He only half-listens to the Bull moving behind him, keeping more focused on the darkspawn to prevent them from flanking the two of them. He fires blast after blast from his staff – simple shots while he recovers his energy.
What he wouldn't give for a lyrium potion just about now.
The genlock corpse missing its legs finally collapses, too damaged from the way its former brethren hacked at it. The spirit it contained slips away, returning to the ether, and Dorian has mind enough to offer it a quick word of thanks before he gathers more energy to himself. Another fresh corpse surrenders its energy to Dorian, and it bolsters Dorian's mana, fills him with vigor.
Just in time, as the fire wall finally burns out.
Dorian's corpses and various spells have made a decent dent in the horde, but he can hear more of the things climbing over themselves to fill in the gaps of their fallen. They're far too enthralled by the idea of fresh meat, Dorian would wager.
His fingertips touch his temple – just beneath the swelling from when he had smacked his head during the fall – and his magic rushes away from him again in another psychic blast. The closest darkspawn stumble away, some of them knocked clear off their feet. Dorian finishes the job by sweeping a hand upward, unleashing a fireball that explodes and burns several of the darkspawn alive.
The Bull shouts his name, and Dorian wreathes himself in magical energy again, letting it shoot him through the narrow gap of the doorway. Cold air swirls around him when he stops, and he spins, both hands balled into fists as he punches upward, raising a jagged wall of ice to block the door.
It's a temporary measure, at best – and even now, he can hear the darkspawn attempting to hack and claw away at it, shrieking and grunting and letting out those hideous, guttural moans. Dorian rushes to the Bull's bad side, and while he's uncertain if he can fully support the Bull's weight, he assumes any assistance is far better than none.
"We need to keep moving." Dorian is breathing heavily, ignoring the strange hollowness starting to grow in his core – a side effect of casting too much, too often. Magical exhaustion, in a way. He's learned how to work through it, and he puts those skills to use now. "There's stone I can use in the next room to block them in."
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What he wouldn't give for a lyrium potion just about now.
The genlock corpse missing its legs finally collapses, too damaged from the way its former brethren hacked at it. The spirit it contained slips away, returning to the ether, and Dorian has mind enough to offer it a quick word of thanks before he gathers more energy to himself. Another fresh corpse surrenders its energy to Dorian, and it bolsters Dorian's mana, fills him with vigor.
Just in time, as the fire wall finally burns out.
Dorian's corpses and various spells have made a decent dent in the horde, but he can hear more of the things climbing over themselves to fill in the gaps of their fallen. They're far too enthralled by the idea of fresh meat, Dorian would wager.
His fingertips touch his temple – just beneath the swelling from when he had smacked his head during the fall – and his magic rushes away from him again in another psychic blast. The closest darkspawn stumble away, some of them knocked clear off their feet. Dorian finishes the job by sweeping a hand upward, unleashing a fireball that explodes and burns several of the darkspawn alive.
The Bull shouts his name, and Dorian wreathes himself in magical energy again, letting it shoot him through the narrow gap of the doorway. Cold air swirls around him when he stops, and he spins, both hands balled into fists as he punches upward, raising a jagged wall of ice to block the door.
It's a temporary measure, at best – and even now, he can hear the darkspawn attempting to hack and claw away at it, shrieking and grunting and letting out those hideous, guttural moans. Dorian rushes to the Bull's bad side, and while he's uncertain if he can fully support the Bull's weight, he assumes any assistance is far better than none.
"We need to keep moving." Dorian is breathing heavily, ignoring the strange hollowness starting to grow in his core – a side effect of casting too much, too often. Magical exhaustion, in a way. He's learned how to work through it, and he puts those skills to use now. "There's stone I can use in the next room to block them in."