Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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The Sharp End

Ha! She got it!

Moments before the green woman's counterattack, he could feel her weaving the Force into a pattern based around the song. Exactly what form it would take, he couldn't know, but he was counting on the timing of it. He had specifically chosen a song that, though outwardly chaotic, had a defined structure for someone who could take a minute to focus on the music, and he'd yet to meet anyone with any sort of aptitude for fine control that wouldn't take a hint.

Sure enough, the mental spike lanced towards to beast's creator at exactly the right moment.

Eralam wasn't sure if the alchemist behind the thing was actively controlling it or simply holding back the pressure from the Force to keep it in existence, but either way, there was a momentary lapse, just a split second when its concentration wavered. That was all the time the Shard needed.

When the concentration slipped, so too did the enormous pressure that the beast exuded in the Force. That left his own titanic aura unopposed, its borrowed power suddenly exploding outward with all the force and the subtlety of a nuclear blast. Or at least it would have, had the change not be anticipated.

Instead of an omnidirectional blast, the Iron Knight forged the explosive power into a blade, the focal point of which was his own silver lightsaber. The world exploded in actinic fire as the blade grew a hundredfold. The Iron Knight brought it down on the beast, the blade cutting through beast, building, ground, and anything it encountered. It seemed like the whole world was torn in two by the force of the blow; an impression bolstered by the new canyon that had sprang forth through the city.

The beast stood for a moment, its blasphemous face a mask of rage and hatred. And then, slowly, it toppled. The blade had sliced it neatly in half, the cut running from its left shoulder to right hip. The top fell one way, the bottom the other. As the pieces collapsed, the Force won out, and they vanished from reality with a faint pop of displaced air.

Eralam stood for a moment as his lightsaber returned to normal, then sputtered and died. It would probably require a complete rebuild. As hearty as the things were, they weren't meant to cope with that much energy.

Nor was he.

When an organic being called too strongly upon the Force, their cells began to burst under the strain. When a Shard called too heavily upon it, they risked fracturing their crystal. Eralam had walked right up against the line of what his body would take, and the damage was evident. Not quite a fracture, but definitely a weak spot, had formed, and if he wasn't careful, he'd split in two. And given the amount of energy he routinely stored in his being, a split would likely prove cataclysmic in the most literal sense for whatever world he was on at the time.

With careful meditation and a mineral bath, the weak spot would heal. In the mean time, he would have to be very, very careful.

But then again, when didn't he? There was a galaxy of beings that would kill him on sight, if only they knew what he was. Being careful was normal.

[member="Cerita Sarova"]
 

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