She yanks the chain away from her hip, and dives forward, ducking between the constructs and under their reaching boney arms. She leaves the rapier holstered for now; weapons that stab are terrible against bone.

Instead she whips the chain against her arm, the quick pivot in direction adding speed to the whirling head. The heavy butterfly of pelvis crashes into the back of a skull and caves it; she spins the chain back the other way, building speed.