Private Overconfidence and Hostile Hubris

Once his hand were free, Iaemor brought a hand to his face. Clutching at his eyes, and trying to dislodge the sand that Frank had thrown in them. However there was little he could do, and in the end was force to grab the corner of his shirt and wet it with his mouth. Using the cloth a a mean to wipe his eyes clean and then rapidly blink away the sand he couldn't. This took some time.

Easily enough time for Sharpe to have come up to him, and for Iaemor to still have been distracted when the smaller demon quipped at him. "What in g...Argh." He cried cut of as claws racked across his face and shoulder. He might of heard another voice before, but he hadn't expected another opponent. Luckily he had managed to clear his eyes, and could see them now. The small imp, that had taken him by surprise.

He knew that his wound would heal in time with no issue, but the imp cutting up his face was enough to anger him, as if the pain hadn't done that already. Plus the new fact he was fighting something other then just a man, was enough to force him to reevaluate his desire to fight only in human form. "You are going to regret that!" Iaemor exclaimed as his shape started to twist and grow.

Iaemor would transform and then in a burst of speed beyond before, would thrust out a black armoured claw at the pest flying around him. Aiming to grab him by the neck but would settle with grabbing any of him to try and dig his claws in. A test of what was stronger, the literal steel of Sharpe, or the organic plate of a demon prince.

The clash of claws was an interesting one, because the way Sharpe had force it to happen any force he applied to try and crush his hand would also force his own hand into Sharpe's own steel claws. While Iaemor did have the strength to bend metal with better leverage he didn't have the ability to just crush it with the strength of his grip alone. The tips of his own claws though were sharp enough that with his strength that the would start to dig into the steel of Sharpe's wrist. As he did so though, he could feel Sharpe's claws threaten to piece the armour of his palm.

The armour wasn't exactly as thick on the palm as to be completely solid would have made the use of his hand impossible, unlike Sharpe who become metal, Iaemor plating was just that plating over his skin that still had joints. The fact Sharpe also appeared to be a demon also seemed to make his claws more effective, though not as much as might have been the case if Sharpe nature wasn't diminished.

Before either claws could truly piece through the defensive nature of the other, Iaemor brought his other claw around planning to slash with the strength of an arm rather then just their locked hands but as he did his target vanished in a flash. Iaemor whipped his head around to see Frank holding the sword once more. Growling under his breath, Iaemor leap. His plate feather wing scraping as he flew directly at Frank as fast as he could. Hands out stretched and as if he intended to simply use the momentum of his flight to slam his claws into each of Franks shoulders.

From what little experience Iaemor did have in fighting, the trickery that Sharpe and Frank utilised to aggravate him had proven to be pretty effective. Not just in closing the gap between the their physically abilities but serving to anger him. While his judgement was impaired, he was taken by surprised by Frank diving down to the ground leaving the sword in the air.

It was too late to try hit the sword aside, nor to grab it. He could however still control his direction a flight somewhat before his impact. Pulling to the side as he tried to pull back as well, so the blade would not piece his torso directly but instead into his left shoulder. Iaemor let out a pained grow, one hand clutching at Sharpe and moving to rip him free of his shoulder.

"You damned bastard." Iaemor snarled and would then throw Sharpe to the ground as quickly as he could. He still didn't understand all of the pairs abilities but he knew that the man could call the blade back to his hand, and was intended to act to damage the sword before the old arena fighter had chance to notice what was happening.

Iaemor raised a boot to come stamping down hard at the sword. It was quickly becoming clear to Iaemor, that while Frank and his sword were a team, it was team that seemed as if was dependent on the living sword. All he had to do was damage the sword to the point it was unusable and this insanity would turn in his favour.

Iaemor might have had little fighting experience, but he wasn't a complete fool. He wasn't dumb enough to think the sword wouldn't try to protect itself again, like it had the first time he had attacked it. As soon as Sharpe had started to transform, Iaemor brought his upper body down to follow his foot.

Their was no time to redirect his foot from Sharpe clawed block, but he was expecting the pain as the spiked tips broke through the thick soles of his boots and into the skin of his foot. His own strength being used against him once more, and bringing a roar of pain as they stabbed into his foot. As a large claw would rake across the sword's imp form only a fraction of a second after the penetration, the reason his upper body had followed through into the stamp.

Of course he could have tried to pull back an minimise the pain, but he hadn't instead revealing in foot being a distraction from his claw, and that it would hold Sharpe down long enough to have allowed his claw to connect. This time it was the strength of his whole arm and claw against steel of Sharpe body, and while he didn't get chance to examine how much damage they inflicted, he was more confident that a full swing would be enough to at least do some damage to the steel skin.

He turn pull his foot away, as fast as he could off the penetration into his foot. Once the satisfaction of finally having showed the sword that underestimating his strength was unwise. He staggered back from the imp, using the side of his injured foot so not to step with his sole, while keeping his eyes on Sharpe waiting for the sword to change form or vanish again. Continuing to stagger because of his bleeding foot, he turn so he could keep an eye on Frank as well out of the corner of his eye. Knowing if the sword did teleport once more it was likely to the man's hand.

Iaemor smirked, as Sharpe goaded him. The weapon imp had been right, however in his goading Sharpe had given away information, and Iaemor was learning. The main thing he had learned so far, was Sharpe ability to become metal meant the likelihood of damaging him was less then he would have hoped but something new occurred to Iaemor. Even though Sharpe was sentient, his opponent had definitely been Frank, and as much as Iaemor would have loved to beat on the imp for being able to harm him more then once, the fight likely would not end until Frank was taken down.

As Sharpe came flying towards him, Iaemor hands would come up to intercede, grabbing at his horns. However he didn't try stopping Sharpe movement dead, instead spinning on the spot, and using Sharpe own momentum to spin the imp around faster, hoping he wouldn't have the chance to react and transform again. If he was unable to do any real damage to the sword, he would try and wound his pride. As the whole purpose of the grab and spin would be to use Sharpe body like a club against Frank who had been coming up behind him. Turning the weapon, in a weird way, against it owner.