Jerimoth's jaw tightened behind the helmet. He could feel it now, the heat in his chest that he hadn't felt in a long time. This was getting personal…
He closed the distance.
The greatsword came in low, sweeping for her legs. Judgment leaped over it, using a burst from her wings to gain height, and hurled both halves of her broken spear down at him like javelins. Jerimoth batted one aside with the flat of his blade but the other caught the edge of his pauldron and punched through, burying itself two inches into his shoulder.
He didn't slow down.
He reached up, ripped the spear half out of his shoulder, and threw it aside. Blood welled from the wound and ran down his arm in a thin stream, soaking into the leather beneath his armor.
Judgment was already descending. Without her spear she had nothing but her tentacles and her fists, and she chose the tentacles. Both whipped down at him like black lightning, one high, one low.
