Smoke draws her other revolver, grinning. As Malice charges, she opens fire with both of the huge hand-cannons, chanting low and fast in Latin.<br/><br/>Each bullet is visible as an orange-red streak, sheathed in magical fire. A very basic spell, but also one that's quite effective, most of the time. If this doesn't work, well, Smoke's gonna need to use her knuckledusters to give herself some space!<br/><br/>Of course, if she doesn't at least knock Malice of course, she's going to give, rather than take, first blood in this fight. "Good luck, kid." She laughs "Yer gon' need it! I'll tell you somethin' now, friend. You're dang lucky they wouldn't let me take all my guns. You'd have more spells headed your way than you'd know what to do with!"<br/><br/>He'll sense her metabolism is highly magical. And that the cowtaur is a lot older than her birthdate of 1798 would allude to; she's been doing her job for nearly five hundred years, subjective time.