Thronebreaker? How about a City? (Jacen/Citizens of Coruscant)

[Lord Ghoul]

Coruscant​

Senate Building​

Grand Convocation Room​

​

Sith Lords were not allowed into the Senate. Senators and the guests they seemed to bring in on a daily basis, however, were. As such, when Severis, Senator of Terrijo, requested a guest pass for one Lord Kaos of Tapani, no one batted an eye. After all, the judgement of senators could be trusted, could it not?

The stately old man led Lord Kaos into his hoverpod. Kaos, Mikhail Shorn, wore a leather jacket and a shirt and pants of somber hue. The old man thought this change of attire interesting, since Lord Kaos seemed to be such a wealthy and noble man when he'd met him. It only added to the mystery of this Lord Kaos. Perhaps the man used to be a commoner? That would certainly make for interesting gossip.

Shorn, meanwhile, pretended to be awed by it all. So many senators! And in a large session, no less. It was not the full session he had been promised, but it would serve for his purpose. Mikhail smiled benignly at Severis. They met at the Golden Girl, Anaya Fen's establishment for the absurdly wealthy. Severis thought he might use this tapani nobleman to his own advantages, thinking Shorn had ties to those Noble Houses. And Shorn did. Oh, yes, he did. But he would not consider his father to be one with whom Severis would wish to deal. Casperli would magically end up the new Senator of Terrijo. And Severis would end up dying from unexplainable causes. No, better Severis think him Lord Kaos, rather than the estranged son of Lord Kaos.

Better than an exile like Tycho though. Mikhail smirked at the thought. Tycho was more cousin than half-brother. Mikhail cared for him little. As for Seth? Shorn thought him dead. A pang of regret stabbed into him, quashed instantly. A wrathful knot formed in his stomach. He wished to hurry this up. None would ever mistake Mikhail Shorn for a patient man. Or god.

The hoverpod floated into place. Mikhail watched the proceedings with a bland expression, commenting occasionally to Severis to keep up his pretense. The Senate was holding some session about the CEO of Blastech. Shorn was more focused on the raging need within him. The Soulsaber, that dark nexus of energy in the form of a lightsaber, sat snugly inside his jacket. A simple mind trick got it through the security, none the wiser. Its power, nausea inducing to any lightsider, radiated out from Mikhail. The Force sensitive within the Senate building would feel a headache, ranging from mildly irritating to head splitting depending on their proximity to Shorn.

Derriphan whispered in his mind. "Why don't you kill them now? Mmm, I want to taste flesh again. Kill them all."

"I will." Shorn stared steadily ahead, pale eyes filling with murder. The Soulsaber did not rule him like it had before. He controlled it, not the other way around. Yet, it echoed his own thoughts.

The time for idleness was over.

"And over there are the senators from-"

Shorn waved a hand and Severis' jaw snapped with an audible crack! The other delegates stared in shocked disbelief as Shorn stepped over to the controls and maneuvered the pod to float to the very top of the senate building, positioning it in the center and drawing the attention of other pods. Then he turned back to Severis, who stared at him with wide, tear filled eyes. "You're a boring old fool, but understand, this isn't personal."

A backhanded blow in the Force smacked the old man in the chest and sent him flying over the edge of the pod, to plummet hundreds of meters to the bottom. The three other delegates in Shorn's pod shrieked and with a sigh he turned pale eyes on them. "Oh, I guess I forgot to tell you all. I am a Sith Lord."

He gestured sharply with one hand and a wave of telekinetic energy knocked all three of them out of the pod. They all fell to their deaths, screaming. Their cries of terror were soon echoed by the throats of hundreds of others who saw the bodies falling through the air. Another gesture of Shorn's hand activated the open comm system on the pod. His voice boomed throughout the convocation room.

"Senators of the Republic, esteemed gentlebeings. You think you have control over your lives because you have control over the lives of others. You think you're safe in your plush chairs sipping expensive drinks. You think you're all better because somehow this 'democracy' of yours has a few values attached to it." Mikhail stretched out both his hands, pale eyes like twin winter gales. He exerted his will upon the engines of the topmost repulsorpods, crushing down with telekinesis. Metal shrieked and groaned, then a series of explosions rocked the room as entire pods exploded, raining down flaming debris upon those below.

"I am the Lord of Chaos, and I can reach you anywhere. Even here, at the heart of the Republic!"

The fearful cries of leaders of the free worlds pierced the air as Mikhail Shorn began to seize whole repulsorpods and hurl them down like thunderbolts from on high. Senators scrambled to get free, clawing over each other to grab the controls of their pods and get to safety. In the cacophony and chaos, frantic pods slammed into each other, only adding to the confusion that this so called Senate of the Republic had devolved into.

"What?" Mikhail called, blue forks of lightning cascading from one of his hands down upon the enormous chamber. "No selflessness? Gasp. The horror. So much for the beaming moral light of the Republic," Shorn sneered. Then tossed a burning plushie bearing an uncanny resemblance over the side to fall, fall, fall, calling out its catchphrase: "Oops, did I do that?"

"You should've listened to the plushie lawsuit."

@[member="Jacen Cavill"]

 

[Lex-El]

Coruscant
Senate Building
Grand Convocation Room



The Senate, the big time. He had finally made it!

Cade could barely hide the snort, this was far from his first big hearing. If anything, he was well versed in these large deals. Why the Republic felt the need to bring him forth to talk about the new weapons he had added to their contract was beyond him. They had signed the deal, they were stuck with the incentive packages that were being added on. Whatever they were hoping to accomplish now that there was a new Chancellor, and another to be elected, was beyond him. If anything, the past few hours had just been him showing off how incredible his products were. Going off the general tone of the room from his pod, it was clear he had won the room over once more. The Republic had even decided to up their package, and buy further future endeavors while even funding more expansion for him in their territories. Thankfully, the assembled fools had no idea how far his reach was, or who all he dealt with.

It didn't matter anyways, his contracts protected him from reproach. It was in ink and digitized form that he could sell to whomever. Thankfully, once you notarized something and signed it it was iron clad. Whatever these fools said on this day, the outcome didn't matter. Credits were trickling in across the galaxy, and Cade Lee was the wealthiest man in the galaxy because of it. His past had been nothing but conflict, nothing but war. Now that he had exiled himself, and remade himself into a titan of industry he was untouchable. Seen as unfit to rule Serenno under his other name, and unfit to rule the Empire under another. Well, now he just ruled the galaxy from his nice perch as the top arms dealer to everyone.

Every. Single. Government.

It was enough to make him drunk on power, well drunker than he already was. With the ring he was wearing, gifted to him by Soliael, his true presence was unknown. The caveat being that he couldn't sense anything in the room either, and had to rely on the crude five senses most humanoids were gifted with. So, with his facade still on, he pretended to play nice. With his shoulders rolled forward, and his spine slouched, he appeared much smaller. The large suit he was wearing was expensive, but fitted larger than necessary to make him look smaller. The glasses he wore covered his face, but the public at large didn't know his face to begin with. The advantages of wearing a helmet when you slaughter thousands of innocents, he thought to himself. With his black locks ruffled, he appeared every bit the trailblazing business mogul with a nerdy exterior.

He was hiding in plain sight, and the fools didn't know it.

"Why, th-thank you Chan-Chancellor. The assem-assembled Senators, your invite was wonderful and I'm glad we were able to iron our our future together. I n-now defer to you and take m-my leave."

His pod descended, and his Mirari droid, Mar, stood behind him. The assembled lawyers and accountants began leaving, and a few lobbyists as well were there to meet them. Cade looked up as a stray pod shot to the top of the room after hearing a violent CRACK. What in the galaxy is going on? "Sir, are you ready to leave?" Cade shook his head, as he walked back to the front of the pod. "No, go on without me. I'll stay here with Mar for a bit." The lobbyist went to argue, then a man began screaming at the delegates and security started reacting in a most hostile way as they started rushing towards the pods that were attached to the walls. "I think you need to run," he muttered, and the man complied finally. Mar joined his Master, and pulled his rifle. "I don't think you'll need that right now." Looking up, he could catch a glance of a very familiar visage, and Cade had to chance it.

He pulled the ring off.

The headache was violent as the Force rushed back to him, but he kept his aura squashed. Instead, he reached out to feel the very familiar aura. The only man who had ever curb stomped him into oblivion was above him, or that was the general vibe he was getting. "Can that possibly be?" The question was very real, then a telekinetic crack could be felt.

All hell was breaking loose, it was Shorn.

"That motherfether...." Cade's jaw tighted and he spun on his heel pointing at cameras for the droid to shoot as they entered the men's bathroom. Mar fired more shots, killing all in the room with his unmarked rifle. "Open the compartment in your leg, I'm going to need that. I also need you to leave with my suit and use the holoprojector I gave you to give the image I left." Mikhail Shorn was doing the man a favor, and Mr. Lee knew exactly how the Senate would react to this. He would see an influx of cash, and his company would further grow. Right now Cade Lee wasn't too worried about business, expansion, or money at all.

Cade Lee was more worried about his pride, and getting out of his fething suit so he could repay the beating he received.

 

[Jacen Cavill]

Mar left, holo-projector on with an unconscious Cade Lee in his arms. The official story would read that the CEO had been injured and was on bed rest after a vicious knock to the head from a violent impact suffered due to the terrorist's attack on the senate building. If anyone tried to reach him, he'd be recovering peacefully at his estate on some posh world with exquisite drinks with umbrellas in them. Feth, he'd probably get some plastic surgery and have a good time with a holo-model that the tabloids were gossiping about him dating. Maybe he'd even get some work done, and show up with a new weapon design for all the nations that bought from him.

That would be the speculation on the droid and the holo it left with. The truth of the situation was different as a two meter tall Sith Master exited the bathroom.

Clad in the form fitting armor weave suit dubbed Iron Skin, a Blas-Tech creation, he calmly walked the Senate halls. Standing to his full height, with his shoulders finally back he felt free. Without his glasses he could see, and he could hear Mikhail screaming with his words and with the Force. Destruction was the Sith's forte, and Cavill hadn't forgotten the beat-down he had received while still a Knight from the very man. It had taken months of healing, and a Force Prodigy,@[member="Spencer Jacobs"] to heal the damage that Shorn had done to him. That had been so long ago though, back when it had been false hubris that had masked his fear. Fear that had fueled him, fear of what he would have become if he had let go and let his monster out. That fight had opened his eyes to what a true Sith could do once he let his monster out.

Jacen had done just that, and learned that there was no monster he had always feared.

For he was the monster.

"Are you coming to help us Jedi?" The guard asked as Cavill stood still on the outside of the Senate chamber. "You need to come now, that man is going to destroy the whole chamber if you don't hurry!" Jacen didn't listen, he was instead opening himself to the darkness. Every bit of his rage billowed forth from inside him, and he let his true self seep out from the furnace that was his anger. Whatever man he had been, was replaced with the darkness he had so willingly embraced. Power seeped into all of him, and his muscles became saturated with the ebony power he so loved. The gauntlet on his left hand was tightly braced to him, and he could feel the energy building with each movement he made. His blue eyes closed for a moment as he gripped the electrum-coated hilt in his right hand, feeling it's cool surface as he focused on the Force and his place in the universe. A lightsider would simply focus on opening themselves up, and allowing themselves to feel their place in the universe.

Cavill shifted everything, and made himself the central axis of everything.

Opening his eyes, now Sithly red and yellow. He looked at the guard who was still yelling at him. "That monster is killing innocents, stop loafing around Jedi!" Cavill moved in an instant, the emitter of his blade under the man's chin. "I'm a monster too, and I'm no Jedi." The guard went to move, but there was only one more sound heard in the hall as the crimson bar of energy briefly sprung to life. Ozone flooded the air for a moment from the momentary activation, and the guard's body crumpled to the floor. A three centimeter wide hole now going from his chin to the crown of his head. Through the dark, a flash of pain was felt, and Darth Kryptus drank it up as he de-activated the blade. Advancing back to his pod, he simply focused on what he had learned from all his instructors. The living Force and the darkside could co-exist, and the energy he felt formed around him like armor as he enhanced himself. The shield was formed quickly, and he had become the titan of battle he had always dreamed of.

Looking up, he watched Shorn rain death and destruction. There would be no brave words, no bravado this time. Just an attack.

Muscles tensed, and his knees bent. The Sith Lord's jaw tightened, and with all his Force-assisted strength, he leapt as high as he could. His form skyrocketed towards the bottom of the pod as Jacen's will wrapped around the very shield he had formed around himself. Do it Cavill, do it, the monster spoke to him. Intent, power, focus, and energy all met in dark harmony as he accelerated himself UP. Jacen Cavill turned himself into a supersonic bullet, and he extended both of his fists forward the bottom of the pod as he accelerated further. Within a millisecond he would rip through the bottom and completely destroy the pod, and really screw up @[member="Mikhail Shorn"]'s day.

 

[Lord Ghoul]

Power. That was what Mikhail felt as he rained lightning and death down upon the senate floor. They could not stop him now. No one could. Once, long ago, Mikhail Shorn was an officer in the Republic army. It was then that he'd first felt the corruption emanating from this so called beacon of virtue at the heart of the Republic. These Senators flung away hundreds of lives away on a campaign they neither understood nor cared to. Shorn had had to watch nearly every single soldier under his command die because of these... Senators. It was because of them that he'd accidentally killed his commanding officer and fled the Republic, falling into the arms of this Sith. The debauchery within the Senate led straight to the Sith turning him into this, this monster. He laid the blame at the Senate's feet. Every misstep he'd made. Every life he had taken. Every dark deed. They had made him into this. And just like the Sith, they would pay.

Vengeance came now.

Their fear was palpable and he reached out with his senses, feeling the terror rising from below along with flames and smoke and screams. He stared down, hate in his eyes. The senate floor was a mess. Pods littered the bottom, smashed and crumpled, along with the broken bodies of senators. Flames from several pods had begun to spread, turning the bottom of the convocation room into a growing inferno. His hate flowed through him, unrestrained and at the full height of his power. He brought down pod after pod with lightning and the Force, sending them spiraling downward to feed the flames of his now visceral hatred for this so-called Republic.

He would burn them all.

A sudden tingling ran down his spine. Shorn froze, then leapt, heeding that gut feeling Force users knew as precognition. As he leapt out of the pod, hammering himself with a telekinetic throw, time seemed to slow. Behind him came the horrible shrieking of rending metal. A sudden pain ripped through him as a spray of hot metal fragments cut through the leather jacket on his right side and across his ribcage. Gasping and twisting in the air, he just barely caught a glimpse of a figure in a body glove slamming through the floor of the pod with incredible speed. The entire pod exploded, splitting into three pieces and falling away, down to the inferno below.

His stomach rose into his mouth as he too began to plummet down. Frantically, his pale eyes searched the floor below and caught sight of a pod seeking to flee. A shove of telekinesis directed his fall straight onto the pod and he slowed his descent ever so slightly with the Force. He slammed to one knee on the floor of the pod, much to the surprise of the delegates inside.

"MADMAN!" cried one. "You're a murderer!"

Pale eyes bore no traces of sympathy. "Good observation. You get a gold star," Shorn grunted, picking out a small sliver of metal embedded in his side with a wince. Raising a hand, he made a shoving motion and a wave of Force energy emanated from his hand, hammering the delegates out of the pod in a too-soon bout of nostalgia. Their screams were lost in the roar of the flames below.

Shorn glanced up into the air. "I hate interruptions," he muttered to himself, then he felt it. The presence. So familiar. So... Hatred glowed in those pale blue eyes. Jacen. Shorn's lips contorted to a feral snarl, then he noticed that the man was flying. A foreign emotion crept into Mikhail's thoughts. Doubt. Last time he had faced Jacen the Sith Knight had barely been able to toss a pebble. Mikhail stared now on a figure who belonged in some forgotten halls, clad in vestiges of a long lost religion. Strength, power and utter confidence rippled outward from Kryptus. Shorn lowered his dark brows. He had beaten an Emperor to a pulp and put a new one in his place. He had broken the throne of the Empire. But Tyrin Ardik was no Jacen Cavill. Where Tyrin was the dagger in the back, Jacen Cavill was the mace to the head. He was, for all intents and purposes, a human battering ram. Mikhail had beaten him once, because Kryptus couldn't stop himself from being tossed around like a ragdoll. Now?.... Shorn would just have to throw him harder.

The Dark Side flowed into him, a pulsing aphotic miasma of energy. Battlemind from the Soulsaber enhanced Mikhail's concentration and he shut it all out: the heat and smoke rising from below; the sweat trickling down his face and back, matting his hair to his head; the pain of the cuts in his side. Mikhail stretched out his left hand, the only one of flesh and blood he had remaining, and exerted his telekinetic will on @[member="Jacen Cavill"]. Cimmerian power flooded his senses and he unleashed his emotions: his hatred of the Senate, of the Sith; the negative feelings of aggression emanating from the Soulsaber; and the primal urge to break things in his anger. Shorn gestured sharply to the side, aiming to throw Cavill against the side of the convocation room, then drag the Sith Lord along the wall, scrapping off flesh and bone, before he slammed his hand toward the ground in an attempt to bury the man in the ground, beneath the flames of the senate floor.

 

[Jacen Cavill]

BOOM!!!

The pod was nothing next to the sheer power of the Force, and Jacen's will power. Whatever feeling of satisfaction he had at the now destroyed pod was quickly wiped away as he felt Shorn get away. Crimson pupils quickly scanned the room, as he hovered hundreds of meters above the floor. The process of deceleration wasn't easy, and many a wall had felt his wrath, and his shoulders had felt their's. Screams were mixed with the explosions, and Cavill hadn't been gifted with super hearing. Instead, he looked through all the faces, and found the same pair of pale blue eyes that were forever burned in his brain. Just like the outside of his eyes, all Cavill could see was red as his rage over took him. Intent, will, and power were converging again just as he was about to soar towards his opponent. The plan was crystal as he went to push his fist forward.

The fething Shorn did what he did, which was wreck things.

All of his forward momentum was potential energy, it hadn't been tipped yet. A dark hand wrapped around him with actual force, and Jacen was thrown. HARD. Whatever resistance he had learned for such things was child's play against the telekinetic mastery he was experiencing. There was nothing to do, except embrace what was happening. This wasn't petty Jedi acceptance, this was Sith planning. That ebony taint that flowed through him exuded further into the shield that formed his dark cocoon, and he let his rage at the loss of control filer out. The smoke from the furnace where his fire burned inside of him flooded out, and empowered him further. It was a timely intervention, because in battle milliseconds were the weight that would tip the scales between defeat or victory.

It was a lesson Shorn had "taught" him on Dromund Kaas, and he wasn't going to kark it up on Coruscant.

As the speed built up, so did the shield until he smashed into the wall. His armorweave clad form was defenseless against such an assault, and the wall caved in on the spot. Darth Kryptus was thrown through several layers off offices as he saw destruction mount up everywhere. Like his rival competitor, Czerka Arms, Mikhail was the gun. Jacen was the slug, and he was presently being thrown around everywhere. Shield present or not, bones were impacting on desks, chairs, anything. Then came the drop and the pull forward. Still defenseless, save his shield. Cavill looked at his gauntlet just as his head slammed through the Senate Chambers wall. Power was building up thankfully, and the stones within were glowing. Then another impact, and fresh hot blood was running from debris damage all over his suit.

Then the motherfether dropped him. Straight into fire. Literal. Fire.

Being a tank was one thing, getting thrown around like a ragdoll hurt. As he stood to his feet, the warmth was all around him. Thanks to his shield, the flames didn't touch him. His mind threatened to leave the moment, to journey to a time on the Peregrine with @[member="Spencer Jacobs"]. Instead, his focus stayed on the present. As the axis of the universe, he simply bathed in the warmth of the fire. It reminded him of himself, and for a second he let it be. A second's rest was all that Mikhail Shorn would get, Cavill looked at his gauntlet that was fully charged from all the kinetic movement....and he added to it with another supercharged jump.

Mid-flight, he activated the crimson bar just as he set down right in front of his fellow Sith. Blade held in his right hand, he simply struck in a broad slash from the outside aimed at Shorn's midsection. Jacen took note to keep his blade angled up, to enact further damage and force Mikhail closer to him. In a curious move, Kryptus stepped forward with his left foot and not his right. His intent wasn't to power his strike, instead he raised the fully charged gauntlet. Palm open, and at point-blank range he did the only thing he new to do with a new toy he had won at the auction.

He fired it, right in his face.

@[member="Mikhail Shorn"]

 

[Lord Ghoul]

A gaping hole in the wall, full of sparking wires and twisted rebar was all Shorn could see of Kryptus. Occasionally he caught the sound of something that sounded like a distant repulsortrain and the occasional smash. Then his pull whipped Kryptus back out and slammed him into the fire. But Cavill didn't seem to let a few things like raging flames bother him. From his perch, Mikhail could only watch as Jacen rose proudly from the burning wreckage, fire licking all around him, but never touching him. The man's face was bathed in blood, scarlet drops dripping profusely from torn flesh. Through that mask of red, Cavill's burning eyes stared up at Shorn. The man was... untouchable.

However much he tossed the man around, no matter what he threw at him, or threw him through, Jacen could just keep going. He was more like a solid pillar, a battering ram of destruction, than a man. Shorn broke things with a wave of his hand, but Jacen broke them with hands of flesh, literally tearing heads and arms off. For the first time in an age, Mikhail felt fear. Fear of a man he couldn't kill, no matter how many walls he threw him through. Shorn felt.... powerless. Weak. No one enjoyed staring up at a boot coming down. Sith least of all. Images of Casperli floated through his mind. Memories of the helplessness he felt as someone dictated every action in his life. No. Jacen was not his father. He could not control Mikhail Shorn. No one could.

Jacen Cavill was just a man. A man built like a tank, but just a man. He could be killed. Mikhail focused on the blood dripping from Jacen's face. That's right. He could bleed. Gods didn't bleed. Did they? Mikhail took two steps back, watching with growing apprehension as Jacen leapt straight for him. No, not jumping... flying. The snap-hiss of a lightsaber sounded above the screams of the dying and panicked and the roar of the flames. Shorn took another step back. The flying Sith landed in the pod, his feet touching upon the metal surface with a thud, eyes glaring death. A vibrant, crimson blade hummed in his hand and he wasted no time in swinging it for Shorn's midsection, fast. Very fast. Shorn didn't even attempt to try and counter it. He used his already backward momentum to push himself farther with a telekinetic shove. The small of his back touched against the hoverpod's low concentric wall. Then his eyes moved from the swinging blade to the gauntleted fist. The muscles in his face went slack, eyes widening.

"Feth," he cursed as he poured all his considerable energy into an impromptu telekinetic push, swinging his right arm to meet Jacen's gauntleted fist. It all happened in about two seconds. Force energy surged visibly through the air between them and the two waves collided. Mikhail's brows furrowed and his entire face contorted in concentration as he tried to fight back the power. In the small intervening space between the two combatants, where the telekinetic waves pushed against each other, a pocket of air began to compress. The pressure began to mount up, but Shorn had countered too slow and Jacen moved too fast. Shorn had been caught napping in a telekinetic arm wrestling match. He could only watch with horror as Jacen's wave steadily inched toward him. Then his own telekinetic wave crumpled. The air pocket destabilized and a massive WHOOM filled Shorn's eardrums.

The next thing Shorn knew, he was flying through the air. Strange, he didn't remember- downward glancing eyes caught sight of his arm. His right arm. Blown off at the elbow, it sparked at intervals. He panicked irrationally for a moment, before remembering that it had already been blown off by Anaya Fen. Jacen had merely taken a cybernetic limb from him. Still, he was ticked off about it. A sudden surge in heat reminded him that he was plummeting toward the ground and the inferno below. Except he couldn't hear anything. Not the whistle of the wind, or the crackle of the flames, or the incredibly satisfying sound of senators screaming as they burned alive. Desperately, Mikhail waved a hand, his only hand now, creating a telekinetic wave that slowed his fall. His thoughts came in milliseconds. Too fast! Still too fast! If only he could fly like Jacen, he'd just zip up and away.

"Why don't you?" whispered the Soulsaber in his mind.

Because... because... He couldn't think of a reason why. He'd never tried before, never thought to, or had the urge. Until now, when success at flying almost certainly meant the difference between a burnt-pancake-Shorn and a not-dead-yet-but-flying Shorn. He was a master of telekinesis. In all his battles he had never once encountered someone stronger than him in that arena. He grabbed the Dark Side and whirled it around him like a full body cloak, using telekinesis to hold himself in the air through sheer willpower and Battlemind-aided concentration. Suddenly, Mikhail vacillated in the air, bobbing up and down, as if the Force couldn't decide whether to let him drop or send him skyward. Mikhail's brows drew together and he opened his mouth in a wordless snarl. He. Would. Not. Die. Like. This.

Air rushed past his face as he zipped toward the ceiling, propelled by his own power with telekinesis. Pain radiated from the right side of his face and he felt streams of blood from a wound he hadn't discovered earlier. Unbeknown to him, all the skin on the right side of his face from the edge of his cheekbone to his ear was gone, exposing the muscles beneath. His ear was also missing, which was why he still couldn't hear anything.

Shorn attempted to stop himself from hitting the ceiling, and succeeded just barely. He wobbled, ungracefully in the air, eyes searching for Cavill. No, feth this, he thought. He wasn't about to try and take Jacen in aerial combat with a skill he'd just learned. Mikhail sent himself speeding through the air for the nearest pod. He landed in it with a thud, tumbling to a stop and fetching up against the low pod wall. Mikhail rose to his feet, remnants of his cybernetic arm sparking pathetically. His pale eyes seemed to glow with unabated fury.

Reaching with the Force, Mikhail began moving his hand in a circular motion to gather the smallest of debris from below, quickly whipping up a whirlwind of sharp edged debris ranging from pieces of rebar to glass and metal shards. The tower of multi-faceted death rose swiftly into the air, growing until it became a small tornado in the middle of the senate room, sucking in other, smaller debris. Mikhail directed this spinning cloud of debris right for Jacen. He'd done this once before after being supercharged in the force by absorbing Jacen's deadly sight. But with the Soulsaber at his command, nothing could break his concentration save death. @[member="Jacen Cavill"] was a man. And men could die. Even if it took a thousand cuts.

 

[Jacen Cavill]

@[member="Mikhail Shorn"]

Blood was everywhere, literally everywhere.

If a forensic team were to show up, it wouldn't be too hard to match their blood with Imperial databases. Thankfully Cavill's other name had another blood type on file, one of the many covers he had installed for himself to protect who he was. Layers upon layers had been added to make Cade Lee and Jacen Cavill completely separate, that's why Jacen didn't bat an eye at the blood pouring from him. His thick black hair was matted to his skull, blood seeping from different cuts and abrasions. The black armor weave body-glove he was wearing had multiple tears in it, the viscous blood flowing freely. Perfectly chiseled facial features were outlined with blood running freely from the multiple lacerations, and he reveled in it. There was nothing better than the pain from battle, and Darth Kryptus was relishing this moment with all of his might.

Shorn countered his gauntlet's power, and Jacen fought back this time.

No longer the trembling hand like their last battle, the closed fist he was hit back. The pressure from their converging blasts was building, and Cavill's legs were spreading to let his body absorb the resistance. Leaning forward, all the muscles in his core tightened as he forced himself to hold on. Don't back down, don't fear him;cried the monster inside. I don't, he thought to himself. I am the monster now, he's trapped in here with me now. Not the other way around. Sweat and blood mixed, even as some began to coagulate on his face. Open wounds were burning, but the fire that was his rage burned hotter. Seconds slowed to a crawl as they resisted against each other, and Jacen refused to give up, so he held fast. The power from his new toy was holding it's own against Shorn, but only due to surprise. Then a most curious event happened.

The bubble popped and Shorn and Cavill were sent flying.

Whatever happened to his opponent was unknown, Jacen's shield faltered from the impact as his back cracked into the side of the pod. The Force of the impact completely took his focus away, and the galaxy shrank momentarily as he flew into the sharp edge of the pod before sinking to a seated position. Just as he finished his fall, his head snapped back onto the same sharp edge, and the whole world went crazy for a moment. More blood was flowing, now from his nose and ear drums. The world was hazy, and instead of fire and screams all he heard was a ringing sound. Red pupils faded to blue for a moment as his eyes crossed, and he was thoroughly disoriented. Whatever was going on below was no concern to him as he attempted to stand, but simply fell over on his side. Balance and focus were issues, and he just lay on his side for a moment. The grip on his lightsaber never was relinquished, it was his lifeline to what was going on. Everything else was coming in and out of focus, and Cavill briefly forgot why he was there for a moment as he finally got into a kneeling position.

Then he latched on to his rage, the one true constant in the galaxy. It sustained him, and the longer he held on to it the quicker his focus returned. Standing up to his feet, he was returned as the axis of the galaxy. Everything was spinning around him again, but his hearing wasn't returning. Groggily scanning around, he looked for the person he was fighting...yet he couldn't remember who for a moment. Corrupted lenses found the target, and a brief bit of clarity allowed him to remember: he was fighting Mikhail Fething Shorn. "Why...can't you just...die?" The question was so, and sluggish, and he really didn't care that much for the tornado of debris he was seeing.

Oh feth, that's coming at me. His thoughts and his actions weren't lining up, and his rage wasn't even fueling him like usual. Lazily, he whipped his lightsaber up and ignited the crimson blade as he settled into a high overhead Djem So stance. Both hands on his hilt, the aura was slow to form. Which in simple terms meant he was utterly defenseless for a moment . The vortex of debris came, and the scene from that bar on Dromund Kaas played out again. His feeble attempts at deflection weren't enough, and his defenses only held so long as he was blown back step by step. At first he wasn't even stabbed as he kept batting debris away, it was more akin to getting punched. Light jabs were being mixed with a few resounding body blows, and he was reminded of boxing at the military academy. This kept up for a moment as the titan was knocked back by the whirling winds that his nemesis has summoned, then the hay-maker came.

Cavill wasn't ready for it, and his shield faded in a heartbeat from the stray bit of durasteel moving at hundreds of miles per hour. He once more left his feet, and his saber left his grasp as he flew through the air. A thousand cuts happened within seconds as he fell, and he was utterly defenseless. Then more pain ripped through him, literally as a piece of glass flew straight through his chest, and abdomen. His body smacked the floor near the pod with a resounding thud, and the cuts didn't stop. What was left of the top of his outfit was tattered now, it's protection from blasters nothing against a thousand makeshift knives. Is this it? It was a moment of defeat, but only a moment.

Crucitorn was a valuable tool, and everything became blocked out as his belly emitted more fire. That fire spread, and the world came back into startling clarity. He quickly stood this time as the storm moved away from him, though painfully. His palm still shaking, he grabbed what remained of the top to his outfit and ripped it off. Blood ran freely down his body from all the cuts, marring his perfect form. Rage built up, and with a small tug of the dark he pulled his lightsaber hilt back to his hand. "You should have killed me when you had the chance." The bar of energy ignited again, and Cavill was airborne in a flash towards Shorn.

His feet set down, and he took that two handed grip. Pain was on the edges of his consciousness right now, and instead he focused everything on the next few seconds. Feet were set wide, blade was high and he brought it down in a close strike intent on ridding Mikhail of his head. Their proximity was an issue for the both of them, Mikhail was missing an arm and Jacen had his bleeding stomach exposed. The high reaching left to right slash would either remove the Sith Master of his neck, or force him to move. So Jacen did what he didn't used to, he thought ahead. It was a feint, and he brought his right foot forward as he shifted his strike in mid blow. Crimson energy spun over his head as he brought in in a very long blow to the right side, aimed at bisecting his opponent.

 

[Delila Castillon]

@[member="Jacen Cavill"] | @[member="Mikhail Shorn"]

The Absolution drifted along with the Solace, Divergent, and Defiance in neutral space between Omega Protectorate and Lords of the Fringe. The Rebel Alliance was on its way to the next raid, next battle, next anything. Delila Castillon was in a weapons training room, sweaty and annoyed. She had been keeping up her Bladedancing skills but since leaving the Protectorate her training had stopped. She would have to find a new instructor or convince HK to continue her lessons in the art. Flipping over in invisible opponent, the Rebel landed hard on the mats.

Sighing, she decided to take a small break where she slipped and fell. Until a young Ensign peered over her body.

"Castillon?"

"You found her."

"Ma'am, reports in from Coruscant indicate two Sith are currently destroying the Senate building.

"My birthday present has come early this year!" Getting off the mat, Delila stretched stiff muscles and motioned for the Ensign to follow her out. "We must show appreciation to these Sith, despite them being our enemy. Ensign, comm a gift shop willing to deliver to these two Sith. Order the finest fruit basket we can afford to send. You know, the nice kind with the little chocolates too..."

"Are you serious Ma'am?"

"Dead serious. These two just saved us thousands in ordnance and fuel costs."

And so, a gift shop got the order to send two fancy fruit baskets to the Sith currently fighting down at the Senate building. The message inside?

'Thanks for doing our job for us. With appreciation, The Rebel Alliance'

 

[Ereza]

Public relations are one thing, Government relations quite another. In your time you will learn that many Governments fail to adhere to the qualities and doctrines upon which they were found. You'll see that their intentions are oftentimes far darker than the facade they play for their own public. This is what we call control. This is what we call the degenerative mind.

It is not your job to change this, it is your job to recognize it and use it to your advantage.

Capital City
Galactic Chamber of Ambassadors

It had been several years since Inari had stepped foot on the planet Coruscant, and in those days she had gone by another name: Amorella Darke, Crown Princess of Kuat. In the presence of the Kuati Sovereign the young leader-in-waiting had made her first debut within the Republic; made her first connection amongst the delegates; and saw first hand the process of government that was the Senate. It had all seemed rather grand to her then but somehow, she internally noted as she departed the Moross transports atop the Chamber building, it had lost its luster.

High above their heads, far up in the black blanket of space, the Morossian Flagship The Countess hovered silently amidst an entourage of the Republic Fleet. This was a peaceful delegation, but as the terms of treaty had not yet been fully realized there was naturally a mindset of suspicion. Especially towards a quietly rising power from wild space that would soon take the greater powers by surprise.

Inari traveled with an envoy of Moross Warriors for protection lead by none other than her Uncle, Lord Crusader @[member="Vascious Relens"]. They arrived to a party of the Republican Ambassador Committee, exchanged greetings, and quietly went inside.


"Welcome to Coruscant," said a dark-skinned man by the name of Emri Larue, he greeted them with a broad smile and a sweeping gesture to the conference quarters. Inari smiled, returned his greeting with a gentle nod, and moved to take a seat.

"So, Inari the Reviver, that is your name?" Emri seated himself, glancing around to the present Morossian Warriors - their beastly armor covered by flowing white cloaks emblazoned with the Moross symbol in embroidered threads of gold and red that uniquely matched her own pristine robes. This touch was Inari's alone for the sake of appearances. Neth had thought it laughable, and likely so would have Ithari had he been there to see it. Inari thought it respectful and highly necessary, being the only one of diplomatic mindset. The Republic was not known for their inherent trust.

"That is my calling," the woman said, peering out at the man with a calm blue gaze from behind her silver mask, "you may call me Inari."

"Inari," Emri smiled with some amusement and nodded, "welcome."

"Thank you," she replied.

"I understand that you hold a very unique station amongst your people. That they call you a God?" Emri's brows rose in curiosity.

"My devout view me as the embodiment of a higher being..." Inari canted her head to one side ever so slightly, "much like you stand and speak for a nation, I too stand and speak for something."

Emri's humor was evident, "Oh? And what is that?"

"An idea," she said softly. The woman could feel her Warriors bristle behind her but she never dropped her gaze from her host, "a belief. One that, perhaps, you too will come to see some day."

The man chuckled, "I see. That will be an interesting day indeed. Tell me, what is it I can do for you, Inari the Reviver?"

"I come as a peaceful presence of the entity known as Moross," from beyond the veil of the white hood that covered her head Inari spied the approach of a a server who bent to offer her refreshments. The woman did not move to accept, but one of her Warriors, at the barest motion from the Lord Crusader at her left, moved to intercept. The Warrior took the cup from the tray and poured a measure of its contents into a glass vial produced from his figure. Without hesitation he downed the liquid.

Several moments passed where Inari, a weary frown on her face, exchanged glances with Emri who seemed more than curious. Perhaps even appalled. Since her sickness Neth had been strict in his protection of her. Moross was not about to let Liad get the upper hand again.

The Warrior nodded, replaced the cup to the tray and stepped back into formation.

"Thank you," Inari said again, though Emri was not sure if she meant it for the drink or for her soldier. The Goddess refilled her cup and drank.

"So...." Emri continued, "you are here to arrange a treaty with the Republic."

"No," came her immediate response, "I am not here for that today. But in time, perhaps, I will be."

Emri, confused, eyed her curiously with a short glance over at the imposing figure of the Lord Crusader, "Then what can I do for you?"

"Take my message to the heads of the Republic," Inari looked at him and smiled.

Off in the distance a dark cloud of smoke began to billow upwards from the cityscape.

Something was amiss.

 

[Glade]

Natol'ine wasn't what you'd call the hero type, she just happened to be in the building, maybe today she was a hero? Or just stupid, heroically stupid. Hearing all the screams, she clutched Aurora, the light in the dark, like a pawing child more than anything. Creeping through the hallways as men and women ran amok, dearly wishing her Master or indeed any Master had been here. @[member="Kahne Porte"] @[member="Arumi Zy"]

What are you doing Nato? What are you doing? She whispered under her breath, edging along the side of the wall. The Kiffar girl gulped, whatever was going on inside there, she really didn't want to see, but who else was here? Was anyone alive? Phew some were, helping the wounded who had made it out, a few senators and politicians alike, and dressing what wounds she could with ripped cloth or bandage. She bit her lip, clasping aurora in her hands, this was probably the dumbest thing she'd done in her life. At least she'd saved a few lives, getting a few solemn nods of thanks, she waved them off when they advised her to leave, today there wasn't any leaving for her.

Rounding the last corner, that last step was the hardest. The blood all of it, flames and two men intent on destroying the world to see each other burn. Her midnight eyes were on fire! "Hey!" This petite little thing shouted at both Masters, this 5ft something wisp of girl standing completely still, staring them both down. "You're so tough, huh, you need to break the world in half to show it?" She stared at them, moving her head between them, just a girl, just a young inexperienced girl calling them out, with all the fire of a Sith Master in voice, "Breaking the walls make you feel big? Betcha can't even hit me," There was a curl of her mouth, darting off behind one of the still standing seats, hiding down, and clutching Aurora more scared than you'd ever believe, the fear welling from her was very real now. Another hand slipped out a holdout blaster from beneath her sleek red dress, and she breathed deep, you could literally hear her heart pounding away a hundred miles an hour.

What did I just do.... great Nato, just great. She had to buy some time for those left here, come on buck up girl, but what could she do? Apart from make angry men just more angry, maybe that was enough, maybe she could get to some of the injured. She had to try right, someone had to try.

Spoiler

love this OOC, IC she's just trying hard to get your attention

 

[Serah Oricion]

Yusan stood and stared at the carnage caused by the Sith Masters, there was so much that had been done that he was powerless to the two. But he had to do something as he stared at the wounded around him and sighed, he strode forward and removed his saber from the clip on his back. So much for keeping this a secret. He breathed in and used his knowledge of telekinetic to lift a piece of rock off a trapped woman, then cut a pipe in half to save a man. After this his knowledge of the force and his use of a lightsaber would no longer be secret, but these people needed his help more than his secret need be kept. He rushed about, freeing and helping as many people, hoping that the two Sith, @[member="Jacen Cavill"] and @[member="Mikhail Shorn"], did not see him. But of course some moron had tried to play hero, he watched as @[member="Natol'ine"] came out and shouted at the masters. He cursed under his breath and gripped his saber tight before turning his head to one of the people he had freed. "Help as many as you can, i have to go save someone else." He turned and darted away without receiving a response, heading right to Natoline, hoping to get there and stop her before one of the Sith took her as a threat.

 

[Marek S'hadar]

He was here, after all these years, fate threw S'hadar a curveball, all the years of training to fight the rage, and the thirst for vengeance, were now challenged immensely. "Shorn..." He growled, marching in through the doors of the senate building. He saw what was an interesting site, two Sith throwing down, some padawan with a death wish screaming at them, and that arrogant senator from Balmorra.


This would be an interesting fight.


Drawing one of his sabers from his side and flipping it into his usual reverse grip, he ignited the cobalt blade. But if there was something about @[member="Mikhail Shorn"], it was that he wasn't one for a good 'ole saber duel, no he liked hurling you around like a doll to see what your armor's concussion rating was. Sadly Marek lacked a helmet, but he did have better armor, following the example of DragonsFlame, Marek crafted his Magnus metal into armor which he wore under his robes. It was by far a step up from what he had the last time he faced Shorn.


Watching as he laid into @[member="Jacen Cavill"] with shards of glass, Marek smirked as his foe gave him an idea. Reaching out in the force he grabbed his own little collection of razor sharp debris, and propelled them at the man he'd been dreaming of killing since he was 15. Shorn had made a mark on Marek that day on Mygeeto, one Marek intended to make him regret leaving. It was karking payback time.


Now he just had to not get his ass kicked like all the other times. That'd be bad.

 

[Garza]

Morna Imura, a man that had fled to the city of Courscant at the age of 9. He lived here for most of his life. Even then, he would still come back every once a while just to see if anything had changed. Recently some of the towns people have been talking of a new man in the office that ran the whole shabang. Now as I was dressed nicely in a simple tux, I was not unarmed or unarmored. The light armor of my Sentinel robes that I wore beneath the suit were light, yet comfortable. as I was one to be different, my suit had a belt made of a wrap around chain that second as a whip. Walking up the steps of the Capitol I could see police running up to there. Smiling I grabbed my saber hilt and followed them.

Each one of them carried a pistol or rifle of some kind. Even with the 15 men that were coming in there, I could already hear the flash of sabers and force powers being used. just the complete rage of the room came out in waves against my skin. The two men fighting where very much known to me. Jacen Cavill, the Nobelmen that ruled with an Iron fist, and the man who I had once tried to kill. The second man, Mikhail Shorn I only knew of stories from others that I had met. Possibly he was a man the man that even some Masters would never trifle with.

The men ran to the door only to stop and stare in amazement of the Sith lord Flying. Walking up behind them I grabbed the Captain by the collar of his uniform. "Leave if you wish to live." My saber ignited and my eyes burned with fire that only a few could ever produce. I let the man go as he stepped back. Both of the men here that were fighting would finish their duel. Even if others tried to get past and stop it, They would have to go through me. As I had a respect for the man Jacen, Darth Kryptos, ether of his names mattered nothing to me.

"If anyone comes near, they will end up like the guard on the floor." I pointed to the man that Jacen had probably stabbed earlier. A burning hole in his neck that exited from the back of his head. The group of men started to come towards me and ever so gingerly did I smile. The broken rubble of the floor began to float around me and then be tossed at the group of men. With cries of pain they left after trying to shoot me a few times. Each shot was blocked, easily with a flick of my wrist.

Only did I look to see that people were already in the room along with the two Sith masters. Smiling I looked to see an Echani and a red headed woman yell at them. Walking over the Echani clearly tried to stop the woman from saying anything to the two. With a ball of fire that formed in my left hand I threw it at the woman. wanting to shut her up and let the fighting lords continue. "Say another word and I will cut your tongue out miss."

Turning around I saw another man clearly a Jedi, throw debries at Mikhail Smiling I sent a torent of flames at the debries hot enough that the melted into nothing in the air.
@[member="Natol'ine"], @[member="Yusan Fenn"], @[member="Jacen Cavill"], @[member="Mikhail Shorn"] @[member="Marek S'hadar"]

 

[Marek S'hadar]

Bad. Karking. Move. Marek's eyes darted towards @[member="Morna Imura"], narrowing as they locked onto the man. Had this been three years ago, Marek would've bisected the man where he stood without a second thought, but this was now, and he had to use some control. "I'd stay out of business that isn't your own, this is my vendetta, and I will complete it, standing in my way would be a bad idea." He said firmly, turning away from the man.

"One more thing," He began, looking back at him once more. "following up the threat on the girl would also be a bad idea." He finished, turning away and hurling a piece of senate pod at @[member="Mikhail Shorn"].

 

[Garza]

I smiled at the man. I could see the veins in his neck as he tried to hold his anger. He must have gotten some control over in recent, but I smirked as he sent a threat my way. As the man threw another object I caught it with the force and changed the path that it was flying in to crash out a window. "Jedi allways think they are the law when they have no room to talk." My saber hummed as I started at the man's back. My eyes were lit with fire and my suit was already melting to reveal my armor from the intense heat that my body gave off.

"I can say whatever the feth I want weather you like it or not." Raising my left hand into a fist I took a moment to stare at it as another ball of flames formed. "Nobody is going to intervene in the fight between the Lords. If you do, Then you may have a death wish that I need to fulfill." After I had spoke I sent another stream of flames at the man. For every meter that we stood apart the flames spanned out to encompass the man's stance. Each tongue of flame was a deep orange filled with little sparks of yellow and red, but what made my heart swell was the slight purple tint that seemed to flicker in and out.

"Like it or not, You're not fighting Shorn or Cavill."
@[member="Marek S'hadar"]

 

[Jasper Void]

[SIZE=10pt]Personal Cloaking Device (( [/SIZE][SIZE=10pt]Objective[/SIZE] [SIZE=10pt]: Complete a role-play without your character by only describing the scenery and actions of other characters from NPC perspectives without changing the course of the story directly. Ask for permission from the participants before engaging. ))[/SIZE]


[SIZE=10pt]The carpets of various Senator's office required daily cleaning, and while this was beyond annoying to Janitor Fred it did employ him. As he finished his last room for the day he ignored the loud banging he heard from the Senate room itself[/SIZE]. Those Senators were always fighting amongst themselves over nonsense, and in the end nothing got done as far as the common man was concerned. Fred however very pleased to help one of the Senator's by stealing a piece of candy off their desk. What need did a fething Senator have for candy anyway with their thorny, honey tongue.


It was not however an ordinary day in the Senate building, and Fred was soon introduced to just how odd the day was as he looked over the pristine office he'd just finished off on. Yes, sir he had been doing this for years, and he could clean a room with the best! It was then that he heard the banging getting ever closer as the walls seemed to shudder with the sound. bang....BANG.....BANG... what in the name of the force?.... BANG, and with that last one came the flying body of one Jacen Cavil through the office wall ruining what had been a perfectly vacuumed floor. He also completely destroyed the wall, and his body had shattered the Senator's desk, and this wasn't coming out of Fred's pay!


Walking over to the wall where the man got yanked back out of Fred knew he should be running, but hell this was something interesting. Walking through a pair of walls he luckily didn't arrive to the final hole in time to see the telekinetic match up. If he had he'd have been dead just from the blow back, but he was still to close for his own health. The entire wall before him blew into pieces as two titans wrestled like gods in the Senate Chambers. Fred he was already dead, or at least would be shortly he believed as shrapnel from the wall that now covered the floor was all around him. One fairly spear like piece had pierced his thigh straight through. Seems there would be no more running for Fred from his view of this fight.


He crawled towards the great opening where the wall once stood, and beheld the gladiatorial arena within. Little did Fred know the end was near as he lay above Cavill, just a few floors up his head poking out of a wall. The storm created by Shorn didn't care that he neither the intended target, nor that he was just a simple janitor. The only luck he did have was that it ended soon. Even as he looked up to stare the abyss in the eye he could feel the cold weight of death's hand on him. He didn't close his eyes, or hide from it inside. There was no point, death was already here for him. Then without any party have ever caring that Fred was there, or that anyone was there a piece of durasteel flew through Fred's head and his life's blood drained out on the floor behind Jacen Cavil. His last thought... Where were the Jedi in the midst of all this death?

 

[Jasper Void]

Number two!

[SIZE=10pt]Personal Cloaking Device (( [/SIZE][SIZE=10pt]Objective[/SIZE] [SIZE=10pt]: Complete a role-play without your character by only describing the scenery and actions of other characters from NPC perspectives without changing the course of the story directly. Ask for permission from the participants before engaging. ))[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10pt]Of course our friendly janitor wasn't the only uninvolved death on the field this day. There was also a lovely young woman named Maya, just graduated out of the police academy with high honors. She was idealistic, and physically tough, the Coruscant police had high hopes for her. As such she'd been assigned to [/SIZE]a department that included policing the Senate building, and as such had arrived before the first Jedi.


The Chamber itself was in rubble, most of the floating pods scattered about the room, and floor. The dead, dying, and injured seemed genuinely hopeless to their case. A single man, a Senator in all actuality if Maya remembered her briefings correctly seemed to be using a lightsaber to cut people free. She didn't have time to question it though, she was just glad to see someone helping. Another had come to aid as well a female Jedi shouting at the mad men in the center of the floor. "Breaking the walls make you feel big? Betcha can't even hit me."

Apparently someone was arriving from the council now, and hopefully she was a master, but Maya knew in her heart a Master Jedi would arrive wouldn't they? They'd come to save the day for the sake of the Republic, and its people. Then came in the third party a male Jedi, and no Maya's heart lit up with hope as she herself charged with her squad towards a fourth man. This one was also obvious a Jedi just by his burning eyes, and it was with excitement she raced towards him.


Her excitement was increased to a near bursting level as he pulled debris around him with his force powers, but her hoped died there. For the floating chunks weren't sent against the destructive Sith Lords, but rather against the security team. A large chunk hit her with a sickening thud as her legs simply gave out on her, and she fell to the ground. Her face just begged the question her lips could never ask, why? She heard the blaster fire, but only say the bright color as they flew over her face. Her last sight was the debris flying above her at the combatants, destroyed by the man she thought a Jedi. Her last sensation a the burning pain she couldn't cry away, nor scream in pain as the still burning bits fell on her body, one lovely bit burning right into her eye as the world went black

 

[Marek S'hadar]

"If I can survive Shorn while dueling another Knight, I can survive you. You couldn't kill me if you tried." Marek stated with blunt and brutal honesty. As flames burst towards him he blasted them back with the force. Turning towards him, Marek walked forwards, saber ignited, the tip of the blade peeking out from behind his left shoulder as he moved forward. Rage had been his weapon as a Sith, now his weapon was an ice cold demeanor which gave him a level head and the ability to function. His face was emotionless as he approached Morna, ready to dispose of him and move on. Leading off with a blast of force energy Marek darted across the distance between them and slashed across his stomach.

@[member="Morna Imura"]

 

[Garza]

A smirk grew across my face as the fires that I threw were thrown back. My clothes burned now, even then, the fell away to leave only my armor. As the man turned around I put on my mask that hid my face and protected it with phrik made from Alchemists of the Sith Empire. My crimson hood came up on its own to cover the rest of my head. His taunt of taking on Shorn once before was a move to make me scared, however, I knew that there was no way this man could best me. I swung my saber experimentally as drips of lava fell from the blade. The Lava crystal inside was the source of this phenomenon.

The Jedi clearly had not the heart of one as he sent his saber towards my stomach. As he came ever so closer with the Force sprint I flicked my wrist as I sidestepped to let the man fly past me and smack his saber away, but he was not getting off easy. I had once fought a man like him. Ever so thoughtful of his great talent in the force. Yet now after the fight I learned of my mistakes taken back then. Time seemed to slow as I started this fight with him. letting him slide by me not even attempting to harm him as he did so, Showed that I was in control of myself. This other man clearly had rage with him. He had used it before, and he could use it well, but rage led to mishaps and mistakes. and now I was going to show him what mistake he made of messing with me.

A fire ball formed in my left hand again only as I threw it, laced within the tongues of flame was blue electricity caused by the both shaping powers and the force. Slowly did I test the waters that the man had. Seeing what he could or couldn't do. From there, I would gauge how I needed to use my own powers to overcome him. "You could have never survived Shorn as he is now, and I will show that you can not survive me as I am one who is like none of you."

@[member="Marek S'hadar"]

 

[Marek S'hadar]

Great, it was one of those guys, the ones who tried to dodge everyblow sent his way and trying to prove he was the one who had control. Marek knew the type, they made up 50% of all his past opponents. He chuckled as the man calmed Marek couldn't have survived Shorn as he was now, had he been three years younger, this would be true. But it wasn't the case now.

He didn't even try to stop the flame, simply raising his saber and absorbing the lightning, the fireball simply burned away his robes, leaving the metal armor exposed to the world. Marek had played with electricity since he was an enraged five year old who'd just watched his adoptive mother die before his eyes on the streets if this city he had called home. He wouldn't be defeated by it now.

"Is that truly all you can do?" He asked bluntly, unimpressed with the Shaper's attempt at showing his power. If he wanted to gauge Marek's power, he would have to see it when it was in his face. Opening his palm he slowly began to build up energy, which he would put to use soon.

@[member="Morna Imura"]