D O M I N U S
Thus was the pride of the Imperial Remnant.
A king held high by the blood of his subordinates. A man laid low by the assault of an animal. Before their very eyes, the monarch was taken off of his feet by the Behemoth's attack. Duraplast collided with the man, causing him to smack into the floor with a satisfying thud. While true, those behind [member="Tanomas Graf"] were hardened dogs of the military, to see one's liege taken off his feet must have stung. It must have pecked at that pride the Remnant clung to so fiercely. As satisfying as it was to entertain the thought, the Behemoth did not sacrifice much time to it. After all, the onyx-clad liege quickly scrambled to his feet and mounted another offensive.
His blows were numerous and rapid - each aimed at one of the behemoth's extremities. Malok was careful not to push too hard against this offense, lest he fall victim to the supreme cutting power of a lightsaber. Rather, he relied upon the natural properties within his hammer, Grond. At first, the Behemoth gave ground, allowing the initial series of blows to miss their marks. Molten slashes then maimed the walls and ground of the corridor - better them than Malok.
Then, a blow came screaming for Malok's dominant arm, providing an opportunity at last. He drew back Grond and thrust it forward, meeting its head upon the center of the blade. The central repulsor and shockwave generator rods responded to the sudden collision, resulting in a force that could easily reduce solid stone into rubble. When applied to a man, or rather Emperor, it had the power to easily shatter the bones within his hand, wrist, and forearm...assuming he kept hold of the lightsaber.
Once again, Tanomas had a choice to make - sacrifice his arm or his saber.
Yet Malok was not done. The battle had stirred his blood. It inspired his body to sing to the Force, making a silent plea lost upon his own mind. The Darkness eagerly responded to his call, empowering him to Act. It guided him forward, no different than instinct itself, manifesting as an offhand thrusted forward. Power shrieked from Malok: a telekinetic wall launched directly at the Emperor's core. A full impact could easily unseat the man from his solid footing and send him careening backwards...
...And into the hail of blasterfire launched by his subordinates.
OOC: This is my previous post from the Rebellion, let's pick right up where we left off!
A king held high by the blood of his subordinates. A man laid low by the assault of an animal. Before their very eyes, the monarch was taken off of his feet by the Behemoth's attack. Duraplast collided with the man, causing him to smack into the floor with a satisfying thud. While true, those behind [member="Tanomas Graf"] were hardened dogs of the military, to see one's liege taken off his feet must have stung. It must have pecked at that pride the Remnant clung to so fiercely. As satisfying as it was to entertain the thought, the Behemoth did not sacrifice much time to it. After all, the onyx-clad liege quickly scrambled to his feet and mounted another offensive.
His blows were numerous and rapid - each aimed at one of the behemoth's extremities. Malok was careful not to push too hard against this offense, lest he fall victim to the supreme cutting power of a lightsaber. Rather, he relied upon the natural properties within his hammer, Grond. At first, the Behemoth gave ground, allowing the initial series of blows to miss their marks. Molten slashes then maimed the walls and ground of the corridor - better them than Malok.
Then, a blow came screaming for Malok's dominant arm, providing an opportunity at last. He drew back Grond and thrust it forward, meeting its head upon the center of the blade. The central repulsor and shockwave generator rods responded to the sudden collision, resulting in a force that could easily reduce solid stone into rubble. When applied to a man, or rather Emperor, it had the power to easily shatter the bones within his hand, wrist, and forearm...assuming he kept hold of the lightsaber.
Once again, Tanomas had a choice to make - sacrifice his arm or his saber.
Yet Malok was not done. The battle had stirred his blood. It inspired his body to sing to the Force, making a silent plea lost upon his own mind. The Darkness eagerly responded to his call, empowering him to Act. It guided him forward, no different than instinct itself, manifesting as an offhand thrusted forward. Power shrieked from Malok: a telekinetic wall launched directly at the Emperor's core. A full impact could easily unseat the man from his solid footing and send him careening backwards...
...And into the hail of blasterfire launched by his subordinates.
OOC: This is my previous post from the Rebellion, let's pick right up where we left off!