[Amanaduial the archer]

Faerim rolled to the side, opening his eyes then closing them again almost instantly as a sudden flare of light illuminated the tunnel. The lightning flashes danced behind his eyelids confusedly and he shook his head, his hand coming up to the back of his skull which ached numbly, darting lances of pain jabbing occasionally through the fog. But then he heard a voice, a female voice but one full of fierce strength: Erenor.

Opening his eyes and trying to ignore the pain in his head, Faerim shook his head again and staggered to his feet - before he saw what stood before Erenor and took a step backwards, uttering a single curse-word in shock, his eyes wide in disbelief - not fear yet, for fear can only really set in when one knows what one should be afraid off; and when what one sees cannot possibly exist, the fear is delayed, a ball of nerves thrown in the air leaving the owner shocked and disbelieving.

But what goes up has to fall.

With a yell, Faerim darted to the side as the giant spider in front of him jabbed its foreleg at him viciously, but his reflexes were slower due to his headlong fall into the cave wall, and the jagged point of the spider's foot barely missed his shoulder, ripping the shirt as it snagged across it and scoring a thin line of blood across his upper right arm. Clasping the cut tightly for a moment with his other hand to stem the bleeding, Faerim glowered at the spider fiercely, then ducked out of its way once more, rolling to the side, towards the spider - and grabbing his sword from the floor in the process. Grinning, he rolled onto one knee and stabbed straight upwards at the alien enemy, in the process slashing across its stomach. The creature yelled, a piercing scream that made Faerim physically wince, his hands on his ears. But the beast was not done yet: taking a staggering step away from Erenor (at least Angore won't crucify me for letting her get hurt, he mused abstractedly), it loomed over Faerim, bearing down upon his with giant, gross mandibles. Disgusted and adrenaline pumped, Faerim scrambled backwards on his hands, managing to stagger to his feet, but now pressed against the cave wall. With strength borne of the desperation of a man who faces his death, the youth grit his teeth and swung his sword in a vicious arc straight across. Metal met gristle and the spider screamed again, taking a step backwards as it bellowed its fierce displeasure and pain - as one of it's forelegs fell to the ground.

"How do you like that, you ugly great insect," Faerim muttered grimly, taking some pleasure out of his inhuman foe's pain, although his arm was now aching fiercely - glancing down, he realised that it was bleeding quite strongly now, blood staining his white shirt beneath the tough, battered black coat. If the spider had been a second quicker...Faerim shuddered, imagining how the jagged, pointed talon would have impaled him against the cave wall. Too late, he remembered the elven mail shirt in his coat pocket...

Erenor gave a yell of her own and returned Faerim to the present, as he saw the elf throw herself out of the way of the lurching spider. On her feet in seconds, the lady elf planted her feet and cried aloud something in fierce, fast sindarin. For a moment as she did so, the tableau seemed frozen in Faerim's mind: the lady elf, fair and vicious, her noble face twisted with anger and her grey eyes burning as brightly as the torch in her hand that she held high, illuminating her, her other hand holding her sword ready to stab. Faerim watched her wonderingly - then the voices of others interrupted his reverie and he saw Angore standing beyond the flailing mass of limbs. Throwing his fear and his panic both equally to the wind that did not even bear to stir within these ghastly caves, Faerim launched himself once more at the spider.