[img]http://imgur.com/SQm6im5.jpg[/img]

She was going to die. She could feel the white-skin's grip loosen slightly, but not enough to open up Angora's airway fully. She struggled to suck air into her lungs through her partially-blocked throat, her heartbeat was racing, she needed to think about what to do, she needed to survive. Having dropped her sword by now, Angora gripped the white-skin's arm around her throat as hard as she could, and then threw herself forward and pulled away as hard as she could, her nails still digging into the soft flesh underneath the white-skin's arm. It opened up a second or two of full breathing, which enabled Angora to look around briefly, only to see the warrior male from before in front of her, his sword over her and poised to strike. He had clearly shaken off the stunning effect by now, and she had a matter of seconds before he doubtless impaled her on his sword, which would be almost certain death. In another act of sheer desperation (and now increasingly panic), Angora lifted her right foot and kicked the male as hard as she could between the legs, aiming for his crotch area - Angora knew that was her only chance to stagger him - or at least reduce him as a threat to her for a while - whilst she tried to deal with the white-skin on her back. Angora's strength was yet to begin to wane from lack of oxygen, but it was still a precarious situation, one that was not helped by the approach of the painted woman and the green-skinned male...