The tension in Kirkwall had been palpitate the moment Dorian stepped on to the docks weeks ago. He would have loved to leave straight away but he hadn't the coin so he was forced to stay in the City of Chains and devise a way to make enough gold to move on to Starkhaven or another Free March city.
The gold and the chance did not come in time. Kirkwall exploded, quite literally, into war right before his eyes. Templars turned on mages, mages turned into abominations and Dorian was stuck in the thick of it, fighting his way to the docks and hopefully a place on a fleeing ship.
He didn't quite make it. Instead he found himself face to face with demons, the blood mage who summoned them lying dead at the monsters' feet. Clearly another reason not to truck with demons but it was too late for the poor bastard and the summoned creatures were now Dorian's problem.
It surprises him to feel his barrier snap. He whips his staff around, blade slashing through a demon on the way and is ready to burn whoever or whatever broke it to a crisp. Except, it's a Templar, obvious by the symbol on his shield claiming to be aid and charging into battle.
"Let's hope it stays that way," he mutters under his breath as he returns to the fight. There are enough recently dead around for him to pull spirits from the Fade and throw them into the fight against demons. He throws fire and casts lightning and when his mana is low spins his staff around to slice and stab with the bladed end. All that combat training his father insisted on is finally getting used.
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The gold and the chance did not come in time. Kirkwall exploded, quite literally, into war right before his eyes. Templars turned on mages, mages turned into abominations and Dorian was stuck in the thick of it, fighting his way to the docks and hopefully a place on a fleeing ship.
He didn't quite make it. Instead he found himself face to face with demons, the blood mage who summoned them lying dead at the monsters' feet. Clearly another reason not to truck with demons but it was too late for the poor bastard and the summoned creatures were now Dorian's problem.
It surprises him to feel his barrier snap. He whips his staff around, blade slashing through a demon on the way and is ready to burn whoever or whatever broke it to a crisp. Except, it's a Templar, obvious by the symbol on his shield claiming to be aid and charging into battle.
"Let's hope it stays that way," he mutters under his breath as he returns to the fight. There are enough recently dead around for him to pull spirits from the Fade and throw them into the fight against demons. He throws fire and casts lightning and when his mana is low spins his staff around to slice and stab with the bladed end. All that combat training his father insisted on is finally getting used.