Dorian of House Pavus (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
tevinteraltus) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
riverviewlogs2018-03-29 10:46 pm
tevinteraltus) wrote in riverviewlogs2018-03-29 10:46 pm
(catch-all) late march→april
who; Magic Dorian (of the Pavus flavor) and YOU!
what; TDM prompts + General around-ness/catch-all
when; Late March → April
where; Places!
warnings; violence, philosophical discussions/beliefs (maybe), more to be added if it's needed
01 River Fighting - Late March | OTA
[Normally Dorian wouldn't rush out into danger, but with the river swelling and nasty little beasties deciding to invade his little foster home for the time-being, it's his deep-seated belief that mages were born with the gift with a responsibility to use it to protect those who couldn't protect themselves. "Magic is meant to serve man", as the Chantry teaches, after all. Dorian hasn't worn the attire he's found in near the flooded areas in months, since shortly after arriving actually, but the leathers and robes, aside from looking rather smart, are also enchanted, giving the mage a bit of added defense against the monsters from the river. That doesn't mean he wouldn't welcome company, of course.
He pauses as he rounds a corner, an overgrown crocodile rears its head from the flood waters down the bank. He brings himself up short, breath catching for a moment until he's certain the beast hasn't seen him...or heard him. He raises a hand slowly, muscles tensing and chilled air seems to swirl around him, and he tenses his hand as a glowing sigil of white energy, an intricate swirling of concentric circles and runic tracings is etched onto the pavement near the water's rising edge where it pulses with a gentle glow. Seemingly satisfied with the large sigil's, roughly four feet across, placement, he smirks slightly, shifting his stance, bringing his hands together before him as though holding a ball, and a ball does indeed begin to grow in the space between them, a swirling purple-black thing of fetid, necromantic energy. Just before it's grown large enough to touch his cupped palms, he shifts, hurling the ball at the crocodile with all his strength. It strikes true, spreading across the crocodile's head and what if its body is visible above the water's surface like wildfire, an inky purple smoke and the croc hisses in pain...and rage. Wherever the purple smoke touches the beast, it seems to sink in, shimmering just barely in view, enveloping it in an apparently very painful embrace. It only seems to anger the monster, though, as it hones in on Dorian who slides his red-crystal-topped staff from his back.]
Come on, you Blighter! Hit the trap!
[The beast pulls its bulk from the water and is capable of deceptively fast movement on land. And very long strides that take it over Dorian's carefully laid frost trap.]
Damn.
[Fire erupts at Dorian's fingertips and encircles the crystal atop his staff as he brings the weapon to bear. At least the necromantic curse he's hurled on the creature would continue to weaken it, and, provided the beast fell before the spell's effect was exhausted, they'd have a rather sizeable beast on their side in the likely event its friends decided to show up.]
A little help for the mage, if you please?
(OOC: More open prompts below! If you'd like a specific scene, or a setting other than what I provided, HMU on![[plurk.com profile]](https://plurk.com/favicon.ico)
vikael or discord @ prettyvikael#0221 and we'll set something up)
what; TDM prompts + General around-ness/catch-all
when; Late March → April
where; Places!
warnings; violence, philosophical discussions/beliefs (maybe), more to be added if it's needed
01 River Fighting - Late March | OTA
[Normally Dorian wouldn't rush out into danger, but with the river swelling and nasty little beasties deciding to invade his little foster home for the time-being, it's his deep-seated belief that mages were born with the gift with a responsibility to use it to protect those who couldn't protect themselves. "Magic is meant to serve man", as the Chantry teaches, after all. Dorian hasn't worn the attire he's found in near the flooded areas in months, since shortly after arriving actually, but the leathers and robes, aside from looking rather smart, are also enchanted, giving the mage a bit of added defense against the monsters from the river. That doesn't mean he wouldn't welcome company, of course.
He pauses as he rounds a corner, an overgrown crocodile rears its head from the flood waters down the bank. He brings himself up short, breath catching for a moment until he's certain the beast hasn't seen him...or heard him. He raises a hand slowly, muscles tensing and chilled air seems to swirl around him, and he tenses his hand as a glowing sigil of white energy, an intricate swirling of concentric circles and runic tracings is etched onto the pavement near the water's rising edge where it pulses with a gentle glow. Seemingly satisfied with the large sigil's, roughly four feet across, placement, he smirks slightly, shifting his stance, bringing his hands together before him as though holding a ball, and a ball does indeed begin to grow in the space between them, a swirling purple-black thing of fetid, necromantic energy. Just before it's grown large enough to touch his cupped palms, he shifts, hurling the ball at the crocodile with all his strength. It strikes true, spreading across the crocodile's head and what if its body is visible above the water's surface like wildfire, an inky purple smoke and the croc hisses in pain...and rage. Wherever the purple smoke touches the beast, it seems to sink in, shimmering just barely in view, enveloping it in an apparently very painful embrace. It only seems to anger the monster, though, as it hones in on Dorian who slides his red-crystal-topped staff from his back.]
Come on, you Blighter! Hit the trap!
[The beast pulls its bulk from the water and is capable of deceptively fast movement on land. And very long strides that take it over Dorian's carefully laid frost trap.]
Damn.
[Fire erupts at Dorian's fingertips and encircles the crystal atop his staff as he brings the weapon to bear. At least the necromantic curse he's hurled on the creature would continue to weaken it, and, provided the beast fell before the spell's effect was exhausted, they'd have a rather sizeable beast on their side in the likely event its friends decided to show up.]
A little help for the mage, if you please?
(OOC: More open prompts below! If you'd like a specific scene, or a setting other than what I provided, HMU on
no subject
[ He does grimace at how casually Cullen simply wipes the creatures ichor on his pants leg but doesn't comment.
Instead, the approaches the creature and pulls a small, well-oiled cloth from the reagents bag he always carries with him and wraps a small chunk of still frozen crocodile meat neatly within it before returning to the Commander's side as he slides the sample back into the bag. ]
Shall we look about a bit, see whatever else may want to crawl out of the muck?
no subject
[He will clean both his sword and his pants thoroughly when he is back in the barracks but a soldier never sheathes his weapon while it's covered in blood. That's a great way to ruin a perfectly good sword. And he's partial to his sword, thank you very much.
He watches the mage with a slight grimace of his own as he watches what amounts to research material gathering. He's always been okay when it comes to the herbs and dust and things, but flesh is too close to blood magic and it makes the hackles on the back of his neck stand on end. But he doesn't say anything, because he knows something of Dorian's past and has a good idea that the other man won't resort to blood magic.]
That sounds like a fine suggestion, considering I'm still on patrol. I'm surprised you came this far down the river. We've reports of dangerous creatures in the water for over a week now.
no subject
Among many things, Commander? Research. Also? Using my Maker-given talents to their fullest capabilities.
[ He really does enjoy getting to kill things...and raise them from the dead, but that's not necessary to speak on at the moment, now is it? At Cullen's observation, though, he smirks, raising an eyebrow as he brings his staff to rest at his side. ]
Magic is to serve man, is it not? Protecting those by the waterfront is a responsibility of mine as much as it is yours, regardless of profession.
no subject
It is indeed. I know no Reverend Mother who could disagree with your assessment. And don't get me wrong, I appreciate the help, but if you'd given me a little fair warning, I could have made sure that there were no sudden attacks.
no subject
[ Dorian grins. In all his schooling, he'd focused on offensive magics because, well, he enjoyed a good fight. There was a reason, after all, he was expelled from his first circle at age 9 for accidentally injuring an opponent.
Well, at least everyone was under the impression it was by accident. ]
You really are no fun, Cullen.
no subject
[Don't be a jerk.]
And I am plenty of fun. I am just practical, instead of chaotic. Not all of us can be like Sera.
no subject
[With you specifically, Commander. I can't recall the last time, prior to our arrival here mind you, that I saw you without some sort of list.]
Or the Bull. [Which immediately tinges somewhere around his midsection in a way he'd very much like to avoid discussing. Or pondering.] But we should be about it. These monsters aren't going to clear out themselves.
no subject
I never imagined that you would be so eager to kill monsters. Are you that bored with your research position?
no subject
Why are you inclined to believe this isn't research, Commander?
no subject
Oh, I'm not, but research being helped by fighting isn't exactly common. Unless we're talking about what Helisma did back in Skyhold and Minaeve before her. Of course, if you're that keen on your research, I won't judge you.
[A lot.]