[Good. Kratos's armor did include some element of polycarbonate. Yuan was fairly sure it did.]

[--He doesn't know what armor o Duirnín is wearing. Yuan turns on the spot, or tries to, and isn't fast enough to avoid the sword.]

[His twisting changes the target, at least, and the blade spears through the side of his abdomen instead of his spine. It's probably survivable, Yuan considers with some detached thoughtfulness, looking at the red across the steel. Then o Duirnín jerks his sword free, to the side instead of simply pulling it back, and it's an abrupt lance of agony that briefly clears everything else from his mind. Yuan sways, but knows he needs to move.]

[He manages a few stumbling steps away. Go down and it's over. Stay up. Stay on your feet. One hand at his side, warm and wet, Yuan reaches out with the other, in no position to shape complicated mana-patterns, but lightning always, always comes when he reaches for it. It's sluggish, now, but still coming. Perhaps he can yet do something.]

[...o Duirnín yelling something about traitor really isn't promising.]