Somewhere in the CBD, Republic City, Hosnian Prime, The Core Worlds
Interacting With: [member="Koda Fett"] and [member="Aryn Teth"]
The small division of Magnaguard made their way through the city with surprising swiftness. The crimson and onyx clad Sith Apprentice followed their every move, moving from rooftop to rooftop until they found the Supreme Commander. Srina could feel him just as well as she could feel the air against her skin. Adrenaline that didn’t belong to her rolled through her veins, causing silver eyes to sharpen, while a mild sense of irritation flooded her. Koda Fett should not be here. He should be decomposing, rapidly, in the remains of a warehouse on Dorsis.
How in the seven hells had [member="Darth Metus"]
not killed him?
It was the million credit question. One that she indeed intended to find the answer of, however, it could wait until she rectified the problem. It seemed that for some reason her Master may or may not wish for the bounty hunter that vexed her Jedi to live. The slender woman felt anger roll through her in response to the pain Aryn was enduring. Just as she had in orbit, she felt it like a phantom wound, but it would not hinder her assault in any way.
“There.”, she spoke to the Magnaguard, glacier tones sharp, and entirely unforgiving.
“There is your target. Track, seek, and destroy.”
The unit split exactly in half as they leaped from the rooftop in order to descend on the filthy creature below. Five of them began to move in on the bounty hunter while four of the remaining forces splintered off in opposite directions to secure the area. One remained at her side. Every blow that Koda Fett landed on the Supreme Commander would be paid for. With interest. Srina Talon was not normally to encourage a sense of suffering when engaging with an opponent, but for some reason, she was feeling less and less forgiving.
Perhaps it was the WESTAR-34 currently aimed at Aryn’s head.
Silver eyes narrowed. The Force welled within her as she made her approach, twisting her sister’s halberd in hand, with clear intent. For the moment she did not seem to see the Commander. He was broken. Bleeding, in pain. All Srina could see was the armored man behind him. Her eyes flashed as a cold wrath snapped from her being like a tidal wave. Golden Sith corruption became startlingly bright and without warning, Koda Fett would find his blaster pistol wrenched from his grasp, and disassembled as it was thrown to the wayside.
“Go.”, she all but snarled, and the Magnaguard would dash ahead, leaping forward with the intention of driving him away from the Supreme Commander. There were no threats. Only action. He could fight, he could flee, and it would matter not. Koda Fett would think himself above or beyond the reach of the apprentice that chased him, but that notion, would turn to ash in his mouth. The Darkside gathered in her being the way that day become night. It cascaded without thought, sweeping, and consuming. In those moments, the Commander would be her opposite, as it should be.
If Fett moved toward Aryn Teth again he would not live to regret it.
Srina kept moving forward and activated the energy shield in her gauntlet before dropping down beside the Commander, keeping her shield, between them and the fighting that would soon ensue. Fett would have no choice. The droids under her command had very few protocols, save, for those that revolved around killing indiscriminately. Their own reimagined General Grievous had designed them himself. Would they be enough to deal with the bounty hunter? Unlikely. Would they buy time?
Certainly.
The slender woman placed a hand on Aryn’s shoulder and began to focus. It was a gambit. The last time she’d tried to heal him, the ravenous, energy-sucking hole at his core had devoured more than she had to give. Srina had learned from that attempt.
“Don’t say I never give you anything.”
Her comment was meant in jest. Yet, truly, she was giving him a gift. A piece of her herself so that he could mend and heal rapidly. He could not deal with the pest on the other side of her shield with a broken hand, and from her estimations, several other fractures and torn ligaments. Fever bright eyes, the color of burnished goldenrod gleamed, burning, as she pushed the Force into the dark-haired man. This time, she combined two techniques, versus simply Dark Transfer. She could see his wounds. They were a combination of angry red lines and jagged breaks.
He certainly
had to make things difficult.
This, was
why, she wished he would wear armor.
Force Drain began to affect the area around them. On the outskirts of Republic City lay beautiful hanging gardens. They were green, wonderful, and teeming with tall willowy trees and perfect blue flowers. It wasn’t far away. Srina began to pull the life from the florae, spreading out the strain, so as not to completely destroy what she touched. Everything, as she had been taught, was connected. Their colors would dim, as if they were suddenly made with pastel watercolors, versus bright acrylics, and through that as well as her own sacrifice—the Supreme Commander would feel his injuries seemingly self-repair.
