[h3]Sir Yanin Glade[/h3]

	The ornate carpet was more stubborn than the water-wraith, perhaps owing to its more solid structure, and persisted even as its liquid kin burst under Jordan's follow-up blow and permitted the squire to retrieve the final truncheon. 
	Aside of the people, walls, and the identified wraiths, only the large picture on the back wall of the room and a chandelier remained. From what they'd seen up to this point, it would have been very alike these critters' typical mode of operation to simply wait for someone to walk under the damn thing and just drop itself onto its target. The image was both more, and less conspicuous - he saw it, of course, with its size and comparative prominence, though he didn't necessarily pay much thought to it other than panning it for change having occurred between passes, or current motion.  
	The presumed witch-hunter, not content with remaining stood back in the corner he'd been forced into, had begun making his way over to them. As Yanin had no bloody clue if it was aggression towards Lhrinthyl, the carpet-wraith, his escape plan or some other concoction of his delirious mind, it was best to keep him out of the fight. Unfortunately for him, it didn't appear that he was able, or willing to, react to being directly addressed, which meant that the knight would have to physically stop him before he did something stupid or harmful. 
	Concurrently, even with several strains of chatter enduring behind their backs (so these were presumably frentits, and the summoner was overloaded with magical energy), one of those behind him rushed forth, prompting a split-second division of attention as the human-knight assessed who it was and what his intentions were, ultimately snapping to simply not intervening. The nightwalker in shining armor could do it. That worked, too. A bit flashier than his own usual style, and a bit more distributed in its priorities.
	[i]Ghoul?[/i] Corpse-wraith. How'd he reckon? Should ask, just in case there were more - this one in particular didn't appear to have any injuries outright incompatible with life, nor apparent decay from divine energy. Wounded people were often irrational and liable to disregard their own injuries until later; the human knight had [i]personally[/i] seen a man run through with a sword and seemingly not even realize until someone pointed it out. 
	The dark one proceeded to move forth, burning the soul out of the table-wraith, the deigan man finished off the last of the carpet's will to remain motile and the healer provided what further insight she could. She guessed thalk ... liable to throw magic at them, then. Tall. Red skin. Deo'Irah said it'll only get more powerful ... full summoning would mean that at least another would have died. 
	"If you don't have a location, we can go through the rooms one by one. Stay-" Lhirinthyl was chanting for another spell, but the crackles and subsequent warning actually gave the human knight a pause, though not quite enough time for him to get a word in before the room filled with blinding light.
	"There [i]at least eight more[/i] of the bastards," Yanin snapped a reminder. He had already been about to, and was completely devoid of respect for dramatic pauses. 
	Eight more enemies that [i]hadn't been[/i] all but completely incapacitated. One of them much more dangerous than the others. This disorganized mess will run themselves dry before they even found it... 

[h3]Jordan Forthey[/h3]

	Jordan had reflexively closed his eyes at the first flash of light (leaving a slight yellowish after-image in his right eye), only to immediately and reflexively twitch at the shriek behind his back, turning to look what happened as soon as the reddish haze of the blinding light as seen through his eyelids went out. And then immediately winced as he saw Jaelnec recoiling; light like that probably hurt [i]night[/i]walkers quite a lot... 
	Not that he was given much time to contemplate, since along with Sir Yanin's notion of them being nowhere near done here, [i]everything[/i] seemed to start pouring out additional wraiths. Would the black-skinned woman have enough time to conjure up a new spell before the wraith reached her? Just regular sabre wouldn't be too useful against a wraith, would it now? Sir Freagon and the deigan mage ... were probably less likely to need help. Or his master, now that he was rushing forward, too. 
	Making a snap decision, Jordan rushed forward along with both of his borrowed truncheons, to try and bash the cleaver from the wraith's hand as he reached the stranger's side, left arm reaching out for the hit and the right being ready to block. 

[h3]Sir Yanin Glade[/h3]

	Three more conglomerations of miscellaneous furniture and houseware burst forth, along with four more humans in various states of severe injury who, based on the timing, were most likely ghouls. Seven. Unless the summoner had called for more - a possibility worth remembering -, this was all of the minor entities. Along with the first, excessively dispatched ghoul, and the potential summoning-sacrifice, that was also all but the summoner herself confirmed dead. (So it [i]had[/i] been her crying? Hadn't seemed like a Melenian voice.) 
	For the five of them engaged, that was luckily not much over one opponent each even assuming none of the others in the armory wished to join in. The dark one and Jordan seemed to be handling the pottery-wraith, from the brief display earlier Freagon was probably capable enough to figure out how to deal with the charging bull of a table, which left the five up there for him and Lhirinthyl, at least until either of the two other parties failed or succeeded at dispatching their respective divines. 
	"Take the right," he suggested at the male deigan - more metal, less of it silver. So that was the former witch-hunters and the animated bedclothing for him to deal with. The former would likely fight mostly like humans - slightly weaker humans with less physical integrity you probably needed to bludgeon to paste with iron to make sure they [i]truly[/i] stopped their attempts of continuing to fight - the latter was probably going to try to net, tangle and strangle. Not impossibly by jumping at them from above. 

	Yanin drew the longsword in one smooth motion as the wraiths started to come rushing down the stairs, keeping the truncheon in his left as he moved forth (still avoiding the chandelier), blade ready to slice any parachuting wraiths in two before they would be clubbed back by iron. He'd need to use both of his weapons in conjunction to dispatch those things effectively. If the wraith continued flopping along the ground rather than taking a leap of faith, it was liable to be still susceptible to being immobilized and cut by force, but slower than the ghouls, who could be dodged, parried and hit as usual. 
	The steel edge of the human knight's sword was by no means as permanent as one made of sartal, but for the time being it was completely void of blemishes, meticulously honed, sharpened and oiled, sharp enough to quite effortlessly cut hair.
	The ghouls, if they reached him first, were liable to lose their sword and corresponding arm - gruesome, but this time, there was the confidence they were already dead and gone -, then get their heads bashed in. He'll be meeting them a short distance from the base of the stairs.