Grinning at Eina's newfound silence, Zachariel basked in the blessed silence. She had either finally realized the futility of her actions, or was thinking on some other move to try and sway him. Whatever her plan, he already knew it was doomed to fail. Watching her glare at him though, that was also amusing to him, and he greatly enjoyed it. It seemed she wanted something more from him glaring at him as she was, though the gen'dai was unsure what thought could be.
It mattered little to him though, and he simply looked back from beneath his helm. She was even then lamenting on the sadness of his situation, not believing might made right, while he did. Past battles, victories and losses, had brought him to here, and made him into what he was. Truthfully, he wouldn't change a thing over his millennia of life, there was little for him to regret. Focus returning from his musings, he noted her words and sneered.
"
Most, but not all."
That was all he had to say on the matter, because she still believed something vastly different from him. Even now, she had just said he had used the Force inadvertently, even before it was unlocked to him. Not only that, but he had hardly used it since he had discovered his connection. All he had done was occasionally amplify his fear presence, or test some attack or another. But never had he relied upon it as others, something she didn't grasp. Perhaps it had indeed affected him somewhat, but his choices were still his own.
Then he simply thrust his blade towards her neck, aiming to skewer her through. Instead, she suddenly vanished from sight. His armored boot slammed into the ground, even as his sword effortlessly pierced the ground. Snarling in incomprehension, his head snapped up as he searched about, hunting for his prey. Instead, he was to be hunted as she struck the man through his chest, piercing through armor and flesh without damage. The damage instead appeared upon the mans soul, as he suddenly clutched his chest and leaned forward, growling as pain consumed him.
While Zachariel didn't view his actions as sins, he knew the wider galaxy considered his actions unacceptable. Considering the very, very long list that entailed, the attack had much to work with. However, as he didn't consider them crimes, it could only attack through a loop hole. That he knew others considered them sins allowed the his many actions to be levied against him. This caused the warlord to re-experience every last depraved and bloody act he'd ever committed, along with giving him a general view of how others felt seeing him commit such atrocities. This took some time, for he had a millennia of bloodshed behind him.
However, Eina's words made him straighten and turn towards her. His witnessing of the bloodshed was far from over, nor did the pain yet stop, but Zachariel gave no indication of either affecting him. As the memories of atrocities, bloodshed, and torture continued to pass through his mind, along with all the pain this inflicted, Zachariel began to laugh. The pain he was experiencing was indescribable, and he simply laughed through it, witnessing the atrocities and feeling them in turn. Through this mad laughter, the warlord spoke.
"
Oooohhhhh, dear liiiiiitttttllllleeeee IIIIIIngggrrid. Stiiiiiillllll mad cackling interrupts him sssssssssooooooo naive." Spreading his arms wide, Zachariels mad laughter continued, sounding far more insane now than ever. "
Yyyyyooooouuuuu sssssttttiiiillll kkkknnnnnooooowwwww nnnnooothiiing. Lllleeeeetttt mmmmeeee shoooowwww you MMMMYYYYYYY will."
With that, the floodgates opened. His connection opened just enough by the attack, Zachariel projected what he was experiencing towards Eina. He couldn't force it to remain there, but he hoped to shock her into watching it all. All did he show, as the pain within him yet continued, physically his mad laughter simply continued, while mentally there was strain to be seen. More than the pain though, he showed what he had done, what he was now e-witnessing. With no context given, no rhyme or reason to be discerned to the order of madness, more and more of it simply came pouring out. A millennia and a half of bloodhsed, violence, and war on and and all scales. Interspersed therein came scenes of scheming and planning, with plans spanning centuries unfolding. And through it all, Zachariel's mad laughter continued to echo, even as his pain continued.
======================
Percival ran, the Chosen chasing after him with controlled fury. The man was running into a trap and was prepared, though not enough. With Percival, the story was similar. Missing an arm and off balance, coupled with the speed of both parties, it all made for a difficult target. And, as the Chosen stormed around the corner, a peculiar set of events occurred. Firstly, due to the angle of the attack and the speed, the aim was poor. Second, thanks to the Maws
Supersonic M.O.A.B., many therein were prepared for sonic weapons. Lastly, the bulk of the armor itself provided plenty of protection.
As the Chosen charged 'round the corner, Percival shot his weapon and glanced against the mans shoulder pauldron. This proceeded to launch the man backwards, into an adjacent wall, wherein he was promptly lodged momentarily. One pauldron all but ruined, the Chosen groaned in pain and remained there for several long moments. Eventually though, his training kicked in and the man pulled himself free, clumsily falling to the floor beyond on shaky legs.
Groaning once more, the Chosen straightened somewhat and began making his way towards Percival, one shambling step at a time. It was a slow walk, with one of the Chosens arms all but useless thanks to the attack. And still, the Chosen continued on, intent on killing Percival.
While Draco's plans were admirable, there was nothing to study. The armor of the Chosen was simple power armor, essentially they were
Power Armor/Battleframes heavily modified to suite the look of the Bloodsworn, along with their way of war. And with far more armor than was sensible thrown on. Moreover, not every suite of armor was the same, as each Chosen was given free reign to customize their armor however they wished. Some were more agile, such as those focused on melee, while others bore more weapons, or more ammo. There was no unity, aside from the very base model and a general imitation of the armor Zachariel himself bore. Heavily armored to resist what they most commonly faced, and bearing countless grizzly trophies.
As for her burst of Force repulse, it did what she had wanted, pelting rubble all about. However, this rubble simply slammed against the Chosens armor and bounced off. The lead that followed did slightly more damage, but return fire soon came flooding in. As for her targets, with her little stunt, no more Chosen remained in the rubble, they had instead been freed. Taking cover from the lead pouring out to them, those that had been trapped were quick to grab whatever weapons they could.
Their armor designed to take a punishment, while bearing many a spike, each Chosen was still different. Aside from armor, this also reflected in their species. There had been a Rodian, true, but the rest of their number came from widely varying species. And currently, they were all hellbent on killing Draco. The focus of all the ranged Chosen were upon her, with them raining blaser and slug fire down on her.
Halketh
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