Generations/Bring a Gift of Magic

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While the dragon in you rages against the very thought of it, the gift of a magical artifact would open the channels of diplomacy quite nicely. You fly back to your cave, and begin searching through your horde. Cinder was not exactly organized. His horde is small by dragon standards, but you finally manage to find an item of worth. You recognize the sword as soon as you see it. Svaltgrel, a dwarven blade forged from mithril. Its name means Orc Bane. It isn't the best known blade of all time, but it is a well crafted magical sword of some notoriety. A dwarf would appreciate it more . . . but one must make due with what one has.

You grab the blade in your claw, and make to leave. Something then occurs to you . . . the townsfolk know you will be gone; leaving your horde unprotected. You grumble to yourself, then spend the remainder of the night hiding your horde throughout the mountain. Finally done, you set off for the castle in the morning.

It is a longer flight, allowing you to enjoy the sensation more than your first flight. You soar high over the land, observing the fields and forest from a birds-eye view. It is relaxing, and helps to ease your spirit; a great boon for the upcoming negotiations. You come into sight of the castle; and make a few passes to evaluate the situation.

The queen appears to have set up a location of your parlay on the top of one of the towers. The balista located on the other towers doesn't go unnoticed as you choose your perch. Obviously the queen was no fool. In all likelihood the rest of the royal family was well on their way to another city at the moment.

You fly down and perch on the edge of the battlements; startling the guard that stand there so greatly that he nearly falls from the tower. You settle into position, observing the table and chairs that the queen has laid out for your meeting. You turn to the guard once he has regained his footing.

"Tell your liege that Rsskaskekaltkylzh Vrrkrzhkchultekk, The Ember that Cools in the Shallow Water, the dragon Cinder, awaits her convenience." The man stumbles over himself as he makes for the stairs, nearly falling down them. "The fool's fear is going to kill him one day," you find yourself saying out loud. Then you wait.

She seems to instantly appear at the stairs with an entourage of guards and advisors. You know it must have taken some time for her to arrive, but you are having difficulty ascertaining how much time. Unlike the baroness, the queen has a wall of soldier between herself and you. With no aggressive move from you, they all take their place at and around the table. You wait for them to settle in, but do not wait for the queen to address you first. That would be admitting her superiority; something you are not willing to do at this juncture.

"A gift," you say, holding forth the sword, "to show my good will. The blade Svaltgrel, the Orc Bane. Crafted by the dwarves over five thousand years ago. Wielded by the dwarf King Bruntor the Bloody in the twelfth dwarven-orcish war. It has seen the blood of a thousand orcs on its edge. Now it is yours, with my blessing."

A guard approaches cautiously, but not with the paralyzing fear that seemed to take hold of the first guard. He holds out his hands, and you drop the ancient sword into his waiting grasp. He brings it back to his queen, and she motions to the elderly man beside her, likely the court wizard. He takes the blade from the guard and examines it, removing it from its scabbard and scrutinizing the blade. After a short time, he re-sheaths the blade and whispers to his queen, "It is indeed that blade, my liege. A great boon to the kingdom." You are careful to give no indication that you can easily hear their whispers as not to give away an advantage.

"We thank you, great Cinder," says the queen, "for your offering of peace and good will. We will hear your proposal, if you would speak it."

The next move is yours. What you offer in the negotiations is obvious, but what they will give for your services needs to be established.


What are your terms?


Chosen - Generation: One
Time Passed: {{{Time}}} 		Abilities Equipment Mate(s) Children
Name Cinder Divine Spark, Armored Skin, Claws, Dragon Gold, Dragon Sleep, Enhanced Hearing, Enhanced Sight, Enhanced Smell, Flame Breath, Horns, Immune to Flame, Infrasonic Hearing, Infravision, Sharp Teeth, Ultrasonic Hearing, Weaponized Tail, Winged Flight Nothing None None
Age 506y 7m 20d
Gender Male
Race Heraldic Dragon
Social Class Monster
Attributes
Body Extreme (10)
Mind Superior (9)
Spirit Superior (9)
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