warforged | your hands protect the flames

Who: The Dragonsworn
What: The first arrival of the Dragonsworn goes a bit...awry.
Where: Scattered around the perimeter of Suramar.
When: Dawn on March 21st
Warnings: Please PM the mods if any warnings are needed

It is almost as if you've woken from a daydream when the ground meets your feet. The stench of fire is overpowering, and though dawn is just approaching in the canopies of Kalimdor, bright flashes of green can be seen between the branches of impossibly tall trees. If that doesn't snap you out of your surprise, then the sound of nearby spitting in demonic tongue may persuade you to get a grip and notice your surroundings -- you are not alone. There are others like you, huddled just a bit too close, with a somewhat familiar face keeping you from advancing further. Looking down at your hands may briefly reveal a momentary flash of color, but nothing lasting more than a few seconds.

The mages of each flight take the helm of their charges, and they are quick to notice any movement from their groups despite channeling some sort of spell to keep you protected. Stray fire will bounce off an invisible shield that ripples when anything make contact with it. There seems to be nothing in sight but your new comrades, and your guardian -- at least not on the ground. The sky has flying demons swarming a pack of dragons -- and the dragons are very clearly losing. Look just a bit farther, and you might find more dragons, though these clearly have different colored scales than the ones above your head.

While distracted, you may hear your guardian speak to you. "There may yet be wounded nearby -- if you care to, bring them here, and we will tend to them from the Sanctum." Briefly, they gesture skyward, toward the dragons flying overhead. "Do not bring to us any that are not our own, lest you invite their demise!"

But the mage is focused on casting -- they are in no position to halt your advance, and they know it. They speak with concern -- concern for you, concern for the dire situation at hand. The demonic cackling is drawing near. The forests are rapidly becoming overrun, and there are already a few dragons slain on the forest floor.

"Take care, Dragonsworn -- I am bringing us to safety, but it will take time. To wander far is to invite your ruin, and we cannot afford the loss of your life."

[OOC: You are free to mingle on this post as you choose, despite the flight groups being scattered through the forests around Suramar -- after this log, you will be separated into your sanctums, and your interactions will be watched much more closely. Attempting to enter the city itself will result in a vicious attack from demons that will kill. The Dragon Mages will be tagging sporadically to heroes of their matching flight, and the conclusion of this log will lead Dragonsworn through portals to their Sanctums.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Qilby. [That's. A pretty fluffy sounding name. He supposes it kinda suits the wizardly figure in front of him. He starts to say something else, but then the branches above them start to crack. Luke moves far quicker than one would give him credit for, putting himself between Qilby and whatever that was.]

Watch out--!

[When the leaves settle... Oh. It's a dragon. It's a big black one, and it looks particularly sinister. Luke is hesitant, if only because the color black on a monster doesn't usually mean good news.]

H... hey, are you alive?

[He's talking to the dragon, obviously.]

[Like a little flower, right?! No one's ever told him that before!

Qilby jumps in surprise, partly at whatever had suddenly fallen on their heads but equally at Luke. Kid's fast-- faster than he might've estimated. As tall as he is, he doesn't even have to crane his neck to see over the boy, and as the dust clears and he gets a better look at the still mass...]

Goddess. [It certainly is a dragon. Shiny black scales, huge talons, and heavy armored tail and all. It's so much fiercer, so much wilder looking than the dragons he knew, that he can't help but stare at it in awe for a moment, gripping his injured shoulder unconsciously.

His attention quickly snaps back to Luke.] Wait a moment, I don't think--

[The dragon stirs, one yellow eye snapping open and focusing on the two of them. Immediately, it starts thrashing, tail whipping around so quickly the air whistles in its wake. In spite of himself, Qilby grabs for Luke's shoulder to pull him back out of thumping range.] He's confused-- he must think he's still fighting!

[Luke yelps as he's pulled back, right as that giant club tail goes whirring near his face. Okay. Distance. Distance good. He half crouches, trying not to seem like a threat... though he's not sure it will make a difference to something this size. He holds out his arms pleadingly.]

Hold on-- calm down! We're here to help!

[The drake roars, slamming its tail into a tree. Any harder and the thing might topple.

Luke glances at Qilby, like maybe he'll know what to do.]

[Thankfully for everyone, Qilby does know exactly what to do. Just as usual!]

The first thing any Eliatrope learns is how to deal with a dragon having a temper tantrum.

[After its tail makes another pass, pounding the tree once more and showering the two of them with splinters, Qilby fearlessly strides forward. A portal beneath the beast would be easiest, he thinks -- he'd drop it in the ocean if he knew where the nearest one was, let it cool off a little. But he decides that simply bringing it back to where the mages are is best. Let the dragon's brothers sort him out.

He lifts his hand, palm out -- it's an almost lazy gesture, practiced so much that whatever magic he's got in store is like muscle memory. An Eliatrope's portals come so naturally to them, they barely have to think about it.

A moment passes. Even the dragon pauses in its snarling to watch him expectantly.

Another moment passes. The dragon's still there. Something's wrong.]

[Luke watches Qilby carefully, trying to figure out what he's supposed to be doing. When whatever is supposed to happen doesn't, Luke grabs for Qilby's sleeve to tug him backward, gently and insistently.]

Got any other ideas?

[Is running a plan?]

[He stares at his outstretched hand, at a complete loss for words. He only vaguely registers the tug at his sleeve, eventually turning his head and giving Luke a look like a child who's just been told that Christmas is cancelled forever.]

...No. No, I'm afraid I don't.

[If running wasn't a plan, it certainly is now. The drake bares rows of needle-like teeth, a roar just beginning to rumble in the bottom of its belly. It's all the encouragement Qilby needs, weaponless and apparently powerless, to start to slowly back away...] But I was hoping you knew how to use that sword.

Yeah, but-- I don't think attacking the dragons is what we're supposed to be doing right now!

[He shoves his right arm in front of Qilby protectively, trying to edge him back. If the dragon charges, Luke will... probably be able to deflect it. Maybe. Maybe? Can he really deflect like two tons of fire-breathing pissy reptile?]

Anyway, I vote running. If you see a demon pop out ahead, I'll deal with it!

your hands protect the flames

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i just want to let you know that i almost accidentally said "sprinkles" instead of "splinters"

I WOULD ACCEPT SPRINKLES. I have halloween ones in my cupboard.

perfect

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