[@Diexsmiling]

[i]Both of Zande's arms were too busy to be used to attack with, one angling his axe by his thigh so the sword would slash across the broad of its much heavier blade and pass harmlessly by, and his other hand having just thrown the cloak over his opponent. It was inferred that Dartega would be spinning counter clockwise, to his own left in the direction of his thigh slash.

So, as Dartega completed his attempt at a thigh slash, Zande attacked with something else. He let his left foot rock back on its heel as the short sword struck his axe, so he could slide the claws off of the fallen broadsword and plant his boot more firmly on the ground in a fraction of a second. Then hissing through his teeth, he launched into an attack best witnessed in slow motion. He whirled about counter-clockwise, claws gouging at the ground as he pivoted on the ball of his left foot, right leg chambering horizontally at the knee, striated muscles in his thigh bunching up. The knee swung around and the leg whipped out in a white hot roundhouse kick, dust trailing from his heel. The short sword would glide harmlessly between Zande's legs, assuming that Dartega's head was at least above the level of the Savage's groin. It'd be awkward to squat much lower, and if he were, Zande wouldn't aim for the kick in the first place as he'd risk getting his dick cut off. The only other troubling factor might be that Dartega had brought his other arm up in a preemptive defensive gesture, but thus far no mention of it rising again after having dropped the broadsword had been made.

Were Zande's counter to work, Dartega would all but whirl face first into an armor plated shin, unable to see it due to the cloak still over his head. It'd hit almost as hard as a one handed swing with a bar mace, right at the moment when his legs were splayed in the midst of his spin, potentially sending him backwards in a steep arch onto his shoulder blades as if he had just decided now was a good time to perform a bridge stretch. The key to a good roundhouse was follow through. You didn't aim to kick someone in the face. You aimed to kick through their face.

His helmet could absorb superficial damage, prevent broken bones, but his brain might be all kinds of rattled from the hit due the sudden shift in his skull's momentum, resulting in a dazed, bleary state. Strips would be torn from Zande's cloak and left hanging from any pointy bits or spikes on Dartega's armor they had caught on. Only after the blow landed would Zande then unleash another lunatic scream, like a man for whom the world has ended, so viciously that the noise could be heard raking at his throat.[/i]