human
Prisca:  Wordlessly, the assassins sliced through the cloth; it had only delayed them but for an instant. But that brief moment of blindness was precisely what Prisca had sought. “Ghhh—!” A table knife had lodged itself in the throat of the closest killer, propelled by Prisca’s delicate foot. It tore through skin, and the next kick plunged it deeper. Even with his throat pierced, even with a fatal wound, the man raised his dagger in a shaking hand. But Prisca leaped again, closing the distance to grab his arm and drive his knife into the chest of another assassin. Even getting grazed by a weapon bearing such a potent toxin would be enough to induce unconsciousness. Having it plunged directly into one’s heart meant certain and immediate death.
gpt
Assassin:  “She’s just one girl!” Cried one of the assassins, infuriated at their dismal attempts on her life.
human
Prisca:  “And yet I’m clearly too much for you to handle. Trash like you were never going to be worth more effort than this.” Prisca chuckled mockingly. Then she spun the nearest chair around, using it to strip the dagger from her opponent. It clattered across the floor, and the assassin watched it go—until Prisca drove her fingers into his eyes and stole his sight. Blinded, he fell to the floor, only for Prisca’s foot to find his neck. She’d managed to set this group of adults on their heels with the sheer tenacity of her assault, but although it wasn’t a large group, they still handily outnumbered her, and they were regaining their composure and beginning to close on her again. Prisca had another disadvantage: All she had to work with was a tablecloth and some silverware—nothing resembling a real weapon. Except…
gpt
Prisca:  “I’m getting rather tired of having to sully my own hands with such bothersome work.” Prisca said.