JulienJaden — Roleplayer Guild

I think mostly the fact that it wasn't set up was what stretched plausibility. My youtube search of Spartacus shield jump found a scene where that maneuver was very much intended by both guys, whereas Nicholas isn't prepared to launch Annalynne. Even though she's light, having a person push their whole weight off a shield while unprepared seems like it could easily mess Nicholas up. Which might be kinda funny and/or dramatic if someone took a hit because of it. The jump would also be really tough to pull off, as Nicholas's shield is probably moving, considering that he's in the middle of a fight.

Just my two cents. I thought the post was fine otherwise.@Luminosity

@IcePezz I do agree with Luminosity. Literally the only reason for Nicholas to hold the shield up horizontally in a way that would allow Annalynne to jump off of it would be if there was a weapon coming at him or Fiona in an overhead attack, which would then be bound to hit Annalynne. Not to mention that doing something like that without the other person being prepared or at least aware could seriously disrupt their balance.

Personally, I feel that it's really pushing it but as long as icmasticc is fine with it, I won't say anything.
That said, should Nicholas or Fiona suffer an injury in this round, he will blame Annalynne for it. :P

"We must be careful not to venture too deep", the master had said. Lyla didn't want to interrupt or talk back to him but he wasn't right this time. Going deep was exactly what they had to do, venturing below the levels that were under surveilance, to the areas where the security forces didn't dare to go and even the clones would think twice before descending to. They had to drop off the map, dive below the surface and come up farther away where their enemies weren't looking too closely. In the bowels of the city, they would find what they needed, clothes and perhaps even a contact for their escape. She knew that he was thinking practically, that not just disappearing was important but that they reached somewhere where they could leave the planet from in the time they had before... before what? Before whoever was behind this attack made their next move? Who could have done something like this? Who had the authority to send the Army into the Temple? The Military headquarters? The Senate? ... The Chancellor?

Maybe he was right - reaching somewhere closeby might be better. The place he pointed at... Yes, Anchorpoint 3-9. The ascending ships had always caught her eye, both when she lived below them and above. Countless hours had been spent watching them rise from the depths (or from above her) through the atmosphere until they shrinked to specks of dust in the air. It was her home before she had a place to call home. How ironic that, now that the Temple was gone, she had to return there one last time.
Master Worror urged her to have faith in herself and the Force but all she could really do was nod weakly, still unable to muster a smile, and disguise her lack of faith in anything as grim determination - a disguise that was flawed, for she was fidgeting with her cybernetic prosthetics, the same she always did when she was nervous.

As he stepped off the platform, Lyla felt her heart skip a beat. Never in a thousand years would she have done the same. Where did he take this determination, this optimism from? She... didn't have anything left to hold on to. No... No, it was worse than that, far worse.

The blue she had been watching out for flared up in the near-dark of the chasm. Was it a glimmer of hope? Or had the Master's sword bounced off the ground as he smashed into it and lit up, luring whoever was foolish enough to take a leap of faith into a deadly trap? Not wanting to fall into one, she reached out into the Force, focused on the stream of life and energy around them. It had never felt this hollow before, despite the billions around her. Thousands of beacons in this eternal dark had been extinguished; and yet that made it easier for her to see the ones that were left, to make out the ever-calming presence of Master Worror below her, the Jedi around her... and more. Yes, two here, one there and... two more, different, strange, frightening, unshackled.
She opened her eyes and let her focus go, but the odd sensation in her stomach remained.

She saw the Kel'dor hesitate, still preoccupied with his thoughts, perhaps even unsure of his strength in the Force - or maybe it was just the Padawan who gave her curious glances who had his attention. All of them lingered... the few of them that remained, anyway. Lyla stepped up to Enrik and, for some reason, took his hand and pressed it. She felt compelled to say something, anything, to him, perhaps because he had been so slow to move in the tunnel.
"I'll see you at the bottom."

Her last look wasn't directed at her fellow youngling, though, but at the boy - or was he a young man? - who hadn't missed what she said. And before she could change her mind, before anything could hold her back, she ran to the edge and jumped.

Immediately, all her organs shifted upwards as gravity pulled her down with unforgiving determination. The platform disappeared from her sight and she watched as lights and metal rushed past her - no, she was the one rushing, the one falling faster and faster.
The ground was hard to make out and all she could really tell was that it was coming closer, ever closer. She could hardly breathe despite the air flowing all over her, deafening her as it blew through her robes and long, open hair, her ribbon undone at last and gone with the wind. Fear constricted her chest and tightened its grip like a vice as she fell.
And there it was, the bottom of this abyss, running up to meet her. Surely the master would slow her descent somehow, right? What did he ask about? 'Telekinetic abilities.' Lyla had always had a talent for them.

She stretched out her arms out before here, as if groping in the dark for the metaphoric resistance that might stop her from meeting the literal one. And when she found it, seeing a wall of black too close for comfort, she pushed with everything she had. She slowed... slowed... and came to a halt. For a moment, just one moment, she was amazed that it even worked. But then, the laws of physics came back into effect - despite her success, she had been too high, fifteen, twenty meters above the ground yet. She heard herself cry out in desperation and terror, screwed her eyes shut, braced herself for the blinding pain... that never came. The sensation that greeted her was more akin to landing on a cushion and as she lowered her arms and opened her eyes, she found herself standing upright on the ground, Master Worror opposite of her, his non-human mimic unreadable to her as always. An Ithorian's eyes usually said more about what he was thinking than anything else; maybe he was proud of her for almost managing to break her fall herself; maybe he was disappointed that she had thought he would fail to catch her.

But she didn't pay attention, didn't meet his look for more than a splitsecond. Lyla didn't even say 'thank you'. All she managed was giving him the faintest of nods as he turned to flash his lightsaber once more.
The girl knew that, if she had opened her mouth, she would break down and start crying. Even now, she had trouble controlling the tremor that took hold of her body once more, undone by almost falling to her death. She didn't dare to look inside, to let any of her feelings well up, to let her mind wander back the way they came because she feared what she would find, feared that all she had done and seen and felt that day would shatter her and maybe she wouldn't be strong enough to put herself back together.

So she suppressed the thoughts, the feelings, wound herself up as tightly as she could, let the pounding heartbeat in her ears drown any echo of an idea as she brushed her disheveled, windswept hair aside and looked up to the platform, deciding that she would assist the Master if she could.

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