[h3]Jordan Forthey[/h3]
	
	The dark-skinned woman had taken a step back as the wraith approached, but halted her retreat and took a glance in Jordan's direction as he engaged, evidently encouraged by the support. She definitely looked like she could hold on her own in a fight ... although this particular kind of foe was perhaps a bit of a deviation from what she was used to dealing with. Actually, he wouldn't [i]have [/i]an idea of what she would be used to be dealing with, now would he? 
	In any case, her continued presence put him slightly more at ease (just not [i]so[/i] much at ease to be unaware of his surroundings). He had been prepared to take on the animated pottery on his own, just in case, but nevertheless it would be harder for the wraith to fight two opponents at once. And it would be good to have backup if one of the other wraiths or ghouls managed to disengage from the others for long enough to try and flank him. 
	He had continued forward, even as his new acquaintance's sabre switched hands and she pulled a secondary blade and readied herself, even as the wraith turned its glowing eyes onto him and ... stopped? Jordan's truncheon made contact regardless, tearing away the cleaver and a significant fraction of its makeshift arm.
	[i]Don't you dare explode or something,[/i] the squire mentally noted, instinctively concerned by the new course of action. He kept the truncheon and right arm up, just in case, protecting both the arm holding the weapon and his head and neck further behind it. 
	With the same momentum from his first swing, he redirected the second truncheon in his left, aiming to take out the wraith's second arm and weapon in an upward swing, and, should that, too, prove successful, preparing to carry the same sequence of motions forward still, and horizontally bash the thing's head in. Fast, before it could seriously retaliate, with maybe only half a second between the hits. 

[h3]Sir Yanin Glade[/h3]
	The deigan didn't [i]truly[/i] take his advice, though he was certainly doing [i]something[/i] after his declaration of it all being a distraction ... and that "something" turned out to be attempted everything. [i]We'll be faster is we coordinate,[/i] the part of him that had gotten quite used to having people actually listening grumbled, though this time he didn't speak up, just silently focusing on his next actions and the motion in the entire room instead.
	He stood ready, just a couple of meters from the foot of the stairs, both weapons prepared. Needles flew, the table Freagon was fighting stumbled and fell, the ghouls were stung, but only briefly inconvenienced, as was the cumbersome blanket-wraith, much to Yanin's annoyance. It did look potentially bothersome to fight when the thing that cut and the thing that could properly harm that particular foe were two separate pieces of equipment.  
	Lhirinthyl seemed about ready to leave the second half of the stairs, even as the ghouls all continued their descent, perhaps assuming Freagon would take over now that the second table seemed essentially dead, perhaps just careless, but at this time, one of those Yanin himself was facing decided to take a leap of faith, barring him from immediately drawing attention to it. 
	It was a blatant attack - not caring for its temporary host's bones, unpredictability or physics. In a manner that seemed deceptively relaxed, the human knight simply moved two strides away and to the side, sword kept in a high parry even as the hand with the truncheon briefly swung out at the passing foe, with the combined forces of the somewhat misguided jump and the swing making the narrow metal rod liable to simply decapitate the ghoul's body, unarmored and beginning to soften from the excess divine energy as it was. 
	Somewhere in the background, Deo'Irah noted that the main threat was somewhere to the west now. First floor? Second floor? Mentally, Yanin cross-referenced the information with the window he had heard the crying from. 
	This was not over here, however, for even without a head, broken bones and bent sword, ghouls could still thrash around and try to deliver a final blow, and he had two more foes to deal with. He was now about four meters from the foot of the stairs, to the left of them, ready to move in almost any direction; the pottery-wraith was to the right side and behind, the blanket-wraith mid-stairs, and the third former witch-hunter preparing to follow the second after apparently having pulled the iron nail from his leg. 
	The truncheon was ready again, and the sword had never ceased to be so.