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Crystalfire: Metal Pendulum splicing Eden and Oblivion, servitude or solace.

Crystalfire: Metal Pendulum splicing Eden and Oblivion, servitude or solace.
Deep Space
Kintan
Aboard the Beacon.

Semi Open Please Read:
Open to anyone connected with any characters. One rival, antagonist character welcome also with a PM first, this thread might split as it goes on, there is a loose posting order but don't run away with it if you join. Otherwise it's a warmup thread for the muses and a few deaths possibly.

The Beacon

Starscorched, glistening rays of super heating light connecting with the sleek outer exterior of the interdictor class cruiser, a nearby star that was both providing shielding to sensors but at the same time sweating the crew, any closer and they’d literally begin to burn up.

On the bridge, the inside of the ship wasn’t any picnic, the wildcard crew were literally hanging on by a thread, even with the environmental controls at full it was almost too much.

“Just a bit longer. Hang on in there.” A reassuring voice called out from the command station.

Grizzled of appearance, rough combat fatigues, coffee brown eyes dead focused on the displays, holding fast was one Kei Amadis, his falsely named saber unity by his side. The crew around him, though they were veterans once upon a time, now were just men and women on the edge, and they had been that way for far too long. The wildcards desperately needed some downtime, they were a tough bunch but these marked men were barely hanging on.

Pushed to the wall, the crystal hunters had been relentless, as had the bounty the black sun had put upon his head, one more gun aimed his way, not to mention the skirmishes against the sith. All in all, it left few safe ports, a lot of holes in his ship, and a lot of people gunning for him to shoot some more. Catching a break for breath had been hard, it felt like they had been under the radar for years, because they had been.

Arms braced against the controls, he couldn't risk looking away, not for a second. “What do you hear red?”
 
Starleaves n Stimcafs
Pfffffttt Nato blew some thick black hair from out of her eyes, who was their ships’s brain box who parked here, it was hotter than her last sonic spa session. Letting out an exasperated huguffle, her own brand of sigh and tired answer, meaning nothing, she flumped forward another inch.

Why was Kei calling her red, it made a tired Kiffar girl wind her way up from the console and give him a sheepish glance, before slumping to prop up her chin on her board again. If anything Sera was red, she just was, red hair, wearing red, sometimes she just looked like she was colorblind or maybe redblind. How could Nato end up with the nickname? Now everyone was saying it. Bleh.

So bored. Hmm

How long had she been sitting here, doing this, waaay too long!

Ghah, she was ready to burst. “Gotta get out, we gotta go before we melt. Muzzchops,” Muzzchops, because Kei never shaved now and it made her grin. If she was red, he was muzzchops.

She stretched up, restless, very restless. Black lace top skater dress and comfy slacks had her standing out against the fatigues of others, but she was camouflaged, kinda, well not really, she looked a mess after all these days with little sleep and she didn't care either. Everything was niggling, her empathic receiving, that tension of everyone else welling up wriggling all over their ship, she wanted to be anywhere, doing anything else right now!
 
Sera was in her quarters not far away, one of the few to be spared duty. Her quarters were as you might expect from a priestess, a mirror of the temples on her homeworld, adorned with holy symbols of her order the burning globe. A small spring of water flowing constantly in the center, even with their power rationed, her balance of water the one thing she could not let out of her waking dream.

While others used humor, or the crew as a reason to endure, the priestess used her devotion, for nothing would ever shattered it, because devotion to her force was who she was.

Born of red, wearing it till her grave and return to the force, her long robe folded beneath her. Sera Knelt hands together crossed and pressed to her bosom, her head bowed devoutly repeating her personal mantra, hood covering her flowing crimson hair and sea blue eyes.

“Dear sisters of Kintan hear our dreams now. Our serenity is matched only by our need. May our force provide all that we dream, born of desire and of our suffering consumed by our force to burn us a new.

Force protect us.

Force direct us.

Force provide for us.“

This she repeated, her faith her shield, her direction, and now her sustenance. With their food running out she had opted to go without food, sustaining herself with water, and her force for as long as it cradled her body. Others had urged her to eat, but she would not abandon her vigil, through her suffering they would be saved.
 
Taiden stood at the docking bay door dealing with the last of their rations being moved from their supplies. Pure white Echani perfection unmarred by a lack of food or sleep, pristine white tunic, polished white boots. Carrying such things as discomfort were barely visible on the man, not unless you could read motion language like any Echani did as easy as breathing. How a man walked, how he held himself, moved, the nuances of his posture. This was not easily given away even in a tired Echani, where the slightest movement spoke volumes, but from Taiden to another Echani, you could tell he was suffering from the protracted length of their mission, just as much as anyone else around him.

A silver, sleek Kethblade vibrosword on his back, Taiden gleamed from head to toe, his silver ivory hair that of his ancestors, and his motionless face, unwavering posture just as resolute in his task. Only his task was not the same as the others, for with the army of light shrinking, all but extinguished in their protracted guerrilla fighting, his assignment had become easier. The Keth house had earned some reputation on Thyrsus once more but more importantly the fleets guard was down, their scouts number too few, their fighter cover all but gone.

When the last of the day’s rations had been dealt out, he signalled away the Echani guards that remained and walked forward to claim his reward. Each step in perfect time and Keth precision, exacting what they needed to express in motion his intent. At the far end of the docking bay he paused, loyalties divided, it was clear in his delay, even if it was a mere split second, for an Echani it was a lifetime. Before him a presence unlike anything he could comprehend radiated outward overshadowing, while the fading presence of the army within could not stand against the sith, no Jedi could, and acceptance of this fate before that aura brought his final hand forward lowering the ramp, forming his decision. With a slow downward momentum, fate revealed the ship within the ship, aboard his Master and living ancestor in the flesh awaited entrance.

Taiden, once again taking the assassin's name of Threshold, stood motionless, devoid of expression, years beyond ready for what was to come, this was his time, his people would rise again.
 
Darkside Dragon (Dead PM Writers Account)
Stillness, iron, a void, then the ramp lowered and Darth Surtr’s eyes opened, descending, metal thuds claiming his steps upon the ship, each one taking more ground he demanded as his own. Pressure was felt around him, to the weak the gravity of the presence was likely weighty enough to lower one to their knees. Once Echani but no more, body scarred with battles beyond counting, limbs that had been rebuilt, not of metal but rebuilt in twisted experiments to survive and endure, each one a wound, a remembrance to learn from and grow in the true sith code. Cloaked in battle robes, burned and glowing with rakattan fire runes that told many stories of the Betrayer’s conquests. Conquests of minds, of souls, of spirits, the Betrayer took nothing so trivial as a patch of land, he claimed everything you were and worse eventually made you think it was right to be as he wanted you, using that up until there was nothing left.

There was however still a great void in Raien's force signature, a void for what he would take here today, it would be easily evident to any other force user, grinding out like the iron of the midnight iris he stood within, an aura he watched from, waiting for the moment to be whole again. There was nothing hidden, he did not hide, it was no wonder all aboard were uneasy, somewhere deep down they had perhaps already known he was here.

More than known, each of those aboard were a part of him, and each would be consumed to retake what was lost, their crystals and life experiences given back to him at their death. Such weakness, this need was abhorrent but also a strength, the strength of sacrificing himself to gain deeper understanding, always. Eye of truth by his side, the clawed saber that itself was forged in the pain and suffering of others, each piece another family turned to madness to betray their own, another Jedi life extinguished in hundreds of duels, or another tribe or civilisation burned to ashes in it’s making.

Behind him in his small ship were four bacta tanks full, their lifesigns stable, and four more waiting to be filled.
 

Niaana Ren

Mission, the 1st Sister. (Dead, Pm Writers Account
A cackling that threatened to turn into a wail trailed after Raien, coming from the first sister, known as mission. Ah she drank of this, how sweet it would be. The ending of life to come, hmm, savoring the thought drew her creeping forward, and down the ramp to drop on all floors, always moving she scuttled away, never able to rest. Sending others to absence from life, was her forte, and her passion.

“Master Master Master let us play. Let us find them for you.“ Chittering softly with her teeth, she bit her tongue drawing blood, letting on a wild laugh. How she enjoyed this game, serving allowed her such pleasures, she was at play, always the cutting though, that was the best bit.

“We will,” she bit the edged of her blade almost cutting herself again, “be gentle.” Lost in her own little world of delirium at the images now running her mind, not thoughts, instincts.

Dressed as dark as could be, in flowing embroidery, it was sleek in parts, but rippling in others with her movements, Echani certainly but not of their mannerisms, there almost a need to move when she could, before she was restrained again. Knives and hidden blades littered her attire throughout, more than you could ever count.

In the force, she was seeking to attain absence, a practice trait of being nothing, cultivating that nothing, it made for a perfect assassin, and she thanked her Master every day for the opportunity. Shaped until that was desired, pains inflicted through Darth Surtr’s torture chambers, until that pain was her vision of perfect. She would never be his sister, no matter how much he tortured her, but she enjoyed the care and attention he put into shaping her, devouring her of everything she was, the liberation that brought her was gratifying to simply be nothing. His sister’s body lay sustained onboard his ship, so close that Niaana had thought to end her as competition for his favorite, but while Raien’s sister was there, he spent more time on Niaana trying to make her like his sister. All she need do is prevent her from ever waking up...

At least, that was what Niaana thought he was doing…
 
Nuts and Bolts (Dead, PM Writers Account)
Inside Raien's ship, body limp and lifeless, floating in the bacta tank, Fyor drifted on a current, riding the waves between unconsciousness and periods of terrifying consciousness when he realised his predicament. His analytical mind rationalised his situation as better than dead, but all variables considered he was little more than dead awaiting his fate. Constantly he scanned for weaknesses in the structure of the tank that a well place kick might capitalize on.

The only one of the four original crew to have been so brutally operated on, a gambler would call the odds against him walking out at this point slim, let alone a rescue, but he was a gambling man with a head for math. Calculating every single possible way he would get out of this alive, that kept the mind occupied which was a blessing given his bodies chances of survival.

If only he had a sensible droid to keep him engaged or assist, the medical systems were automated, he had tried deciphering the tank's strange take on binary, but that was so far unintelligible, else he might have opened the tank manually and used the droid to sustain himself. Again blood was rushing, head was faint, he calculated he was about to pass….

Fyors eyes closed once more and he lost consciousness.
 
Darkside Dragon (Dead PM Writers Account)
Metal bracing boots carving dents in the ship’s deck as they clawed into the ground to find purchase, marking the surface where he had been, the self titled Sith Lord stopped and inhaled deeply, breathing of this battleground to come. The life force here resisting him was barely worth the title of battleground, but it was a necessity to push these life experiences he would take to their limit, he wanted every last drop of their being and personality tested and imprinted on their crystals they held within their chest. The constant pressure of two years on the run had given him their extremes, it was time to collect.

Holding out a hand to release a levitating piece of the Sith sphere, an ancient shattered relic that his Master’s had required destroyed, it glowed briefly as it rotated direction facing those he hunted. No words were uttered, Darth Surtr simply looked at both assassins in turn and nodded the command to begin the hunt, they knew their orders, to bring the crystals back whole, the hosts had served their purpose.

Slow heavy metal steps drove the betrayer forward, the air around him alive with the child of living fear, and pressure forcing itself upon any that contacted it, forcing them to face their own inner demons, he would not be interrupted further by any weakness till he reached his goal.

Anyone aboard could probably now feel something was coming, something that took loathing to the point of the abyss and turned it inward to gnaw upon any sustenance you gave it.
 

Niaana Ren

Mission, the 1st Sister. (Dead, Pm Writers Account
Huhuhahah a squeal of delight, flowing black garments a blur, Niaana was the first at flight, her steps as swift as an animal closing on her meal, knife still clenched in her teeth, that edge so close to piercing the skin. Cackling with glee as she almost threw herself out of the docking bay, two vibroknives whizzing from her hands, turning and cut through the air to imbed themselves in her prey either side of the door, the sinking sound of the kill and release drawing her breath from her chest in time, a sigh of pent up happiness. Pirouetting and casting herself toward another door where more would gain an understanding of absence, brief as their insight was. You might almost call it a dance, far over exaggerated echani grace with no regard for where it took her, or who fell next, but her dance all the same.

When others turned to fire or respond she simply wasn’t there to greet them, Niaana was having too much fun to stop and fight, this was her element, a banquet and playground for the senses. She disappeared out of sight of the others, soft, quick and high pitched screams following her, it was hard to tell if they were crewmembers or hers, but that was the point, one and the same in their brief spurts of relinquished grief.

Sheer chance would take her toward engineering, at least that's where the trail of unsuspecting targets was drawing the assassin's dance.
 
A Keth, cleansing light in his soul purifying doubt, betraying those he had fought with, it gave him a heavy heart, guilt hung on his shoulder fighting his convictions. This was the only way left open to him, the only door for the salvation of the Echani. Today he was threshold, by name and nature, pushed to the edge, forced to an extreme and choice. Fall like the rest of the Echani, or betray his allies to gain Sith favour, and empowerment for his people.

None of this internal conflict was evident on Taiden’s face or his action, even if the minor differences in the tension of his walk would be screaming this to an expert in the language of motion, or any other regular Echani for that matter.

Steeling his courage, he nodded sharply to Raien, and the white clad son of Keth forced himself forward, drawing his blade.

"Hey Taiden what’s going on!" Someone shouted over in alarm.

Taiden drew his blade, saluting it to his forehead. “Draw your weapon, and defend yourself.” The guard’s eyes went wide and he went for his gun. Taiden ducked left and impaled the unfortunate onlooker, nobody here suspected Taiden, he had fought and served with them for years. He would kill only those he had to, creating a diversion, and each one would have an equal, honorable chance to stop him. Withdrawing the vibroblade he bent down to honor the fallen, and exited toward the bridge.

Guilt rising, it felt wrong obviously, but so did the fear welling up around him, clouding his mind, the control Raien’s presence exerted was churning away at his insides, he couldn’t think straight this close to his Master, the force born experiments conducted on him were driving him to a set path, just like his ancestor before him.
 
A mix of fatigue and being so engrossed in protecting his crew from the outside, he almost missed the blaring alarms now going on across the bridge. The threat was already aboard!

Kei’s military training took over in an instant, “lock all doors, and get all crew to their safe zones.” It was automatic, he was already reaching for his modified carbine rifle, securing it, locking and checking the power cells. He had a crew to protect, that was his nature.

He looked at Nato, that girl had been through hell, even before they were put on the run again, all his men and women had, all his crew, were his responsibility. It wasn’t going to go down like this.

Flicking the intercom on so everyone, including the intruders heard him. “Condition red, strike teams assemble to your stations, repel boarders. I know you're tired, you’ve been through much more than this, remember your training, stick together. You’re the best at what you do, send these scum back to the black.” The rag tag band aboard contained the wildcards along with others, veterans at ship actions boarding, close quarters, but they were strung out, out of shape, they had several wounded, their weapons were in need of a service, the thin crew were spread out. All in all he knew if this was someone who had come prepared, he’d have to be the one to protect them, and if it was him they were after, nobody else needed to die.

Heading for the door Kei gave her solid grin, “Nato, you’re in charge, keep it together here, and keep safe.”
 
Starleaves n Stimcafs
Huh? She transfixed him this little stern Nato look of yeah right. “Nope.” Nato hopped up from her perch and stood in front of him, arms crossed, tapping her foot, half his size almost she stood blocking his path barely, but the look she gave him was as bad as any rancor with a sore head woken up before breakfast.

“Not happenin’. Nope no sir, You goin’ off like Fyor did.” She missed Fyor, and his boring talks, his dumb jokes, she really missed him, a bit like Sibby, but yeah, nobody else was going poof. Didn't matter how many years went by, people were still there. A Kiffar she really carried their memories like someone else would collect holosnaps to litter their rooms with, to sometimes let their mind wander in, and remember the fun times, reliving it all whenever she was bored, which was often.

So Nato spun around, grabbed her saber Aurora, and tiptoed up to give Kei a kiss on the cheek.

“You goin’, I’m goin’, no arguing.” She was already walking away out the door, leaning back over her shoulder as her petite form sauntered on out, “coming?” What did he think she was dumb, he was off being the big hero, fixing to get himself all chopped up, again! She knew him like a brother, well not today Amaddy.
 

Niaana Ren

Mission, the 1st Sister. (Dead, Pm Writers Account
Creeping silently around corners, still animalistic in her movements, only they were more that of a spider, waiting, then scuttling forward to sink her blades deep again, opening her lips and releasing that feeling she had each and every time another unsuspecting life lay limp at her feet. Such an exquisite banquet to feast on.

The little ones with their uniforms and guns were adorable, swaying to her own rigid tune, predictable, images of her acts playing over and over and over again in her mind, as each cut took something from someone else, and gave her a moment’s respite. Like Raien’s sister, she sort absence and at the same time release from it, a twisted mess, but unlike Kiara she reaslied this and loved every second of being that contradiction.

A half dozen corpses lay on a trail to engineering now… where she perched ready. From below they saw a black shaped Niaana descending from a ledge, sinking to the floor, and flashes of metal blades cutting those nearest her, then blaster shots ricochet as she moved between consoles, they were too slow. The regular crew anyway, but Kei’s orders had a wildcard team burst in to ruin her fun. Sending her head over heels avoiding being shot, down a small shaft, and crunching painfully at the bottom, ending her dance… till she clawed her way back up to play a new tune.
 
Taiden was ahead of Raien’s steady approach, and being part of the crew he was unhindered by guards. He was using the space till being discovered to cause distractions, blowing out screens, venting hatches into space, fires, and minor emergencies to draw people away. If he could save the crew’s life by making them be elsewhere, far away, so they need not perish, he would. If he could draw them away from Raien while still serving his Master then he had done all he could here, the honourable thing to do, or so he kept telling himself.

Reports would come in from different sides of the ships, false reports, distracting the teams, Taiden was giving the correct commands and codes to confuse the sensors. The bridge was soon in sight, and the foreboding feeling of his Master not too far behind, commotion on different sides of the ship had people running left and right, but thankfully many of them were far away from what was coming.

He reached the corridor Kei was in and approached calmly, with precision, stopping exactly to his former general's right. “We have not much time, we should wait on the bridge, it is more defensible,” and for Taien meant only one exit in or out, they would be trapped and easily isolated. The basic tactical mind of an Echani planned things in motion, ahead of time, leading all paths to a set point, that was how they perceived the world around them, in motion and direction.

Taiden’s blade was in his hand, angled down but ready to act when the time came, poisoned on a knife edge his body language was completely calm, absent of any motion whatsoever, like a bow strung, and tensed to be fired on it's release.
 
The gentle steps of Sera Inkari were matched only by the gentility of her touch, and the softness of her ocean blue eyes, she lowered her hood to reveal her fiery locks, discharged from their veil of cloth. Behind Taiden the force priestess lay her hand on his weapon arm. Unwavering dedication to the force’s will, she could see conflict in him, calling to her, for her to help him find his real path, whatever that would be. This conflict was not healthy for the natural expression of life, Sera could sense and see, a dreamer she had seen this event for several nights, many faces calling their own vision of Taiden, and what he would become.

“Taiden no other decides our force’s will, not me, not Kei, and not Raien Keth”, she spoke without flinching, without removing her hand. “All decide our force’s will”, she smiled comfortingly, her voice laced with compassion as if she were speaking to a child, comforting one with the reality of her universe, and how their universe shaped itself.

Liberation came from embracing surrender to their force. “Be free of all others but the force.” Though gentile, her words held an ageless and often repeated tone to them, uttered in prayer from her temple since she was a babe, and before that by her mothers and sisters. This dream would be free of all blocks and barriers, whatever course they were to take.
 
Darkside Dragon (Dead PM Writers Account)
As one hooded figure unveiled, so did another, Raien’s cold force aura rolled forward outward, pressure and gravity squeezing the surroundings. Rolling iron, pushing you against whatever fear or doubt you had, forcing you to look at it, forcing it out of you, to be used or burned away. A potent force technique and one that continued to develop as he did, on his journey to get to this point, it had forced away more than one delay from his path, as soldiers dropped their weapons and fled, or stood in shock realising their greatest unconscious terrors made real.

Though no youthful locks of hair were unveiled on the betrayer’s head, merely scars and dry strands of grey hair that no long had roots which nourished them. His one singular goal throughout his journeys to unlock force potential was the sharing piece of him that Sera had, the priestess’s devotion was mirrored in Raien, and why he had chosen her for crystal grafting.

Now however that same quality was interfering with his plans, and he thrust energy outward, to likely put Sera in a force choke hold the moment he saw her. Pulling her upward towards the ceiling, cutting off air but not breaking her neck, better she be alive when she was operated on, dead he might lose her contribution to his rebirth.

“Come with me, all of you. There is no other end to this.” Deep echoing voice, burrowing inward toward their minds, it demanded focused attention. The finality in his raspy rebuilt voice was not bravado, it was fact, they had no means of escape and none here were worthy of even drawing their blade to the Sith Lord, let alone warranting the notice and attention of being killed by him.
 
“Drop her and leave.” Kei said, levelling his saber hilt. Unity was a snipers weapon, a fine beam for power through precision. He walked forward slowly, concerned for his friend but there was nothing he could do back there to save her. Something was in the pit of his stomach and it made him off balance, something unnatural, but that pushed him harder, that wall and pressure he felt against him.

“Start with me.” The Epicanthx grew stronger in the face of adversity, that was why the army of light had been formed at all, in response to Sith raids. It was also why Raien had targeted him for crystal grafting, force knows why the Sith shutta couldn’t just go to therapy, hit the gym or have a drink, like any normal man.

But Raien just didn’t get it, wouldn’t get it. With a heavy sigh, unity was ignited and Kei walked in front of Raien, a few feet away. “Leave or start here with us, not with them.” His crew came first, he gave a sidelong look at Nato hoping she wasn’t going to do something stupid.

“Stay behind me Red.”
 
Starleaves n Stimcafs
“LET HER GO!” Kei might be fine with this splitting headache but Nato was oowwww, get out of my head! Crazy mad, whatever you are, she felt crawling sensations all over like something heavy wanted to get to her, memories so many memories spilling out from Raien, her fear was of being overwhelmed by what she sensed from others. Distracting herself, pinching her nose, blowing hair out of her face she just chewed on her lip, feeling like someone was raking chalk over a board in her ears. Nato rushed over to Sera but she couldn’t do anything, so she ran back. Whatever the Sith was doing was clearly working, unsettling Natol'ine more.

Too much, too much was there, making her dizzy all these vibrant sensations, and that headache. Someone called her a memorypath once, memories and emotions the same thing bled into her overwhelming the Kiffar girl almost. Then her limited force training came back, Sibby had taught her something special, with all this dizziness she didn’t know why she thought about training, but she did, finding currents and the ripples of memory strings emanating off Raien and the others, she pulled them through the air, their force connections from their past balling into a new turbulent force current.

Around Nato those currents and memories from Raien began to form into a small manipulation of the air aboard ship, a whirlwind technique, not a big one, but a twister was forming around her, sending small debris flying. She still had a ways to go to make a strong one, but a twister of Raien’s own memories and past was about to fly face first into him. So she let it go, send swirling air of memories and carried metal right back into it’s owner.

“Soooo crusty, ever tried flyin?”

Special delivery!
 
Purity of spirit had a price, a heavy price when you fell from it. The further you went from where you started, the worse it felt. Taiden’s guilt grew heavier, Raien’s aura effect gnawed at him, though Taiden was used to that effect, it made his fears and guilt more pronounced. While seeing an unarmed Sera garrotted mid air, utterly shattered even his Echani born calm.

There is no honor in this, she has no weapon, she is no challenge to fight. He said none of this verbally, in his posture and bearing however it shouted out, the way he grew more and more focused on Raien and Sera betrayed his every intent long before he made a move. The young Echani's body was turned to see both, glancing between them.

Taiden couldn’t stand by any longer, no victory was worth this. He wasn’t his ancestor, he witnessed the depths Raien had gone to. Something snapped in him as Sera had foretold, Taien was an acolyte of light, he would be the last member of the army that was no more, and hold it’s banner high. Blood on his sword today, he would answer for that later, or right now if it came to it.

Striding steps took the 6ft tall young Echani toward his Master, blade whirling away, no match for a lightsaber, it would be his death to fight, sometimes that was the price of your redemption. As Raien was set upon by the whirlwind, so he was by a slashing attack from Taiden Keth’s vibroblade, downward to Raien’s right side, walking right into the whirlwind with him, and immediately kicked around by its current.
 
Darkside Dragon (Dead PM Writers Account)
Letting go of Sera suddenly, Darth Surtr continued walking forward, as if they weren’t even there, to him they hardly were their force signatures were so insignificant. Into the whirlwind which was new, and momentarily interesting, but didn’t have enough strength to uproot his heavy frame, braced by the metal boots which cut into the floor. The Betrayer was slow as a result of his leg’s limb bracings, but also very heavy, stopping his momentum physically or even in the force was difficult.

He dodged Taiden’s attack to his side as if it were a child’s. Hundreds of duels, he’d fought Sith and Dark Jedi Masters of considerably ability, and this attack by someone so young in the force was slow by comparison. Raien tried to grasp Taiden’s attacking limb in the force, pull him and throw the distraction into the nearby wall heavily.

Off balance by the winds currents, pausing to dig the metal of his feet further into the ship’s deck, grinding the two together. A hand extended into the wind, he focused on the metal it contained, some of which was colliding with him and probably Taiden now. Force poured outward into the debris, resonated to incredible speeds. Loathing, the deepest memories of inflicted suffering of others, the history of living the Sith code and all it meant, the families he’d seen turn on themselves this was the real emotion that was fed into that metal, to turn it into an explosive force which shattered every small piece of debris in the wind.

Debris which were exploded outward with modest force, mostly sent away from him, some could not be control from the whirlwind and ended up embedding itself in his body, but the vast majority was sent toward everyone else. No noise came from Raien as half a dozen small wounds were added to his body, they sat with hundreds, literally hundreds of old scars. Forward he started walking again, looking to walk right over whatever was left of Kei. Still seeing no need to draw his weapon.

The Betrayer's only limiting factor here was he needed the crystals they carried in their bodies intact, so he could not propel these shards at full strength. He didn’t look to pierce his targets too deeply, there was meaningful control in the wounding he sort to inflict.
 

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