I!--

What?

Are you [i]actually[/i] insane? Like, out of your gourd mental, off your rocker lunatic?

(Note to self: invent a rocker for Azura. Seems like a very good way to spend a fortnight or two and after that, she gets to curl up around a bucket of cocoa on her new rocker.)

Have you forgotten the, I dunno, half-dozen hours we [i]just spent[/i] fighting a snake-turned-tree-turned-crab?

(Which, now that she thinks about that evolutionary arc, she's almost jealous?)

But the point is, no stabbing! Minimal stabbing! Minimal, ahaha, minimal point!

She is realizing, now that it's very important, that the sword did not come with a holster. Sheath. Sheaths are for swords, holsters are for guns. Unless they're scabbards, which. 

Scabbards for swords, holsters for guns, sheaths for knives, maybe?

[i]A-ny-way,[/i] the sword did not come with anything to protect the sharp edge from, for instance, sending an unsuspecting Stonetribe laborer into another realm where fuck knows what's happening. And she doesn't know that it isn't doing that, and she doesn't know how to turn it off or turn it on and she [i]really[/i] needs to figure out how to turn it off, because turning it off either brings back the sheep she very much didn't stab or brings herself back to whatever reality is--

Look, this is going to get very confusing. Either way, she wants out. Out of this hallway, potentially out of this reality, and for that she needs someone who can figure out this sword.

Someone who is not siccing waves of people on her for her to dodge, juke, and very gently throw out of the way. She's doing a lot more movement than they are--dodging from floor to ceilings, freezing feet and hands to walls, and diving her bulk into quickly-created holes in their ranks.

She has a sword. Now all she needs is a plan.

[Get away: 6,4,+2. 12. Choosing to get away quickly and quietly, avoiding harm and attention. She's looking for someone who might understand this technology--probably to Brightberry, though I'm open to alternatives]