ESCAPAY: [member="AmyIsabellaJarrus"] [member="Niyla Ar'i"]
FIGHT: [member="Udrusa"]
Now the Sithling was getting into it, getting personally invested. Committed to taking Mara down. That was clear enough in her stance, her movements, her eyes, and the lightning she threw around like candy despite her meagre rank and her previous expenditures. It was clearest of all in the heavy swings, meant to unbalance Mara and break her guard and timing. Rather than meet this one head-on, Mara flicked her blade up to catch it and divert its strength past her, a perfect Makashi parry.
Because if one was to speak of tutelage, Mara was the student of Aleidis Ijet Zrgaat, Barsen'thor of the Order, and her blademaster wife. She had no illusions: an Apprentice could beat her, and several had in her day. But only if they fought smart. The Sithling's flurry of strikes, her attempt to keep momentum and keep Mara on the defensive, met a precise and fluid Makashi defense designed for this exact situation. Mara parried the lot of them without stepping back, without breaking balance, and without counterattacking.
That last part was intentional. If the Sithling was this invested, Mara's refusal to counterattack could only irritate her. It was a gesture of condescension, in its way. A distraction meant to equalize out the pain of the scrape along Mara's skull. Pain she could handle. Deliberate disrespect? Contempt? No Sith could handle that.
Then came the Sithling's final move, a spiralling low-high kick combo beloved by midlevel taek'won'do practitioners everywhere. And like anyone with at least half a brain who'd gone up against that flamboyant and ineffective art, Mara saw it coming a mile away. Turning around, swinging your feet like that, it all took time. Far, far more than it took for Mara to scoot back a little, get her weight on the rear foot as was common in Makashi, and let the first kick breeze past her shin -- then, almost casually, flick her sabre up to block at the last second before the kick crashed home. The Sithling was putting a whole lot of Force-enhanced impetus into that kick; pulling the blow wouldn't be possible, might not even have crossed her mind. And yes, if Mara's sabre block took off her foot or that boobplate turned out to be lightsabre-resistant or whatever, there would still be quite a bit of force transferred should the foot strike where the Sithling had intended.
Which was why Mara was no longer there.
As the kick came in from her right, her rear foot came in and out again, reversing her stance with Force-enhanced speed and putting her much closer to the airborne torso. And separated from the ground, her Force attention elsewhere, the odds of the Sithling being able to move out of the way of Mara's quick, vicious strike were negligible. That was another good reason to avoid taek'won'do and related acrobatic arts: all movement began with the ground, even with Grandmaster-level Sokan. But once you'd left the ground, you were committed, like a jumpjet trooper outlining himself against the skyline for a sniper's benefit.
Mara's left hand lashed out, but not close enough to make contact. It was another projected fighting strike, this one aimed at the boobplate. Those were some cruel edges and corners, designed for aesthetics, but a halfway decent telekinetic strike would drive said corners and edges into vulnerable flesh with bone-cracking force. If the panels that covered the ribs and breasts were metal, the rims around the breasts could break ribs. If the panels were something more flexible, the angular shoulder pauldrons could shatter collarbones.
Boobplate. Not even once™.
