"How about you come down here and fight it then, huh Sam?" Faelan yelled up at the walls, knowing that it wouldn't draw the pencil pusher down here. Struggling to just keep up, let alone fight the damned thing, Faelan smirked at her yelling at him. "You seem to be doing fine. Just keep ignoring me, and I'm sure all of your years of demon hunting training will kick in," he yelled as he backed away from the creature. His sword finally acted as if it were a thick chunk of metal in his hands, and he knew he'd be long down in this fight without her here. It's blood was dragging a trail behind it as it lurched around, desperately trying to fight the dragon that was assaulting it.<br/><br/>He watched it's movement's carefully, trying to figure out if there was any pattern to this thing's chaotic movements. It's excess of limbs seemed to make it uncoordinated and distraught, but they happened to work together for short periods of times to send the beast on a warpath. The stagnant ways it reacted to Shula's attacks, how it flung itself to attack her. Although he knew he wasn't helping much, Shula seemed to be much better off from the binge they'd had than him. Instead of becoming a simple target, he'd let her be a hard one, until he could figure out how to attack it.<br/><br/>"Burn it's face if you can Shula, so it can't see as well," he yelled against one of the walls. Without a line of sight, he imagined it'd be hard to attack anything. It'd have to rely on it's other senses, something it didn't seem to have too much of other than smell. And the burning flesh of it's face covered in flame should help take care of that particular sense.