As she's said, they've lined up in a tidy cluster- from this angle, the heft and haft of her spear- it isn't as fluid as a throw from a weapon she could conjur; but her aim is sure, the spear pining four of the devils into the ground as the pack splits and makes for the hills, leaving their fellows to die-
Or at least until the scent of blood bids them return.
no subject
Or at least until the scent of blood bids them return.