[It doesn't count as a hit when they parry, the Drifter sparing themselves from getting stuck in the sand. Beau's staff meets the sword, her feet hitting the ground hard on impact and pressing back as hard as she can. From the hardened face she had when this fight started, she's starting to look more rabid, more stressed. Her teeth are bared and the hit is not gentle, seeming intent on going as hard as she can until there's nothing left.
But if the Drifter is trying to create distance, they succeed. She sees the bombs as they get tossed and knows she has to get out of the way, leaping back before the explosion detonates. The impact still hits, knocking her further back as she skids on the sand, back meeting the line of monks on one side of the wall.
They do not catch her; their hands move only to push her back, let her stumble onto her feet, let bits of hair fall on her sweaty brow.
For the first time, she speaks instead of them.]
Stay still!
[She digs in her feet and simply goes back in, throwing herself back into the combat, fists swinging their way just to land a blow.]
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But if the Drifter is trying to create distance, they succeed. She sees the bombs as they get tossed and knows she has to get out of the way, leaping back before the explosion detonates. The impact still hits, knocking her further back as she skids on the sand, back meeting the line of monks on one side of the wall.
They do not catch her; their hands move only to push her back, let her stumble onto her feet, let bits of hair fall on her sweaty brow.
For the first time, she speaks instead of them.]
Stay still!
[She digs in her feet and simply goes back in, throwing herself back into the combat, fists swinging their way just to land a blow.]