The creature that had emerged from the seal seemed confused, glancing around at the room they were in, though he seemed almost not to notice them. âBe this some dream I wake from? Am I in dwarven lands? Why seem their roads so empty?â He raised a twisted hand to his head. âThe light⊠we sought the golden light. You offered⊠the power of the gods themselves. But it was black. Corrupt. DarknessâŠever since. How long?â
Stroud was scowling, helping Ashton to his feet and then stepping about a pace to the archerâs left, his hand on the hilt of his sword. âDoes he refer toâŠ?â
Nostarielâs eyebrows nearly disappeared into her hairline. Perhaps he did, though she wasnât sure she believed it. This⊠wasnât exactly what she expected. At this point, he turned his attention to them, addressing Stroud, though her fellow Warden stood slightly behind her. âYou! Serve you at the Temple of Dumat? Bring me hence! I must speak with the first acolyte.â When no one immediately moved to do so, he seemed to grow impatient. âWhomever you be, you all owe fealty to any magister of Tevinter. On your knees, all of you!â
Ithilian had certainly never seen anything so perplexing before, and he felt quite like an elf who had seen far too much already. He did not read the human Chant of Light in its entirety, but he knew the story, and he was able to make the connections based on the words escaping this deformed creature. He was like the darkspawn and yet... not. There was a clarity, an intelligence in his eyes where the others had only raw aggression. He was marred and deformed in similar ways, but ultimately more impressive than any darkspawn he'd seen.
If he was who he seemed to be implying, a magister of Tevinter, a man who sought the light of a supposed Golden City, then he was powerful, regardless of his foolishness. Ithilian turned to his bow rather than his blades, drawing and nocking an arrow. He did not raise the bow just yet, instead cautiously muttering, keeping his eye on Corypheus all the while. "... Do we have a plan for this?"
âCan we plan, for something of this kind?â Lucien was also instinctively gripping the hilt of his sword, rather obviously so, considering it was sheathed at his back. They didnât know what this being was capable of, though he was willing to bet the same intelligence that rendered it capable of speech would make it a cunning foe. It seemed unlikely that they would just be able to mow it down as they did with its lesser kin, but he supposed that what they did would be largely dependent on what it did.
Amalia, less immediately obvious than some of those she traveled with, didnât answer verbally, taking the opportunity provided by the creatureâs distraction to sidle around behind it, though she kept a moderate distance from it. Chances were good it used magic, claiming to be a magister the way it did. Then it ought to die twice over, once for being a despicable, hateful creature full of corruption and unseemly lust for blood and death, and then again for being a darkspawn.
Instead of trying to discuss some sort of plan, Ashton exhaled a weary sigh. Perhaps he was too tired to fully grasp the situation at hand, or more likely, he just didn't care. Letting his eyes slip upward for a moment, he drew the next arrow and pulled back on the bowstring, a look of utter contempt flitting across his face. Had he been in the right frame of mind, he might have felt some sort of fear, or maybe caution. But the desire for the whole ordeal to be over and done with outweighed anything else. Ashton had never been accused of being a wise man, after all.
"The plan's the same," Ashton said, the tip of his arrow still pointing to the ground. "We kill it, then we go home." In one smooth motion, he lifted his bow and fired, the arrow striking forward. Hopefully, the others wouldn't be caught too off-guard by his sudden action. It was too late to regret it, in any case. The arrow struck the monster's chest with a dull thump. "Any questions?" Ashton asked, slowly pushing backward and out of the immediate range.
Corypheus sneered, ripping out the arrow with a vicious glare in the direction it came from. âVery well. If I do not leave with you, I leave through you.â He raised his arms to either side, and the carved pillars at the north and south ends of the room began to glow, more aureate light pouring forth, and this time apparently absorbed directly into the darkspawn himself. He closed his fists, cutting off the flow, then drew both in front of him, letting loose massive twin jets of flame, long enough to reach and lick up the walls of the chamber all the way across its radius. There was precious little chance of escaping them unscathed if one was in their way, but it seemed that he could not move them too fast, else he risked weakening the fire enough that someone might jump over it unharmed.
Nostariel was not quick enough to get out of the way of the first blast, and flames licked up her left forearm, forcing her to drop to the ground and roll to put them out, then scramble sideways to avoid where Corypheus was aiming to move them. The maneuver had effectively split the group, and it looked like, for the moment at least, getting close enough to damage him in melee would be quite a challenge.
Stroud, sword drawn, realized this as well, cursing under his breath in Orlesian. âWhat did he do?â The senior Warden grit his teeth, jogging leftwards to avoid the moving jets of fire.
âThe pillars. Something with the pillars!â Nostariel wasnât sure what, but it had looked like he was drawing energy from them or some such.
Amalia, who had been about to try and take her chances with getting behind the darkspawn, as she seemed as yet to be unnoticed, diverted her path as soon as Nostariel mentioned the pillars. The way the fire had split the room was such that she had a clear path to one of them, though this was far different from knowing what to do once she got there.
Racing to the pillar on the left, one of the two heâd drawn from, Amalia studied the thing as quickly as possible, running her eyes over the stone column. There was writing on it of some kind, not that she could read what it said, but it was glowing, and that was usually a bad sign. So she did the only thing she could think ofâshe drew a knife and raked it across the limestone, marring a few of the letters with an extra stroke.
The effect was instantaneousâlike the seal itself, the pillar issued a shockwave, pushing her back. Worse was the fact that, though the text had stopped glowing, sheâd released a pair of rage demons. Rolling out of the way of the blast of fire one of them shot at her, Amalia came up on both feet. Still separated from the others by Corypheusâs jets of fire, sheâd have to last long enough for the others to figure out a way around, or else find some way to dispatch both herself. They seemed larger than other such creatures, and realistically, her chances were not excellent, but a little ranged support might make all the difference.
âDestroy the words, but watch for demons!â she shouted, just in case the fire or distraction made it impossible for the others to see what was happening.
Ithilian took a defensive step back from the flames that split through the middle of the room, though the wall of fire then began to move away from him, offering him a moment to take in the situation. Amalia had attacked one of the pillars that Corypheus utilized, unleashing a duo of rage demons as a result. Ashton's arrow did little enough to the darkspawn magister himself, so Ithilian made the judgment that his own would be better spent elsewhere. When the arrow in his hand was suddenly enchanted with Nostariel's frost magic, he knew they were thinking the same thing.
He loosed several arrows immediately one after the other at the rage demons trying to hack and spew flame at Amalia, the cold damaging them heavily. The one turned to try and rush Ithilian instead, while the other kept up its assault. Minding the rotation of the flames, Ithilian continued to back across the room in time with the fire, giving him the space he needed to finally put down one of the demons, dissolving it into a puddle that sank into the floor, leaving nothing but his arrows behind.
For the second time in recent memory Ashton found himself on his back. The gout of fire caught him off guard, and the usually sure-footed Ashton felt his feet catch and he tumbled backward in surprise. He didn't remain there for long however, flipping over and scrambling away from the stream of flame as fast as his battered body could take him on all fours. Eventually, he got far enough away to avoid getting immolated, and was helped up by Lucien just in time to hear Amalia shout over the din of fire.
"Come on," Ashton said, gesturing to the pillar on their side with his head. They quickly made their way to the pillar, when Ashton turned and face the rest of the room with an arrow nocked. He had lost his guard-issued sword when the flaming pride demon melted it in its attack, leaving him no other way to scratch the words off other than shooting them with arrows, and he could think of better uses for them. "Think you can do it? I'll welcome the guests," He asked Lucien, and though the joke was made, it lacked his humorous tone.
Lucien glanced quickly between Ashton and Stroud, who had also followed, and nodded. âOn three.â He readied his sword hefting it in both hands. âOne, two⊠three.â With the last, he swung in a quasi-horizontal arc, angling the blade down in just enough time to bite a wedge out of the soft stone rather than simply hitting it as hard as he could. Everburn could take a lot of abuse, but striking it against a stone pillar bluntly was not what it was made for.
Fortunately, it worked, and the lit words dimmed, a small chunk of limestone falling away from the pillar. Prepared for the shockwave this time, Lucien simply withstood it, and the demons appeared to his right.
Stroud reacted quickly, charging the one on the further right shield-first, Nostarielâs enchantment coating it and his sword both with a layer of ice. It hissed when it came into contact with the body of the demon, and he withdrew it, smashing forward again closer to the thingâs head, and following up with a powerful stroke of the blade for its middle. He was already getting uncomfortably hot from its proximity, but that was not as much a concern as killing it quickly, and so he bore the temperature without complaint, taking a blow from one of its hands to his sword-arm.
He could tell that it had burned him, but not so badly that he was in too much pain to move, and so he grit his teeth and plunged his blade into the base of its neck in front, the ice enchantment cooling its flesh rapidly and making its movement slow and sluggish. Stroud twisted his wrist and yanked the blade out sideways, felling the creature at his feet.
Nostariel chose to stand as close to the fire as she dared, mostly distracting Corypheus, but also providing a few projectiles by way of support for Ithilian and Amalia. She tried to out-ice the flames the darkspawn was using, but his magic was too strong to be overpowered by hers, at least at present. She carefully maintained safe distance from them, hoping that by annoying him, she would keep her friends from his immediate attention.
With projectiles flying in overhead courtesy of Nostariel, Amalia chose to stay low, running in for the rage demon Ithilian was not fighting at a crouch, not precisely surprised to discover that her knife was now coated in magical ice. It would certainly make matters much simpler. Moving in from the right, she pivoted out of the way of one of the creatureâs magma-coated arms, slashing at what would have been the underarm region.
Her knife alone likely wouldnât have done much, but the enchantment was much more effective, and the joint went dark as it cooled rapidly, the demonâs arm essentially stuck, prevented from moving up and down. With it hobbled so, it was a relatively easy matter to slide around behind its back, though she had to be quickâthe flames were approaching. A deep slash to the back of its neck felled it, though magma dripped onto her hand, protected by a much thinner layer of dragonhide than the rest of her, and she could smell her own skin burning, and withdrew her limb quickly, switching the knife to her other hand and moving her injured one slightly behind her back.
Back on the other side of the room, Ashton loosed the third arrow into the second of rage demon that appeared. Like Lucien, he weathered the shockwave, though not as well. He had stumbled, and almost fell again, but caught himself with just enough time to greet the demon with an arrow. Enchanted with Nostariel's ice spell, the arrow pounded into the creature's chest, ice blossoming from the point of impact and drying the magma around it. He winced as his own chest hurt from the memory, but he nonetheless followed up with another pair in varying places.
By the time the fourth struck, the demon was all but an immobilized block of dried magma.
Stroud felled it with one last stroke, and that was when the flames ceased, one jet only half a foot from Amalia. Corypheus yelled something, but over the din it was virtually impossible to hear him. All Nostariel really cared about was that he was floating down away from the central seal, towards her, and she was currently very much the only one in his path.
She didnât have the time to prepare anything more than an arcane shield, and the massive telekinetic blow that the darkspawn used shattered it anyway, sending her flying across the room and into one of the curved walls. The impact was disastrous, and she feltâand heardâsome of her ribs snap in several places as she slid to the ground. Trying to breathe hurt, and she accidentally took in too much air attempting to recover and coughed, spitting up blood over her lips and chin, each new involuntary hacking motion murder on her midsection. She groaned softly, unable to breathe enough for much else.
Ithilian could only watch as Nostariel was tossed across the room to slam into a wall, but when Corypheus looked to be following up the attack with more, he had time to act, and intervene. Just before the darkspawn magister could unleash another blast on the downed Warden, Ithilian charged up behind him, his bow abandoned on the ground and his blades in hand. Jumping, he drove sword and Parshaara into Corypheus's back, a move that succeeded at least in interrupting his spell. It appeared to have only agitated him further, however, rather than actually wounding him.
"Miserable wretch," he murmured, reaching a long arm behind him and snatching the back of Ithilian's jacket. With incredible strength he pulled him up and off of him, taking the blades with him, which Ithilian refused to relinquish. Pulled around in front of the magister and left to dangle, it was only a moment more before a heavy blow with the force of magic behind it slammed into his chest. Any attempts Ithilian might have made to hack at the darkspawn's arm were interrupted when his sternum and several ribs cracked under the blow.
"Squirm, filth. You are nothing before me..." He brought his fist back again, aiming another punch for Ithilian's head.
Its connection was interrupted when something slammed into Corypheus from his unprotected side, the one he was using to hold up the elf. That something, as it turned out, was Lucien, who had noticed that most blows werenât doing much to actually hurt the magister, and therefore didnât want to risk a sword-slash, in case it didnât stop Corypheusâs next blow from landing. The body-check, while doubtless much more uncomfortable for himself than the darkspawn, did at least knock the latterâs aim off-course, and the blow meant to break something else instead sailed by Ithilianâs ear, hitting only air.
Lucien staggered backwards, shaking his headâCorypheus was a lot more solid than the sorts of things it was usually wise to assault in such a way, and he would admit that his shoulder ached even under the armor. The darkspawn had a little more give in him than, say, a wall, but not much. He still had hold of Ithilian, however, and so Lucien swung for his outstretched arm, trying to force him to drop the other man.
It worked, but perhaps not in the best way possible. Corypheus used the now-empty hand to catch the sword, and though Everburn bit deep into the magisterâs palm, heâd taken most of the force out of the swing by catching it high, before gravity and muscle power had really lent it the strength it should have had. Lucien was left in the awkward position of trying to bear down with nothing but the strength of his arms, the angle too wide for much of the rest of his body weight to be any use to him.
Stroud entered the confrontation at that point, aiming for the same arm Lucien had, hacking with his shorter blade for the darkspawnâs eerily-distended bicep. He didnât leave more than a shallow cut, despite the force he used, but it was enough. Lucienâs efforts pushed Corypheusâs arm down, pinning it for no more than a pair of seconds to the floor, the darkspawn thrown off-balance by the sudden shift in force. They had to make it count.
Stroud was scowling, helping Ashton to his feet and then stepping about a pace to the archerâs left, his hand on the hilt of his sword. âDoes he refer toâŠ?â
Nostarielâs eyebrows nearly disappeared into her hairline. Perhaps he did, though she wasnât sure she believed it. This⊠wasnât exactly what she expected. At this point, he turned his attention to them, addressing Stroud, though her fellow Warden stood slightly behind her. âYou! Serve you at the Temple of Dumat? Bring me hence! I must speak with the first acolyte.â When no one immediately moved to do so, he seemed to grow impatient. âWhomever you be, you all owe fealty to any magister of Tevinter. On your knees, all of you!â
Ithilian had certainly never seen anything so perplexing before, and he felt quite like an elf who had seen far too much already. He did not read the human Chant of Light in its entirety, but he knew the story, and he was able to make the connections based on the words escaping this deformed creature. He was like the darkspawn and yet... not. There was a clarity, an intelligence in his eyes where the others had only raw aggression. He was marred and deformed in similar ways, but ultimately more impressive than any darkspawn he'd seen.
If he was who he seemed to be implying, a magister of Tevinter, a man who sought the light of a supposed Golden City, then he was powerful, regardless of his foolishness. Ithilian turned to his bow rather than his blades, drawing and nocking an arrow. He did not raise the bow just yet, instead cautiously muttering, keeping his eye on Corypheus all the while. "... Do we have a plan for this?"
âCan we plan, for something of this kind?â Lucien was also instinctively gripping the hilt of his sword, rather obviously so, considering it was sheathed at his back. They didnât know what this being was capable of, though he was willing to bet the same intelligence that rendered it capable of speech would make it a cunning foe. It seemed unlikely that they would just be able to mow it down as they did with its lesser kin, but he supposed that what they did would be largely dependent on what it did.
Amalia, less immediately obvious than some of those she traveled with, didnât answer verbally, taking the opportunity provided by the creatureâs distraction to sidle around behind it, though she kept a moderate distance from it. Chances were good it used magic, claiming to be a magister the way it did. Then it ought to die twice over, once for being a despicable, hateful creature full of corruption and unseemly lust for blood and death, and then again for being a darkspawn.
Instead of trying to discuss some sort of plan, Ashton exhaled a weary sigh. Perhaps he was too tired to fully grasp the situation at hand, or more likely, he just didn't care. Letting his eyes slip upward for a moment, he drew the next arrow and pulled back on the bowstring, a look of utter contempt flitting across his face. Had he been in the right frame of mind, he might have felt some sort of fear, or maybe caution. But the desire for the whole ordeal to be over and done with outweighed anything else. Ashton had never been accused of being a wise man, after all.
"The plan's the same," Ashton said, the tip of his arrow still pointing to the ground. "We kill it, then we go home." In one smooth motion, he lifted his bow and fired, the arrow striking forward. Hopefully, the others wouldn't be caught too off-guard by his sudden action. It was too late to regret it, in any case. The arrow struck the monster's chest with a dull thump. "Any questions?" Ashton asked, slowly pushing backward and out of the immediate range.
Corypheus sneered, ripping out the arrow with a vicious glare in the direction it came from. âVery well. If I do not leave with you, I leave through you.â He raised his arms to either side, and the carved pillars at the north and south ends of the room began to glow, more aureate light pouring forth, and this time apparently absorbed directly into the darkspawn himself. He closed his fists, cutting off the flow, then drew both in front of him, letting loose massive twin jets of flame, long enough to reach and lick up the walls of the chamber all the way across its radius. There was precious little chance of escaping them unscathed if one was in their way, but it seemed that he could not move them too fast, else he risked weakening the fire enough that someone might jump over it unharmed.
Nostariel was not quick enough to get out of the way of the first blast, and flames licked up her left forearm, forcing her to drop to the ground and roll to put them out, then scramble sideways to avoid where Corypheus was aiming to move them. The maneuver had effectively split the group, and it looked like, for the moment at least, getting close enough to damage him in melee would be quite a challenge.
Stroud, sword drawn, realized this as well, cursing under his breath in Orlesian. âWhat did he do?â The senior Warden grit his teeth, jogging leftwards to avoid the moving jets of fire.
âThe pillars. Something with the pillars!â Nostariel wasnât sure what, but it had looked like he was drawing energy from them or some such.
Amalia, who had been about to try and take her chances with getting behind the darkspawn, as she seemed as yet to be unnoticed, diverted her path as soon as Nostariel mentioned the pillars. The way the fire had split the room was such that she had a clear path to one of them, though this was far different from knowing what to do once she got there.
Racing to the pillar on the left, one of the two heâd drawn from, Amalia studied the thing as quickly as possible, running her eyes over the stone column. There was writing on it of some kind, not that she could read what it said, but it was glowing, and that was usually a bad sign. So she did the only thing she could think ofâshe drew a knife and raked it across the limestone, marring a few of the letters with an extra stroke.
The effect was instantaneousâlike the seal itself, the pillar issued a shockwave, pushing her back. Worse was the fact that, though the text had stopped glowing, sheâd released a pair of rage demons. Rolling out of the way of the blast of fire one of them shot at her, Amalia came up on both feet. Still separated from the others by Corypheusâs jets of fire, sheâd have to last long enough for the others to figure out a way around, or else find some way to dispatch both herself. They seemed larger than other such creatures, and realistically, her chances were not excellent, but a little ranged support might make all the difference.
âDestroy the words, but watch for demons!â she shouted, just in case the fire or distraction made it impossible for the others to see what was happening.
Ithilian took a defensive step back from the flames that split through the middle of the room, though the wall of fire then began to move away from him, offering him a moment to take in the situation. Amalia had attacked one of the pillars that Corypheus utilized, unleashing a duo of rage demons as a result. Ashton's arrow did little enough to the darkspawn magister himself, so Ithilian made the judgment that his own would be better spent elsewhere. When the arrow in his hand was suddenly enchanted with Nostariel's frost magic, he knew they were thinking the same thing.
He loosed several arrows immediately one after the other at the rage demons trying to hack and spew flame at Amalia, the cold damaging them heavily. The one turned to try and rush Ithilian instead, while the other kept up its assault. Minding the rotation of the flames, Ithilian continued to back across the room in time with the fire, giving him the space he needed to finally put down one of the demons, dissolving it into a puddle that sank into the floor, leaving nothing but his arrows behind.
For the second time in recent memory Ashton found himself on his back. The gout of fire caught him off guard, and the usually sure-footed Ashton felt his feet catch and he tumbled backward in surprise. He didn't remain there for long however, flipping over and scrambling away from the stream of flame as fast as his battered body could take him on all fours. Eventually, he got far enough away to avoid getting immolated, and was helped up by Lucien just in time to hear Amalia shout over the din of fire.
"Come on," Ashton said, gesturing to the pillar on their side with his head. They quickly made their way to the pillar, when Ashton turned and face the rest of the room with an arrow nocked. He had lost his guard-issued sword when the flaming pride demon melted it in its attack, leaving him no other way to scratch the words off other than shooting them with arrows, and he could think of better uses for them. "Think you can do it? I'll welcome the guests," He asked Lucien, and though the joke was made, it lacked his humorous tone.
Lucien glanced quickly between Ashton and Stroud, who had also followed, and nodded. âOn three.â He readied his sword hefting it in both hands. âOne, two⊠three.â With the last, he swung in a quasi-horizontal arc, angling the blade down in just enough time to bite a wedge out of the soft stone rather than simply hitting it as hard as he could. Everburn could take a lot of abuse, but striking it against a stone pillar bluntly was not what it was made for.
Fortunately, it worked, and the lit words dimmed, a small chunk of limestone falling away from the pillar. Prepared for the shockwave this time, Lucien simply withstood it, and the demons appeared to his right.
Stroud reacted quickly, charging the one on the further right shield-first, Nostarielâs enchantment coating it and his sword both with a layer of ice. It hissed when it came into contact with the body of the demon, and he withdrew it, smashing forward again closer to the thingâs head, and following up with a powerful stroke of the blade for its middle. He was already getting uncomfortably hot from its proximity, but that was not as much a concern as killing it quickly, and so he bore the temperature without complaint, taking a blow from one of its hands to his sword-arm.
He could tell that it had burned him, but not so badly that he was in too much pain to move, and so he grit his teeth and plunged his blade into the base of its neck in front, the ice enchantment cooling its flesh rapidly and making its movement slow and sluggish. Stroud twisted his wrist and yanked the blade out sideways, felling the creature at his feet.
Nostariel chose to stand as close to the fire as she dared, mostly distracting Corypheus, but also providing a few projectiles by way of support for Ithilian and Amalia. She tried to out-ice the flames the darkspawn was using, but his magic was too strong to be overpowered by hers, at least at present. She carefully maintained safe distance from them, hoping that by annoying him, she would keep her friends from his immediate attention.
With projectiles flying in overhead courtesy of Nostariel, Amalia chose to stay low, running in for the rage demon Ithilian was not fighting at a crouch, not precisely surprised to discover that her knife was now coated in magical ice. It would certainly make matters much simpler. Moving in from the right, she pivoted out of the way of one of the creatureâs magma-coated arms, slashing at what would have been the underarm region.
Her knife alone likely wouldnât have done much, but the enchantment was much more effective, and the joint went dark as it cooled rapidly, the demonâs arm essentially stuck, prevented from moving up and down. With it hobbled so, it was a relatively easy matter to slide around behind its back, though she had to be quickâthe flames were approaching. A deep slash to the back of its neck felled it, though magma dripped onto her hand, protected by a much thinner layer of dragonhide than the rest of her, and she could smell her own skin burning, and withdrew her limb quickly, switching the knife to her other hand and moving her injured one slightly behind her back.
Back on the other side of the room, Ashton loosed the third arrow into the second of rage demon that appeared. Like Lucien, he weathered the shockwave, though not as well. He had stumbled, and almost fell again, but caught himself with just enough time to greet the demon with an arrow. Enchanted with Nostariel's ice spell, the arrow pounded into the creature's chest, ice blossoming from the point of impact and drying the magma around it. He winced as his own chest hurt from the memory, but he nonetheless followed up with another pair in varying places.
By the time the fourth struck, the demon was all but an immobilized block of dried magma.
Stroud felled it with one last stroke, and that was when the flames ceased, one jet only half a foot from Amalia. Corypheus yelled something, but over the din it was virtually impossible to hear him. All Nostariel really cared about was that he was floating down away from the central seal, towards her, and she was currently very much the only one in his path.
She didnât have the time to prepare anything more than an arcane shield, and the massive telekinetic blow that the darkspawn used shattered it anyway, sending her flying across the room and into one of the curved walls. The impact was disastrous, and she feltâand heardâsome of her ribs snap in several places as she slid to the ground. Trying to breathe hurt, and she accidentally took in too much air attempting to recover and coughed, spitting up blood over her lips and chin, each new involuntary hacking motion murder on her midsection. She groaned softly, unable to breathe enough for much else.
Ithilian could only watch as Nostariel was tossed across the room to slam into a wall, but when Corypheus looked to be following up the attack with more, he had time to act, and intervene. Just before the darkspawn magister could unleash another blast on the downed Warden, Ithilian charged up behind him, his bow abandoned on the ground and his blades in hand. Jumping, he drove sword and Parshaara into Corypheus's back, a move that succeeded at least in interrupting his spell. It appeared to have only agitated him further, however, rather than actually wounding him.
"Miserable wretch," he murmured, reaching a long arm behind him and snatching the back of Ithilian's jacket. With incredible strength he pulled him up and off of him, taking the blades with him, which Ithilian refused to relinquish. Pulled around in front of the magister and left to dangle, it was only a moment more before a heavy blow with the force of magic behind it slammed into his chest. Any attempts Ithilian might have made to hack at the darkspawn's arm were interrupted when his sternum and several ribs cracked under the blow.
"Squirm, filth. You are nothing before me..." He brought his fist back again, aiming another punch for Ithilian's head.
Its connection was interrupted when something slammed into Corypheus from his unprotected side, the one he was using to hold up the elf. That something, as it turned out, was Lucien, who had noticed that most blows werenât doing much to actually hurt the magister, and therefore didnât want to risk a sword-slash, in case it didnât stop Corypheusâs next blow from landing. The body-check, while doubtless much more uncomfortable for himself than the darkspawn, did at least knock the latterâs aim off-course, and the blow meant to break something else instead sailed by Ithilianâs ear, hitting only air.
Lucien staggered backwards, shaking his headâCorypheus was a lot more solid than the sorts of things it was usually wise to assault in such a way, and he would admit that his shoulder ached even under the armor. The darkspawn had a little more give in him than, say, a wall, but not much. He still had hold of Ithilian, however, and so Lucien swung for his outstretched arm, trying to force him to drop the other man.
It worked, but perhaps not in the best way possible. Corypheus used the now-empty hand to catch the sword, and though Everburn bit deep into the magisterâs palm, heâd taken most of the force out of the swing by catching it high, before gravity and muscle power had really lent it the strength it should have had. Lucien was left in the awkward position of trying to bear down with nothing but the strength of his arms, the angle too wide for much of the rest of his body weight to be any use to him.
Stroud entered the confrontation at that point, aiming for the same arm Lucien had, hacking with his shorter blade for the darkspawnâs eerily-distended bicep. He didnât leave more than a shallow cut, despite the force he used, but it was enough. Lucienâs efforts pushed Corypheusâs arm down, pinning it for no more than a pair of seconds to the floor, the darkspawn thrown off-balance by the sudden shift in force. They had to make it count.