Bryn'adûl | Raid on Vasar

[Kartus Lok]

The whine of blasters, the smell of ozone filled the air around Kartus as he held his blaster rifle up to his shoulder, the weapon almost thrumming as red bolts of energy lit up the air around him. The man took his time, aiming each shot aimed to hit the creatures massed before them. It was like shooting fish in a barrel, in fact Kartus only wished that he'd had hte forethought to bring heavy weapons with him. With the teams position they could have mown through the creatures, turning the building into a deathtrap, at least until superior numbers came against them as it seemed was inevitable, now though, without the heavy weapons it was like they were spraying water into an inferno, they just couldn't put out enough fire to make a difference.

Kartus knew that they'd have to retreat eventually, he just didn't think it would be so soon, but the vibrations shaking the building soon put an end to that the crash of the doors flying open breaking through the sound of the blasters as Kartus glanced back towards the stairs. That...didn't sound good, not at all. The man took a step back, reaching out to tap the nearest two soldiers on the shoulder as he gestured at the stairs, waving his hand at the portal as he paced back towards it. The soldier took a deep breath before he inched his gun around the corner, peering down the sights as he slowly padded back into the building, the soldiers filing in behind him to cover their commander.

[member="Naramphra"] | [member="Jend-Ro Quill"] | [member="Orex Mauda"] | [member="Marcus Rail"] | [member="Tathra Khaeus"] |

 

[Tathra Khaeus]

​What had been in reality ten seconds of concentrated fire, felt like rather an eternity. On the ground, damaged vehicles danced through broken streets and fragile buildings collapsed into rubble. A mesh of grey and scorched black became the flattened vicinity of the dig site. Flames engulfed in rising fumes sat on the edges of the circular planetary incision. Small pockets of smouldering metal dotted the battlefield, the colony's upper half was by majority a scorched ruin.

​The Bryn'adûl in the immediate vicinity had gathered together, hunkering down amongst the rubble momentarily as now their objective was complete; awaiting command. A Bryn'adûl troop carrier was inbound, ready to deliver Tathra from the front lines to the heart of the smouldering city.

​Accessing the Battlenet, Tathra spoke to all the Bryn'adûl forces in the immediate system. ​"[Draelvasier]: Shaman Krait'ma, you have the field. Take them. End, them. I will deal with the Precursor's Relic."

​The troop carrier arrived, taking the Chieftain to the heart of the city as the Bryn'adûl forces that remained turned their gaze upon the remaining infantry on the planet. One of the two frigates launched a two Hel Shards, releasing a Obalisc onto the field each on the battlefield. The two Obalisc Destroyers tendrils would enter the air, their crystallised stomachs crackling as if thunder raged within; their tendrils unleashing powerful beams of energy to wipe out the remaining vehicles assisting the colonists.

​In cohesion with the landing of the Destroyers, the Bryn'adûl would initiate a massive push, intent on crushing the colonist forces. The Chieftain leapt from the carrier as it hovered above the dig site, landing a few metres away from the incision point. The Zealots stood in formation, five titans in total; vigilant even within the smouldering ruin.

​Here, the battle seemed distant; secondary. Tathra's mind was captured by the relic. It had eluded them twice before, but now it was within his grasp. Tathra found his feet on the edge of the hole, eyes switching between the various visions available to the titan. Even still, their was no sign of life in the depths below. Eyes lingered for but a moment longer as Tathra relinquished the grasp of his Mace, allowing it to sit on its head as he dropped downward.

​First his feet collided with the curvature of the ground, kicking up a tundra of dirt as he grinded to a halt - falling on his hands as the Relic boomed with a light - acknowledging the movement of the titan in its presence. The titan's eyes readjusted to the strange luminescent light that ebbed and flowed against the marble hexagonal shape.

​"[Draelvasier]: Pay heed to my strength, Precursor of my blood."

​A faint light trapped within the metal, like liquid caught within planes of glass. The titan stopped in his tracks, titian eyes flickering as a hesitant arm rose. In its place, a confident hand reached out - placing the armoured fingertips against one of the relics many faces. The presence of living flesh seemed to awaken the relic, its metallic tendrils of flesh slithering beneath the plates. A heat ebbed from the mass within the relic as the relic invaded the Chieftians mind with a hundred images.

​Strange and distorted, the titan attempted to banish the assault - forcing the tidal wave of energy back to the relic, silencing it. The relic appeared to obey, recognising Tathra's genome. Tathra leapt from the dig site, the relic slowly followed.

​"[Draelvasier]: Return the Relic to the ship, we will depart once the enemy ships are torn from the sky."

​Tathra commanded the Mace to his left hand, its weight a familiar comfort as the carrier returned; ready to deliver the Chieftain to the front. They would finish this quickly.

​-

​Above in the sky, the Decimus lay dormant momentarily, its planetary objective complete as the ship turned; its full weaponry now turned on the three corvettes. First, the weaker ship would be taken from the sky. Then the remaining two as the Decimus began to close the distance toward the corvettes.

| [member="Naramphra"] | [member="Jend-Ro Quill"] | [member="Orex Mauda"] | [member="Marcus Rail"] | [member="Kartus Lok"] | ​

 

[Bayaz]

Marcus' eyes fluttered open and his nostrils flared as he quickly sat up alertly. There was a haze over the city now, but he could still hear blaster fire in the distance which meant the monsters were still here. His armor was covered in dust, soot, and whatever else and his head was ringing louder than a Atrisian Gong. A hand reached up to steady his head and he groaned.

"I-I'm good, thank you err," He looked down at the dusty old man. He didn't know what to call him. He hadn't fought with a Jedi in years and he didn't remember if they preferred just simply being called Jedi or if they actually kept their names after giving up their life outside of the temple.

"Master Jedi," he decided on, "Thank you Master Jedi." He grabbed a stray rifle near him and stood up shakily. He needed to get his bearings before he could answer the man. He tapped the datapad strapped into his wrist and gawked at the length of time he'd been out. His reinforcement timer was ticking down and they were down to single digit minutes before help arrived. But if the cloud of debris around them and the terrifying roar from deeper in the city were anything to go by they didn't have much time left.

"Retreat. There should be a CorSec Trooper Barrack near here. We need to get these people to safety. The CDF should be here soon. We just need to protect them until then." He reached into his utility belt and grabbed a flare gun. Without his helmet's com there wasn't any way to communicate to other squads in the city. He pointed the gun into the air and fired, letting loose a bright green flare. Corellian soldiers and Shock Troopers would see the signal and understand it meant to fall back. They had come in woefully unprepared for whatever this was. They needed to regroup and hold up together until help arrived.

[member="Naramphra"] [member="Jend-Ro Quill"] [member="Orex Mauda"] [member="Tathra Khaeus"] [member="Kartus Lok"] [member="Carter Pierce"]

 

[Jend-Ro Quill]

"I'm nobody's master. Call me Quill."

He flinched as [member="Marcus Rail"]'s flare gun spat actinic green light. So did more than a few of the survivors who'd followed him, as if he knew where to go and what to do. Fortunately, thanks to the trooper, now he did. Well, more or less. But a guide was as good as a map, right?

As the group of civilians formed up to follow the trooper, Quill adjusted his bandages and took up the rear guard, the trailing position. He kept his lightsabre off so as not to draw attention. The Force murmured that something very wrong was happening, but not here and not now. Better to stay with the civilians who needed immediate help, he decided, even if they talked too much. People always came with questions attached. And opinions.

People were the worst.

He flinched again as, far overhead, a ship exploded. The thunder of it came a couple of minutes later, percolating down from high atmosphere. There'd be debris raining in soon enough. Best to get under cover by then.

 

[Gaia Sunaris Cadera]

Naramphra bashed through the door onto a large, expansive room. A brutal, intense howl erupted from her lips - showing razor sharp teeth as one finger sliced into the door. She was coming - whether they were ready or not. Her mind raced with scenarios of who she smelled, sensed inside the room. It was time for their end.

She found the man, crawling away. Selfish, she thought. Hiding away while the rest of his people die in the streets below. Was there no opponent worthy of her here? Maybe there was a worthy opponent, somewhere. It was pretty clear most of the others below on the streets were not prepared. Including some of her own batch of troops. Death came for them but at least they died in battle and only meant improvement to the next batch.

Nonetheless, she walked slowly over to the man who begged on his knees for mercy. One sharp finger ended his life. A loud scream, likely heard throughout the building, as he began to crumple over. Death was a little too fast for him.

[member="Kartus Lok"]

 

[Kartus Lok]

The howl echoed through the building, punctuated only by the sound of a man screaming in pain, in horror, before the sound cut out with a strangled sob. Kartus could feel the hairs on the back of his neck standing up on end. he'd seen Jedi and Sith on the battlefield before, he'd even managed to fight them. This feeling though, it wasn't anything like their Hokey religion, no this was a sensation born of years of experience,learned the hardway. There was something downstairs, something waiting for them.

The soldier took one, two, three deep breathes, closing his eyes for a brief moment before waving a hand, signalling his troops to advance down the stairs, flashlights out as they shone the thin beams across the warehouse floor. Life would have been so much easier if it was just one big open space, but shelves and discarded piles of debris littered the floor. "Stay frosty, somethings in here with us, so, lets show it that they picked the wrong planet to come and mess with today." Speech done he waved a hand forward, taking point himself he swung his light from side to side, taking a cautious step forward and then the other, whoever was down here, he'd find them, it was the only way to get his men back to their homes in one piece.

[member="Naramphra"] | [member="Jend-Ro Quill"] | [member="Marcus Rail"] | [member="Tathra Khaeus"]

 

[Mauda]

The Myrkur settled itself into the ground as the ground-party arrived from the City. Orex, dragging a Bryn'adul corpse with him, paced up to the boarding ramp and ascended into the Black Corvette, Vof Vorn following close behind with their own fleshy souvenirs. He navigated deep into the ship, to the back where the Holding Cells were located. He brought himself to a stop outside one such cell and punched the panel. The door slid open and Orex, with complete lack of grace, threw the abhorrent corpse into the cell, its fleshy mass impacting the furthest wall with a thud and splatter before coming to rest on the floor in a heap.

Waving the door shut behind him, Orex took himself to the Bridge. Shutters closed, the room lit up with a live feed of their surroundings. Vof Vorn began to fill out the bridge as they returned from corpse-storage, taking positions while the Rector began to fire up the engines. The Corvette rose from the ground, kicking up clouds of dust as it did.

"Strafe the City"

Orex's baritone, artificial voice commanded. Immediately, the Myrkur began to adjust itself, pointing towards the ruins of a City still alive with warfare. The Plasma engine behind it burst into life and cracked the sky with its terrible noise, rapidly taking them towards the City. They passed low over the centre of the Fight, the walker still standing and groups of Corellian soldiers grouped in various places. As they passed, the hyper-velocity cannons hidden within the ship's hull revealed themselves and, just as they had entered, began to shell everything below them sowing chaos and indiscriminate death. It then pulled up and tore out of the atmosphere, igniting the air around it and creating an ascending fireball.

[member="Kartus Lok"]
[member="Naramphra"]
[member="Jend-Ro Quill"]
[member="Marcus Rail"]
[member="Tathra Khaeus"]

(OOC: I'm pretty much gone unless Tathra and his fleshy spaceships decide to have a go)

 

[Tathra Khaeus]

​The battle continued to rage, small pockets of CorSec continued to battle knowing that their failure would take them to the grave unfulfilled. When Tathra arrived on the battle, he had retired his Mace for a more simplistic Axe; choosing a more intimate weapon to fight alongside his troops. A righteous zealotry invigorated the nearby troops. Allowing the Bryn'adûl to butcher the remaining pockets of fortified resistance with no great effort.

Tathra made his way through the lengths of the battlefield, hacking and cutting down multitudes. The colony had been flattened, their towers and cities now making a fine rubble graveyard for their corpses. The minutes past slow, and the guard changed. Soon, Drones and Fighters were replaced with War Beasts roaming the sky, a detachment that would stay to finish off the Corellians that hid. Savage Drones roamed in small herds, searching for the remaining survivors.

​The titan stopped in his tracks, a spurt of blood painting his chest as the edge of his Axe emptied the chest of the last man standing. Green flares rose into the sky, a call for hope. The Chieftain wondered what exactly they lay their hopes in, those that so defiantly stood out to the carnivorous horde. It was simply indication of mere futile defiance, or the knowledge that hope was on the horizon. Who did they believe would come to their aid? Either way, it would not matter. The Bryn'adûl were on the hunt.

​Immediately Tathra turned to his left, hearing the distinct snap-hiss of a blade as two individuals fell. Titian eyes flashed to the typical vision used by humans, examining a small alcove in the rubble that lead downward.

​Tathra came to the edge of the drop-off, titian orbs searching for the source of interest. The vibrancy of the sky fell against Tathra's back, his shadow stretching forth along the length of the circular crater. His maw anchored downward; eyes seizing the man that stood amongst the fallen corpses of two Brutes. Multiple scorched strikes dotting each corpse that lay at the Force Wielder's feet.

​That was what the Chieftain noticed first, his footing was that of a bitter old veteran. Rough edged, but the muscles remember. They always do. Tathra's expression was as unassuming as the man's clothing. Both betraying the true nature of the warrior beneath. Tathra's eyes shifted from the Force Wielder for a moment as more Brute's approached, likely alerted by the extinguished vital signs of their brethren.

​Tathra raised a fist, gesturing for the Brutes to stop in their tracks.

The titan's gesture alone caused them to halt, but the order shout echoed through the crater, and the Brute's retracted hostile intentions; backing away from the lone wielder. Then, once again the Titan looked to the Force Wielder, the intrigue was enough to cause hesitance in allowing the Force Wielder to simple be shot down.

​The Chieftain held the Axe loosely in his left hand, the head hanging a few inches from the ground. Tathra leapt down into the crater, landing with a crunch as duracrete and rubble snapped and shook underfoot. Tathra stopped, iris lacking orbs matching the Wielder. ​"Strange place to find yourself, Force Wielder."

| [member="Orex Mauda"] | [member="Kartus Lok"] | [member="Naramphra"] | [member="Jend-Ro Quill"] | [member="Marcus Rail"] | ​

 

[Jend-Ro Quill]

Quill tried not to look at the two hulking creatures he'd just killed. He'd felt them go away, their life energies flowing back into the Cosmic Force for another go 'round the wheel. That didn't mean he had to like it.

Fortunately, he could focus on the massive alien and what looked like a two-hundred-pound axe.

He settled into a light and noncommittal stance, one of the many that Niman adopted from other forms - Ataru, in this case. Mobility would be his friend. Unreliable footing would be his enemy. He circled away from the two dead Bryn'adul as if he was tied on a string that anchored on [member="Tathra Khaeus"].

"I don't like that term," he mumbled past his blue saber. "The Force - it's not a weapon."

Knowledge and defence, never attack: the Jedi way, or at least the Jedi way that he'd been trained. Out of style these days, but who was he to judge?

 

[Tathra Khaeus]

​Tathra could feel the man's discomfort, the shift in his stance was reserved. The titan was not able to practically predict what the Force Wielder would do next, the only thing it revealed was the fact that he knew to hide such a thing. The first assumptions of experienced had now been rather explicitly confirmed.

​He was indeed no sage, fresh at combat. There was more stress and conflict woven into the elderly figures frame than solely the deterioration of time. Something of a reminded of the many black scorches that rode the length of his face and upward to the crown of his forehead. Even still, the plated maw remained expressionless until the Force Wielder pirouetted backward; allowing his vertical movement to become more diverse if necessary. Two large mounds of flesh at either side was never advisable. Then he spoke.

​Tathra's expression was warm, a crude smile carved from the bending plated flesh as a sort of realisation ran through his features. The Chieftain now stood where the Force Wielder had, opposite the two corpses, requiring but a third of the effort to arrive there. A nonchalant thrust with his right leg knocked the body on its back. The Chieftain's head anchored lower by a miniscule amount, eyes shifting to the body.

​Each of them had justifications for the slaughter, that was all that mattered. "I don't think he'd agree with you." ​The Chieftain responded, the warmth swept from his expression as the Axe rose slightly. ​"Not that it matters."

Tathra moved closer, two steps to the left at a quicker pace. Axe held in his left, hand grasping halfway up the shaft. Now moving directly toward [member="Jend-Ro Quill"].

 

[Jend-Ro Quill]

[SIZE=11pt]“You’re probably right.”[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Quill left it at that. The urge to dominate or escalate, verbally or otherwise, had never been particularly strong with him. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]He backed up and kept going, maintaining the same rough distance from [member="Tathra Khaeus"]. That wouldn’t last forever. Just seconds, in the end, because now he’d reached the steep part of the crater. Not quite back-against-the-wall, but close. He hopped up on a chunk of permacrete to put him at eye level with the monster. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]If that wasn’t an invitation for Khaeus to close in, nothing was. But on the other hand, someone that big and heavy wouldn’t depend solely on a big, heavy melee weapon. There’d be a ranged option. What form that might take was anyone’s guess. Khaeus’ body form, abilities, and gear were all unfamiliar to his eye. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Quill took a slow breath and let it out. The Living Force connected everyone and everything in this broken city: the survivors, the killers, the resistance such as it was. Pain and turmoil flowed through those connections, but that was all part and parcel of the natural ebb and flow of life and death, no different than a volcano burning a forest. The Force had seen everything, and remained.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Knowledge and defense, never attack. He waited. He wouldn't have to wait long.[/SIZE]

 

[Bayaz]

"Quill!" Marcus called from a little further ahead. Honestly, he doubted his beaten and battered self could have protected these people through this city of monsters as well as the mysterious Jedi had. He shifted his gaze to the larger of the beasts that seemed to be challenging the Jedi and he winced. He would just get in the way, and the small herd of people alongside him needed at least him to get to the shelter. He clenched his hands tightly at his side.

"Don't lose to that scaly bastard!" he shouted from the other side of the crater that was their arena. Marcus had other things to do and people to save. With a heavy heart he gave the Jedi a final nod and turned his back on the pair and began ushering the survivors away from the fight.

And no matter what happened and who won the fight, even if Marcus never saw the man again, he would always remember that the Jedi Knight Quill had saved him and these people and that even if the Jedi were scattered there would always be Light in the Galaxy when Darkness fell on the stars.

https://soundcloud.com/ewerton-fernando-1/binary-sunset-extended-star-wars-soundtrack

[member="Jend-Ro Quill"] [member="Tathra Khaeus"]

 

[Tathra Khaeus]

​Tathra snarled, his thickly armoured and gaunt exterior features filled with menace. Once more the Force Wielder retreated, standing a top of small mound that rose above the Chieftain's footing. Tathra slowed his movement as he drew closer, the Force Wielder remained beyond his reach.

​The smoke had began to rise from the fires, clouding the sky. Small pockets of light escaped as the Decimus Cruiser ripped into what remained of the Corellian Ships, the screams of hundreds dying felt so far off, engulfed amongst the zealotry war cries of the Bryn'adûl forces - their War Beasts roaming the sky, firing up those buildings that remained standing.

​Perhaps the Jedi did not realise it yet, but it didn't matter how much he didn't want to kill Tatrha - he'd have to if he wanted the killing to stop. Unless he did, it would never stop. Not until someone else did the job for him. Tathra's features settled into a focused trance, the Jedi was brave. But he was part of the problem.

​Tathra moved first, mass pressing forward in an explosive blur of controlled motion. Right foot forward and adjacent to the Force Wielder's step, his titan-like form anchoring toward the Force Wielder; at least five feet of distance between them as Tathra swung from the left in an upwards vertical swing, keeping the shaft of the Axe on the outside of his wrist - right hand raised in an open palm just behind the shaft, the head aiming for the upper abdomen of the Force Wielder.

​Tathra intended little more than to cause Quill to react, the first blow was only the beginning - a premature end was not expected.

​| [member="Marcus Rail"] | [member="Jend-Ro Quill"] |​

 

[Jend-Ro Quill]

[member="Tathra Khaeus"]

The Force could stabilize Quill's footing or give him the strength to block, but both would be asking too much. He met the axe with his sky-blue lightsaber and a tight two-handed grip. The permacrete chunk shifted under him and the force of the axe's passage threw him off his feet, back against the slope of the crater. Broken crete bit through his cloak. He flinched away, forward into a crouch, and flicked out to the side with the lightsaber. Molten stone sprayed across the space between them in fat drops, not enough to do real harm but maybe enough to keep Khaeus from closing the distance and pinning him against the crater's sloping wall. Already, Quill found himself breathing hard. Youth was a long time away.

He followed up -- he had to, for momentum's sake, or this alien warlord would crush him. Initiative, that was the word. He needed to take...initiative. Keeping both hands on the saber, he drew himself up and slammed a foot down as he breathed out. Broken ground shuddered and jarred under Khaeus with the force of a localized earthquake.

Even a monster could roll an ankle.

 

[Tathra Khaeus]

​Finally, reprisal.

​The Force Wielder was spry for his age, even when thrown down he was quick to rise again- body and blade moving in unison as the Wielder's Blade sprung outward from his crouched body. Sprinkles of heated rock fell with accelerated momentum, crashing against the plated mass of Tathra's torso. The legendary defiance of Jedi.

Hubris shined with gleeful malice in the eyes of the Titan. The molten was little more than dust & desperation to his resistant carapace, a surge of arrogance empowered his unrelenting stride as he drove at the Force Wielder once more as he rose to his feet. Axe raised above his left shoulder, the shaft crossing his body with either hand spaced along the upper to mid-way length of the weapon.

​With each bounding step, the weapon danced from left to right, arms moving in unison with his legs; ready to strike from either side. The ground erupted beneath his feet, left foot sliding forward as it landed on shifting earth, caught under rubble. Immediately, his form tensed to stillness as to avoid falter in his defence, eyes holding the Jedi, Axe held low.

​| [member="Jend-Ro Quill"] |​

 

[Jend-Ro Quill]

There was no more room to back up, not without jumping up out of the crater, and Quill's attention was elsewhere: on the oncoming monster, and on a potential counter.

More or less behind [member="Tathra Khaeus"], a good-sized chunk of permacrete shivered in the rubble. It was the same chunk that Quill had used as halfway firm footing just now. It spun, and protruding rebar scythed toward the back of Khaeus' knees. The chunk's centre of mass didn't move too quickly; the last thing Quill needed was to yank a projectile toward himself and let Khaeus score a serious hit by stepping out of the way.

Quill let out a quick half breath and lunged to meet him. While moving the permacrete and its rebar scythe, he couldn't spare much focus, so he went for a straightforward stab at Khaeus' big hands.

 

[Tathra Khaeus]

​Once more his opponent had delayed Tathra's assault, relying on the unorthodox. The outcome of their fight remained uncertain,
The Titan flinched, ripping his foot from the reshaped rubble; bringing his guard up as the shift in his momentum seemed to provoke an outward strike from the Jedi.

​Tathra released the Great-Axe into his right hand, gripping the mid-length of the shaft as he angled his forearm underside up and forward. The pommel was angled upward as the Axe drove down in the arc of the swing; the saber would crash against his gauntlet if it continued on its current course. Locomotive force swung the Axe, whilst also intending to push away the saber with the intent to disembowel the Jedi.

​| [member="Jend-Ro Quill"] |​

 

[Jend-Ro Quill]

[member="Tathra Khaeus"]

The permacrete and its rebar crunched against Tathra's knee from behind, but Quill was too busy to follow up on that. He'd made the titan flinch and that was enough.

Momentum could turn against you in a heartbeat, but it had its uses. Quill's lunge carried him forward and would have planted him squarely on the axe's blade. Instead he sank his weight into a strong stance as he took his left hand off the saber hilt and slammed the weapon down sideways. The saber hooked the axehead and smashed it down into the rubble. Now down low, right knee deeply bent, left foot far behind him, Quill reached out with his left and got a quick grip on the haft of the inverted axe. Or tried to, anyway; he missed the grab. The big weapon skidded through his fingers.

That meant he needed to disengage, and fast. Sure, he could have pressed the attack and entangled himself in close-quarters complexities, but that wasn't his first instinct, which meant delays if he went that way. So he shifted back from his lunge, quick as he could manage.

And then in again, a quick skip over the rubble. His sky-blue sabre flicked out at Khaeus' defenses, probing for ways to force him to get in his own way.

 

[Tathra Khaeus]

​Left leg. Again.

​The permacrete & rebar sped up, crushing into the back of the Titans knee. His foot tensed, crushing earth underfoot as his stance shifted; altering slightly as he mitigated the damage done by the Jedi. True, the Jedi's ploy had allowed him to manipulate the momentum of the Axe - but tricks could not save him from the folly of this crossing of paths.

​His size granted his reach and speed. Decades of training, lethality and monstrous strength.

​As the Axe's head found it self hooked by the Saber, Tathra pushed the Axe forward into the earth - carrying the saber in its hook to stretch the Jedi's defences. In unison, Tathra's muscle-bound mass anchored closer; his left arm came crashing down upon the Jedi in a blur of controlled motion, arm brought inward as the outside length of his forearm aimed to slam into the Jedi.

​If the jabbing arm connected with the Jedi's torso, many tons of force would rake his form; to potentially both disarm and throttle the Jedi against the inner wall of the alcove. Then Tathra would finish him.

​There was only so long the feeble physical form of the human could withstand the might of a powerful Drael.

​| [member="Jend-Ro Quill"] |​

 

[Jend-Ro Quill]

Quill's traction broke in a heartbeat. The Force and a Jedi's physical training mitigated the impact of [member="Tathra Khaeus"]' fist, but not enough. Ribs cracked. Small mercy: his body got a reasonable distraction from skidding up the crater and over the rim. Road rash was bad enough when the road was intact. Permacrete crumbles tore into his skin in half a dozen places.

Small mercy again: the impact hadn't knocked the wind out of him. He could still breathe, still think-

And his overriding thought was that Khaeus or an attack would follow him up out of the crater.