[@Liliya]


[i]Zande knew in an instant that he had mistimed his shot. Were he to consider it at a later point in time, he'd give himself a slap for not waiting until he had a genuine clear shot at her eyes. As it was, he could reflect later. Right now he had to take care of the halberd flying towards his face. 

At first glance, one might determine that Zande's equipment was designed for an emotional impact rather than a physical one. The clawed boots, the strange metal mask, his bared, striated arms, the thick slab of metal welded to his chestplate, and the unusually large, oddly spiked pauldrons. Even his teeth and fingernails seemed sharpened to that end. It was not at all about looks. Every piece had its purpose, just as the claws of a cat are made to tear and snag, how the quills of the porcupine penetrate. In conjunction with one another, it was actually startling, the depth of purpose his armor bore. He'd abruptly prove it by only slightly altering his initial plan. 

Instead of immediately trying to retreat or alter entirely the trajectory of his swing, Zande leaned further into his blow and towards Abby's attack, axe striking viciously against the upper portion of her halberd's shaft just below the head and skidding down to shear her hand and fingers in twain unless she dropped it without a second thought. Had he not leaned into his blow, the deflection would have sent the halberd onto his left arm. Now it socked into his left pauldron and clanged into four long steel spikes each considerably larger than a coffin nail, conjoined horizontally by a longer strip of steel. Her swing could break bone, but not cleave through this obstacle so easily, and particularly not the solid spikes, anymore than one can hope to cut even small carpentry nails with a hatchet at full swing. It'd likely not even bend them as the blade would impact them at their bases, chipping the steel at best. His left pauldron had been designed for the purpose of trapping blades aimed at his head, and it was good at its job. That being said, he'd be VERY certain not to have her halberd cleave the wrong way and get his neck, though his mask would greatly protect him if he miscalculated again. He was quite sure he was no longer in error.
After that it would become clear why Zande had so willingly dropped his left axe. With his left hand positioned up at his face, he could in a flash drop the blowpipe and seize her halberd below the head like a greedy child yoinking a toy off a shelf, acting before Abbey could recover from the swing and pull her weapon back, or alternatively try to twist her halberd in an attempt at getting the sharp pick behind his head, nay, not even that, assuming she still had a hand to hold it with. If he succeeded, then as quickly as he could he'd step back onto his left foot to allow Abby's momentum to carry her past him, weaving sharply just out of reach of any small weapons she might whip around with. The desired result was that Zande would now wield his opponent's halberd in one hand and his frightfully barbaric axe in the other, whilst standing between Abbey and the spare axe he had previously dropped to better attain hers. He had indeed wanted her weapon, and had intended to wrest it away from her once she'd been blinded, but rolling this way could work too.

[color=ed1c24]The cannibal's breath steamed out from between sharklike fangs in an exhalation of black elation, amber eyes alight as he capered on the spot like a lurid jester.[/color][/i]