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With a sound like a crashing chandelier, the crystalline rapier shatters, a thousand razor-sharp fragments thrown every which way. Flinging up an armored arm, the swirl of your cloak catches the brunt of the shrapnel, preventing anything from harming you or your master behind you.
Despite this, your own sword doesn't come away unscathed; through the glittering cloud of dagger-like shards, you spot a deep gouge in the metal of your blade, jagged and shorn.
>Attack Bonus from Iron Greatsword halved.
Biting down on a curse - that certainly won't buff out - you chance a glance at the wraith before you, properly taking her in. The wolf-eared woman - those weren't just oddly shaped tufts of hair? - stares down blankly at the ruined stump of her weapon, wispy grey locks fluttering behind her.
Lady Alice shivers slightly. Unwilling to take your eyes off your opponent, you attempt to speak to her quietly, pitching your voice.
"My Lady–how do you feel? Any injuries?"
The waifish girl nods warily, voice breathless from tension. "Not a scratch, thanks to you. I've recovered somewhat–would you like me to assist you more directly?"
