Tags:
Kjartan Hammer-Hand
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Careena Fett
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Zavar Kelborn
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Vrirrig Awaud
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He-Who-Walks-Between
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Tytos Saxon
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Gel Karn
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Feydrik Munin
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Romul Saxon
Battle Buddy:
Korar Murrak
Foes:
Varin Mortifer
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Naamino Zuukamano
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FIELD ARSENAL ☰ ACCESS EQUIPMENT RECORD
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ACTIVE LOADOUT
☑ Equipped / At Hand • ▣ Stored • ■ Used / Destroyed
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01 // ⚙ DROIDS
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02 // ⚔ LIGHTSABERS & MELEE
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03 // ⬢ ARMOR & COMBAT SYSTEMS
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#03-B // INTEGRATED VAMBRACE TOOLS
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04 // ◇ ACCESSORIES & JEWELRY
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05 // ⌖ RANGED WEAPONS & ORDNANCE
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#05-C // THROWABLES & ORDNANCE
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06 // ✚ MEDICAL, CHEMICAL & CONSUMABLES
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07 // ✦ VEHICLES & STARCRAFT
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08 // ▣ MISCELLANEOUS & ARCHIVE
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PREPARED IS A RELATIVE TERM.
Braze grit his teeth, bearing through the pain as he fought desperately to maintain some small shred of composure while Naamino worked at doing lasting damage to the poor damaged limb. Every movement sent another sharp lance of fresh pain racing through the abused leg, enough so that his breathing had become tight and uneven through clenched teeth.
Adrenaline was beginning to flood his system now, mercifully dulling the worst of it… though that mercy came with its own dangers. Pain blurred at the edges without disappearing, leaving him increasingly uncertain of exactly how much damage had already been done.
When the wet give of the heel blade finding flesh came, Braze tried to capitalize on the small moment, as he worked his free leg and boot heel in to the wound, worming and twisting it in viciously, and desperately grinding the blade rather than simply withdrawing it, trying to make keeping him pinned this close an increasingly unpleasant proposition. Whatever dignity remained in the struggle had long since been abandoned. He was hurt, cornered, and perfectly willing to become a nasty little problem if that was what survival of this encounter demanded.
Naamino's aggressive retaliation answered swiftly as his boot connected with a solid strike. It struck the staggered plating of Braze's chest chassis with a formidable, yet punishing
punt. For all his freakish flexibility, speed, and talent for slipping around heavier opponents, he remained an exceptionally light combatant, scarcely even a
bantamweight. Naamino had chosen well in attacking one of the very things Braze depended upon most: his legs.
The Sith had elicited a sharp cry of pain as the vicious little Echani was sent flying off of him. Braze's slight frame tumbled sideways through the air before slamming hard into a heap of jagged, broken duracrete. The impact knocked another strangled, miserable little cry from him, tearing forth an involuntary, sound that was nothing short of pathetic.
Jagged chunks shifted beneath him as shoulder, hip, back and helm struck in ugly succession, the impact folding him awkwardly into the rubble before rolling down to a heap on the floor.
His gear seemingly kicked back online, sputtering beneath the sheer amount of physical damage he'd taken, while his helm's systems fought to keep his consciousness from slipping away. His small frame quivered with involuntary tremors that racked through him as he tried to push himself upright through the jolting pain. His body plainly wanted to give out beneath him; the strain upon his nervous system and exhausted muscles showed in every uneven movement, the severe trembling now impossible to hide.
Braze had come to make their advance hurt, to turn every easy victory into something costly, inconvenient, and bloody. Thus far, he had managed exactly that, even if he might pay for it with his life. A broken, breathless little laugh escaped him as he dragged his injured leg around beneath himself as he scraped it across the floor. Beaten, brutalized, and bloodied beneath the battered helm, what could the tiny Echani possibly have found so amusing amid all this destruction and war?
Perhaps it was simply the absurdity of it....?
For all the ruin the Sith could leave behind, for all the pain they could inflict, they still hadn't managed to make him regret being here. He raised one shaking hand toward the physically stronger opponent, who had settled into a defensive stance. A gentle current stirred through the frigid air, gathering into a controlled vortex where fire and ice had fought so violently that scarcely any moisture remained.
Dust already clung to Naamino's armor and helm, joined now by fine grains of shattered debris as Braze drew them up into the current.
Force Wind was one of his particular proficiencies, shaped with practiced precision as the air tightened around
Naamino Zuukamano
and swept the thermite-laden dust into a dense, circling cloud surrounding him.
"Checkmate."
All at once, the spark came through the betrayal of Naamino's own weapons. The unstable energy spilling from his blades provided precisely what Braze had been waiting for: enough heat to ignite the thermite suspended throughout the vortex and set off a violent
dust explosion around him.
The cloud instantly lit up becoming incandescent and resplendent as the resulting reaction bloomed into an abrupt eruption of white-hot fire, racing through the suspended particulate and casting the surrounding ruin beneath a murderous brilliance as the
thermite burned in a ferocious blaze of glory.
The Azure Phoenix had closed the trap around his arrogant opponent, seeking to send every broken seal saturated in
thermite ablaze through the catastrophic eruption that consumed their immediate surroundings. Extraordinary radiant heat washed outward as molten, burning material scattered through the ruins, catching upon whatever debris could still burn while the rapidly heated air punched outward in a violent pressure wave.
The eruption would not be something easily hidden even beneath the chaos of war. The sudden white-hot bloom could be seen from across the battlefield, briefly painting the ruined skyline in murderous brilliance as a white-hot column of incandescent dust and smoke climbed above the factories. Those farther away might first see the flash before the rolling report reached them; those nearer would have considerably more immediate concerns as the pressure wave swept loose debris outward and threatened to knock the unwary from their footing.
Braze
absorbed what energy he could.
White-hot fire wreathed the battered little Echani as he drew upon the inferno rather than surrendering himself to it, his already trembling frame caught amid the very devastation he had engineered. Whatever he could not take into himself rushed past him, carrying heat and burning particulate outward through the ruins.
His allies nearby would have
every reason to brace, duck behind cover, or simply get themselves away from the immediate blast zone before the heated air and flying debris reached them.
If the Sith wanted to set the field ablaze, then fine.
Let them burn.
