[ The elf startles backwards as the dark shape in front of him moves, and he turns towards it—
There were dragons on the other side of Judicael's Crossing, according to their intelligence, but none were supposed to be here, and certainly not so close to camp. He nearly turns heel to flee, but something stays his feet.
Dragons are beautiful creatures, though Lasulahn's admiration of them is of a different color than the Iron Bull's own adoration. The glimmer of gold catches in the light of his staff, and he finds it curious. He's reminded of a story that Hawke once told him, about Asha'bellanar- a so-called Witch of the Wilds, being able to turn to a fearsome dragon.
It is probably an enemy before him, all the same.
He notices the red lyrium next. It is not an uncommon sight, here in the Emprise, but Lasulahn knows well of Varric's warning not to get too close, and certainly not to touch it. It affects humans, dwarves and elves alike, so it is not surprising that red lyrium might affect dragons, too. Perhaps if the dragon were not corrupted, destroying the lyrium might let it regain its senses, and return to its territory...?
It's a foolish plan, really. What an ignominious end to the Inquisition, the Herald being devoured by a dragon after attempting to save it. Dragons were hunted for sport, their bones displayed as trophies.
But dragons, whether simply that, a Witch of the Wild, or something else entirely, were living creatures, and Lasulahn has ever held a softness for animals and beasts alike.
Unsure of whether he hoped the sound might disturb the camp, or not wake them, he directs the power the Anchor wields into the coalescing form of a fist, directing it downwards onto the red lyrium to crush it. Cassandra or Blackwall might destroy the lyrium simply with their weapons, but the elf holds no such strength in him. This is the best he can manage. ]
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There were dragons on the other side of Judicael's Crossing, according to their intelligence, but none were supposed to be here, and certainly not so close to camp. He nearly turns heel to flee, but something stays his feet.
Dragons are beautiful creatures, though Lasulahn's admiration of them is of a different color than the Iron Bull's own adoration. The glimmer of gold catches in the light of his staff, and he finds it curious. He's reminded of a story that Hawke once told him, about Asha'bellanar- a so-called Witch of the Wilds, being able to turn to a fearsome dragon.
It is probably an enemy before him, all the same.
He notices the red lyrium next. It is not an uncommon sight, here in the Emprise, but Lasulahn knows well of Varric's warning not to get too close, and certainly not to touch it. It affects humans, dwarves and elves alike, so it is not surprising that red lyrium might affect dragons, too. Perhaps if the dragon were not corrupted, destroying the lyrium might let it regain its senses, and return to its territory...?
It's a foolish plan, really. What an ignominious end to the Inquisition, the Herald being devoured by a dragon after attempting to save it. Dragons were hunted for sport, their bones displayed as trophies.
But dragons, whether simply that, a Witch of the Wild, or something else entirely, were living creatures, and Lasulahn has ever held a softness for animals and beasts alike.
Unsure of whether he hoped the sound might disturb the camp, or not wake them, he directs the power the Anchor wields into the coalescing form of a fist, directing it downwards onto the red lyrium to crush it. Cassandra or Blackwall might destroy the lyrium simply with their weapons, but the elf holds no such strength in him. This is the best he can manage. ]