warforged | your hands protect the flames

Entry tags:

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.]

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What the fuck.

[Caliborn is pissed.]

[He didn't pay attention for most of the "explanation," as Caliborn so loosely interprets all that ridiculous nonsense as an annoying distraction against a background of really awesome carnage. It is only by the force of confusion that he didn't promptly dash away to shoot everyone he could find and call it a day.]

[He thought he had a firm grasp on his life. Now the rug has been pulled so thoroughly out from under him in a way that it never has before, and he really dislikes it a lot. The fact that his time powers don't seem to work anymore almost drives him into a Class A Tantrum.]

[His life is really, really hard.]

[He only decides not to throw one because there's some really great dying going on all around them, and far be it for him to ignore a spectacular massacre. The fact that it is between demons and dragons, two things that he was pretty sure only exist in human fiction, does add novelty appeal. They are bleeding and there's fire, and that makes sure that his mood has started to balance itself out.]

[The cherub does not even pay half a second's thought to helping dragons. That is so far and away from anything he wants to do, and in fact, he occasionally pauses to watch with wide-grinned glee as a particularly nasty scene unfolds above them. Otherwise, he's purely focused on working his problems out the only way he knows how: the harassment of everyone and anyone he can find.]

[Surion's ever-present smile is gone, his concentration on the spell unfolding in his hands. He seems to notice Caliborn's attention wandering, however.]

If you get killed, it'll be an unpleasant experience for both of us. [He doesn't even look up.]

[Caliborn's attention snaps back to the guy. He gives the dragon mage a once over so he can carefully calculate a response.]

You're not my bizarre human father.

I'll get killed if I want to. Which. For the record. I don't?

Then keep your head low and don't antagonize the other flights.

[Now he gives Caliborn a smile that is in no way kind, mostly just polite and slightly sarcastic.]

In a few minutes, this portal will be complete and we can retreat to the sanctum. If you happen to spot any black dragons still breathing, make sure to lead them here.

[Caliborn, very maturely, stomps his foot.]

What the fuck. Stop saying things like I have a context for it. What if I don't want to help your precious charcoal lizard menagerie.

Seriously. What's in it for me? Maybe you're sending me to get eaten.

If you don't want to help, then you are welcome to walk right into the bastion of the demonic invasion and die.

[Surion smiles like a knife, suddenly, flashing needle-sharp teeth.]

If I wanted to, I would have eaten you already.

[Caliborn stares at him, long and hard. He definitely doesn't get that Surion is a dragon. As far as Caliborn knows, humans is humans and dragons is dragons. He comes to the only conclusion possible.]

Fucking weirdo.

[He turns and stalks off. Oh, he'll "help" alright. He might even find a black dragon and tell it to go satisfy the annoying pretty boy by limping to him.]

"What the fuck" indeed.

[While not very eloquent, the Master could appreciate the sentiment. He hasn't been gone too long, and hopes he slips back amongst his fellow blacksworn without anyone noticing. Some were off helping dragons, it seemed; good for them. Why should the Master bother? He doesn't even help his own species, let alone a complete other, dragon or not.

Caliborn isn't the only one that is taking a great appreciation to the carnage around them. The Master is enjoying the show.]

Too bad we don't have popcorn.

[Caliborn is surprised when some random guy comes up. But he is pleasantly surprised at his disposition toward violence. Despite himself, he cracks a grin at the Master, flashing it briefly before his attention turns skyward again.]

I have Jujubes. Which are the superior entertainment food to nasty overcooked vegetables.

[He pulls a small box out and rattles it.] Want some?

[Hey, popcorn is one of the few things that humans get right and that the Master can appreciate. But he's quite alright with Jujubes as a substitute; something is better than nothing.

He holds out a palm and raising a brow, expecting Caliborn to pour him some.]

If you don't mind.

[He considers denying the Master candy and laughs at the idea, even as he doles a few out into his hand with a practiced shake. Maybe next time, or with a lesser chump. But this is a premium moment for "manly bonding," as he thinks of it.]

Yeah. Sure.

[He shakes a bunch into his own mouth directly afterward. He begins chewing vigorously.]

I'd ask who your money's on. But it's pretty damn obvious who's winning.

[Well he could simply snatch the box away, but he decided he could opt for comradery or something, especially if he's going to be stuck with these people.]

I hate being on the losing team.

[He nibbles the candy.]

This is almost depressing.

[Though still entertaining.]

[Caliborn snorts, his attention fully turned upon the battle despite continuing the conversation. Like hell he's going to miss out on some choice moments of complete savagery, even while he tries to offer this guy some "friendly" advice.]

Hey. Are you already on the dragon side? Put up more of a fight than that. Make them earn it.

And even then. You should always firmly be on Team You.

[He grins. The multicolored candy gummy bits are not a very flattering picture when all smashed up against his teeth.] Or better yet. Team Me.

My payroll is wide open now. Seeing as none of my minions got snatched up on the way over?

[The Master's expression twists into disgust. Are you kidding him? Don't even try to give him lessons on "sides."] No, I'm not on their side. They're just the ones offering "safety" at the moment, and I could use a breather. [His life has been hard before he got here, okay.] I think I'll pass on your offer though, as charming as it sounds. [By his tone of voice, he isn't charmed in the slightest. Sorry Caliborn.]

[Caliborn has yet to really master the art of wooing and/or blackmailing people into following him, since most of his followers seemed to just... spontaneously happen to him. He's not surprised that didn't work, but he wished it had.]

Hey. Your words. Not mine.

What are you running from, dude. The thing that requires a pasty human "breather," I mean.

[He smirks. There's a "tad" bit of craziness in it.]

Stopping my species from trying to commit racial suicide [Wow that makes him sound like a "good guy." Ewww. He feels gross.] and thus making the most powerful of them want to roll over me like a speedbump.

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your hands protect the flames

OTA, Black!

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wow this got lost in my email whoops