01: Obsidian Sanctum

[venombite]

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.]

Comments

[mortalforged]

[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.

[beholdthedrums]

[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.

[mortalforged]

[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...

[beholdthedrums]

[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.]

[mortalforged]

[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.

[beholdthedrums]

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.]

[mortalforged]

[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.

[beholdthedrums]

[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.

[mortalforged]

[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.]

[beholdthedrums]

[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.]

[mortalforged]

[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?

[beholdthedrums]

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.

[mortalforged]

[Surion smiles halfway, though it looks more like a lewd smirk with the way his sharp teeth flash.]

I doubt it, but it was worth asking. [His tone is deceptively airy.]

You have answered my questions, so I suppose I should give you a treat. You asked about the name-change, yes? While I cannot tell you exactly what it was that changed him, as I do not know myself, he took on the new name after the other flights attacked. These other flights might mention that the black flight betrayed them, which is a sugar-coated lie they tell themselves to feel better at night. Deathwing killed many demons, and there just so happened to be some elves and dragons fighting the demons at the same time.

Great power needed to end a war sometimes brings casualties. If they don't want to get hurt, then they need to get out of the way.

[beholdthedrums]

[A treat. Wow. He's so honored.

Actually, it's a whole lot more than he was expecting, so he's secretly grateful.

He has a feeling that Deathwing probably did some actual betraying in there though, no matter what Surion says.

Except what do you say instead of "bullshit" to that?]

When your old life decides it wants to oust you, why not build yourself anew.

[He shrugs.

And then promptly tries not to think of the similarities between him and Deathwing.]

[mortalforged]

[His smirk grows.]

Yes, though most would not take it so literally.

[He makes a gesture with his hands, imitating the huge Deathchin.]

Anyway. If you have no other questions, I have slightly less-dangerous activities to get back to.

[beholdthedrums]

["Slightly less-dangerous activities." Makes the Master how much Surion fears his father.]

No, thank you, you've been so much help.

[Whoops back to sarcasm.]