The force of her blows dented through the armor, throwing him off balance once again. Still, he was able to keep fighting, but he'd lost a certain initiative - Doruk's battleaxe managed to connect with the man armored arm, and though it didn't cut through - it was a glancing blow with little force - it did leave a small dent. 

The Minion creatures were all over the tavern, destroying tables and chairs and mugs - especially the later, as terrified customers kept throwing them at the demons, but to no visible effect. They were attacking people, inducing even more screams. One of them lurched for her, trying to grab onto her leg. 

All over the tavern then, the demons were attacking anyone and anything they could reach. Their slow speed meant people could evade them pretty well, but it wasn't helping as people fled more and more against the walls, pressing up and having no where else to run. A few had weapons - knives, daggers, a sword, but most people didn't bother to bring such to the tavern with them, and bits of wood from broken chairs and tables were even less effective than a sword or knife. The metal weapons at least showed some signs of doing damage, but never seemingly enough.

Gardad, as constable, did have a real weapon - his warhammer. His first instinct and priority had been helping people run, but with everyone now as far from the dueling half-orc and tieflings as possible, he drew his hammer and smashed it down on one of the ooze demons, right on its 'head'. The creature squealed and screeched, seemingly splattering over everything - but within moments, its shapeless form was back together - but much smaller, too much of its integrity lost in the first blow, it would see. 

"I don't know what-" smash, "in Moradin's Name - smash - "you things are," smash, an finally, it didn't reform again, the splattered ooze and ichor too damaged and dispersed to reform, "but not in my village!" Brandishing his warhammer, Gardad went for the next.

Doruk and the swordsman continued to duel - and then, a lucky swing. Ducking under an attack that would have cut off his ear, Doruk swung for the middle of the man's toroso, hitting and cutting into the armor. The tiefling let out a groan of pain, but Doruk kept going, pulling out his axe, blocking a pained swing from his foe - though this time, flames fell from the sword and onto Doruk, burning his shoulder.