“So, the legend is true… and I guess everyone of house Ealoeth isn’t a lair and villain after all,” Darcassan sniped as Syn and Torryn finished recounting their encounter with the nymph, Fairese, leaving out several of the more salacious details. They’d returned to Reitheillaethor to find the sun elf lordling had hired two local men, mercenaries that Torryn knew by reputation, which were questionable at best, and obtained the supplies they’d need, all under Ytharra’s watchful scrutiny, which had him chaffed and irritated. “Well perhaps you’re not all liars… but nothing’s refuted the villain part yet and there’s still no proof that your house’s sword of scion is in Sy’Arrn’s lair.” Syn snapped back, using the name Fairese had given the silver dragon, and was still not willing to trust him, but now she had her own reason for pursuing his quest. “Regardless, we will proceed,” he stated more than asked. He knew that house Ealoeth’s dormant moonblade was not there, it was safely stowed in the vault beneath their mansion in Everlund. It was nothing more than an excuse for this quest, which was in itself just a rues to get close enough to seduce her and, with the aid of a magical fertility potion, plant his child in her womb. All as an elaborate, and in his opinion ill conceived, scheme for house Ealoeth to acquire house Mistrivvin’s active moonblade. “We will,” Torryn confirmed with clear reservations, “and our excursion bore unexpected fruit... we now know how to find Sy’Arrn’s lair.” “What!?!” Darcassan and Ytharra barked in unison, likely the first time they’d ever been in consort. “Fairese not only knew witnesses to the battle between the dragons who saw it with their own eyes, but she was quite familiar with her… and the location of her lair. Which she shared with us,” Torryn revealed. The nymph had spent more than a few nights with the silver dragon and informed them that if they followed the Heartblood river to the Star Mount’s foothills and kept a particular peak centered between two others they’d find the barren, scorched area in the foothills caused by the red dragons before they died at the bottom of a sheer cliff face. Sy’Arrn’s lair was a cave off a small terrace near the top of that cliff, just below one of the mysterious crystal tower-like spires that gave the mountain range its name. “So, where is it?” the sun elven rogue demanded. As a son of the richest and most policiary powerful elven house in all of Everlund he was still used to having people obey when he issued an order, but he was learning quickly that the denizens of this dreadful forest didn’t feel obliged to follow anyone’s commands, especially this particular wood elven huntsman; who was quickly becoming an impediment to his true mission… and would have to be dealt with… but tactfully. “I’ll guide you there… but I’m not about to invite you to cut our throats so you can make off with her hoard,” Torryn scoffed. Syn knew what he did, but she lacked the woodscraft to find the lair on her own. He’d entrust Ytharra with the instructions, but only when neither Darcassan nor his hired mercenaries could overhear. That way if something unfortunate befell him, the lythari druidess could step in and guide Syn there, if they chose to continue. But he didn’t trust the Ealoethian lord as far as he could throw a dragon… silver or otherwise!