warforged | 01: Obsidian Sanctum

Entry tags:

the master (doctor who)

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.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[It isn't like they were trying to be particularly stealthy in their wanderings; the Master wouldn't want to even try startling Surion. But the Master does give the crystal a frown, wondering if it was important enough to warrant the Dragon Mage's attention, or if Surion was just... well. Spacing out.]

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.

[Stay polite! Stay polite! ... He has very pointy ears.

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.]

She does look very much like a black dragonling.

[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.

Edited 2014-07-04 05:48 (UTC)

[The Master likes her better than the sanctum's dragonlings.

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.]

[It is, in Cynder's opinion, a better smell than most. Familiar smells are good smells, and if he had a vague overtone of incinerated things, well, Ignitus did too. Carefully she marks this particular dragon-mage's scent into her memory, so she'll remember it if she comes across it again, especially if he's wearing a different shape at the time.

When he bows, she manages to return the gesture - but it's a bit different, front end low, wings briefly splayed outwards; it might be inelegant except she manages to make it fairly smooth. Politeness gains politeness, and her deference is prompt. He's older than she is.

The Master's quiet doesn't go unnoticed, but other than turning a bit to look and see if he's still there, she says nothing about it.]

It's a little weird to think I might need an interpreter when dealing with other dragons, but the culture at least is probably going to be really different. I am thankful for your help.

[Time will tell how different these dragons are from her own! Mentioning of being armed draws a faint frown and a flexing of one clawed forepaw. She'd never considered using weapons beyond what she'd been hatched with..]

What ... sort of weaponry or armor would work for a dragon? I'm ...used to relying on my scales, teeth and claws.

Edited (Ignitus. Incendius is a whole different thing..) 2014-07-05 00:14 (UTC)

Our dragonflight, as you will find, is rather reclusive. I'm afraid that many of my brethren are somewhat... touched in the head. I would not try their tempers, even on a pleasant day.

[Dragons can totally wear armor though. He's thinking.] A breastplate may help you, as long as it's made from a material that won't bog you down too much. The smaller dragons have softer scales due to their age, though of course, yours may be different. We could make you talon-sheaths...

[His eyes shift back to the Master.]

Thank you for bringing Cynder to me. Is there anything you need, personally?

["Touched." Nice, Surion.

...

Busted.

He grins.]

Actually, there is. I have a few questions, but perhaps another time. [Which really is for Surion's benefit, even if the Dragon Mage may not realize it. He doubts Surion wants others to hear the Master asking about "Neltharion the Earth-Warder" and what changed with that (though the Master has a pretty good idea).]

[Cynder doesn't respond immediately, head tilting slightly to look around. It's certain she's thinking about what she's been told about the Blackflight, and weighing it against what she knew of dragonkind. 'Touched' was a nice way of saying 'completely out of your mind' back home, did that apply here?

If it did, she was in very dangerous territory and would have to watch her step far, far more than she'd hoped for. Sharp tempers and volatile minds made for dangerous combinations.]

I ... see. I'll be sure to avoid as many as I can.

[She'll observe though, from whatever she thinks is a safe distance, perhaps under the cloaking effects of Stealth. Watching, listening and waiting may give her an idea of which ones are safe to approach. It figured.. she finally finds a friendship with her own kind, then gets dragged to a foreign world full of dragons ... and the ones she was to stay with were mad.]

I will.. have to see how tough my scales are in comparison to the armor of this place, I guess..

[Not that she was looking forward to it, because as far as Cynder is concerned there's really only one way to find that sort of thing out. Her head swivels again as the Master is addressed, then looks back to Surion. ... Then back to the Master.]

I can step away if you'd like, then you can speak freely. I have ... a lot to think about.

[Polite still. If the Master had questions of his own but didn't want to share them she wouldn't be nosy. Not yet, not while she's still fairly sure he's a Nice Guy. That would just be rude.]

They shouldn't attack you as long as you don't bother them. If they do, come to me immediately and I will make sure they know you are off-limits. [His tone is still very polite and pleasant, but there is a hard edge to his smile, to his eyes. He has a protective streak-- and why not, when the blacks were guardians of the deep earth?

He eyes the Master somewhat curiously, but doesn't volunteer a choice.]

[He thinks maybe he could afford keeping Cynder in the loop, but no, another time, perhaps. He isn't quite sure how Surion will react in front of one blacksworn, let alone two.

He smiles lopsidedly at Cynder.]

If you don't mind, dear.

[What counted as 'bothering', she wondered. With some, especially the Apes, even being in their vicinity was 'bothering' them. She'd set them on fire when they took offense, and that problem was settled promptly. That wouldn't be an option here.. she couldn't breathe fire anymore for one, and two.. dragons aren't Apes.

Cynder nods anyway, casting a glance back the way she'd come. She'll have to do her watching carefully.]

Thank you, I'll keep that in mind.

[She would have to be very careful. As the Master decides he'd prefer a discreet conversation, the little black dragon headbobs lightly. She might be curious but not so much where she'll deliberately annoy a tenative ally.]

Alright. Thank you both for your advice, I really appreciate it.

[But as privacy is needed, she has no issue at all with turning and pattering back the way she'd originally come from. Maybe the nook she'd found herself in would make a decent home if she dug a bit.]

[He gives Cynder a little bow before she leaves, and then he simply waits patiently, smiling pleasantly at the Master like the good civil servant he is.]

You had some questions for me?

I want to know what made "Neltharion the Earth-Warder" become "Deathwing." What changed.

[Probably the same thing that changes most beings. A lust for power.

Still. He has to know (a lust for knowledge).

He doesn't grin like he wants to, but he keeps his voice and expression straight and calm.]

[His eyebrows jump. To his credit, he only lets out a soft 'ah' at the name, and a knowing smile. He continues to smile as he closes his eyes, collecting himself.]

My, my. Where did you hear that name? I am most curious, you see, as no one-- and I mean no one-- calls my master by that name.

[See, isn't it nice that Cynder isn't here?]

No one, you say? I think someone still does--even if, you could say, she "knows better." [Now he chances a small, almost wolfish grin.] A certain Aspect of the Red Dragonflight.

[His smile doesn't budge, though it does grow a little at the edges. He meets every point of the Master's wolfish expression with a sharp-toothed grin of his own. And his fangs are much, much sharper-- to say nothing of the claws he's hiding beneath the wispy sleeves of his robe.]

How on earth did you get an audience with the Dragonqueen? One might even accuse you of treason. That would be so unfortunate. You might want to keep your voice down, I think...

[Unfortunately it's only Deathwing that the Master fears. Surion he sees as nothing more than a henchmen.]

Didn't you know? I thought all you Dragon Mages were in the loop on these sorts of things. The redsworn threw a big ol' party at their Sanctum. I just happened to stumble across the "Dragonqueen," as you call her.

[Though even if he had no intention of treason (yet), there is a tiny stray thought of worry in his mind. He doesn't let it show. He can't afford to.]

[He breathes out, smile growing until it makes his eyes turn into yellow-orange slits.]

Ah, the red dragonflight are such fools-- letting other flights into their sanctums without a care. It was quite dangerous, on your part. Are you seeking some sort of reward?

[He steps closer, reaching out and taking the Master's arm with an iron grip. It doesn't hurt, but he is very intense-- like a cat ready to spring, all his nerves and muscles wound around this single moment.]

I'd like you to tell me everything about what you saw. In fact, I insist. I know a wonderful place to sit down and chat, and perhaps even eat something. [Or someone.] Come, champion. Be my guest.

Don't be an idiot, I don't-- [do these things for you. Luckily those words get cut off by the sudden grip on his arm. That's enough to shut him right up.

It's also enough of a start that his energy spikes and bursts a small ripple away from him in an uncontrollable reaction.

Well.

Like Surion's grip, it probably doesn't really hurt, either.

The Master just cringes and flinches a bit away from Surion. He doesn't usually have energy issues these days thanks to his new snack of choice; however, if his mood flares rapidly, or something catches him off guard...

He doesn't even reply further to Surion for the moment. Nope. Not happening.]

[It doesn't affect Surion, or if it does, it seems to die away with a shimmer of Surion's own aura.]

I insist.

[And there they go-- Surion dragging the Master, if necessary, to a little cave out of sight of Deathwing's main haunt. Of course he knows where this cave is, but he's too big to fit inside it, and it doesn't echo that much because it's very small and hidden generally.

It's also full of rock candy, but that's beside the point.

He lets the Master go and blocks off the exit from where he's standing. He is tall and rail-thin, but he has a power about him, kept just barely-harnessed within the relatively-human shadow he wears.]

The Dragonqueen's name is not one you want to toss around freely, unless you're not very fond of your head.

Now, what did she say to you? And what did the sanctum look like? Lie to me now, and I will know.

[How did they get rock candy in the sanctum?

...Never mind. He's pretty sure he knows exactly how.

Still, the rock candy is much less of a shock than Surion dragging him off. And he lets Surion do it because he's only just starting to realize that Surion may be a lot more powerful than he looks.

Blackflight and deceit do go hand-in-hand rather nicely, after all...]

She had this horribly annoying fixation on life and happiness and sickening levels of optimism. [He really didn't like her, okay.] She didn't say much. When she mentioned--ah--Deathwing's alias I asked for clarification; but when I asked her why the change, she said to ask you.

[So he humored her.]

She thinks you're endearing. [He wishes he was lying about that.]

I did get a good look around the sanctum though. That's how I crossed paths with her.

[He's not really sure he should tell Surion what he was keeping most track of in the Sanctum, but he has a feeling that if Surion can tell when he's lying, he'll be able to tell if he's hiding somethinh.]

I kept track of a number of their nests. Even if they might shift them, they're likely in similar kinds of places.

[He's been doing something of the sort in this sanctum. Not keeping track of nests, because, well, eggs are just everywhere; he has been counting and how many eggs he's seen though.]

And of course there's the area where the redsworn set up their "main base" in the sanctum, where the party of theirs was held.

[Surion manages to hide a small grimace. Endearing. He doesn't want to be endearing. He wants to be a threat, but not big enough of one to make Alexstrasza attack.]

How big is this base? Did they utilize any structures to make it?

[He is considering how best to answer the Master's main question, since he does believe in returning favors. Sometimes.]

[Hey, the Master referred to Surion as "enigmatic." That's better, at least, right?

He folds his arms and sinks deep into thought as he pictures the Ruby Sanctum in his mind. He wandered about and snooped quite a lot until Alexstrasza found him and ruined that.]

From the looks of it, not as much as they could. They're about as spread out as their 'sworn are, like they're camping with all their fire pits and logs. I think their primarily focus is feeding everyone.

[Which, to be fair, even the Master hasn't done much in this sanctum. He's just fine stretching out besides a lava flow. But the lava in itself is a defense.]

While I'm sure there are numerous whelps hanging up in the tree branches, I doubt the dragonsworn have done anything to make use of them, though there are burrows scattered around beneath.

I also caught sight of a cavern of weaponry. I was not about to risk venturing anywhere near it. [That would certainly push things with the redsworn.] But presuming they deemed their little "reception" a success, I believe they intend to have more. [He's relaxing a bit again, which is probably unwise, but oh well.] And we were on our best behavior, Surion.

[...at least the Master is pretty sure the blackflight was.]

Edited 2014-07-13 08:41 (UTC)

[Surion nods, taking notes mentally. He's good at that.]

I suppose the armory isn't unusual, considering I've installed one as well. [He strokes the little beard he's started on his chin.] Still, this is very good information. I was afraid, for a second, they might actually be preparing for war.

You mentioned the Dragonqueen. Did you see Krasus at all? The dragon-mage? He's tall and elderly, dressed in red and gold robes?

War? No. I think it'd take a slap to their faces on their own doorstep to even think about starting preparations.

[Krasus. Right. The Dragonqueen mentioned him.]

Personally, no, but I don't believe that he was around. [The Master thinks about the way Alexstrasza also spoke of the Mage. A guy like that would have stuck out at a party.] But perhaps if there's a next time, he'll come and join the soiree.

01: Obsidian Sanctum

and I totally forgot I now need to track the thread

no subject

sorry for the delay, I got sick after I got back fjdklsfjksldfsdsf

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)