That would be Dorian, strolling through the group from the rear to an approximation of the front. The scent of magic being readied, the rustle of drawn blades, the tension. His loose limbed stride is more like that of someone preparing to head into a houseparty but isn't sure he doesn't want to be fashionably late. His armor is a light fare, the metal attachments catching the gleam of Inessa's barrier cast, and he has his staff at his shoulder.
Brings it down at a swoop, an errant crackle of electricity dancing down polished serpentstone. "Shall we knock?" he asks, cheerfully. He points his staff at the sealed doors at a gesture. "Forcibly?"
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That would be Dorian, strolling through the group from the rear to an approximation of the front. The scent of magic being readied, the rustle of drawn blades, the tension. His loose limbed stride is more like that of someone preparing to head into a houseparty but isn't sure he doesn't want to be fashionably late. His armor is a light fare, the metal attachments catching the gleam of Inessa's barrier cast, and he has his staff at his shoulder.
Brings it down at a swoop, an errant crackle of electricity dancing down polished serpentstone. "Shall we knock?" he asks, cheerfully. He points his staff at the sealed doors at a gesture. "Forcibly?"