If Dorian had time enough for it, he would shoot the Bull a glare that would practically scream, You think I don't know?
As it stands, he only manages a grunt in response – it's all he can offer while he focuses on keeping his lips pressed tightly together. The Bull lops off a genlock's legs below the knees, and when it falls back, Dorian stabs his staff's blade through its throat, ensuring it won't remain a problem. Distance is a luxury he cannot afford at the moment – not if he means to defend the Bull. The Bull has the right idea, falling back, and Dorian takes a careful step to keep the two of them close together.
Southerners tended to be wary of mages as a rule. Summoning a bit of ice to cool a drink or a bit of fire to light a candle was liable to spur someone into screaming, "Abomination!" But if that mage happens to be a necromancer? Well, the mage would be lucky to escape unscathed. It's why Dorian uses spells from that specialization sparingly. But this situation is desperate, so Dorian doesn't hold back, like he normally might.
Dorian doesn't turn, though, only keeping the Bull in his periphery while he focuses on the room at large. He splays a hand before clenching it into a fist, gathering the energy of the recently killed. It surges through him, gives him a burst of power, and he channels it into a wall of flame that bursts to life around the two of them in a semi-circle, protecting them from the bulk of the darkspawn charging into the room while still giving the Bull room to back himself toward the wall.
He reaches across the Veil, grabbing hold of a few curious wisps and pressing them into the bodies of the dead darkspawn. The corpses rise, wreathed in the swirling, violet light of Dorian's magic, and leap through the wall of flame to attack their enemies.
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As it stands, he only manages a grunt in response – it's all he can offer while he focuses on keeping his lips pressed tightly together. The Bull lops off a genlock's legs below the knees, and when it falls back, Dorian stabs his staff's blade through its throat, ensuring it won't remain a problem. Distance is a luxury he cannot afford at the moment – not if he means to defend the Bull. The Bull has the right idea, falling back, and Dorian takes a careful step to keep the two of them close together.
Southerners tended to be wary of mages as a rule. Summoning a bit of ice to cool a drink or a bit of fire to light a candle was liable to spur someone into screaming, "Abomination!" But if that mage happens to be a necromancer? Well, the mage would be lucky to escape unscathed. It's why Dorian uses spells from that specialization sparingly. But this situation is desperate, so Dorian doesn't hold back, like he normally might.
Dorian doesn't turn, though, only keeping the Bull in his periphery while he focuses on the room at large. He splays a hand before clenching it into a fist, gathering the energy of the recently killed. It surges through him, gives him a burst of power, and he channels it into a wall of flame that bursts to life around the two of them in a semi-circle, protecting them from the bulk of the darkspawn charging into the room while still giving the Bull room to back himself toward the wall.
He reaches across the Veil, grabbing hold of a few curious wisps and pressing them into the bodies of the dead darkspawn. The corpses rise, wreathed in the swirling, violet light of Dorian's magic, and leap through the wall of flame to attack their enemies.