Janna stumbles back, lifting up an arm and blocking off the downpour of filthy ichor.  Some of it splatters into her hair, burns the skins, but she'll survive those minor wounds.  The sting of lightning still makes her muscles jump, but she forces weary limbs back to action.  When Aya's orb of force smashes into the remaining Nalfashanee, and the barbarian woman's blade helps carve the fate of the dying demon, Janna interferes with a dragon's lunch with what seems to be an atypical lack of reasoning acumen.<br/><br/>Back-back-back-run-leaaaaaap.  "AGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"  The idea is that she would hook the wicked edges of her blade into flesh like pivots.<br/><br/>The reality is that the beast is already falling when she's midleap, and all her momentum means she faceplants against unyielding scales of an elder black dragon, a comical grunt and slow peeling fall as gravity unsticks her from dragon and down to the ground.  There she lies, battered and weakened, but blissfully aware of her continued existance.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>