Imrae felt her blade sink into the flesh of the devil creature, the shriek of pain echoing throughout the room. She narrowed her eyes behind her mask and was about to go for another attack when she heard a familiar voice; one she hadn't heard in a very long time. Her eyes shifted to the chained up form of Malsalra, eyes widening for a moment. She couldn't believe what she was seeing. Memories she had long buried had began to flood back to her mind, including the distinctive cut along her throat. The accusation and anger stung at her mind and heart, words she had told herself for a long time.<br/><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Wisdom Save</div><div class="spoiler_body">1d20+9 = 29</div></div><br/>Her eyes finally narrowed at the image before her. "No..." Her voice was elegant, but strong. "You died because you were weak!" She took her blade and struck at the devil again, wanting to end this quickly. The longer she allowed the creature to live, the more danger she was going to be in. And with Zerillion supposedly tied up for the time being, he didn't seem to be much of a threat.<br/><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Attack</div><div class="spoiler_body">1d20+13 = 20</div></div><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Damage</div><div class="spoiler_body">1d6+7 = 11</div></div><br/>Imrae felt her blade strike the Erinyes once again, a rather satisfied smirk coming to her lips beneath the white and black mask that hid her facial features.<br/><br/>(https://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/0239/6805/products/EM1548_1024x1024.jpg?v=1536087270)