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
[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.]