The corrupt being is no normal man, bringing the whining, toothed blade up for a rough block of the incoming swing, making a screech of metal on metal as the jarring impact of the desperate defense causes the warrior to waver, clearly not expecting so mighty a blow from so relatively diminutive an opponent.

"I SHALL WEAR YOUR FLESH AS A CLOAK!" He snarls, drawing a wicked-looking flaying knife with his offhand from his belt, swinging it in to try to score a wounding strike on the King of Knights.