In less than a blink of the eye, he and the others were surrounded by eight sets of antlers, each spike tipped with a long, sharp, serrated blade. It was practically a steel coat coming to a point, turning each spike into an individual spear. Given that on average they had ten forward pointing spikes to a single antler, that equated to them being surrounded by in and around, oh, one hundred and sixty spear tips. Math is a motherfucker, really. The remaining two deer guards, a pair of doe if he guessed right, both with two little stubs on their heads where the antlers would grow on a stag, stood at the ready behind the captain. Their stubs seemed to burst into ethereal, white flames and their eyes shone a bright, golden glow.