There's a guard trying to pick up one of the dropped silver nightsticks.

A Slayer barrels into him amidships, and the crack of his ribs splintering is audible even over the din of hand-to-hand.

Jordie pivots, draws back her arm, and hurls the nightstick out through one of the plate-glass windows -- then one of the zhirelin is at her, and she hurriedly blocks the blow.