Blackfog mountain-Dragon Lair

Growing fatter the wrigglers shed their skin. They had consumed much of the noise and began splashing again. Trogdor woke to feed his babies. Pausing his droning he ripped the head off of a few bears and munched them raw while their blood drained into the pool. Before dozing once more he bellowed a command.

Fueryoni di wer svant, dout saurivic re jaka sini. Gethrisj forth vur spread sia jillepse.

The birds perched outside burst away from the cave to spread themselves across the land.

The pupas hatch. Slightly large black mosquitos crawl onto the surface of the blood pool. As their exoskeletons slowly harden Trogdor awakens. Viewing his dark spawn the dragon ceases his incantation. The summoned insects coat Trogdor making the red dragon appear black. Animals fill the cave and spill out upon the mountain standing or sitting in a hypnotic trance.

“Burn, kill, suffer.” An evil growl. Then he starts intoning in draconic once more.

Vutha gul spreads mrith vi xtirl. Harkaj nishka glom wer sepa.
Brengulch, ihk wux re xinor vur sweekmon ve ihk vers.

Black fog seeps from his mouth once more. This time it passes through the pool of blood before descending into the valley where the cloud grows ever larger. The mosquitos extend their proboscis into the enchanted blood and begin to drink hungrily. Trogdor snacks on a stag then returns to his near omnipresent dream. Words and smoke continue to stream from his maw.

buzzez around, looking for someone or something to infect

The Metaphysical signature may or may not have tracked by Fenris, but one did not need to be an experienced tracker, much less have access to the sensory capabilities Fenris had to follow the trail.  Mosquitoes, sky-carp, and probably more than a large amount of Carrion birds to the source. Black-Fog Mountain was what the locals apparently called it.

He had two options here, come directly, or use stealth. He chose the latter option, and a fair distance away from the Mountain he changed forms. A dark substance left his pores, and cocooned him clothes and all, his form rippling like water, shrinking in some places, elongating in others, as limbs contorted. Within less than a moment a rather large Wolf was standing in his place. Its pelt a mixture of obsidian and silver, but looking relatively mundane save for the fact the fur would be unnaturally thick and dense, forming layers over layers as the outer layer was deceptively sharpened, the Lupine like creature wearing a pelt of knives.

He also took the time to camouflage his signature to that of a mundane Wolf, adapting his physiology along with the presence that most might try to glean. He made his way slowly as a normal creature would. But little by little moved closer to the lair, gathering as much information as he could about his surroundings. His physiology had been adapted for the most part, but that pelt was certainly not like a mundane lupine's, but discerning the composition from a distance would prove a difficult task perhaps, if nothing else however he had done this to protect himself from the mosquitoes, but since they seemed to be linked to the same malevolence of the birds he had a hypothesis that they might also act as "drones" for recon purposes as well as to spread disease and misery perhaps. This was not his first rodeo, and he was not married to the idea of his hypothesis but it seemed likely.

Perhaps he was a fool for coming upon this place alone, but he doubted such a thing. Dragons were hardly the biggest fish in the sea where he came from, and though Fenris could not compete with such a things brute-force there were other methods with which to contest such a creature, it was simply a matter of finding the most appropriate. The bindings that allowed him to remain on an even tier with basic-humans were self-imposed by a sense of pride and honor. He enjoyed sport, and there was no sport to him in simply overwhelming a being with more power than they could possibly possess, but at the very least, despite Fenris' "bravery" in testing the beasts sphere of influence, he felt he knew more or less what to expect, and the power he himself could bring to bear was considerable if need be. The scent of rotting meat permeating the area, death and decay. The form he had taken growled low in its throat.  He was vigilant if nothing else. Waiting to see if any contest to his arrival would be immediate. He felt he knew what to expect, but verifying such things was a matter of patience, discretion, and initiative.

He continued to "shed" that "pelt" bit by bit, gradually and meticulously keeping those minute particles spread out, and carefully timing them to minimize the chance of detection. He was not quite ready to approach the creatures lair, so he circled around, and if aberrations and anomalies were common in the corrupted fodder of these animals, they might merely mistake him for "slow" or a "dud".

Those particles rode the backs of the creatures, acting as minute extensions of Fenris' perception for the time being, allowing him to indirectly sense things in proximity to them, including extending his empathic awareness to the animals to get their state of mind. All in all his intent was to shed 3/4's of his pelt over a relatively prolonged period of time, so the collective mass would all at least be within the confines of the cave, while Fenris made a show of walking into a rock again and again.

If that was indeed the case, then Fenris would continue to bide time. A hunter was patient, a hunter was cunning. Terrain was important in a fight, and the home-turf advantage to a Dragon was why they were so feared. Contesting the creature in its home was his last resort, for now he had other plans... If nothing truly harassed him then after a period of time perhaps 20 or so minutes all of those particles he had shed would now be in the cave itself. Not letting the enemy dictate the terms of the engagement was essential, sometimes immaterial factors were what won such conflicts, and Fenris had no intention of playing by the "rules" if he could help it, or rather "doing what the dragon expected."

Those particles now falling off the beasts and wafting to the air and sticking to the walls of the cavern themselves. Working their way into the minute fault-lines that ran along Blackfog Mountain, or more precisely around the lip of the caves entrance. They would lace through the cracks, becoming liquid, joining and becoming bigger and building in tension and pressure at various points in the mouth of the cave, bonding to the rock itself to increase the area of influence. If this was not contested that was when Fenris began to gather his intent, attuning himself to his surroundings and the "shapeless forms" within those fault-lines acting as further extensions. He built something in the confines of his throat, a building growl the equivalent of one clearing their throat...

Time would indeed tell. Trogdor would get his answer as what "built" in his throat was infused with his intent, internal energy expended IE (he's spending "mana" I just don't call it that.) He growled, it started steadily but since being interrupted seemed unlikely, it had time to build. The sound increased in intensity, reverberating throughout the mountains, till eventually it rivaled that of the Dragons roar, though steadier and distinctively "canid" or "lupine". The sound would reverberate through the mountains and perhaps be heard by various nearby people or settlements. If the mountain was a tricky sort rockslides would perhaps ensue, and hell Fenris might even get caught in one of them, but regardless the remaining pelt he still had would insulate him against the crushing force of rocks and fall damage etc. (If you wanna make the call he suffers in the collateral be my guest but If not I will assume he did not.)

The true intent of this was not to just announce his presence, but to set off the trap he had laid, the rock-slides already perhaps threatening to close off the entrance of the cave, but the clincher was the network of the liquid weave that had penetrated the rock of the caverns mouth reacting to the sound and resonating before building on it and using the vibrations to quite literally collapse the caves mouth.

If all went as planned, the Dragon would be left "alone" in darkness, surrounded by bones, mosquitoes, and whatever fodder remained. And then the "party" would start to begin... Unless the Dragon dug himself out, but that MIGHT take some time, but if he came out then Fen would switch his tactics.

"Let the games begin then..." he thought as the liquid fragments conformed together into three separate piles forming Wolves that looked similar to Fenris' current form, pelt of knives and all. They growled hackles raised, with dead eyes, and a body that was a bit too seamless and sleek. They were black and clear in colour almost like living shadows. Fenris drew upon the power he had channeled for the roar, and the beasts took off, one becoming very bright and leaping into the air compressing into a ball and bouncing off the cave wall, each time it did so creating a large echoing crash, while another became illuminated and began shooting parts of its pelt off like liquid jets, creating large splashes of light. A fireworks display filled with a lot of crashing noise. Not very impressive so far most likely, it seemed Fenris' plan was to annoy the beast to death.

The bouncing wolf would seek hit Trogdor in the head obviously by design quite a few times, while the other shot those liquid knives of light at the Dragons eyes with considerable speed and kinetic force, enough to at least puncture mail. The third wolf did not seem to do anything but sniff around the cave. Fenris was quiet now, laying on his haunches and concentrating to maintain control on the extensions since it was a fair bit of multi-tasking. The echos of the bouncing Wolf would continue to build in the confines of the cave gradually, and it picked up speed and in addition kinetic force.

Despite the need for concentration, Fenris was not really expending much energy in this display as most of it was simply meant to make a big commotion but not really do much other than that. It was probably considerably offensive to the creature, and it would perhaps seem as if a pretty damn good fire-works display was going on point blank in his cave. And it seemed to be gaining momentum.

(The stuff that collapsed the mouth reformed into three Wolves, one turned into a ball and started bouncing around building momentum and increasing the amount of noise in the cave, the other became really bright and essentially started shooting off parts of itself at Trogs eyes and around the cave, while the other sniffs around.)