your hands protect the flames

[modforged]

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.]

Comments

ota, blue

[hyanaimne]

[as Tempest stands there, watching the carnage around her unfold, she realizes two things: one, this wasn't a dream. The stench of fire was too strong, too real for her to mistake it for something her dreams would produce. As someone who preferred that particular element when casting her own magic, she knew it just as she knew the back of her hand.

The second thing was, the unvierse was screwing her again. That was the only explanation she could think of as to why she was standing in yet another unfamiliar world, against her will again, for whatever reason - she had heard it, of course, but processing it was another matter entirely. Especially since her temper was two steps away from getting the better of her, and she was putting all her concentration in resisting the urge to set everything within seeing distance on fire.

A temper tantrum wouldn't do anyone good right now anyway.

So instead, she forces back her scowl and decides that listening to her "guardian" would be in her best interests. Find the wounded and bring them back? Sure. She could do that. It'd keep her temper in check, at the very least]

[wilder]

[After Zelos had a few moment to collect himself after showing up, he's also has decided to listen to the guardians. Helping out with the wounded was something he was used to as a healer, so it seemed to be more useful than throwing a fit about being dragged into another war. Except, once he got to where some wounded are? He realized a few problems]

[First, his magic didn't seem to want to work. At all.]

[Second, he knew nothing of dragon anatomy other than how to kill one, so treating it out here was not a great idea]

[Lastly, but perhaps most importantly - dragons were several times bigger than he was. So just how was he supposed to carry one??]

[And so, he's currently trying to look at a drake that's on the ground with some burns. He hasn't even paid mind to the color, because he didn't see how that mattered all that much. He hasn't noticed Tempest yet, instead talking to the dragon who is pretty dazed]

...So, big guy, got any ideas?

[hyanaimne]

[she notices his hair first; while it isn't a common color where she's from, it was common enough in Exsilium that she simply grew used to it. But even so, she can't help the second glance, that brief moment where she wonders how it ends up as bright as it does.

And then she recognizes the voice, and whatever thoughts about hair she had come to a screeching halt. She approaches, uncaring of the color as well (what did that matter anyway?)]

Kaneis?

[wilder]

[he looks up when he hears one of his names being called. Turning to look over, he recognizes her]

Tempest? You got dragged into this mess too?

[hyanaimne]

Apparently so.

[she can't deny that she's at least a little happy to see a familiar face, though] "Mess" is a good word for all of it.

[wilder]

Jeez...

[It wasn't right. They had just finished with one war and with barely a reprieve, they got dragged into another against their will? Zelos could understand better if it was just him, but...]

[Oh well, he can dwell on it later]

Then mind giving me a hand? I'm supposed to get this guy to move, but..I don't have a clue how to do that.

[hyanaimne]

[she's thinking along the same lines, but she decides focusing on the drake is better, for the moment. Though she stares down at it, then glances back to Zelos]

I do not have a clue either.

[wilder]

[He rubs his head, trying to think. His magic is useless, but maybe...]

Hey, I don't suppose you can still heal can you?

[hyanaimne]

I could try? There is something off about my magic, but . . .

[she wouldn't know what it was until she actually tried to cast something]

[wilder]

Well...give it a shot. Not like we have anything to lose, right?

[mortalforged]

Do not wander too far, hero. [The elven woman who is to be Tempest's guardian is clearly engrossed in her work of weaving a portal. It's a small, light thing, just a baby spell as of yet.] We cannot afford to lose you.

[hyanaimne]

[OF COURSE IT'S AN ELF. OF COURSE.

Not that she cares or anything. Much. For the most part]

I am going as far as I need to to help with your wounded.

[mortalforged]

[It's okay, she's only an elf poser.]

They are giving their lives to buy us time. [And there are so few of them left.] ... Remember that.

[hyanaimne]

[something about that pisses her off even more than she already was]

As if I would forget all of this. [and she turns, to go help a nearby dragon]

[mortalforged]

[Zerigosa says no more, focusing on the spell that will eventually bring them to safety.]

[hyanaimne]

[don't worry, we'll be having words at a later point]

[chronoillogical]

[One of the dragons—smaller and clearly wounded but still living—has a particular annoyance flittering around her. Namely, this guy.]

[A green-skinned alien kid, clad in bright reds and holding a hold assault rifle that matches his gold prosthetic leg, is nudging at the dragon with his shoe. He isn't bothering any of the dragon's wounds, but it's still clear she can't possibly appreciate what her life has become in this moment.]

-breathe fire. You can do that, right? Come oooooon. You aren't dead yet.

... by the way. If you do die. Can I have one of your horns?

[hyanaimne]

Oh, for—

[she shouldn't be surprised there are children here. Whatever . . . race he happens to be. She rolls her eyes and kneels down next to the dragon, shooing his foot away]

Unless you are going to help it I suggest you stand out of the way, boy.

[chronoillogical]

[Caliborn looks as affronted as he feels, and he even takes a step back because he is so utterly gobsmacked.]

[The dragon, meanwhile, sighs in clear relief.]

Wow. Wow. Rude. This crocodile and I were having a conversation?

Who are you to interrupt a very important conversation between a man and his crocodile.

[hyanaimne]

[Tempest, on the other hand, just sighs. Why was this how things always went]

It is not a crocodile, and if you are going to act like a boy, I will treat you like one.

[chronoillogical]

[He crosses his arms, regarding Tempest up and down. Or more like down and less-down, since she's kneeling.]

Wee-ooh, wee-ooh.

What's that sound? Echoing just under the death and murder sounds.

Oh. Shit! It's your fellow fucking fun cops. Come to arrest me and finish sucking the joy out of everything. Fine. It's a dragon.

[He decides not to reply to the latter part, because he thinks he doesn't want to dignify it with an answer. We all know Tempest is right, though.]

[hyanaimne]

[it's hard to be offended when one doesn't really understand references like this. Instead, she just looks a bit confused, and a little annoyed at the fact that she doesn't get. Damn modern worlds and their damn . . . whatever]

I have no idea what you are talking about.

[chronoillogical]

[Caliborn drags his claws down his cheeks in frustration. All his perfectly glorious jabs: wasted.]

Oh my god. Okay. I'll rephrase that. Just for your benefit.

[He pauses.] Killjoy.

[hyanaimne]

[she just rolls her eyes again. But deep down, she is finding a little amusement out of all of this. At Caliborn's expense, of course]

Oh, I see. My most sincerest apologies.

[chronoillogical]

[He squints, then grins. It's best to discard the sarcasm and take the words at face value, because why not.]

Good. I accept your apology.

[Caliborn points at the dragon.] You can go now. Move along so we can continue our conversation.