He had dealt with far worse than this white skinned bastard, he'd been cursed with InDesign for tricking some witches on dathomir, he had played count my teeth with a rancor, fought of birds of soul eating Sithspawn, but to be called a witch? That crossed his line, by far. He rose after being tossed into some crate, missing some of the fight. But he was going to be the one to kill this Sith imposter, they had taken so Mich from him; his father, mother, sister, his way of life stripped away from him by his kind, and he was going to exact his revenge.
He tore his cloak of his shoulders, and used a little trick he stole from a witch called shadow weaving, and he doing out in front of [member="Tion Cadon"], and grabbed the puny man by his neck, using the force to tear the crimson lightsaber out of the smiths hand, while he lifted him off ground as he strangled the life out him, watching his try to claw his way out of it. He burned with anger, literally, fire danced along his arms and flames licked at his feet.
"You deserve to burn not the pits of hell, if we didn't need to find our friend, I would tear out your entrails and make them I to a smoothie and watch you choke on it. But since you have what we want, I intend to get it."
He slammed the Inquisitor against the wall, leaving a man shaped indentation as he put the entire of his lightsaber against the man's temple. The fore continued to race over his body, smoldering his clothes, and he focused some of the fire onto his hand, scorching the siths neck.
"Spill before I spill your guts"
[member="Jakkor Kess"], [member="Xzara Vox"]