Welp. If Roana thinks Wessex is just a Bloodfiend with a pisspoor attitude, she’s already lost. How many resurrected Bloodfiends does she know? How many from Caido?
Caido is the wildcard. That, and Wessex isn’t a soldier. She’s older, she’s half barbarian, she’s lived. She has imagination. She is Unpredictable.
As the Outlander’s sword tings off Krosis, Wessex also recoils, continuing to move. To assume that either of them stop moving is folly. Her irritation dissipates into a finely tuned soft focus. Recent lessons have (re)taught her that emotions have no place in battle. She is all instincts and reflexes, urging her body to move faster, to judge more quickly than before. Every second - half-second, even - that she can gain is a notch in her favor.
The lunge carries her diagonally forward as planned, and as she swings into empty air, uses the momentum to throw herself into a quick, tight shoulder roll on her right side. Both hands come up and cross at shoulder height, keeping the sharp bits of her weapons away from her body. Wessex’s head remains turned to the left, watching for Roana so she can aim properly.
If Roana has indeed moved to where behind Wessex originally was, Wessex should pull out of her roll almost - but not quite - perpendicular to where Roana has landed. Using the length of the claymore, speed, peripheral vision, and proprioception Wessex keeps the sword low as she pulls out of the roll into a tight crouch with one foot forward in preparation to take off in another direction; she swings the blade out at approximately knee height towards Roana’s forward leg, where she is likely to have at least half, if not most of her weight placed for a strong attack.
Contact or not, she’s poised to move again, to leap into action as quickly as she can.
WESSEX
She whispered back, I am the storm
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[Training] The night is dark and full of terrors
