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Entry tags:
01: Obsidian Sanctum
Who: Cynder, Black Dragonsfolk
What: Bandwagoning the new arrival thing
Where: Obsidian Sanctum
When: New Arrival period proper
Warnings: Black Dragonsworn doing Black Dragonsworn things.
[Home is now a lava pit, it seems.
Cynder understood this was a different world. She understood something had happened to her own, and then she'd been snatched away to this place. Whatever that cloaked biped had said, she recalled most of it, and the imagery of dragons of multiple colors, and that somehow she was supposed to help. What she didn't understand was why Spyro hadn't been called instead. The Purple Dragon was after all, a hero. She ... was not.
She hadn't moved from the dark cave she'd woken in, black scales on black stone allowing plenty of natural camouflage once she'd tucked herself up and folded her wings tightly against her sides, trying to get her bearings. Only when she's managed to settle her nerves enough was she willing to leave her hiding spot - and that perhaps only because there are other dragons outside. Dark ones, like herself, instead of the blaze of yellow, blue, green and red she'd gotten used to at the Dragon's Temple. They might be strangers, but she was in their territory, and if they wanted to hurt her she'd be hurt.
The small dragon's exploration of the Obsidian Sanctum is as silent as she can make it, exceedingly cautious and as unobtrusive as she can manage. The dragonkin guards were intimidating enough to keep her from approaching too closely, save attempting to get around some and investigate the eggs very ... very gently. Dragon eggs were always precious things, and she won't touch, but they seemed a little strange. They had spikes.
And then further poking around, slinking from place to place low to the ground, using scent as well as sight and sound to tell what's where. She blends in fairly well all told, save the silver collar, bracers and tailband she wore; spotting her as she picks her way warily about, giving anyone and anything draconic a politely wide berth to try to avoid drawing possible trouble. Non-dragons, or things blatantly not related to them as the dragonkin were, however might draw the attention of Cynder very quickly.]
What: Bandwagoning the new arrival thing
Where: Obsidian Sanctum
When: New Arrival period proper
Warnings: Black Dragonsworn doing Black Dragonsworn things.
[Home is now a lava pit, it seems.
Cynder understood this was a different world. She understood something had happened to her own, and then she'd been snatched away to this place. Whatever that cloaked biped had said, she recalled most of it, and the imagery of dragons of multiple colors, and that somehow she was supposed to help. What she didn't understand was why Spyro hadn't been called instead. The Purple Dragon was after all, a hero. She ... was not.
She hadn't moved from the dark cave she'd woken in, black scales on black stone allowing plenty of natural camouflage once she'd tucked herself up and folded her wings tightly against her sides, trying to get her bearings. Only when she's managed to settle her nerves enough was she willing to leave her hiding spot - and that perhaps only because there are other dragons outside. Dark ones, like herself, instead of the blaze of yellow, blue, green and red she'd gotten used to at the Dragon's Temple. They might be strangers, but she was in their territory, and if they wanted to hurt her she'd be hurt.
The small dragon's exploration of the Obsidian Sanctum is as silent as she can make it, exceedingly cautious and as unobtrusive as she can manage. The dragonkin guards were intimidating enough to keep her from approaching too closely, save attempting to get around some and investigate the eggs very ... very gently. Dragon eggs were always precious things, and she won't touch, but they seemed a little strange. They had spikes.
And then further poking around, slinking from place to place low to the ground, using scent as well as sight and sound to tell what's where. She blends in fairly well all told, save the silver collar, bracers and tailband she wore; spotting her as she picks her way warily about, giving anyone and anything draconic a politely wide berth to try to avoid drawing possible trouble. Non-dragons, or things blatantly not related to them as the dragonkin were, however might draw the attention of Cynder very quickly.]
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Which means Cynder does turn to watch the strange man for a time, quiet, unobtrusive, and completely confused. She just can't match his appearance to any species she'd ever seen in her life, and she'd seen quite a few. So for a time, as the Master follows the same thoughtful route over and over, he has a small black scaly shadow.
He doesn't look dangerous..]
... Excuse me.
[Well, there's really only one good way to satiate one's curiosity.]
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... Hello.
[He's pretty sure he's not even supposed to look at a whelp, let alone talk with one. Did it wander away from its clutch or something?]
Shouldn't you be... somewhere that's not here?
[You know, away from him, not getting him in trouble. Scram!]
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But she's pleased when this whatever-it-was proves it (he! The voice sounds masculine, maybe he's a male) can speak a language she actually understands. That makes things so much easier! She sits back on her haunches, wrapping her tail around her foreclaws neatly, and regards him with interest. Maybe he really isn't dangerous. No fangs either!]
Nobody's told me I can't come over here. Or on your whole loop.
[Nobody's really told her anything at all honestly.]
What are you? I've never seen anything like you before, and ... I can't quite figure out your species.
[In spite of the abrubtness, and perhaps rudeness of the question, her tone is carefully polite. At least for a 'whelp' she's coherent and articulate! ...Clearly it's a trap and any moment from out of nowhere some angry dragonkin is going to pounce.
..Except it doesn't happen.]
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Really. I find that hard to believe, what with how your lot is so heavily protected.
[He thinks about telling her he's a Time Lord, but then he has to wonder if she'll start calling anyone that "looks like him" a Time Lord, and wouldn't that just be insulting?]
Just think of me as humanoid. Maybe when you're older I'll tell you more.
[He really isn't sure what the heck to do with her.]
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My lot? But I just got here. What do you mean by 'heavily protected'?
[Cynder's wariness is instantaneous, and nearly the exact sort a child might have when finding out they may suddenly be grounded.
On the bright side, having just got here ... maybe she's not part of Deathwing's brood?
This matter of 'humanoid' didn't really help either.]
Humanoid is a species, or is the '-oid' part more ... human .. like?
[And what's a human anyway? Is that the name for defenseless biped?]
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You're not one of the black dragonkin.
[Well that means he can cool his jets. He shouldn't get in trouble for leading an outsider dragon astray. Hopefully.]
Well, welcome to the black dragonflight, I suppose. [He makes a face at her trying to reason out what he is.] Your life is going to get a whole lot more confusing if you ask too many questions. I'm guessing there's numerous species here that you've never encountered before. [Which he can say with extreme certainty considering he's never seen so many of these species, and he's been around the block.]
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[Mistaken identity might be a problem! She was black, she was small, she was a dragon, she might belong to someone around here ... except she doesn't. Cynder remains seated and alert; even if the Master found her less than interesting to talk to, she was fascinated by him.]
Thank you. [It never hurts to be polite! But maybe he didn't want to spend his time talking with a young person. Maybe he was one of those sorts of adults..
She weighs it for a moment before continuing. If he was unwilling then so be it, but it was worth a try.]
If I don't ask questions it'll be even more confusing. I'd rather it be an informed confusion than silent stupidity. Besides, it's good to know what's okay to eat and what isn't.
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Well, that is true. [He presses a hand at his forehead. Maybe they can train her, if she's young enough, to eat all their enemies.] Just how old are you, anyway? [He'll get back to explaining different species to her. Probably.]
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Um. That's actually really difficult to answer. I think maybe fifteen years? I don't have an accurate calendar but it seems about right...
[But she's not sure. There was the whole being corrupted by Malefor thing, then later on the whole being trapped in a crystal for several years..]
Is age important?
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Take the age of a human: age fifteen would be potentially a sixth of their lifespan. For me, and one other in this world, as a Time Lord, fifteen might be a sixtieth. For a dragon? Well, I can't say I know much about dragons.
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I guess in those terms I'd be ... ah.. young ....adolescent? My kind can live for centuries, but not long after hatching we're able to talk and reason. I don't know how long the dragons flying around here live, or how fast they grow. I .. don't know a whole lot about most dragons, really. Just how to kill them.
[More importantly, this fellow is what he calls a 'time lord', and they live centuries as well. Except humans, which he resembled, were short-lived..]
Can you control time, or is your species' name more of a symbolic thing?
[She did notice. It made her wonder too. Species that closely resembled each other but WEREN'T the same kind, tended to take insult at being called the one they weren't.. ]
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Or he'll just lead her off into a situation that surely will get her killed.
(It's good to have backup plans.)]
Well, killing dragons might come in handy further down the road. [Because all the flights are such best friends.] Nothing to worry yourself over right now. Just don't ever touch black, or Deathwing might "disown" you.
[Look at him. Being such a helpful guy to a newbie blacksworn!
...heh.]
I can... see time. [Pauses. Frowns.] At least I used to be able to. This... place--universe--has muddled with it.
[He wonders if the Doctor, all cozy with the bronze "time guys" flight, still has some kind of complete connection with Time. Best not to ask, it'll only make him jealous if the answer is "yes."]
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All black dragons are allies? That's ... odd.
[But colorcoded for convenience. If it wasn't black, it may be an enemy. It's probably a good thing she was here then, and not with one of the other colors..]
I don't have my own powers anymore either. I think I have new ones instead, but it's not the same. Maybe there's a way to let you .. see time again. I'll keep an eye out.
[She'll volunteer that much assistance. It wasn't really a lot, but he was being helpful. It wouldn't cost her anything to keep track of things that might be time related.]
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[He strangely finds himself actually liking the small dragon, so there's at least less chance that he'll ultimately try to be her undoing, one day.]
New powers seems to be a common them among the dragonsworn. Surion, the blackflight's "Dragon Mage" as he's called, said that this world changes people. [He smirks.] I'm still figuring it out; I doubt I've even scratched the surface.
And thank you.
Sorry for the delay.
[Not quite allies, but possibly if the other black dragons were hurt bigger, angrier ones would do harm in return. Cynder wasn't given to murder without having orders to that effect, but it was still good to know.
And it did explain his hesitation at first. Apparently the young ones were to be treated very carefully indeed. That she doesn't have to ask about, it made sense on its own.]
Maybe it's this world's way of helping us survive here. I think I'd have preferred to keep what I had before though. .. Do you know, if this Surion would entertain questions or am I best off paying attention and staying quiet?
[His advice seemed sound so far.]
No worries! Work has been getting to me, too. I can ping the mods for Surion if you want!
He snorts.] He might actually get a kick out of you. [What with being a dragon and all.] He should be around the sanctum somewhere. We could likely find him.
Sure! We can be off to see the wiza--er, mage
Hm, I don't see why not, if you don't mind terribly. I did interrupt your ... trek, I wouldn't want to keep you from it if it's important.
[There's something oddly sincere in that statement, where there might otherwise be mocking derision. As far as Cynder knows he had a good reason to be going in circles, she just didn't grasp it because she was too young!]
dropped them a line!
Not at all, I haven't seen the Dragon Mage lately, myself. Come along then.
Re: dropped them a line!
Having a tally of how many mouths there will be to feed might not be a bad thing, but his intentions might not be so benign. It's probably for the best she's not aware, it would lead to even more questions.]
... Well, alright.
[She rises back to her full(comparatively small) height, content to follow the Master and see where he might lead. He knew the way, she didn't.]
I was out of town, but hello :)
He heard them coming, which is probably why he doesn't look surprised. He pulls away from his project and greets his visitors with a smile, polite and distant as always.]
Greetings. What is it you require of me, dragonsworn?
and I totally forgot I now need to track the thread
Oh, nothing much, just an ever-curious new arrival. A dragon, even. [He nods down at Cynder and then smirks at Surion.] Thought she belonged here at first. Cynder, Surion. Surion, Cynder.
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Cynder doesn't say so, but it's definitely the most noticeable thing right away. Another human-like shape, just thinner, taller, more fine-boned and pointier eared. Cautiously the little dragon sniffs in his direction, but doesn't actually approach too close. Unknowns were not things to disturb the personal space of, after all. So far the not-human Timelord was a better known thing, and even him, barely.]
Hello. ... Are we allowed to require things of you?
[It might be an odd question, and it's ventured carefully in the wake of the Master's introduction.]
sorry for the delay, I got sick after I got back fjdklsfjksldfsdsf
[He may smell familiar-- he was the one who gave her the brief talk before she was deposited in the sanctum. Though, he was hooded then. He carries the scent of ash and cinders. He smells, well, like a dragon.]
It is a pleasure to meet you properly, Cynder. [He bows slightly, but not too far.] You may ask whatever you like-- I am here to facilitate the relationship between dragons and dragonsworn. There are some requests I cannot grant, as there are limits to even my power, but I will do what I can to make you comfortable here. It is my hope that I can arm you as well, so that you may fight alongside us.
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For the moment, he keeps quiet and remains, though he could easily slide off, or maybe take a trip outside of the sanctum.
Instead, he sticks around, listening for anything that he might be able to make use of another time.
Knowledge is power, after all.]
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