Fist still bleeding from the rock and Dorisma still angry, even more so at the fighter's stupid bantering. Robert's lightning struck quite effectively and a pleasing smell of burnt flesh rose into the air. Dorisma then once again closed in, smashing one hand after the other into the fighter in quick succession, once on his shoulder and the other on his chest. Both hits were solid blows, but the fighter was a solid person, seemingly able to fight past it without too much trouble. Still, the feeling of landing good hits on the enemy was satisfying. Perhaps surrounding him would make this easier and give them some sort of advantage. After all, being attacked from all sides would make it quite difficult to dodge. It seemed the stress of the battle was already affecting him, his next poorly aimed swing easily evaded by Dorisma.