Bryn'adûl | Raid on Vasar

[Tathra Khaeus]

​The Jedi was thrown from their impromptu arena, crashing through rubble and planted roughly on the decimated ground above. He had fought valiantly for what little time his mastery of the force could provide him.

​The gargantuan mass of Tathra rose with a single effortless leap, gracefully carried through the air by sheer strength. Feet crashing into the disturbed earth like heavy plates of meat, his heavy form slandering as he stood untested for but a moment. Tathra took in the sight then, the Master before him was broken by his might, cloak strewn messily between them.

​All around them, what remained of human civilisation was in ruin; shambles. Fire still yet burned in the shadowy colossal corpse of colony. It was beautiful. Feeble foundations of Human society torn down before his very eyes. Those same eyes now fell on the Jedi. Burning gold, sat on him for a moment - Great Axe held aloft in his right hand.

​"The world of men will fall." ​Tathra's voice was low, a shiver carrying power. Power born of a hatred for the very existence of the Jedi. It wasn't personal.

​The Axe slid by an inch in his grasp, taunting his opponent to rise.

​| [member="Jend-Ro Quill"] |​

 

[Jend-Ro Quill]

"And be built again. Creation is renewal."

Quill got a grip on a burnt-out hovercar and pulled himself upright. Jedi healing took the edge off the cracked ribs, but there was only so much he could do in the moment. His lightsaber was nowhere in sight. Back in the crater where he'd taken the hit, presumably, and right now he couldn't feel it. Maybe impact had cracked the kyber gem.

Running struck him as implausible. This had been a very long day and he'd lived a moderately long life. A just-in-time pickup by some unknown ally would be nice but unlikely.

The Force had led him here. Either it would lead him out, or right here was where he was supposed to die, buying time for the survivors to get to safety.

"You don't create much, do you, son. Other than weapons, I mean."

 

[Tathra Khaeus]

​​Tathra stood tall, proud and strong. He snorted, half insulted by what the Jedi claimed to know in his naivety. Half amused.

"You're mistaken. On both counts." ​Tathra was a practiced orator, yet he did not call for a herd of Drael to listen - the Jedi was audience enough.

​He mused briefly, looking at the ground. Tathra couldn't help to hide his satisfaction, in all of this. This proof. The Titan stood before him, a testament to the strength of his species. To the strength of his creation. The Jedi had seen war, he had had his fill. Tathra could see it - how he stood, his stance; posture. No doubt the Jedi realised nearly every single member of his species was outmatched against such a threat.

​"I create life. Life worth the ground beneath its feet. Creation is an opportunity, one I alone will control. Humanity has long been bereft of that right. Now it falls to me."

​| [member="Jend-Ro Quill"] |​

 

[Jend-Ro Quill]

"Prakith. Prakith was you, wasn't it. Your...species, in the plural." Quill got up, but not easily. His ribs kept knitting. Not enough for a renewed fight, but maybe enough to facilitate escape.

"Hordes and swarms - this is what you mean by worthy life? Mindless rampaging drones guided by...you? Am I reading your priorities right?"

[member="Tathra Khaeus"]

 

[Tathra Khaeus]

His prattle had the intention of insult. The anger gnawed at Tathra as flashes of impulsive fantasises turned open palm to fist. He wanted ever so much to scream, call him a fool - keep him alive as long as possible. Make him feel pain until the nothing that would follow could be considered comfort.

​Tathra raised his Axe, clenched in his hand. Eyes holding the Jedi, silence lingered. His hand moved back and close, reaching behind as the Chieftain holstered the massive weapon on his back. Magnetic holster holding it in place. Tathra began walking toward the Jedi. Slow and controlled.

The morning sun rising behind them, casting his shadow to the feet of the Jedi. As Tathra approached, so did his shadow engulf the Jedi in the shade.

​"I don't expect you to understand, Human." ​Tathra responded. Cold rage lingering on the ends of his words.

​Tathra drew closer, flippant movements betrayed his intention. He wanted to strangle him. Then, he'd take face. Just like Grosck.

​| [member="Jend-Ro Quill"] |​