Duel Chaff from the Wheat

[St. Thomas Barran]

TAGS
Lord Creuat Meliant
Prowler II Cesare Demici Imperius Indomitus Casi Braste Krasskorr the Maw

CHAFF FROM THE WHEAT
3

'What?!'
​

Left in the wake of such a drastic turn of events, all who remained to stand before the Emperor's Executor would need to process that moment in their own time, as all would need vigilant wariness to take precedence until the meeting was concluded, Barran included. Something needed to be done, however, and in sensing that only a strong abundance of power could achieve it, the Khan decided on one, particular brand of collective pacification; thus the Avatar of Rebirth would be summoned to break everyone's momentum, to stop the others in their tracks for the sake of returning to reason, even if only for the briefest of moments.

If the one-eyed Woad could still do anything about it, then no punishment (nor any responding escalation) would be permitted beyond this point, and with no time to spare, St. Thomas had no other choice but to gather as much power as he could within such a short span of time. Yet fortunately for the Khan, such a reserve did, in fact, exist, as it did in all the other attacks and defences on display since the meeting commenced, and as much as he disdained that power bestowed since his oath was spoken, Barran could not help but note that no other warrior in attendance held such qualms toward the benefits of it's amplification.

'AaaaaaAAAATH - BREEEEEEEEEEEIIIIIIITH!!!!'

[CRASH]
[WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSH]
​

First was the bright flash of orange-hued white, followed by the thunderous, crashing of audiological proximity to lightning, only this would exude a half-effort shockwave. But the display was not quite finished yet, as the very storm itself would send branches upon branches of black lightning in every direction, scattering tendrils of raw power with outer-hues carrying that eerily-autumnal orange of Mawite abandon. Carrying the same energy that rendered his own Kyber stone in that same feral hue, the Force-Lightning of Barran's creation would carry it's own ascendant power, but for all the bluster he seemed to emanate, the one-eyed Woad had shown wisdom in cutting it short for everyone's sake.

'Relax, ya mad feth-wits.... Ya never know, this encounter might even make you stronger.'

​

The Khan knew it would not work, ultimately, especially not in seeing the maintained malice in the eyes of his superior, but it was enough to de-escalate from the current, deathly aftermath of previous efforts to fight back; and in Barran's view, this was certainly a step in the right direction, a means to survive the encounter with heads still residing on their necks. Better it would have been to take one's licks and walk away with pride dented, and even if the pain seemed unfair in the mind, even Barran knew the wisdom of remembering his father's maxim on the issue,"Pride can be reforged, reshaped anew, but a beating heart cannot be replaced. There is no hope of fighting again without it-".

Even the brutish Goidel knew the next part of this encounter would hurt, and so the only thing left to do was brace for the Executor's response.

​

'Get on with it, Nautolan.... I haven't got all day.'

 

[Cesare Demici]

Tags: Lord Creuat , Prowler II , Casi Braste , Meliant , Krasskorr the Maw , Imperius Indomitus

Citadel of Secrets

The blow came with extreme ferocity, the Executor clearly unamused by Cesare's outburst. His body reacted as quickly as it could, though his positioning was off. Had the circumstances been different, he may have been able to properly parry such a blow. Perhaps he'd even get a solid strike in after doing so. This, however, was not to be, for he had yet to fully regain his footing.

Bracing himself as best as he could, Cesare's blade rose to meet that of his opponent, his knee pressing firm against the cold metal floor as he threw a slash toward the oncoming attack. As their blades met, Cesare almost felt that he might have left the encounter unscathed, but the Executor's strike was too swift, and Cesare was not prepared.

His arm failed him, at least enough to cause the strike to land. The force of the blow pushed his own lightsaber back, and the top of Creuat's blade came down over Cesare's defense, cleaving into his left shoulder. As plasma seared through clothing and flesh, he let out a horrendous cry of anger and pain, his left arm going limp from the strike. It wasn't enough to take the arm from him, but the former Knight would now be forced to face his opponent with his sword arm alone...

His eyes darted back for a moment, ensuring he had enough space to form a gap between them. Crying out to the darkness to aid him, Cesare ripped his body from the hellish-red blade of Creuat, forcing his body into a backwards roll as he struggled to get away from the Nautolan. Pain tore at him with each moment of motion, but he finally found himself back to his knees, several feet away from his assailant.

He stood in defiance once more, tuning out the scuffles of the others as he finally regained his footing. He took a traditional Makashi stance, shifting his weight and placing his sword hand forward, his off hand laying limp, useless at his side. As rage and burning pain rushed through him, Cesare simply closed his eyes, if only for a moment...

Inhale...

Exhale...

Then, his eyes flashed open once more, the darkness and pain now feeding him as he stared down the Executor.

 

[Lord Creuat]

E X E C U T O R
ECLIPSE
Cesare Demici | Krasskorr the Maw | St. Thomas Barran | Meliant | Casi Braste | Prowler II | Imperius Indomitus​

Like a house of cards, Cesare’s defense crumbled before the Sith’s offensive. His technique was exhausted and the consequences were severe when the Executor’s lightsaber sliced into his shoulder. Not enough to cleave the entire limb. Such pain delighted the Sith, and it was one to teach the young Elite the consequences for daring to speak above his master.

He allowed the pup to retreat and allowed him to have his moment of respite as the Nautolan came to the attention of the the Maw. The brute fell with a lack of grace, its body on the floor with humiliation. Was this his Elite? His fist? A mixed band of inadequates that fell at a moment’s command and unable to perform? It was beneath him to entertain the monster, but he’d serve a purpose to…

'Get on with it, Nautolan.... I haven't got all day.'

…deal with the Barran nuisance. Great tendrils of lighting shot throughout the room and dared to challenge the Executor. Another soul to bend to his callous mercy. With ease his mind reached out to Krasskorr and suspended him from the air, his immense weight was little compared to his power. At a moment was thrown towards the Khan with hopes to break his body with the Maw.

As of now, he was beyond disappointed from the group’s performance. Even death was too good of a punishment for their weakness.