Iava Mehta
Iava knew she stood with two others. All three of them shared the mission of taking him down. Therefore must do her best to enable her partners. She was to preoccupy Bone Chime in this fight. Nothing more, nothing less. The less of his attention he could pay to the witch and the summoner, the more opportunities for them to place the nail in his coffin.
"Surely you would allow a man to draw his weapons?" The captain's tone prompted the ghost of a smile from Iava.
"Not usually," the warrior replied, not dropping her weapon,
"But, do as you will."Clearly the man wouldn't have signed himself up for this had he not been capable. Iava's eyes widened slightly at the sight of his "weapons," the poles growing from his wrist in a grueling manner. She'd been wondering what he was to pull from his sleeve, though she didn't think he'd do it so... literally. Surely that hurt, no?
She'd been shocked out of her thoughts by the abnormal - his blood, no longer trickling down naturally, but moving on its' own. It clicked then and there. It had been the magic of the little witch. A thought flashed through her mind. Any blood spilled simply meant more power on their side. And right now she couldn't die. It didn't matter how she fought, just that she was fighting and occupying the space. Turning into a fountain would still aid her teammate.
That thought made her lose any intentions of matching Bone Chime's dual wielding with her sheath. She'd block with her arm - if it gets cut off, oh well. If the reanimation spell doesn't reattach body parts? She'd have to be stopped from taking the captain's in return.
Now, how to preoccupy a man?
Iava had a variety of styles in a fight. One she frequently used, as it worked best against the less experienced, was to take control. Stepping back, determining the range of battle, checking any foolhardy advances, and stomping out each and every option her opponent would take until they had nothing left. It was satisfying, but not effective; she would sacrifice many openings in the process.
In the current moment, she matched his fighting stance with one of her own. She
did step back, as if to circle him again, though only for a split second. She weighed down on her rear foot before she unleashed her blade in a dramatic sweep. Though it was a feint; she quickly adjusted her blade as it arced through the air and pivoted sharply, fully committed to follow through in spite of the dangers. The adjustment would lead to her true goal as she went for a second, decisive strike.