"We are all going to die and I will haunt you for the rest of eternity." Dorian sniffs but straightens his shoulders and falls in.
It is not the worst group with which to face a monstrously large demon. Not the best, the best would be with an army. But he doesn't have an army- he has terrain, he has grenades, he has hurriedly shouted orders-
He has Bull throw him like a javelin after he loses his footing from the first solid leap. Mayhem indeed. The world narrows to fire and blood and shrieking that shakes the Fade around them. This- this is the world he knows. A mark that needs to die. They'd never been quite this large before but he continues the plot. Leap upon the back, cut and cut and cut until something shoves him off- twist to land well, leap again. There is a moment when he's hanging off it's side with a dagger embedded in it's carapace while Sera backflips from one joint to another, shooting explosive arrows, Bull spinning in a whirling dervish of death while Dorian casts wall after wall of fire. And it feels familiar.
It feels like the blight, the helpless frustration of it all, and that is when he knows they will probably survive this. It is enough to twist out a laugh as he climbs up for one last cut, what he thinks the creature's spine giving at last.
Then it's a sprint for the rift, it's stalling and counting them off as they go through. Sera, Dorian, Bull, Hawke- Zevran waits until they all come through, reaching out to yank Alistair out alongside him. Then they are falling again and he will need a bath, a drink, and a cleaver if this doesn't kill them.
no subject
It is not the worst group with which to face a monstrously large demon. Not the best, the best would be with an army. But he doesn't have an army- he has terrain, he has grenades, he has hurriedly shouted orders-
He has Bull throw him like a javelin after he loses his footing from the first solid leap. Mayhem indeed. The world narrows to fire and blood and shrieking that shakes the Fade around them. This- this is the world he knows. A mark that needs to die. They'd never been quite this large before but he continues the plot. Leap upon the back, cut and cut and cut until something shoves him off- twist to land well, leap again. There is a moment when he's hanging off it's side with a dagger embedded in it's carapace while Sera backflips from one joint to another, shooting explosive arrows, Bull spinning in a whirling dervish of death while Dorian casts wall after wall of fire. And it feels familiar.
It feels like the blight, the helpless frustration of it all, and that is when he knows they will probably survive this. It is enough to twist out a laugh as he climbs up for one last cut, what he thinks the creature's spine giving at last.
Then it's a sprint for the rift, it's stalling and counting them off as they go through. Sera, Dorian, Bull, Hawke- Zevran waits until they all come through, reaching out to yank Alistair out alongside him. Then they are falling again and he will need a bath, a drink, and a cleaver if this doesn't kill them.