Sybella felt the unmistakeable grip of the Force pull at her. She cursed, blindly reaching for something to stall her movement, but the compulsion was too strong for her to deter. A heavy, sinking sensation came over her. She recognised it well, as it often manifested during moments of mortal danger. Heart in her throat, Sybella grimly anticipated what was to follow; if she could not wholly avoid, then at least she might be able to mitigate the fall out.
Coming within an arm’s length of the Sith, Sybella reached out and gripped onto the body of her enemy. This was done partly out of the desperation, but also (mildly) out of spite. With her fingers gripped tightly upon the dark woman’s shoulder’s, the Jedi would then jostle with it. Sybella may be in the line of fire but she was determined that they share the impact. Whether through hoisting herself, or throwing her weight, even a fraction was enough to turn and twist their footing. The blaster bolts meant for the chest would strike at both of their upper arms, whilst the shots aimed for the legs would clip at a thigh or calf.
Sybella gave a cry as intense surges of heat and energy made their impact. Burning, searing pain jarred her entire left side, the power of switch almost knocking her off balance. The agony she felt was a sobering one. If she could find any source of comfort, she hoped it would be in the mutual suffering of her opponent.
Then there was a flash of red.
With ruthless precision, the stranger’s scarlet blade slashed shallowly across the upper area of Sybella's chest; though the sizzling heat of the energy blade seared her flesh, all that escaped Sybella’s lips was a gasp of pain. She was no stranger to the sting of a saber but this, by far, was the grievous afflicted on her. The air within her lungs seized for a moment, leaving her winded and robbed. Time seemed to slow and it was only then Sybella got a close look at her attack - not that there was much to really see, considering they hid their face behind a mask of anonymity.
Death, however, did not come. Those not familiar with lightsabers often thought a cut meant a mortal wound; this, however, was not always the case. The sheer heat of the blade actually cauterised the wounds it dealt, meaning there was little actual blood lose. Limbs could be taken clean off, and prosthetic could be made to the replace them. Catastrophic injuries, however, were not so simple.
Instinctively, Sybella’s hands clutched at her chest; it was of little reprieve however as soon enough she was tossed away. She tumbled and rolled (seemingly lifeless) into haze of the gas. The stunted, halting of her breathing thankfully meant she did not yet inhale the gas.
Her main priority, however, was the blistering wound carved across her chest. Digging her fingers harshly into the flesh, the Jedi tried to muster something of the Force, anything of it, and pour it into her burning injury. She wouldn’t be able to heal it, not right now, as she was. At best, she hoped to keep herself numb. Wide, wild eyes gazed about though she wasn’t quite sure what to search for; the stunning gas was thick, like mist, obscuring some of her visibility. Only shadows were visible - on one side of the field of gas, there was a figure standing with a red saber, and on the other side, there were two (presumably) crouched persons. Gritting her teeth, Sybella kicked at the ground; the motion, however, was enough to interrupt her focus.
Maddening agony ruptured forth once again and, oddly enough, it fuelled her. Awash with adrenaline, or perhaps something more, Sybella managed to claw herself out of the field of stunning gas. Her lungs, much like the rest of her chest, were ablaze. The first thing she did when clear was take a sharp, deep breath of clean, clear air.
Coming within an arm’s length of the Sith, Sybella reached out and gripped onto the body of her enemy. This was done partly out of the desperation, but also (mildly) out of spite. With her fingers gripped tightly upon the dark woman’s shoulder’s, the Jedi would then jostle with it. Sybella may be in the line of fire but she was determined that they share the impact. Whether through hoisting herself, or throwing her weight, even a fraction was enough to turn and twist their footing. The blaster bolts meant for the chest would strike at both of their upper arms, whilst the shots aimed for the legs would clip at a thigh or calf.
Sybella gave a cry as intense surges of heat and energy made their impact. Burning, searing pain jarred her entire left side, the power of switch almost knocking her off balance. The agony she felt was a sobering one. If she could find any source of comfort, she hoped it would be in the mutual suffering of her opponent.
Then there was a flash of red.
With ruthless precision, the stranger’s scarlet blade slashed shallowly across the upper area of Sybella's chest; though the sizzling heat of the energy blade seared her flesh, all that escaped Sybella’s lips was a gasp of pain. She was no stranger to the sting of a saber but this, by far, was the grievous afflicted on her. The air within her lungs seized for a moment, leaving her winded and robbed. Time seemed to slow and it was only then Sybella got a close look at her attack - not that there was much to really see, considering they hid their face behind a mask of anonymity.
Death, however, did not come. Those not familiar with lightsabers often thought a cut meant a mortal wound; this, however, was not always the case. The sheer heat of the blade actually cauterised the wounds it dealt, meaning there was little actual blood lose. Limbs could be taken clean off, and prosthetic could be made to the replace them. Catastrophic injuries, however, were not so simple.
Instinctively, Sybella’s hands clutched at her chest; it was of little reprieve however as soon enough she was tossed away. She tumbled and rolled (seemingly lifeless) into haze of the gas. The stunted, halting of her breathing thankfully meant she did not yet inhale the gas.
Her main priority, however, was the blistering wound carved across her chest. Digging her fingers harshly into the flesh, the Jedi tried to muster something of the Force, anything of it, and pour it into her burning injury. She wouldn’t be able to heal it, not right now, as she was. At best, she hoped to keep herself numb. Wide, wild eyes gazed about though she wasn’t quite sure what to search for; the stunning gas was thick, like mist, obscuring some of her visibility. Only shadows were visible - on one side of the field of gas, there was a figure standing with a red saber, and on the other side, there were two (presumably) crouched persons. Gritting her teeth, Sybella kicked at the ground; the motion, however, was enough to interrupt her focus.
Maddening agony ruptured forth once again and, oddly enough, it fuelled her. Awash with adrenaline, or perhaps something more, Sybella managed to claw herself out of the field of stunning gas. Her lungs, much like the rest of her chest, were ablaze. The first thing she did when clear was take a sharp, deep breath of clean, clear air.
@Darasuum @DMCK @GABA
Edited after agreement from all parties. Time to respond renewed for opposition
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