There was barely a moments reprieve between the ending of the Cruciatus curse and the next spell that Rodolphus sent at him, not even allowing him a chance to catch his breath. "Holy sh-" Sturgis was cut off as he rolled to the side, the sword still slicing a deep slash in his back as it stabbed downwards, the pointed end jabbing into the carpet.
Ignoring his aching muscles as he pulled himself to his feet, Sturgis's free hand grabbed for the hilt of the sword, yanking it from the ground a'la King Arthur and charging toward Lestrange with it.