does not address the hollyphant in the room... how do I know you are trustworthy?  How do I know you are strong enough to make a difference in my conflict?"

Venomfang pokes a claw at her chin, as if thinking deeply.

"I've got it.  You say you are hunting for some 'goblin keep?'  Good.  Find it.  Complete your quest, and bring me something for my hoard from whatever pile of ill-gotten loot the wretches have assembled.  It will likely need thorough disinfecting, but that is not the point.  Prove to me that you are worthy to be my champions, and I will bestow upon you weapons fit for challenging my white cousin."

Droknin is a simple Leonin that takes things by their face value. He eases his stance, and looks at his companions for which direction they want to go. Proving his worthiness is all that he needed to hear.

"Thank you for your... consideration.", T'laren says dourly.

(sorry, I never saw a notification for the Venomfang response)

Garrin nods and bows. "That's a fine deal. I'm glad you see the mutual benefit."

"A reasonable idea indeed. Although, giving us directions would make our job a good deal easier. If you'd be so condescending..." Keashirryl adds, happy that the tension eased somewhat.

"Excellent," the young green wyrm replies when Garrin accepts her proposal.  She turns and climbs back inside her tower, scoffing at Keashirryl.  "I don't know where these goblins of yours are hiding.  Prove you're capable and go find them.  If you cannot track down a pack of stinking goblins without hand holding, then sending you against Cryovain would only net me humiliation."

"Have you asked your meddlesome druid friend?  He seems to have his nose up everyone's business in these parts.  Perhaps he can shove you in the proper direction."

And with that the dragon falls silent once more.

Garrin nods and will gesture to the others to follow back to Reidoth's place.