Soah grabbed the blade of the weapon and yanked it. Crom reached forward, grabbing the weapon around it's guard with his free hand. The pul was strong, and for a moment the mercenary feared his arm might be torn from it's socket. The werewolf jolted the weapon back towards it's user. Crom's tight grip held, but he felt the decorative handguard dig into his palm. He gritted his teeth as the weapon came back towards him, but his strength kept it from knocking him down, even as the golden pommel bounced against his armored chest. With a strength impressive even for someone of his size, Crom ripped the blade away from the werewolf's clutches, nearly falling backwards as he did so. He reversed his momentum and threw his weight into an attack, moving from his heels to the balls of his feet, and brought the blade down in a quick, hard swing, towards his opponents face.