[h3]Sir Yanin Glade[/h3]

	The visage standing in for the ghoul's head exploded upon nonexistent impact, the metal sinking into the headless body unimpeded. The now-unanimate corpse lost tone in an instant, weighing down Yanin's arm as it dropped to its knees along with the clatter of its sword. The knight didn't waste any time showing the nerveless burden back with his knee and wrenching his weapon free as he turned to, ever so briefly, assess the situation.
	The pottery-wraith exploded into a million smaller pieces,  Freagon had finished off another of the ghouls, the dark-skinned foreigner moved to engage the one-armed ghoul. The male deigan had uttered just one word in arcane language, a corresponding rune lighting up. There were not too many arcane symbols and words Yanin recognized without a reference, but [i]this one[/i] was one of them. One of the most common elements, one not uncommonly found on runeswords, and one that had been both referenced and put on display earlier on the same day - [i]lightning.[/i] 
	Even with the urgings of Deo'Irah rallying on, it was suboptimal. The older nightwalker didn't seem to be willing to take over, but rather just stood around, watching Lhirinthyl stand off against the spear-wielding ghoul. Bloody waste. The situation had changed as they learned more of their enemies. Freagon appeared more than capable of handling that one on his own, with comparatively little expenditure of energy or risk of injury, as opposed to requiring input from not one, but [i]two[/i] different mages, yet again uselessly spending magical energy which they very much could use[i] later,[/i] when facing against what was suspected to be their main adversary. Hit hard, hit all at once, before being cooked alive by divine energy or magic.
	 The iron truncheon, still covered in blood, motioned toward the second-to-last ghoul standing; it would have been hard to interpret who it was referring to, but for the fact that Yanin's helmet seemed to be facing Freagon. You're better suited for it, [i]you[/i] do something. Lhirinthyl and Deo'Irah may not have been new to it ... but it definitely felt like they were used to working on their own. And maybe in for the short fight, rather than the long one. 

	The maybe second and a half had been enough for the dark one to liberate the ghoul he had formerly disarmed from its second arm and stick a dagger in its head, upon which it decided to simply fall onto her and attempt to bite her. Nothing to lose, no incentive to give up. 
	In three quick strides, surprisingly enough managing to precisely avoid any and all bits of clay and porcelain littering the floor, the human knight moved forward, past a momentarily slightly confused Jordan, who opted to not get in his way. The knight flipped his sword around in his hand, an armoured arm and hand with the hilt making its way into the foreigner's peripheral vision as the Viper thrust the pommel of his sword under the ghoul's left clavicle to shove it back, off the dark one, backwards left shoulder first onto the stairs, no matter its attempts to sidestep or break its borrowed teeth on the knight's vambrace. 
	In the end, it was not a match. If the ghoul had not fallen back from its not exactly secure footing, it was easy enough to take another step, hook around his right shoulder, and throw it back regardless. In the end, he just needed the ghoul to be far enough away from his newfound ally to allow for a free swing with his other hand. Which he did, the iron of the truncheon colliding with the ghoul's head as it fell down, still kicking and likely with the dark one's steel embedded in it, parts of its skull and yaw crushed in mounting to just a minor inconvenience. A loud crack from the other end of the room announced that the second-to-last ghoul was done for, if unnecessarily wastefully. 
	[i]This[/i] ghoul got to persist for another second, enough for Yanin to step around its attempt to kick him the shin and ram the truncheon through its ribcage, upon which it finally ceased. Breaking his truncheon loose, the knight stood. 
	"They fight until disrupted or fully disassembled," he noted to the dark one and Jordan behind him, tone  characteristically neutral, almost indifferent. "Taking off an arm is but a scratch." 
	 Turning his head from the remains of the former witchhunter turned ghoul, he looked at the burning pile of cloth that had been the final wraith. 
	"Thank you." It might have been annoying to fight a living rope [i]and[/i] multiple ghouls. 

[h3]Jordan Forthey[/h3]

	The wraith resigned itself to its fate - or perhaps, being airborne, it was simply unable to change its trajectory as iron crashed through its body and left the squire free to drop onto one knee with a slight crunch of what had once been a saucer as a fine assortment of tableware smashed into the stone floor and foot of the stairs. The truncheons collided the floor from sheer inertia alone. The fight was still going on. 
	Leaning on one of his weapons, he pushed himself back to his feet, somewhat to his annoyance noting that his breathing was heavier, elevated, almost panting although it had been what, some ten seconds? He was not quite sure if it was being in a real fight once more, or spending too much energy, or still somehow not [i]enough,[/i] or any combination of the former, or - [i]ah, fuck no.[/i]
	The ghoul had decided to simply throw itself at his new friend, so Jordan forgot about his contemplation of his own shortcomings and rushed towards the two entangled people (if the ghoul could still be qualified as a person), though Sir Yanin - as he was often wont to be - was much faster than he could hope to be, even in heavier armor, so in the end, he abruptly halted himself next to the foreigner, swinging an arm out, just in case the other was liable to fall with the ghoul being torn off her with her weapons presumably still stuck in it (and somewhat awkwardly catching her without using his hand on the off chance she actually did, seeing how he was still holding onto his blunt weapons).
	"You okay?" he glanced sideways at her even as Yanin removed a third of the ghoul's face (the lower half with less daggers in it) and borderline staked it to the stairs before commenting something about ghouls not really being hindered by regular injury. Well, it made sense - it wasn't really [i]their[/i] bodies ... they were just wraiths made out of corpses, no? "I'm Jordan, in case you missed the introductions earlier." 
	Surprisingly enough, Sir Yanin actually managed to thank someone for once - he usually forgot. 	

	The knight was not done, though, and seemed to be addressing the whole room - or, at the very least, speaking louder, "Of those accounted for, the summoner, if alive, and thalk remain. I think I west front side upstairs, second or third window*. Those who have anything to throw at a powerful caster, prepare to do so now. Best to strike all at once before he can react, so coordinate. If I'm not mistaken, it having its own body means it eliminates like a mundane would." Sir Yanin had managed to locate a piece of fabric, running it over the blade of his sword before sheathing it and picking up one of the discarded witchhunter blades. He was speaking as he moved around rather than stopping to give a speech. "Silver ignores magic. That's why they use those." He kept the iron truncheon, too.  
	"Master's usually terribly practical," Jordan commented to to Nabi, absently using a truncheon as a fire-poker to shove what remained of the burning blankets into a pile on the floor to clear the path upstairs, presumably as she and everyone else briefly went over what weapons they were using and recovered what they needed to. "And I kind of promised the kids back at the guardhouse we'll try to get their healer back, too. This will be a long day..." 
	With that, he sprinted half a dozen steps deeper into the room to fetch the second of three silver swords, just in case, before returning just as promptly and offering one of his truncheons to the dark one. "Do you prefer to fight with magic, or silver and iron ... there should be a third silver sword somewhere." 
	Sir Yanin seemed to be done with all the preparations he was going to do, and walked halfway up the western stairs, having briefly halted to see who was ready, if and with what, they followed.

[[*Forgot to specify, Jack feel free to correct or accept as need be.]]