Both of the warrior's deadly blades rose to defend against the attack, the clang of metal on metal ricocheting along the rumbling tunnel.

It was a reflex, and not a positive one for the situation Izvilvin was in, for the creature had two limbs in addition to these. With his arms reaching up to meet the upper pair, two slashes came in below, horizontally, a coordinated strike violent enough to sever his upper body from the lower half.

Izvilvin dove back, just out of range, the tips of those ancient scimitars cleaving through the fabric of the shirt dangling over his breastplate. Gracefully, he landed on his toes and drove back in, crouching below an overhead slash and bringing Mjolnir behind it to stab at the guardian's armpit - the second left arm slapped the weapon harmlessly aside and away.

He moved with the momentum of the deflection, spinning right and forcing his opponent to follow his movement. Both right arms slashed at him, as expected with Izvilvin's back becoming exposed, but the nimble elf was too quick, diving forward in a roll as the swords swung just overhead. He was up in a flash, Icicle prodding with stabs from his left that were easily kept at bay.

But now he had completed their movement, so that he was facing back toward Alydia's location; albeit with a sizable multi-limbed beast and an unsettling amount of crumbling ceiling blocking much of the view.

It turned out not to matter, as when he first glanced in the direction of his dear friend, she was no longer there. He didn't have time to panic, he knew, throwing his blades in a furious dance to fend off the many attacks which steadily came forward - and mercifully, he heard Alydia's voice beyond him. Of course, he realized, for it did not always occur to him what she was capable of, particularly when he was so occupied.

She presented a difficult puzzle. The dancer was only his height and did not appear to be much heavier, but Izvilvin couldn't hope to tackle it off to the side, not with so many deadly hands whirling about - to throw his weight into it to try and move the creature was opening himself up far too much.

His arms dashed about at alarming speed, seeming to blur back and forth in desperate waves, but each of the warrior's movements was a calculated and precise parry - Icicle deftly deflecting a swipe just too far to the left, Mjolnir dipping under an approaching blade to direct it just too far to the right, Icicle back across to slap another strike down and away, stealing its momentum, all of this in the span of seconds.

He knew that he did not have much time. Alydia would be near soon, and to have her within range of this foe was not something Izvilvin wanted to allow. However there was no possibility for counterattack, as the heavy iron blades came from every possible angle, just quickly enough to lock the drow in his defensive position. To pull away meant luring it back toward her, and pushing forward was not an option.

The thought broke his concentration, and Izvilvin paid for it. Icicle had knocked a strike high in the air and then driven down to swipe the lower arm's blow aside, but lost track of the initial blade - it drove down in a slash, ripping a gash in his left shoulder just beyond the reach of his delyn breastplate. He didn't drop Icicle, didn't react, for he could not: on the right, Mjolnir slapped up and down in defensive parries that could not afford to slow.

Can I make it angry? he wondered, for it was a suitable tactic against living creatures. Izvilvin didn't know if this guardian was alive or not, and didn't know how to frustrate it, if it was.

A strange metallic being helped, then, clocking into the side of the dancer's stone mask thrice in rapid succession, taking it by surprise. Alydia's mysterious ally.

Izvilvin didn't take the opportunity for granted.

Mjolnir roared and cast the darkness away, slashing down into the creature's bottom-left bicep, cutting through the bone - not clean through, but more than midway and far enough to invalidate the limb. At the same time, his iron will ignoring the damage to his left shoulder, Izvilvin brought Icicle across the masked head, tearing the facade from the dancer's face and casting it aside. The stone sculpture landed on the floor behind the warrior drow, its eyes still fiery with magical light, but with a deep and iced-over gash across it.

And in the place of the mask was a blank slate, an empty canvas of skin now that the costume had been removed.

Izvilvin was still moving, pivoting back with his hips and throwing his right leg forward, every ounce of strength behind the kick. His foot slammed into the chest of the dancer, taking it off of its feet and throwing it back a few steps - hopefully far enough to keep Alydia safe.

And if the relentless monster was not capable of anger, in the end, what it displayed now was close enough. It bent low with three arms pointing their swords forward, and Izvilvin charged ahead.