Darth Vazela
( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
@[member="Mikhail Shorn"]
It was over. The battle was won with the Emperors fall, for his manipulator now had no use of him. Darth Vazela, the man who had stood beside him, now realized that the weakness that Tyrin Ardik displayed was now made apparent by the usurper before him. This was what Mikhail Shorn and the Sith Lord that was sat before him had in common. They knew how weak Tyrin actually was. A brilliant strategist although he was, if such men were capable of defeating the dark side, then there would be no Sith Empire to speak of. The Republic and the Jedi would have won long ago.
Darth Vazela rose to his feet slowly, the specks of blood, rubble and dusty remnants of the obsidian throne floating around him, within the field of Force energy that he had accumulated since entering the the room. He had underestimated Mikhail Shorn. The artifact that he wielded, the Soulsaber, was capable of many things. The power behind the Phrik pellets thrown towards him was so, that it would take all of the accumulated Vazela had to barrier himself, say they destroyed him completely. A true Sith realizes defeat and knows when to retreat.
The pieces of rubble, dust and blood dropped around him, as he solidified the energy surrounding him into a Force Barrier. Powerful than what it normally would've been, the Force Barrier that was erected stood strong against the Phrik. When they impacted, they stood pressed up against the field, as the power of Mikhail's abilities and his own clashed. As his barrier threatened to give way, with the sound of cracking emitting from his position, the balls of Phrik fell and so did the barrier, seconds later.
Sweat came out of his glands profusely, from the amount of concentration he had utilized to build the energy in the first place. He was now exhausted, from the amount of concentration he had needed to time his reaction to Mikhail's shots. But he stood up right, his yellow, predatory eyes locked on his. He removed his Lightsaber from his belt and ignited the crimson beam outwards. When it looked like he was about to move in to strike Mikhail, he instead spun the cylinder object around and pressed the beam up against the wound on his arm. The heat of the Lightsaber cauterized the severed artery, stopping the bleeding. A quick fix for a long time problem. He would address that problem later.
He turned the Lightsaber off and lowered his left arm. He averted his gaze from Mikhail to the all those in the room and found himself looking at the fallen body of a man who once called himself the Dark Lord of the Sith. He was done with Tyrin. It was time for a fresh approach.
"It appears our valiant defense of our Emperor has failed, Mikhail Shorn." Turning his gaze back to the man, as the pellets rolled around him. "You've won. Congratulations. Our defense is over."
It was over. The battle was won with the Emperors fall, for his manipulator now had no use of him. Darth Vazela, the man who had stood beside him, now realized that the weakness that Tyrin Ardik displayed was now made apparent by the usurper before him. This was what Mikhail Shorn and the Sith Lord that was sat before him had in common. They knew how weak Tyrin actually was. A brilliant strategist although he was, if such men were capable of defeating the dark side, then there would be no Sith Empire to speak of. The Republic and the Jedi would have won long ago.
Darth Vazela rose to his feet slowly, the specks of blood, rubble and dusty remnants of the obsidian throne floating around him, within the field of Force energy that he had accumulated since entering the the room. He had underestimated Mikhail Shorn. The artifact that he wielded, the Soulsaber, was capable of many things. The power behind the Phrik pellets thrown towards him was so, that it would take all of the accumulated Vazela had to barrier himself, say they destroyed him completely. A true Sith realizes defeat and knows when to retreat.
The pieces of rubble, dust and blood dropped around him, as he solidified the energy surrounding him into a Force Barrier. Powerful than what it normally would've been, the Force Barrier that was erected stood strong against the Phrik. When they impacted, they stood pressed up against the field, as the power of Mikhail's abilities and his own clashed. As his barrier threatened to give way, with the sound of cracking emitting from his position, the balls of Phrik fell and so did the barrier, seconds later.
Sweat came out of his glands profusely, from the amount of concentration he had utilized to build the energy in the first place. He was now exhausted, from the amount of concentration he had needed to time his reaction to Mikhail's shots. But he stood up right, his yellow, predatory eyes locked on his. He removed his Lightsaber from his belt and ignited the crimson beam outwards. When it looked like he was about to move in to strike Mikhail, he instead spun the cylinder object around and pressed the beam up against the wound on his arm. The heat of the Lightsaber cauterized the severed artery, stopping the bleeding. A quick fix for a long time problem. He would address that problem later.
He turned the Lightsaber off and lowered his left arm. He averted his gaze from Mikhail to the all those in the room and found himself looking at the fallen body of a man who once called himself the Dark Lord of the Sith. He was done with Tyrin. It was time for a fresh approach.
"It appears our valiant defense of our Emperor has failed, Mikhail Shorn." Turning his gaze back to the man, as the pellets rolled around him. "You've won. Congratulations. Our defense is over."
