Private Overconfidence and Hostile Hubris

Sharpe was not in fact between the two men's chests. Since they'd been flung into Frank's face they were actually more between their wielder's head and the enraged demon's chest. Not that it mattered a whole lot though. They were still flown up into the air and dropped like a sack of potatoes.

Sharpe could have probably used their flight to slow their own fall. Could maybe have tried futilely to slow Frank's. But neither were good options. Instead they wrapped their soft plushy body around the human's head to keep it safe.

But the imp couldnt leave Iaemor's embraces unrewarded. For the whole time Iaemor was flying them, holding them close to himself, Sharpe was digging their claws into whatever they could reach on the demon. Even letting their long blade-like legs drag down the demon's front side as they changed position to hold Frank's head safely.

Ultimately though they did plummet back to the ground with a loud 'whump'. Frank very much dazed and in pain but alive and conscious. Sharpe immediately unveiled from around the sweaty bleeding human and bared their claws and teeth towards the smog bastard of a demon. "How petty. You sure are a master fighter, princess angry pants. Dropping swords and cutting yourself to pieces," Sharpe laughed loudly at the demon. Goading him to keep going while giving Frank a moment to get his bearings and try to stand up.

"Wow, you sound just like the stereotype of a final boss. Except you're a little too easy to scratch up for that," Sharpe continued to taunt as Iaemor lowered down. Buying Frank time to recover and start to achingly stagger too his feet. Just a little more and they could- but no, the demon was too smart for that and he acted before Sharpe could really react.

Thump

A chunk of stone hit Frank in the side as he tried to dodge but was too slow. Sharpe hissed out a curse in the demonic tongue and quickly moved between the two. Stabbing their pointed feet into the ground and slowly walking with Frank as he scrambled for the discarded shield.

"Oh, are we destroying the arena now? Cool, I really want to see what that bill looks like when you get it. Like salt in those wounds of yours. So many of those too." Sharpe couldn't attack yet. Shielding Frank from a concussion, or worse, was the priority unfortunately.

Sharpe, in their tarnishing and self imposed rooted position, could not move quick enough to shield Frank as death rained from above. Or rather, injury- since Frank took a nasty impact to the shoulder and crumpled. The imp sword was able to free themself and float over to be above Frank again but they were too small to keep all the rocks from getting through.

Sharpe could have done far more damage to Iaemor before the end of the fight but Frank was their wielder and unfortunately that took presedence. "Enough, enough. The big wimp of a demon can stop trying to brain my wielder. We'll concede." They reluctantly raised their claws and waited for the announcer to call the end of the match. Of course the funny thing was that Sharpe was denying Iaemor a chance to get his revenge fore the scratches any further by ending the match. Even in defeat Sharpe was taunting Iaemor.

Sharpe grinned at Iaemor as the demon looked around. "What's that? I think someone's ruining the win with their pitiful whining. Did you get too many boo boos mister big scary demon?" They called out as Iaemor turned to leave.

Meanwhile Frank was slowly being helped to stumble his way towards the opposite tunnel. Sharpe had a ce dents and some significantly bent claws but otherwise seemed no worse for wear. Certainly not as gouged up as Iaemor had been.