The coming war

Lady Bloodfall, the master of the Northern Disaster Fort, the powerful Legendary Green Dragon, the owner of the land and sky under her feet. At the same time, she was also the mother of Stande Road.

As for this druid who communicates through trees, called himself "Rotten Oak." No one knew what race he was from, but he was the manager and messenger of the Bloodfall lady. Whether it was his influence in the territory or his hidden individual power, Stendru had no choice but to fear.

The young green dragon shuddered inwardly and put away his hostility.

"My mother? Er, then, does she know about my ... er ... know about my joke?"

Rotten Oak spoke slowly, "Your jokes are fatal to these hardworking slaves."

Stendru flicks her tail back and forth uneasily.

"She's angry?"

The old druid didn't say anything, but Stendru wondered if he was rolling his eyes.

Suddenly, the green dragon had a thought, "Hey, did you betray me to the dwarves so they knew I would go hunting today?"

The rotten oak did not answer. He stretched out the branches and leaves of the red fir to point at Dunbuck's chest. Several meaty little bugs crawled out from the tips of the branches and burrowed under the skin, their sharp mouthparts piercing through the flesh, moving under the surface. The green dragon looked at his healing method with disgust, but soon enough, Dumbak's swollen joints softened, and he struggled to get up.

"It's been a while since I've seen her this angry, young master, and I believe that with each second you delay, her anger will increase," said the old druid.

"Okay, okay, I'm heading back to the Fortress of Disaster."

The old druid said to the dwarf, "As for you, Dunbuck, go back and calm the miners first, and make sure that tomorrow's mining goes on as usual."

Dunbuck muttered, "Appeasement my ass, they can't wait for me to die, they don't know how happy this will be."

He bowed towards the old tree, "Thank you, Master Rotten Oak."

Stendru was spreading his wings. When he heard this, he deliberately coughed, which scared the dwarf into shivering.

Dumbak turned and bowed in a hurry, "Young Master Stendru, you have a good day."

The triangular tips of the green dragon's wings each possessed a hooked talon, allowing him to use both claws and wings, deftly climbing to the treetop and taking flight from the branches.

He silently kept an account for the druids in his heart,

"Disgusting old tree fork, sooner or later I'll burn you in a fire."

He flew over the foot of the mountain, where the tavern that only opened at night was located. The scent of smoked meat and mushroom soup wafted into his nostrils along with the smoke column.

The Grey Dwarves at the window raised their glasses to the Green Dragon, knowing that the "hunt" was over at the foot of the mountain, The green dragon dared not disturb the settlement area; every piece of wood and nail here belonged to Lady Bloodfall.

Stendru snorted when he saw this, flying higher and higher until he touched the clouds. With extreme vision, everything was under him, and he was in the air with unlimited vision. The wind whistled and was ruthlessly torn apart by the dragon's wings.

He flew with great enjoyment, tucking his wings and using his body as the axis to spiral through the clouds. The mist in the clouds swayed with his movements. When gravity pulled him down, he forcefully spread his wings, feeling the muffled sound produced by the air, as if it were the earth sighing helplessly in the face of a dragon.

He flew over four veins of mines, over woodlands and hunting grounds, over a motley colony of dog-heads, and finally came upon Fort Calamity halfway up a mountain peak.

The Fortress of Disaster had been built by three thousand grey dwarves who had hollowed out the peak, and the outer bastion of the entrance was built up with towering citadels and sentry towers, the bastion was strewn with skyward facing dragon-rejecting spikes, and twenty large crossbows lined up in firing holes within the walls.

These were not for defense against the humanoid alliances to the east and south, the mountains and the cold were enough to hold them off, they were for the challenge of their own kind. But they hadn't been used since the two white dragon clans of the northern mountains, fifteen young and adult white dragons, had joined together to plot against the territory of the Lady of the Blood Falls, and then hung forever from the spikes in the outer walls of the fortress.

The Dragonborn soldiers at the sentry tower see Stendru's figure and blow their horns. As Stendru landed on the massive platform that stretched outward, the fortress's steel gates slowly opened just in time.

Considering the size of the dragon, the passages inside the fortress were exaggeratedly wide. The brazier was hung every hundred feet, but none of them were lit, because the slaves under the rule were mainly gray dwarves, dragonborn, kobolds, etc. They all had the ability to see at night.

Stendru strolled through the passageways, occasionally encountering strange Dragonborn servants who bowed in reverence.

Lady Bloodfall trusted the rule of the bloodline more than anything else, and so did not object to, or even encourage, her children to pamper their minions - be they dwarves, dog-heads, or goblins - and in this way created many odd-looking, thick-set half-dragon descendants to fill out her close-guard.

Green Dragon was thinking about how his brothers and sisters had adapted to the appearance of the humanoid race. This aesthetic was simply degenerate. Those gadgets did not even grow scales and were ugly to death.

As he neared the main reception hall, a figure walked toward him, causing him to dismiss his previous thoughts.

"Aesia," the green dragon softly called out.