"Ya'll go on ahead. I'll be right behind you." 

The boy was either extremely brave or he had a death wish. It was difficult to tell which. One thing was certain; there was no way he could take on an enforcer all by himself. It was doubtful that they could defeat him together, even outnumbering him four to one. Jatan had seen the invasion of his monastery, had seen seasoned monks' limbs cracked like twigs. Something was not right about these men. They moved faster, hit harder than should be humanly possible. 

That's when he recognized the boy's words for what they were - a distraction! He must be giving Brisa and the half-orc time to regain their feet. But Jatan could make use of this distraction too. This guy had to have a weak point somewhere…. 

There! His eyes! Deep blue, they seemed to hold at bay a deep anger that could come crashing out at any moment, like a violent wave at sea. Blinking. Scanning. Glaring. Vulnerable.

Of course, not all people could be debilitated by blindness. Jatan remembered one particularly challenging exercise the senior monks used to challenge themselves; they fought blindfolded. Edgar was particularly accomplished at this feat. No matter how quietly, quickly, or cleverly his opponent approached, he was somehow able to sense them and send them careening to the floor with a snapping kick or a forceful toss. Still, fighting while blind was no easy task, especially for someone without training. And it was doubtful this enforcer had that training. 

It was time to put the theory to the test.

As Dreknor turned his attention towards the boy, Jatan slunk cautiously clockwise, hoping to flank his foe. If the enforcer made a move towards the boy, Jatan would fling himself onto the enforcer's back and attempt to claw at his eyes. It was a risky play, one that could result in serious injury, but Jatan pushed the moment of hesitation out of his mind. Cowardice was not becoming of a follower of Torm. His calves tensed as he rolled onto the balls of his feet, and he sucked in a deep breath...