Sam wrinkles his nose as he finishes off his own spider, the blade at the end of his staff sliding sickeningly down between its eyes. Maker, he hated spiders, especially when they were giant, screeching spiders. Course Red Templars were no walk in the garden either, and seeing how the red lyrium split their skin and grew... always haunting.

Pulling his staff free of the arachnid, Sam turns with the momentum of the pull, sending a small blast of fire one of the templars, catching it squarely in the shoulder. Judging by how it yells it had to have hurt and probably angry for being interrupted in its attack.

Seeing another volley of shards heading towards Michel, Sam spends little time swinging his staff and slamming it into the ground, the area around the Chevalier lighting up as a newer barrier forms around him.