( closed ) many seasons have passed me by

[dashing]

WHO: Herian, and the esteemed fighting force of Bronach, Fingon, Helena, Lakshmi, Six & Wren.
WHAT: The Flying Countdown; a diplomatic mission to the Qunari feat. a dragon fight
WHEN: after the Tevinter rescues, slightly vague for flexibility
WHERE: an island in the Boeric Ocean
NOTES: ooc post; content warning for violence and potentially other stuff to be added.

There will be an open toplevel with Herian, then the dragon fight thread for all the combatants that I will GM, and players are also totally welcome to make open top levels for travel to and from the island or any other general RP you’d like to do.

Dragons are especially significant in Qunari culture; although they are not revered in a religious sense, exactly, they represent extraordinary strength. Their death is necessary in order to establish society. High dragons are referred to as "Ataashi," or "glorious ones" in Qunlat.

The Inquisition is known for having successfully felled a number of high dragons over the past few years. The Arishok would like to see them kill a high dragon on an island in the Boeric Ocean that has the potential to be a lucrative source for metal ore and some elements necessary for the production of gaatlok, and peaceful meeting place for the Inquisition and Qunari to develop a rapport, discuss terms of alliance (or at least not outright hostility) and perhaps even an opportunity for an eventual Inquisition outpost.

... They just have to prove they really can kill a high dragon, first.

Some things will have been made very clear: under no circumstances is magic to be used outside of combat with the dragon, and under no circumstances are they to antagonise the Qunari or stir up tension. This is important, especially in the wake of Tevinter. And probably wearing gloves would be wise, too.

Comments

[dashing]

The dragon roars - an earth-shaking shriek of a sound. Somehow it rumbles and scrapes in the same moment, feels like might seek to hollow out the very air if it were possible. So many are running for her legs, gathering together. At first her gaze flickers towards the lone adversary, before the strike of the arrow in its leg makes her head snap towards the archer at the back.

Her head rears back, body following as she rises up, and then—

Not fire, but lightning, pours from her mouth. Electricity that encircles and crackles between Lakshmi and Six, in a painful net of energy. It does not hold them in place, but the pain, the burning, is ongoing.

Her wings beat, and the swirling wind could serve to drag all the combatants closer, even the archers, if they don't find a way to steady themselves.

[limier]

"Six!"

A curse in Orlesian as the girl goes charging past (with me). Visions of an imminently crispy future dance before her eyes —

But that’s not a problem if she can’t hold the beast's attention. Wren forces herself forward into the roar, slashing for a nostril. But it’s already pulling back, wings battering a vortex of wind.

Instinct wants to brace against the shield, but she wouldn't have the strength to hold that long. Move with it. She presses in, wary of the immense weight suspended above. Abruptly, wary of more: The air warps. Heat, ozone — and then thunder cracks loose, and there’s no time to spare for more than passing worry of the Rifters.

She stabs down, into the webbing between two monstrous toes, and bellows:

"Different legs,"

An adjustment. It'll have to do; she’s already shredded her voice. There will be no inspiring war cries from this end. As the blade rips free, she clatters it repeatedly against the shield, summons as much noise as can be managed.

The gong was more effective. She should’ve converted her armor to a xylophone.

[strangel]

Different legs, she says.

Helena doesn't turn around, but her gaze flickers towards the bird knight with faint incredulity as she holds desperately onto the dragon, hanging by a by spine on the back where her rope has miraculously caught, and grim determination. Perhaps she means for them to be spaced out, or perhaps she wants Helena to move to another leg, but in either case, she's committed to her current location.

A storm is crackling around them, and she isn't able to risk looking around, but instead grabs her dagger and drives her dagger into the cracks between two scales. Less for damage, specifically, and more for a handhold.

[earthbones]

Shrieking without words isn't a thing Brónach thought she would find so empty but later she will when her body isn't fighting with itself over what it wants to do, and it's in that moment that the shout rips itself out of her throat. Mages move this fast. Blur with some motion of their staff, ground beneath their feet slick with frost.

Wuld Nah Kest all it takes for her to carry herself forward as if a storm is at her back along with the dragon. A time not to fight. To bend with it.

If anyone notices - if their audience notices - then it's not something for her to care about when she fires again once she stops moving, firing in the fluid motion they teach you in Valenwood where you hunt everything there is to hunt as soon as you're old enough. The magic prickles her skin.

(Thalmor. She thinks of Thalmor. Of Justiciars. Hesitates on drawing again at the memory of storm atronachs of lightning and rock and Oblivion holding it together.)

The next shout is ready in her throat; this is the thing, after all, she's done this before, she'll do it again, the trick to the future is to know that you're writing it not that it's written.

[shri]

Realistically, she knows she's felt as awful things, after all, somewhere between giving birth, getting shot, and having every bone broken all at once. But as of right now, being turned into one of Tesla's machines certainly hadn't been on her list of wanted experiences. Hanging on with both teeth grit as she pushed through the pain. Turning the pain into anger, turn the anger into another confusion for the damn beast. Even if for a moment she can't do anything but scream out the pain of it for one, hot, blistering second where she is cut through in pain.

But she took this position because she can take it, taken just as bad, will do again and trusts Helena to follow her own path up and onwards - and busies herself with the task she sets for herself, tying her end off to stop the thing from taking off out of range. "Get the rope around its neck! Stop it from taking off!"

Whilst it's attention is elsewhere she goes for the closest heaviest thing. A tree. A tree will do. Tying it in a heavy knot, pulling it off with a heave of her own weight to make sure it would hold fast before she turns back. Blade ready, had done what she could for Helena now, the rest was up to her, and she needed to make sure that it was possible at all. The own shout of her voice bellowing outwards.

[dashing]

As the webbing is pierced and shredded, the dragon reflexively tries to jerk back, tearing the flesh in to process. There is a deafening roar, and Northern Hunter snaps its massive jaws towards Coupe, the source of the pain and the noise. The teeth miss, but her head swings sharply, colliding hard with the Templar to throw her against a collection of boulders.

In the same swing of motion, Fingon has the tail slapping towards him, the whole dragon lurching and shifting.

The heavy smell of an oncoming storm is building, and the crackle of lightning around her might be hint enough that she is readying her next attack.

[utulien_aure]

Oh, wonderful. Always fun, this sort of surprise.

Fingon launches himself to the side as he sees the tail hurtling toward him, managing to fall into a protective roll against the ground. It's closer than he would have liked- part of the tail still pummels his right shoulder, and the bruises will not be pleasant to deal with later. Hopefully, though, that will be the worst of it.

Rising quickly, he circles the dragon and takes aim at the hind leg he's now closest to; arrow after arrow volleys into the chosen spot. It's not ideal (if he gets the chance, what he'd really like to experiment with is a shot at the dragon's eyes) but anything which might distract it from the rising tempest would be welcome.

[strangel]

Helena is hanging from a dragon, and honestly having the best time. As it lunges and strikes at the others, she should probably reflect that she's lucky to be alive, and that she's lucky the others are hurting it so much that it is focusing on them and not her.

She doesn't, but she should.

Scrambling up, there are two times she almost falls and just barely stays on. She manages to get a seat where neck connects shoulders, and begins the job of trying to get the rope around its neck. Difficult, with how it snaps at Coupe and twists to slam Fingon with its tail, but she just about manages a loop around the neck, doubled up rope. It gives her a chance to use something to hold onto, so here she is, sitting on a dragon, one hand anchored at the rope, and the dagger that was between her teeth now in her hand.