Harklas stood silent and listened for the sound of the orc's chestplate to fall to the ground, but all he got was an unsatifying -<span style="font-style: italic">clink</span>-. Surely this wouldn't work, he couldn't see the weak spots in the armor with this sandstorm, and he needed to be precise. Fighting him this close was dangerous too, he was far outmatched in power, and he couldn't just go and pick his knives back up if he was blind as a bat at the moment. If Plan A wouldn't work, Plan B seemed pretty appealing at the moment. The sand in the sky parted as the orc brought his sword down right to left, inches from his face. The sword had barely missed, but a plume of sand arose right in front of his face.  Harklas bent over and let out what was either a cough or a very coarse laugh. "Gotta sand it to you..." The terrible pun did not help the taste in his mouth. At all.<br/><br/>Harklas jumped backwards and flapped his wings, going airborne and sending a cloud of dust back at the orc. He estimated where the orc's face would be from the rough outline he could see, and aimed his second knife accordingly. Some of the audience was acting a bit strange, perhaps upset that they couldn't see the action very well, but Harklas was too busy grinning like a fool wondering how his next attack would work out to care.