I LIKED TEVINTER WHEN IT WAS STILL UNDERGROUND | Closed

[wythersake]

WHO: Hanzo, D'Artagnan + Alistair, Jester, Marcoulf, Nathaniel, Newt, Rey.
WHAT: Rescue.
WHEN: This year of our lord 9:44.
WHERE: The Deep Roads.
NOTES: Plotting Post

I'll be making some headers in a second here, but feel free to make your own. I'm not your boss.

Comments

[somethingwild]

Newt is in the midst of aiming another attack when he's suddenly hit by a blast of cold. He would say 'cold air' except that it feels as though he's been struck by winter itself. He freezes, literally and figuratively. Except for the curses falling freely from his mouth, that is, most of which begin with some variation of 'Merlin's saggy left - '

He has to wait a few moments before he defrosts enough to resume attacking. When he begins again, he finds that his spells seem to be hitting with more force and accuracy both, though he can't keep himself from shivering, and he can't seem to quite hit the one they all really need to deal with the most.

"There's only one of those genlock, right?" He asks, not sure if he wants to know the answer or not.

[provenforce]

She gives Jester the barest of smiles at her compliment, too busy trying to engage the enemy to entertain the moment. Her blade slices easily through dead and dying flesh, the accompanied sizzling smell entirely unpleasant as she tries to cut a path to freedom.

"I'm on it!" Rey yells as she cuts a walking corpse in half before sprinting towards the genlock, Isaac's spell settling over her and allowing her to push herself a little harder, the Force singing in her ears.

[esquive]

Spending much time underground may just generally be a mistake. The thought had occurred to Marcoulf the first moments they'd descended down into the dark of the Deep Roads and it hasn't remitted much since. The roiling mob of darkspawn descending on them hasn't improved the impression.

But this at least provides some obvious direction. Diving into the fray, Marcoulf wades his way toward the swarm surrounding Newt. Scrabbling all the way back to the genlock seems unlikely, but he can at least see to it that the mob doesn't overtake the-- rifter mage while Rey hacks her way toward the real target.

"My guess is we'll find out when it dies," Marcoulf growls, driving his blade through the too-soft-too-brittle middle of the nearest corpse.

[somethingwild]

"Fair enough," Newt agrees with the barest hint of a nod, placing most of his concentration back into the fray of the mob surrounding him. The additional strength is especially appreciated, as is the additional aid provided by Marcoulf. Newt focuses on casting Body-Binding curses at the creatures, hoping that, if they work, they'll make the darkspawn much easier targets for the rest of the group.

He tries to pace himself, knowing that pushing himself too far could end badly, while also being aware that the darkspawn are as stubborn as he is on a good day.

"Do they have any other weaknesses we should know about?" He asks, wondering if he might have a better spell to suit the situation at hand.