Outcast
A freezing shadow appeared at the outermost edge of Bernard's vision. His eyes had barely moved to focus it when half his vision disappeared.
Crepuscular tendrils melted through his eyelids. The words echoing in the wind never reached his ears.
Bernard's knees buckled and bent. He fell, screaming into the burning skies above, and clutched the left side of his face.
HRAAAGH
It burned. Caustic fire, burning deep. Burning deeper.
Half of the world ceased to be.
He screamed again, guttural and from deep within his lungs.
AAARRRKGH
....There is a satisfaction that is felt when inflicting pain to your enemy. To know how far your training and sacrifice's in the name of vision and power takes you. Before I witnessed the product of pure growth. As was by design.
As I landed my vicious blow, the tips of my noxious finger searing his flesh, a rush of satisfaction flooded through me. The Jedi recoils, pain etched across his face, and I felt an overwhelming surge of superiority. This is what it means to harness the Dark Side, to bend the universe to my will. Each scream, each cry of anguish from Bernard was a testament to my growth, to my ascension and training. A melody of suffering that fueled me and yet was conducted by my own hand.
I watched him, the Jedi scum, as the biological functions take over. The eyes widened, pupils dilating with a primal fear that grips him. The fight, flight, or freeze response was almost palpable, a dance of survival instincts laid bare before me. His breathing grew ragged, each gasp a desperate attempt to stave off the inevitable. It is a surreal experience, observing the unraveling of his composure, the breaking of his very body.
" And here I thought Jedi were powerful! Stand up Jedi!" I taunted aloud and laughed. Like rubbing salt into a wound. I laughed. My voice booming through the currents of the winds woven with the force.
Suddenly, that cold snapped to new lows. The blood around his hands froze to crystals. A thin sheet of frost expanded over his hands and right-side face. Temperatures continued dropping. The freezing point had long been abandoned for greater depths.
Thin strands of mist escaped from beneath his hands, still tightly holding his face.
He doubled over forwards, facing the ground on his knees.
The burning corrosion disappeared. But the pain remained. A freezing fire took its place.
He screamed again, curled and on his knees, into his chest, into nothing.
GRRAAAAAH
The cold expanded. Frost crept along the hems of his sleeves. The blood crystallized in his robes and glinted under the red-orange sun of the war above. Beneath him, the metal began to shine as ice slowly formed on its surface. Mist pearled off his robes as the very air began to go so cold the nitrogen froze to dust.
The cold knew no mercy. Everything it caught succumbed, froze, and perished in time.
The cold presence that Prowler perceived to be himself, that cold chill that exuded seemed to grow exponentially. But it was not my own. With one hand still hovering over the Sword of the Jedi, the Filar Nitzan turned his attention to a retreating Kyric with a devilish grin. The gaseous smoke demon originated his attack from the cover of the boys shadow and now he had moved. Whether it was intentional or not was beyond any reason because Prowler deemed it otherwise.
The cold crept silently...
From the floor the Dark Jedi arose pivoting in place and extending a tendril of smoke that crackled with the pops of electricity. From the depths within the Dark Jedi's own internal abyss he dived and harnessed the control needed to lash out and subdue. Not Bernard. His target was the weakened Kyric as the master of dread and fellow Dark Side Elite arrived on the platform with a leap.
Into my very makeup it crept...
A dozen strands exploded out from the Prowlers chosen vestige of a limb. The wrackling energy threatening to seize hold of this Son of Ryv and restrict his movement any further. To torture. To humiliate. To cause fear in the face of immanent the threat that was Creuat . Attempting to bare an invisible weight over the padawan. A hold that was never meant to be. The Dark Jedi called to his own kind with a thrill in his eyes. " For our Master!" he exclaimed and suddenly his power strained.
I never felt or saw the threat in it coming. I, Prowler, made a mistake...
Attached to the floor Prowler looked down and felt his visage of electrified combat turn to horror as the ice rapidly began to neutralize his acidic nature and solidify into...Ice. As his gaseous nature transitioned into a solid, the only thing he could do was give a warning to his fellow Dark Jedi before the ice completely converted him and froze the Filar-Nitzan solid. " Creuat!" And with this new form the lightning would cease to be.
Like a sculpture.
Allies: Creuat Darth Solipsis Sahar
Jedi scum: Bernard Kyric Auteme Thalia Senn Damien Dooku
Objective: Buffering.
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