Sasha remove his glave from the haunch of pork and switched the polearm to his off hand as he picked up the lance. He was panting heavy as he looked for a victim and saw Tyr with what looked like the leader. This fight had gone on too long to wait any more as he was about to assist before the pigfaced man took off with Tyr in tow. Looking to the heavens for a moment, he managed to spot fletching familiar to him streak past to another target, He followed the flight to four more coming into the fray. 

Stopping the fight for a moment, he crouched low to make himself small as he tore a strip of fabric away as long as his arm and tied a knot in each end. Next he slipped the butt of the lance into his roughly made Atlatl before he took aim in a squatted position before he rose up with the power of his whole body and flung the lance as hard as he could into the fray of the four fresh fighters. 

This was much easier to throw than a sickle but was no javelin and he had put so much force behind it that he threw himself off balance to fall in the bloodmud. He could feel himself running out of steam but still managed to at least roll over to the dead orc to take his shield to protect himself as he tried to recover his breath. Hunkered behind steel, he searched for the next opponent.