warforged | Quest Log: Suit Up!

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Quest Log: Suit Up!

Who: Dragon mages and dragonsworn.
What: You have been given a quest to infiltrate Sin'thalas and rescue your fellow dragonsworn. Also discussion of scrying orbs.
Where: The sanctums.
When: May 4th and ongoing for a week.
Warnings: Please PM the mods if needed.

Despite the chaos surrounding the disappearances of several Dragonsworn, your sanctum's dragon mage is trying to be calm about this. After a brief discussion behind the scenes with the others, he or she has returned.

"Gather 'round, I have some grave news. Several Dragonsworn have gone missing. We found them, but we are unable to rescue them by ourselves. It would look very bad if dragons were to attack a settlement. That is why we are asking you for help.

"Southeast of Suramar is a village named Sin'thalas. It is these elves who have taken and imprisoned the Dragonsworn. Whether you negotiate or use force to ensure the return of your brethren, it will not be easy. These elves are highly-trained and knowledgeable, far from the refugees you may have seen in the Retreat.

"In light of this, we have implemented a system to communicate over great distances." The dragon mage unveils a magical orb nearby, the perfect size for gazing. "This is a scrying orb. Approach it and think of Sin'thalas, and you will be seen and heard from the orb at that location. It also works in reverse. This should allow us to coordinate our movements depending on the flow of the situation.

"I urge you to think carefully about how best to retrieve your fellow Dragonsworn. You are yet a small force and highly outnumbered. We cannot afford to lose any of you."

[ooc: If characters want to use the orbs,

lookingformore is now OPEN. Remember, orbs CANNOT connect from sanctum to sanctum!]

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It's easy to tally what blacksworn are still around and who is obviously missing, what with her loud attitude and all. There's a tiny wonder in the back of his mind questioning that maybe he's partially to blame for the missing of their newest 'sworn. Maybe she went to go find a beach to roll around naked on.

Doesn't mean he actually cares.

What he is interested in is experimenting further on his ability to steal peoples' energies. See who it doesn't work on. What better than a bunch of useless elves?

A second quiet wonder is if the Doctor had the nerve to be one of people captured from another flight. Well, he deserves it, if that's the case.

He smirks. "What are we waiting for then?" he asks coolly. "We wouldn't want anything bad to happen to them." He doesn't for a moment sound like he gives a damn for any of their safety. Ulterior motives, anyone?

At the Master's words, Caliborn tilts his head toward him and squints.

"We wouldn't?"

Even if he is aware that willful misbehavior would encourage Surion to go Full Vore on him, it still begs that very important question.

He rolls his eyes at Caliborn. "Of course we wouldn't. We need to 'play nice' with our fellow flights, after all. Slide into their good graces. For now."

Someone may have been eavesdropping on some of Surion's conversation with Riven.

He cocks his head to the side. "And then, obviously, that's when you ruin every one of their worthless lives."

"Oh!" That's enough to make Caliborn's expression befit a kid in the candy store he wants Surion to make him. "Yeah. Okay. That makes tons more sense than the nicey two-shoes shit. That I almost thought you were espousing.

"Like. Really bro?"

"Don't be stupid. How did you ever manage to get any minions?" He remembers Caliborn mentioning having some that had not ended up here. "Or perhaps they were only acting like your minions, but had the full intention of backstabbing you once you got too comfortable."

Kind of like Deathwing and the Master.

There goes his dumb smile. It is replaced instead with a mild, reproachful glare. He has no doubt about the loyalty of his crew, but it is the principle of the thing.

"How dare you. My loyal carnival of leprechauns and ugly immortal clown assholes has nothing to do with the rainbowsworn elf-trapped idiots. And neither do these guys? Like. My point isn't to not be sly. That's important. Just. Why even be 'coy' when we're sitting around having a fiesta party of eye-rolling. Unless the Mage guy starts trying to eat us?

"Be a man. Say what you really think. Except to their faces."

Leprechauns and ugly immortal clown assholes? Ugh. Sounds like his kind of minions.

"He probably will start to eat us." That's kind of his point. And then there's those voices, like he can never be alone, never escape. He hears them. He knows he does. Quiet wisps, barely understandable, melding around his drumming--he hears them--he's not crazy! "And Deathwing is everywhere, eyes, ears. He hears everything, I'm sure of it." He grins, languid but guarded. "So, there are limits with what one can get away with. 'Faces' have nothing to do with it."

Caliborn would certainly agree that the Master is not crazy. Caliborn has verbally argued with the voices, mostly about how they should at least be less quiet so he can hear them better.

He leans over and 'playfully' elbows the Master. "Hey. I thought we were talking about 'getting along' with the others. To make the big guys happy. I don't think they give a shit if we loathe them on our own time. And fantasize about brutally murdering them to the last.

"What are you talking about. Are you that afraid of dragon vore."

Yes. So much that he almost expects Caliborn to be eaten, right then and there.

Paranoia looks bad on him.

He glares at Caliborn.

"Are you accompanying me or not?" he snaps. The Master might be hoping for 'or not.'

Caliborn laughs, blurting it out in a rather ugly way. "Totally. I got your back."

Feel safe and reassured, yet?

"I've been trying to get my time powers working again. Not really there yet? But. If my 'ally' is in trouble. Maybe. I might be able to stop one or two arrows. Or a clench of a dragon jaw."

How about now.

"So you'll be a tissue-paper meat-shield. Got it." Yeah, he's definitely reassured. If it comes down to it, he can always drain Caliborn of his life and use it to fuel his own spells.

He likes the sound of that.

...

Wait a minute.

Back up.

"--Time powers?"

"Time powers. Before the dragons dragged me here. Kicking and screaming. I was kind of a big deal."

With grin of pride plastered on his face. "Why do you think I have minions?? Everyone who isn't a dumbass wants to be on the right side of history. Which is to say. The side I utterly shatter. As the Lord of Time."

"Lord of Time?" it comes out as a sneer and for a moment his skeleton flares into view as his energy twists and slots out of place from the sudden whiplash of emotions.

You have got to be kidding him. He knows Caliborn is of a different universe; he has to be, because there's no goddamn way that this little imp is a Time Lord of his universe.

While Caliborn looks proud, the Master's reaction is anything but. "I feel insulted."

Honestly, he half expected the Master to flat-out not take him seriously. He doesn't need other people boosting his specialness and ego to be convinced unflinchingly of his own greatness and future accomplishments, and others underestimating him seems like it would make the dying look on their faces all the more entertaining.

But insulted?

Good enough, Caliborn guesses.

"That's a weird reaction, but okay, bro. Why the hell not."

Wow, Caliborn, it's great that he doesn't know your thoughts, because he would flat out punch you right now.

Instead, he continues to seethe, his hands curling into fists at his sides.

"There is only one other person I recognize as a Time Lord, aside from myself, and he's in another flight."

Caliborn is taken aback. His initial reaction is one of a sort of territorial defensiveness. He is the only Lord of Time, anywhere, ever. Or at least, that's how he thinks.

"What the fuck?"

He looks at the Master with new eyes, critical ones. He shares his conclusion at once.

"No."

"You seem eager."

Riven, meanwhile, is suspicious. No one under Deathwing's banner could be accused of altruism, but she has a feeling that the Master would reject that concept even more than most. Maybe that was an unfair judgment, given the brevity of their previous conversation, but...

She folds her arms. Nah. "You're buying into his plan." (Thanks, Surion.)

She has every right to be suspicious; long game, remember, Riven?

He chuckles.

"It's a better plan than saying we're going to rescue our poor, lost, blacksworn sheep. But I suppose, if you really want, we can sit down, make some tea, and wait for the other flights to notice the distinct lack of our involvement. I'm sure that will go over well for us."

"It wouldn't be our fault if other flights wanted to waste their time so." If only she hadn't already resigned herself to going; her complaints would sound so much more convincing. Alas-- it's good to have the confirmation that at least one blacksworn was stupid enough to be caged, though. Riven makes a mental note to remember who it is, once they've met, and then trust them with absolutely nothing from then on.

"...I don't like the deception." Promoting the idea that they care, when... they don't. Inflight politics is one thing, but this is something else entirely.

"No, of course it wouldn't, but do you really think they'll see it like that?" They're probably all goodie-two-shoes like the Doctor.

The Master is honestly a bit intrigued by her last comment. "Why?" he asks. Maybe it's because most of his existence has been based around deception. The best way to get what you want is by manipulating everyone around you, far as he's concerned.

"They can keep theirs and the one we lost, then. That gives us reason not to participate." As if it'd work like that.

His real question makes her pause, though. The Master is-- a weird guy. Strangeness probably isn't grounds to exclude someone from honesty, though. "Any perception of us should be based on our true strength." There isn't much of that to speak of yet, sure, but still. "Not lies."

He doubts the other flights want Apollo, either.

Not that he actually has anything against Apollo, personally, but if he was the hero type, he'd probably have ended up in a different flight.

"Personal strength, or that of our entire unit?" He doesn't ask what happens if his true strength is deceit. "I wonder, dear, what your 'true strength' is."

"Either." One could be individually weak but part of a greater whole, after all-- things vary, things are far from as black and white as she still wants to see them.

The Master doesn't need to know that much.

"You'll find out soon enough... both of us will." He can keep wondering, for now. If they're really going to be retrieving these prisoners together, that should answer enough questions on its own.

"I suppose that means you have a plan."

If it isn't for Qilby's neutral tone and mild expression, the remark would practically sound like a challenge. This man, however, doesn't bother to hide his disinterest nor the irony in his voice when he speaks. Qilby's had more than enough time to learn just how much (or little) his fellow Blacksworn care about keeping up appearances, but it never gets less frustrating to actually see that carelessness in action.

He's already got an uphill battle to fight to bring himself back into decent standing; he doesn't need to have the members of his own flight working against him at the same time.

"Plans are irrelevant. We sidle along the other flights, check out their capabilities, be useful to their little whims of saving their lost souls." He grins. "Cause some trouble behind the scenes." He rolls his shoulders, half to shrug, half to stretch the muscles. "Think of it an an opportunity. How often will we have the ability to scope out a city like this? With this many dragonsworn involved..."

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Quest Log: Suit Up!

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timelines? idk what those are

timelines: a ball of yarn torn apart by a fuzzy feline

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