[The sound of his name in that familiar voice draws his attention straight away. For a moment the grip of the spectral hand on the mage's throat loosens. His heart -- what part of it remains unconsumed by the force that's taken up residence inside him -- squeezes painfully, and his voice betrays that emotion.]

Dorian...

[He's hurt Dorian; he caused this. But those thoughts are quickly swept away with another surge of rage. No, this is exactly what he's fighting for, so that nothing like this happens again. The crimson hand tightens its grip on the mage once more, and there's a vicious snap before the caster crumples to the ground. Orym looks around at the others present.]

I've told you this before. They are not to be hurt. Do not make this mistake again. Bring me a healer. Immediately.

[He moves quickly to Dorian's side. Dropping to a knee, he sets a hand gently on his shoulder.]

It's all right. I have you. You'll be fine now, I promise.