that mighty dragon, he ceased his fearless roar

[faderifting]

WHO: Dragon-slayers
WHAT: The three Inquisition teams face their dragony foes
WHEN: Guardian 28
WHERE: Emprise du Lion
NOTES: Violence, gore, etc. This log contains closed threads for the 12 characters who were assigned slots on the dragon-fighting quest. Each team has an info pack-type starter about its dragon below. From here it is up to you to coordinate OOCly and decide how you want things to go down, and to NPC the dragon as needed. It also has an open thread for post-dragon-slaying tavern boasting.

By the end of Guardian Judicael's Crossing is repaired, at least enough to send Inquisition agents across on foot. But there is another obstacle preventing them from reestablishing a link between Sahrnia and the outside world: three high dragons have taken up residence across the bridge in an area called the Pools of the Sun. Here, the only road out through the mountains winds between rocky hills, ruins, and statuary. The remains of three structures dominate the landscape, arenas commissioned by Orlesian nobility in ages past.

Each of the teams has been assigned a dragon, and given as much information about it as the Inquisition has been able to gather from a few cautious scouting missions. This consists of where it sleeps and its primary method of attack. Though Inquisition resources are not great, they have had mages working overtime preparing at least basic protections against the dragons' elemental magic. While not enough to prevent injury altogether, they do significantly increase chances of escaping without dire casualties. They have also been provided with a small stock of healing and lyrium potions.

The three teams have been chosen from among the most-suited of the volunteers, and are dispatched across the river together. They split off on arrival, each making their way to the dragon's location and, at a roughly simultaneous moment, beginning the attack.

Comments

[qunari]

The dragon isn't the only one roaring.

Bull is charging in headfirst, making no bones about his presence in the ring. Anything that comes in is going to hear him as he hefts his axe, swinging hard at the dragon's legs and wheeling out of the way when the great beast takes a step and pivots. It's exhilarating, dancing around the movement of the dragon as it tries to shake the hex off, though it's moving too quickly just now to take a swipe at its underbelly.

Still, the Qunari is definitely grinning as he swings, striking hard enough to earn a stamp of the dragon's foot as it attempts to ground itself.

[chainlightning]

Four charge forward and one hangs back, Merrill perfectly content not to run up to the dragon and hit it with her staff, thank you very much. Besides, she's not done; blue runes spring up on the ground around her and near the dragon, the step of any unfriendly claws enough to trigger them into an explosion of ice. A particularly fast dragonling is the first victim of the runes, and their onslaught has more ice cast from Merrill's staff, sprouting up out of the ground to form walls. Where it doesn't freeze the dragonlings solid, it at least slows them down.

Sucking in a breath, Merrill shrieks slightly as a blast of fire comes too close, scrambling to avoid flames. More ice runes are triggered as dragonlings continue to rush, Merrill trying to get out of the way of both the angry horde and the fire without ending up against the wall or under the dragon. It's tight, impeded by her own walls of ice, and she ends up at one point swinging and whacking a dragonling right across the nose with her staff when it gets too close to biting her ankles.

[aintwejust]

Right, mind the mage. Mal barks out a sharp command and Jane doubles back, clearing a wide swath around Merrill to give her more room to work, hauling them away by sharp bites to the jaw, the tail, the throat. Massive teeth snap shut on the damn things and Jayne either tosses them away like ragdolls or gets 'em by the tail and starts dragging. Long as she needs him, Jayne'll be her cover, dancing around fire and ice to keep her back clear.

Mal, on his lonesome in the swarm, makes do. Cuts and thrusts through the mess, teeth grit against the shrieks, the bellowing- and the roaring qunari. Damn if Bull ain't liv'n up to the name more than a little.

Spells hold and steel works fine- Mal skittering back from an errant flail of a wing with a streak of Orlesian swearing. Too close for comfort between the little teeth and the big one- but keep'n the little ones of their big ones is his job. That's the line he said he'd hold, so he's gonna damn well hold it. One seems fit to come up on Lexa and he grunts, flipping his spear up in his hand and hurling it. Spear flies straight, aim's true, pins that sucker to the stone by the tail.

...And now he's down a spear. Shit.