Well... these things were definitely a bunch of mini-Ragnar. The corner of her eyes found how they had even less skill than the towering brute, but the sheer durability was the exact same kind of annoyance. Change of plans, she'll need to-

-Jonas, the old motherfucker, was here. It's like the old man took a few leisurly steps but suddenly went across the entire distance they're apart, culminating into a straightforward stab at her direction. The bardiche was stuck in whatever unnaturally hard bones and crystalline scab, the second it'll take to free it was a second she did not have.

Instinct took over, her body moving as thought the world demanded it as everything seemingly slowed. Pivot on one foot, the body follows, in a smooth sequence letting go of the weapon in favor of drawing her sword. Her off-hand near the tip, Yvonne pushed the flat of the blade against the incoming partisan to deflect it harmlessly to the side.

Then the adrenaline-driven lapse ended, the heat of the battle caught up with conscious thought. The pivot smoothly switched into leverage, a powerful step that sent her charging toward the Delving patriarch, attempting to enter into the range where the partisan would be more of a hindrance than a weapon. Dull amber burned within her eyes, feral rictus twisting her face into a violent mask.

She's getting into the zone.