The Verd'goten
The Liberator took the hit to her hip, the damage mitigated. But there was no reaction, not even a hiss or grunt. No acknowledgement of any pain.
Osik. That was not a good sign. Mia began to turn the assault on her, pressing the attack as Adelle switched to Soresu. The woman had weight and reach on Adelle, not to mention experience. But there was hardly a moment for Adelle to catch her breath, much less think of a new trick. Even with two weapons, Mia was more than a match. And she was driving Adelle away from the rest of the battle.
Away from allies.
Adelle’s precog flashed. Beskad met beskad and something rang. Metal hit the face of her helm, scratching the transparisteel visor and scraping the helmet.
In her hand, she now had half a blade. She had no time to process it.
“Stop. Protecting. Them.”
The smart retort died on Adelle’s tongue as gravity seemed to increase around her. The hand of the Liberator’s Force presence was evident. Adelle focused on strengthing her resistance to Force powers, just to be able to keep moving. If she thought she’d been slow before, she’d been
wrong. Now she was only keeping up with precognition. And it was a close thing. Mia’s beskad glanced off her pauldron, scraping off paint and shavings of durasteel.
A scream pierced her ears before her buy’ce’s dampeners kicked in, a high-pitched ringing now deafening her. Adelle staggered but caught and redirected Mia’s blade, swinging her lightsaber in for a counterstrike. The Mand’alor’s hand caught the hilt.
Adelle felt the pain of the beskad before it moved.
She let go of the hilt.
A broken sword against a lightsaber and a beskad while she was trying to stay standing and mobile under immense pressure. Just. Perfect.
"I'm here to show you how a MANDALORIAN Fights. Not with the Force, not with tricks, not with their screaming shouts! With Beskar!"
Oh
feth that noise. Adelle’s anger crystallized into something cold and cutting, immovable. Words burned like frostbite in her brain, even as she struggled to regain her footing against the Liberator.
Words that died a second time as Adelle stumbled, barely blocking a strike from the former Mand’alor, the absence of Mia’s pressure jarring. But it came at a steep price.
“Shabuir,” she hissed again. Losing the Force always felt like losing a limb. Still, she hadn’t been taught to rely on the Force for everything.
First things first. She needed her lightsaber back.
Her helm chimed with an incoming message alert. Adelle gave a glance at it, a gesture to have it read aloud.
"If you can manage, get him to stay put when the fight's over."
Adelle darted back after defending against the next attack, no longer impeded by an artificial gravity. She thrust her right wrist out at Mia, spewing fire from the flamethrower at the Mand’alor’s face. Just after letting the firestream loose, she aimed her left vambrace, whipcord firing for the lightsaber hilt.
If she could just get her saber back, she might be okay.