Fianna sighs dramatically and rolls her eyes but then throws her arms up wide and says “Fine, fine, fine...”

     Turning on her heel, Fianna starts heading back towards the illusionary tour guide.  “I’ll talk to the worm.  See what it wants to offer in this deal, and make some less profane counter suggestions than I’d like and buy you all some time to...  explore.”

     Fianna maintains her Eldritch Sight to keep detecting magic but more or less follows the guide.  She does walk a bit slowly, both to give her teammates more time put also being deliberate in poking the ground with her staff as she walks, trying to make sure the floor is real and such.

Russel heads down the ignored passage as quietly and carefully as he can manage. Mainly curious what lies in that direction more than anything. 

Mirica went back too, not sure yet how to proceed. The best offer from the dragon so far was "not to hunt down everyone for a decade or two". That was not much of an offer, the battle seemed inevitable. "Can you call back FiFinella and ask to check that northern pass while we... you are talking with Viridian Cloud?"

Nuzej stays within sight of Fianna, providing support. He whispers to her that if she encounters something suspicious, to let him know and he can try dispelling it. It's not an unlimited resource, but he will trust her judgement, and her eldritch sight.

Fianna might not have Bless on her, but she sure gets Guidance

     “It’d take more time than I suspect the dragon would give us,” Fianna answers as she heads off. ((Casting time is 1 hour, plus the ritual time...))

     A few steps on, Fianna whispers a reply to Nuzej. “It’s all suspicious.  It’s all but blanketed in illusions and such. I wouldn’t know where to begin...”

Toc thinks to Nuzej, "With the project image, and the illusions, it's clear she has a pretty powerful wizard around here. He's your job. Chen, I'm with you...I'll make sure you get to where you need to get to and nothing stops that big hammer of yours from smashing dragon skull. I'll try to chip in too."  As silent as a ghost Toc sneaks into a spot where he can see Fianna, but is out of site of the dragon. 

Chen and Mirica are near to Fianna, while Nuzej and Toc hang back, trying to stay a bit hidden.   Meanwhile, the silent Kenku slips northwards down the side passage. The cave winds slowly upwards, both up and away from the lower caves. At some point he comes upon what looks like a small drow village. Buildings carved from the very rock forming small living spaces. There are a few drow around, perhaps a dozen. How much further do you go?  How many FEET / rounds of running do you want to be from combat? 

Fianna meanwhile, tapping the floor and taking her sweet time heads up to the top of the cliff face overlooking the room.  The floor indeed seems to be real enough as she emerges into the main cave. From here she has a good view of the huge vortex. The water isn't moving ridiculously fast.....just a steady churn. A river rushes down from a cave on the right side into the river...seemingly providing water at the same rate as the lake is draining.  Further the sound of water rushing and a waterfall can be heard in that direction. The main cave narrows slowly on the far side and winds away into a large cave passage. To her right, what looks like it was once an stone bridge, narrow and arching carved in the elven style once spanned the river to the far side, but the bridge looks to have collapsed.  

The entire cave is covered in webs....all of them sparkling with moisture, the webs dripping with condensation. They sheath the walls, ceiling, and much of the floor.  Crawling across the webs on the walls and ceiling are dozens of ettercaps, their black smooth bodies slowly moving about the web, water sprinkling down from where they move. 

On the far side, crouches the dragon. Larger than any dragon Fianna has encountered, the ancient and infamous Verdant Cloud. A dragon hunted by Cormyr, Sembia, and the elven nation of Myth Drannor for hundreds of years, perched here in a cave likely beneath the very ruins of the elven city. The huge lizards eyes are filled with fierce intelligence...Fianna, even with the hero's feast feeding her bravery quails inside a bit at the unblinking stare of the scaled mother. It speaks, a rumbling throaty sound that comes out with just enough pitch to know she's female. Her deep voice reaches through the roaring of the water easily. 

"You've summoned the bravery to face me. It looked perhaps for a moment like you would flee. I am glad you discovered the fortitude within yourself to talk."  She looks past Fianna, catching a glimpse of Chen.  Her tails whips back and forth suddenly, coins and a collection of treasure getting thrown about with a staccato of metallic ringing.  "And be glad I've discovered great abstemiousness myself."  A throaty growl seems to gurgle its way through her body. Her eyes return to focus on Fianna, "Is the Baelnorn destroyed?" 

(The Ettercaps that appear to be in the water, are hanging from the ceiling on this map.)

     "Greetings great and most awe inspiring one!" Fianna says to start, floundering a bit, looking for appropriately flattering, delaying and not obviously sarcastic words.  "It is truly humbling and intimidating to be in your presence..."

     "Forgive me if, as you say, it appeared as if I may flee.  In truth, it was a close call.  I had no intention to be rude, I assure you.  It would be folly and idiocy to be rude to such power and wisdom as you embody. Surely.  No, no... I had not a rude intention.  It was mere self preservation that crossed my mind.  My kind have scant few years in this reality and you cannot blame me for guarding them and holding them precious.  Surely one such as I walking brazenly up to one such as you is not good for my kind's life span..." Fianna continued.  

     "I thank you indeed for your self sacrifice in being willing to put up with me and my... at times...  temperamental ways.  I do beg your indulgence, I fear it is the Fey influence upon me.  The great powers and abilities they have imbibed within me, well not great compared to your own of course, but I am afraid they've also infused me with a bit of their temperament as well...  So please, I beg of thee, do not judge me too quickly or unkindly.  I tried to shake off their yolk, to not be quite as fanciful and flighty, but the influence is powerful..."

     "But silly me, here I am prattling on and on and on in the presence of your awesomeness and not letting you get a word in edgewise.  You were so kind and so gracious as to extend an invitation, and here I am partaking of your hospitality...  Surely it is time now for me to still my words and open my ears and give you the fawning, attentive audience that you deserve...  So pray do tell, how could I be of service to you?"

     Fianna was, truthfully, a bit nervous at first...  But after she got rolling a bit the words came more naturally.  The flattery, the proper tone of voice and subtle expressions to try to calm and placate returned to her and she put on the best performance she could...  Hopefully it bought her companions some time to move stealthily into what they felt were the ideal positions.

Fianna speechifying roll: 12

plus 1

Verdant Cloud insight : 24

The ancient dragon is indeed mighty to behold, despite her obvious age, her body is bound with rippling muscle, her tail slithers back and forth as Fianna speaks. Fianna thinks she sees a half-blink of 'pleased' cross the creatures visage..though a waspish glimmer seems to settle behind her eyes as well. A simmering anger, "Your mix of truth.....  and lies.....platitudes and sarcasm suits you Fey thing. The march of time, of the things that seek to bend me to their will....to affront me, to do my bidding....they lie behind me....like so much detritus upon the shore. At some point...one seeks only simplicity....a life without so much interference by those that strive to bend the world to their will. For a time I was pleased with my lot. I had those that worshipped me, that I took beneath my wing, a dominion of my own. The Dragon cult's meddling, the Dragon rage took me, destroying it all."  She pauses....glancing up at you, "I'm sure you care nothing for these words, and yet....we are here, and so you shall listen. For...in the words, behind them, in the shadow of their meaning you may yet find something important to you. Why do I tell you this?  To try and make you understand. Perhaps you shall not. Perhaps we shall test our mettle yet today. You fought the Baelnorn...the ancient elven liche and won...this does not impress me. It's just as likely his ignorance of the toy he played with left him so vulnerable, more than he could comprehend. His master understood.  His master was done with him though. Did not deem to enlighten him. Did you know, Baelnorn are Lich? Killing it would do little on most days. They attach themselves to their Mythal like a Lich ties themselves to their phalactery. Simply returning in time, the source of their unending existence building them up once again. He did not know I bet. Neither do you even, of what you've done. That Mythallar, the abomination of an age long past. My mother taught me all about them, their FOLLY.  They sparkle about the world, threatening our doom....all of us....waiting for the day they are awoken. A lesson you should heed above any other concern you have. Even me. Does your Fey wisper to you?"  She stops speaking and sighs, resettling herself once more. 

"Do you wish to continue your tact now?  Continue to try and provoke me, offend until you or I break the binding of these words?  If we shall battle....I deem to waste no more effort upon your understanding. If so, try your best. Know only...all others have failed....always and forever. Their bones are dust, as shall yours be."   

She settles onto her pile of treasure....a guttering breath rippling through her massive form...intelligence sparkling in her eyes, that were bright with intent...an intent that Fianna struggled to understand.

((Well honestly, I'd have had to have rolled like a nat 20 to really have deceived or persuaded her.  All Fianna was really going for was to keep her attention and to open up the conversation... Which surely is exactly what the dragon would have expected.))

Russel reaches out to Fianna telepathically, “There’s about a dozen drow in the north passage. This doesn’t seem the right time or place to start a fight. Please don’t anger Verdant cloud.” 

He then starts heading back the way he came until he is able to see Fianna but hopefully have cover between himself and the dragon. 

The dragon was, of course, both awe-inspiring, terrifying and beautiful in the same time, Mirica would be the first one to admit all that (she also quite liked the green color and Verdant Cloud fully deserved her name). But the old dragon also was a spider, slowly choking this small but dear to Mirica side of the world, a tyrannical menace, and a simple bandit as well - for all her magnificence.

Mirica sent her thoughts to Fianna and everyone in their telepathic bond. "You think you can goad her into the fight she against us? Without her minions? May be even outside? If all, what is left from others are the bones, she might want to prove the point. She also did not say yet what she is offering. And if she knows something about Mythallar, let her share? Especially the part about why her master wants it so much."

Nuzej sends telepathically to Fianna and the group: "Well done. Keep at it. We learn information, even if sculpted. We have your back. Stay close in case we need to teleport out."

Chen cares not for ancient lore and veiled warnings, especially from one so evil and ruthless. In fact he isn't even listening to the words, although his anger builds with every passing second that he hears the dragon's voice. As the conversation progresses Chen slowly draws up level with Mirica and then edges further and further forward, keeping to the northern edge of the entrance, gripping his hammer tightly, taking in the details of the cave and the location of the ettercaps, but otherwise keeping his gaze fixed on the object of his vengeance - at long last within his sight but not yet within his reach...

     Telepathically, Fianna says: “I will talk as long as she allows.  I doubt I could get her to leave the lair though... and if so, I doubt far from it.  I suspect we fight here or aim to fight a different day...”

     Aloud, she speaks to the dragon...

     “I have intended no affront.  If I chose my words poorly, or did not seem sincere, it is unintentional.  I will admit, I was taken aback by your emissary appearing where we had set up temporary house, is not everyone a bit ill tempered when visitors walk right in without so much as a knock upon the door?  But since we have spoken here, face to face, I have intended no insult or barb, I am here to talk...”

     “And talking is the only tact I wish to continue.  Am I geared for battle?  I would be a fool to walk into your lair with no thoughts of self preservation, wouldn’t I?  But I can honestly tell you that it is my sincerest belief the likeliest way to preserve my self is to not battle with you here on this day.  You are undoubtedly stronger, more powerful and wiser than me, or my friends.  I have no wish to test that.., I much prefer to do battle with words and ideas.  I’d rather draw a compromise than blood.  Specially my own...”

     “You ask if my Fey whisper to me, I ask if the Baelborn’s master is yours as well...  The Archfey who empowers me...  we do not... interact as much as we once did, I fear.  Once we played and laughed and had great fun with one another.  Now the most I can hope for, beyond the small powers and favors she grants, is the occasional... dream? Hint? Gossamer gossip?  Her intentions and directions are like so much mist and smoke - there and obvious but intangible and impossible to grasp.  How is it with this master you spoke of?  Do you plan together? Are the objectives clear?”

     During the talk, Fianna glances about to find a large rock which she may comfortably lean or sit upon.  Without breaking the rhythm and flow of the words, she gestures her intention to the great dragon to ask permission before making herself more comfortable.

     “As for the Mythallar, I freely admit it has me dumbfounded.  It’s properties, it’s used, it’s role is the tears of magic, the chaos globules floating around... I’d be humbled to learn whatever you would be willing to share with me...  One would think my Fey Patron would share some insight to help me in this area but.. have I mentioned how fickle and self serving they can be?”

Verdant Cloud's eyes dart from Fianna who is settling into a seat on a rock, over to Chen. the large dragonborn with glittering gold skin who slowly makes his way forward....deadly thoughts just behind his eyes.  Then she focus' back on Fianna, "It matters not to me if you stall or speak truth. I care not. Jocky all you wish. I shall gift you some small part of my knowledge. Though do not flatter yourself that I do this for any other reason than my own. That in itself should speak volumes to you. Understand, you killed my child. The murderer is there, slinking in the shadows behind you. He murdered mine. I murdered his. Round and round the world goes. And yet I do not outright destroy the lot of you. Think then...why? Let that thought stumble through your brain for a moment. What could motivate a mother to not seek vengeance for a child. Maybe you are not yet a mother, do not yet understand. There are few reasons....very few. Do I care not for my spawn, or do I not hold you ultimately responsible. You could look for nuance between the black and white, but ultimately you must lean one way or the other. Are you keeping up? Who could I possibly hold responsible then? I will pause a moment while you consider."  Another throaty grumble moves through her, followed by a long hissing sigh as she waits a few moments, "The presupposition, it really does sit at the feet of fault for all conflict. You think Larloch my master. Interesting. Older, yes. More powerful....with his armies of Lich across the land doing his bidding...undoubtedly. If this equates mastery, then I suppose I shall remain the devil in your eye.  The devil in the eye of that gold dragonborn. It does not matter. At all.  So then. This presupposition challenged, does it leave you wondering....who might I blame my childs death upon?"  She lets out an exasperated huff, "Dammit creatures...throw your lives at my feet if you wish, but the truth is I need you. And you need me. I've told you all the pieces of the puzzle, and still he glares with intent like a mindless animal. Will a demonstration of my might make you reconsider, is that what you require? More cow'ing for your minds to start to work?"  She stands up tall, her neck snaking high, her chest puffing out, her scales rippling across her body, her wings expanding, and you realize how much larger she is than her son..... her neck craning nearly forty feet above the floor, the tip of her tail easily another sixty feet from her head, as it lashes about the rocky cave floor.  Behind her, in the tunnel, you see there....other dark forms lurking in the shadows....large....scaled bodies...a green ....and a blue body....two more dragons crouch in the shadows behind her.....  

She hisses through her teeth that are clenched in a terrible visage, "Make your decision. Bring your allies forth, let us speak plain, or let me grind your bones to dust, it is time for you to decide. No more stalling." 

Toc, who has been fairly quiet throughout the exchange mutters through your minds, "Something else is going on here. The torn threads, Larloch, the Baelnorn. Her role in all of this. But I can not yet see the pattern."

"I can," Mirica sounded spiteful even in thoughts but at least she was talking. "Where did your "benevolent liches" got the idea that being undead is a good thing? Who told them that? Who taught them? Could that be Larloch himself to get the hold of your precious Mythallars?" She did not really knew, of course, but the growing amount of undead per square meter was getting on her nerve. "If she wants to see us - I can indulge. We need to keep together if we want to escape anyway." Mirica stepped forward close to Chen. She did not talk but her face expression was not one of cheerful greetings.

In her mind Toc responds cooly, "Mirica, this is not really the time for this discussion, but Mythallars are human creations, made long ago....they are not elven. In fact, Larloch, a human, likely had a hand in making them if he is indeed so old. I may learn more once I read the Baelnorn's books."