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.

 

[Krasskorr the Maw]

FOOD: Lord Creuat Casi Braste Imperius Indomitus Prowler II Meliant

​

Before he could muster the raw strength needed to push his massive bulk off the floor, a cold, invisible vice gripped him. Lord Creuat having finished his brutal lesson with Cesare Demici had turned his attention. Krasskorr felt the terrifying, effortless application of the Force as it enveloped his vast body, treating his tons of armored weight as if it were a child's toy.

He was snatched violently off the floor, his heavy limbs dangling uselessly, his Lightclub still in his hand scraped against the ceiling tiles. Krasskorr snarled and thrashed in the invisible hold, a wave of desperate, futile rage surging through him, but he was powerless. His energy was spent, and he was completely at the mercy of the sorcerer's command.

The Executor's mental focus had already shifted to the newest threat in the form of St. Thomas Barran's lightning barrage. Creuat viewed Krasskorr as a convenient projectile and with a mental flick that was faster than Krasskorr could perceive, he was flung across the chamber.

The Saurton's immense body was accelerated to a dangerous speed, a wrecking ball hurled toward St. Thomas Barran.

Krasskorr felt the rushing wind and the agonizing strain as his torso twisted. He barely registered the lightsaber in his grip, his attention fixed solely on the rapidly approaching ceiling. He flew like an uncontrollable battering ram, though he was not certain if he had actually struck the Lord of the Mawite Horde.

His momentum however carried him straight into the opposite wall and beyond. With a shriek of tearing metal and collapsing structure, Krasskorr smashed through the wall of the sealed chamber, his armored form carving a hole in the structure before tumbling violently into the adjacent, unseen corridor.

He did not hit the floor; he simply vanished from the chamber in a cloud of dust and debris, exiled from the field of battle, his immense weight serving only to carry him further away from the conflict he was too exhausted to fight.

Post 1: 18 Roll
Post 2: 5 Roll
Post 3: 10 Roll

 

[St. Thomas Barran]

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

CHAFF FROM THE WHEAT
4

'Lets see if dumb luck works out this time.'
​

Merely trying to survive without striking out in rage at his superior, as much as it would make him stronger for the long-run, was proving to be quite the task by then, but the Khan persisted in his attempt to stand tall in the face of a greater power. Beholden to the very strength of will he knew, the very thing on which so many Marauders relied by then, the will St. Thomas inherited (bestowed by the Mongrel on Durace) was needed to keep his heart beating when Lord Creuat was finished with the attending Elites, and it would not be long before the Nautolan forced his Goidelic Human counterpart to bow out unceremoniously from the proceedings.

​

'Sieges aren't wars, Nautolan! Some prevail, some break, either way - you're coming along to the nex-'

Oh, chit. Here we go.
​

Defying the very same telekinetic reaches that Barran had attained by then, it seemed that Creuat had manipulated the air (and all the space it occupied) into small focal point, drawing none other than Kraskorr into this swirling vortex of matter, marking the inhale part of his two-stage attack. The exhale part of this aggressive response, however, and as much as St. Thomas had correctly surmised, would prove to be a thoroughly-destructive display. Then right on cue, and with an irritatingly-painful, tinnitus-inducing sonic boom, the ophidian behemoth was then hurled across the room, aimed directly at the one-eyed Woad.

Careening into the Khan's chest at withering speed, shot into his flank as if from a giant slug-thrower rifle, and from there, and not an instant later, both warriors were sent crashing through the walls of the chambers. Sent impacting through brickwork, and hard-metal beams before they finally landed on the street, groaning under the growing aches that followed, marking a rather rueful conclusion of the Khan's attendance to the Executor's debrief. This was as far as Barran could allow himself to turn the other cheek, but as he lay there, covered in dust and dry plaster, the pain only continued to amplify itself all over his body, humbling the Khan enough that he chose instead to walk away from the madness.

Even if only for a time, it was always better to live smart than to die dumb, and when the Khan looked upon his peer in soaking malice - he knew then that there was nothing else for it.

'Kras- korr.... When you re- cover, come find me.... Come- spar with me.'

[EXIT THREAD]

 

[Prowler II]

(OOC: Pending post)

 

[Meliant]

Location: Deep Core - Eclipse - Nameless Citadel
Objective: Cope & Seethe

Attn: Lord Creuat Imperius Indomitus Casi Braste Krasskorr the Maw Prowler II Cesare Demici St. Thomas Barran

Meliant got his hands flat on the ground and started to push pushed himself up from where he'd faceplanted, only to swiftly find it was better to stay put. He watched the rest of the Elite crash into Creuat one at a time, uncoordinated batch of misfits that they were. Prowler, Krasskorr, Barran, and somehow Casi got their licks in. Cesare ate the worst of it and Imperius was quivering off to the side.​

​

He didn't see an opening to join this scrap, nor did he want one. It suited the blackguard far better to just watch Creuat fight and observe his technique. But then Creuat flung Krasskorr at Barran and that was the end of them. Both Elite were ejected from the room, with only a lizard-sized hole in the wall and a cloud of dust to commemorate their attendance. ​

​

Meliant supposed that concluded this little circus side show.​

​

He hopped up to his feet, crouched, and jumped. The Force propelled him beyond his natural means and he vanished into the darkness of the chamber above them.​

​

He'd have better luck next time. Statistically, it had to be true.​

Final Score:

• Roll 1: 11 (Here)
• Roll 2: 7 (Discord)
• Roll 3: 7 (Discord)