Cassandra Everquill:
Cassandra, confident that her friend could take care of herself, went back into the fight. She usually tried to rely on magic, since learning how to read spells a few years ago, but kept up with her sword work. If felt good to play again as the swashbuckler she was.
She danced around the men, looking for openings for her sword. She swashed. She buckled. She had a ball.
Nice. Spells can go awry, but steel is solid-- and these men don't have any-- a couple (who're still standing, that is) have wooden clubs. One is spiky, but they're wooden spikes.
These men certainly could be said to have a sort of primal agility (some of them more than others), but they don't have the true grace that Cassandra displays. This time she more than drives them back-- she makes them
afraid of her. They're not
just backing up-- they're
retreating.
All but one, the big guy, the leader... He stands his ground, waiting, watching... for an opportunity or opening, it feels like, maybe...? Cassandra's moves bring her closer to him... Not quite within sword's reach yet...