( closed ) a royal dragon hunt.

[dashing]

WHO: Herian, Elros, Alistair & Maglor.
WHAT: A Royal dragon hunt.
WHEN: AT THE APPROPRIATE TIME, naturally.
WHERE: in the mountains near Hunter Fell
NOTES: Violence, mostly. If something necessitating a content warning comes up in a tag, please mark it in the subject line and I'll update this here list.

First they travel to Hunter Fell, and then the King’s hunting lodge, and once preparations are made they move deeper into the mountains.

The sky is almost alarmingly clear. It doesn’t seem mood appropriate, really, for a dragon hunt. Surely the sky should be grey with clouds, as patterned and solid as marble… but no. It is cheerily blue. Clear skies do little to better the temperature, the higher they ascend into the mountains, and Knight Enchanter Amsel’s mood is severe enough to make up for the lack of cloudy weather. It’s not that she’s generally a smiley social butterfly, but now she seems even more the human incarnation of a mountain than usual - stoney and looming, even if technically all of her travelling companions are taller than she. The mountains themselves might prove better conversation partners, though she is at least trying for the sake of the Inquisition’s reputation.

“Remember,” she tells her fellows, “today we represent the Inquisition. We fight not for our own glory, but in the name of the Inquisition. We must all of us keep resolute our focus; the kill is not ours to claim, but the King’s. We bring the dragon to submission, let the King honour his ancestors and their traditions, and we bring honour to the Inquisition and better our chances of protecting Thedas from those that would cast it into ruin and doom all peoples - natives and rifters alike.”

To Elros and Maglor she adds, “I thank you both for offering your services this day. The Inquisition is grateful to you, and your willingness to lend aid to our cause.”

(She and Thranduil might have about as much enthusiasm for each other as cats for water, but he is more than capable, and one who honours his convictions and his word. She would be a simpleton to consider him unworthy of respect and acknowledgement. She does not know, or pretend to know, the ties between all these from other realms, delivered to them by the rifts, but she does not dismiss them.)

So, time to go fight a dragon.
Or, as the laws of ”of course this is happening” would have it, two dragons, and possibly any dragonlings they call from the caves and rocks to assist them.
Oh, good.

Things happen rather quickly. The second emerges from the same cave as the first, both moving fast. Mature dragons are not to be trifled with. Four is a fine number for one, but for two at once?

"Warden, to me." He's close to her than either of the others - it seems logical. "We all protect the King at any cost, but remember: the kill belongs to the King!"

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[dashing]

The rifters take the left, and leave Herian and Alistair the right. It is almost a relief, in some terrible way, that their fight will be harder. It is not beneath her notice that this is an absurd task, to give a man credit for a fight that he has not rightly won himself. It is a false honour that the King would claim, and it doesn't best satisfy her to so indulge a man who holds so much power. It is not her place to question in this, however, and the task is both for a higher purpose, and does no malicious harm that she can perceive.

Quick to draw the dragon's focus before it can fall to the King and his courtiers, Herian unleashes a barrage of lightning on the dragon, running to it to keep a healthy distance.

(It seems all the more fearsome as it draws closer, its appearance more terrible. The world seems almost to ripple in strange ways, as her staff stirs with the magic being cast.) Battle is hostile and terrible, but so too is it the place where she feels best at ease, and her mouth catches in a determined line as she switches from staff to Spirit Blade, calling the weapon into being.

[byblow]

Alistair has been frowning for most of the day—but not because he cares what honor the king claims or doesn't claim, whatever, he Alistair cared about claiming kills he would have elbowed Cousland out of the way in Denerim. He just hates dragons. Really hates them. Like, so much.

And he hates double dragons double much, multiplied by two since there are half as many people to fight each one as there should be. Quadruple hate.

But it doesn't slow him down. He's right behind Herian, huffing out incomplete syllables of colorful curses.

There's a moment, when he gets close enough—a moment that isn't very noticeable—when the dragon steps back, swinging one eye toward him, watching rather than attacking. The moment is shattered the moment it's struck, though, whether by a metal or magic blade.

sorry for the slow bruh

[dashing]

The moment is shattered, and followed followed up with the dragon rearing up on its hind legs, beating its wings violently and throwing its head up as it prepares to blow flames out at them both. As it does, Herian summons magical energy to the area surrounding them. It is not likely to be so effective on a dragon as against footsoldiers, but it might still slow the creature, maybe even weaken it.

She entirely empathises with Alistair's curses, even if she is not voicing her own. There's a little more Chant of Light involved for her, internally, but it's not without a few colourful embellishments. That might be why it's staying strictly internal, as her energies are focused solely on taunting and provoking the dragon. On the one hand, its tactical, to make it reckless so it takes more damage, and on the other its just to keep it as far away from the King as possible.