[center][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/cd6fc343-6dbd-4ce9-9493-e893103813a0.png[/img][/center][right][sub][/sub][/right]
Jorah only stopped his assault when he saw Imogen roll too close to his target, but fortunately, the mage he was aiming at had more than enough arrows in him to take him out of the fight. He watched in muted surprise as the mage with the frightening staff disappeared in a flash of light, but didn’t bother trying to figure it out; instead, satisfied that the ritual had been halted, he left the other mage to the mercy of Imogen’s mania and directed his attention back to the commotion around the giant.

Very much happened at once. The giant was attacked on both sides; Michail’s blow sent the front of the creature’s armguard lolling haphazardly by one strap, and meanwhile, Euphemia managed to get in close enough to knock off its helmet. Seeing the giant’s head exposed set off an alarm in Jorah’s head, honed by years of avid hunting: he was vulnerable. Instinct raised his bow before he consciously registered the situation, but Jorah froze when the monster’s inhumanly quick reflexes kicked in, snatching Euphemia up by the throat.

[color=FFAB66]“Fuck!”[/color] he cursed through gritted teeth, forced to reassess. Thankfully, Jorah’s legs moved quicker than his brain, strafing around the giant’s side with an arrow nocked and ready. There was no time to go for a killing shot; with fingertips growing numb from the sting of the bowstring and his quiver lighter than he’d like, he unloaded a rapid series of shots into the monster’s back, focused around its shoulder in hopes he could loosen its grip. If it helped, Jorah couldn’t tell; the thing had a hide like a rhinoceros and it seemed to be Euphemia’s blow that finally shook the beast.

In his periphery, Jorah saw Auberon rush in, and a flash of red—Clarissa?—behind him, breaking off at the last second to attend Euphemia—[i]way[/i] too close to the giant for comfort. Skidding to a halt, Jorah planted his feet, cursing unintelligibly under his breath as he pulled one of his few remaining arrows from his quiver, and for once, took a second to line up his shot. The creature faced away from him, and even without a helmet, it had proven itself a tough bastard; for those reasons, Jorah didn’t aim for the back of the head or the neck like he’d have preferred. Instead, blinking through smoke and sweat and stinging tears, he aimed higher, intent on burying his broadhead deep into its ear.

[center][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/8ee83226-1695-4044-ab2b-9ae88beef451.png[/img][/center]