beholdthedrums: [EoT] (in the chill of the night)
The Master ([personal profile] beholdthedrums) wrote in [community profile] warforged2014-05-01 07:08 am

made me a shadow in the shape of wonder [option A blackflight, option B open to all]

Who: The Master, any poor sod who comes across him
What: Messing around different places, getting accustomed to Warlock things, though no demon summons yet.
Where: Obsidian Sanctum, some open field area.
When: May Day. The 1st, afternoon ish.
Warnings: Option A: Poor dining manners. Option B: be aware that he'll likely end up using Drain Soul, completely on accident, on anyone that shows up out of self-preservation to restore what he's lost. So. There's that to keep in mind. Doubtful he'll drain much though.

A. Obsidian Sanctum
Crouching carefully over a bear carcass near a river of lava, the Master appears more irked than anything. He should be scheming, judging ways to turn the black dragonkin away from Deathwing and over to himself, or finding a successful method to steal a dragon egg and use it for other means, or learning more about Deathwing's created weapon. However, common sense dictates otherwise. He hasn't yet understood the extent of these "changes" that have happened to his body yet, as Surion had mentioned, and as much as it pains him, he should try to "play nice" as he had discussed with that blacksworn woman.

He rubs his hands over his head, twitching at his mental percussion.

The Master hates playing subservient. There's a long game to this--a very long game, he's sure, what with his "opponent" being a dragon and all, but that doesn't mean he has to enjoy it.

He claws his hands right past fur and into the bear, little care to eating it raw. His energy's wavered far lower than he cares for, and he will gladly tear through the entire carcass if it helps restore him.

B. Fields

You would think that if someone was going to experiment with magic, they'd focus on live prey, but instead, the Master simply intends to... cause a bit of damage. Far as he's concerned, it's a fitting use of his time, and it's away from the Obsidian Sanctum. He knows that shadow magic is present at his fingertips; he's called it up occasionally on accident several times already, though he's yet to fully let it manifest into a proper spell.

But there's more to what he can do, he just has to understand it. Pick it apart. Study it. Look at all this space he has! Surely he can manage something good? Powerful! He needs to be stronger. His usual tactics won't cut it here.

The fire that lashes away from him is so startling that it's gone in the same instant, burning through the air before it even touches the ground. The Master stares wide-eyed at it, suddenly appreciative that there's no one around to watch his test runs. "Well, this could be interesting," he murmurs, a mad grin breaking out over his face.

He wonders just how much he can do. He spreads his arms and closes his eyes, focusing all he can on fire and destruction.

It's a bit too much of himself that goes into the spell, but he realizes this far too late and the spell escapes from him, mingling with his own energy and searing over the fields in an uncontrollable storm of fire. He immediately recoils on himself, his skeleton visibly flaring as he shudders and collapses to the ground, completely ignoring the aflame field while he tries to stabilize himself.
raggedydoc: (i've made a huge mistake)

[personal profile] raggedydoc 2014-05-05 04:21 am (UTC)(link)
He'd been planning on sticking close to the Master to make sure nothing happened, but with the use of his Blacksworn gift, the Doctor actually believes what the Master's saying. (He may, perhaps, realise how foolish this is later.)

"You're the last person who needs to be consuming demonic energy," the Doctor points out, relaxing a little now that they're into the banter stage of their conversation. Though, really, it's not like it could make him more evil, could it? But the Doctor doesn't want to take that risk, preferring to believe in the slim chance of someday redeeming the Master. "If it's even compatible. You might just get a wretched case of indigestion."
raggedydoc: (oldest nine year old)

[personal profile] raggedydoc 2014-05-09 12:06 am (UTC)(link)
"Have they tried to talk you into wearing any of those robes they call armour yet?" They're very nearly as ridiculous as the formal robes back on Gallifrey, and the Doctor's eschewed them in favour of the same thing he's been wearing for quite some time now, tweed and a bowtie. But the Master, well, he could probably use a change of clothes, not that he's going to be impolite enough to mention that.

"I don't know exactly how they're meant to protect us from the sort of havoc demons seem to be capable of wreaking."
raggedydoc: (are you pondering what i'm pondering)

[personal profile] raggedydoc 2014-05-22 02:44 am (UTC)(link)
The Doctor's not sure if this is better than head to toe black velvet or not. He does have to give the Master credit for sticking to a colour scheme all these years, though, as dull and stereotypical as it might be.

"I wonder if I could get them to make me a bowtie with magic cloth?" the Doctor muses idly. He feels much the same way about the whole magic thing as the Master does, but on the other hand, a magic bowtie would be extra cool. Or so says his logic.
raggedydoc: (making a clever plan)

[personal profile] raggedydoc 2014-05-22 04:45 am (UTC)(link)
But does he really want to go to the trouble of farming Gnomeregan? (Okay, so he could get someone else to do it, and Gnomeregan doesn't even exist in this timeline. That's not the point.)

"I suppose I shouldn't even mention the prospect of a magic fez, then." The corners of his lips twitch up in amusement. "I'm sure Lanadormi would be positively enchanted by the idea." He imagines the Tauren in a fez; certainly an amusing mental image.
Edited 2014-05-22 05:32 (UTC)