There was a pressure plate not five feet in front of the mage; one that loosed a volley of venom tipped darts across the hall. Still elbow deep in the portal and bleeding from her arm the mage snarls something most likely insulting in Antivan about Bull's parentage and twists, the shadow hand at the far end surging forward to grasp at Beleth's leg and drag her up to the ceiling like a doll.

Not that she'll be dangling there long with the strike of the arrow hitting one shoulder and the spirit blade cutting the arm elbow deep in a small dark vortex free- it falls from the joint and so too does the massive one from the spell dissipate. Screaming she flings her blood outward in an arc, the red liquid twisting into an acidic mist.