The Last Warlord
The chaos continued to unfold.
While the smoke was clearing, the shouts of battle faded. However, the explosions intensified, and the Warlock quickly realized what the smoke was. The Jedi had unleashed the undead on the Bryn, an interesting move. It seemed they were just as desperate to endure this battle as the Bryn; from mines to the undead, the Jedi had unleashed everything they had, and still the Bryn will win the fight. They had to win the fight.
But the Warlock didn't have time to ponder on the importance of this battle. He had undead swarming around him, he was blinded by the smoke, though it was fading, and the Jedi that had jumped from the building was still out there. Of the shouts of battle, one sounded louder, directed his way. Perhaps it was a trap. He readied his spear, and limped toward the noise, fully aware that any moment would be the moment the undead reached him. Almost on cue, an explosion rocked the ground around Sethrak. The noise surrounded him, but the vibrations came from the front.
He grunted, trying to keep his balance as the entire ground seemed to shift beneath his feet. He had just started to ignore the pain of his impaled leg, but the sudden flex quickly reminded him of the injury. He couldn't help but be irritated by the fact that a droid had injured him. He was fighting undead, a jedi, snipers, and artillery shells, but a droid had hit him. Perhaps he wasn't the one to challenge Tathra if he couldn't take a programmed, not-living, hunk of metal!
Again he stopped thinking of the future and focused on the present. The ground had stopped rumbling, but now there was a new noise. The Force called a warning out to the Warlock's senses. He tightened his form, readying his spear. An undead grabbed him from behind, pulling him back. In retaliation, Sethrak thrust his elbow back, hitting the undead in the chest. The grip loosened, and Sethrak spun to face the foe. Sure enough, the undead, a human victim, renewed its assault, reaching out to grab the young Warlock again. Not this time. Sethrak raised his spear with the flick of a wrist, amputating the undead's arms in one slice. Then, with his spear raised horizontally, he pushed it forward and hit the undead square in the face. A sickening crunch signalled the shattering of the undead's nose, but not just the nose. The entire face caved in, cheekbones and skull weakened by the beginning of decomposition. Sethrak felt no pity for the creature. If its' first death had been mercy, the second must have been even more merciful.
However, the battle was far from over.
The undead were surrounding him. He knew due to the pinging of the Force, the shuffled footsteps around him, and the occasional glimpse of movement in the now nearly-dissipated smoke.
No more than three uneven steps later, the Warlock found the next sign of trouble. A shout, high pitched, meaning it was likely a female and not a Bryn'Adûl. It was surely the Jedi. Sethrak stopped moving, turning toward the shout. It was too quiet. Suddenly the smoke blew toward him in hurricane speeds. Well, that's one issue gone. He thought, bracing for whatever was to come.
He didn't have time to respond.
Something hit him in the chest, forcing him off his feet. He landed on his back, using his momentum to roll backwards and stand. Again his leg pulsed as pain shot up his body. Now he could see what was happening. The undead, the debris, and anything of a smaller size flew in his general direction. Revealed also: The remnants of his squad, just a few still living, pushing against the wind and slicing through the debris. It was a valiant effort, but they were closer to the source. They couldn't resist as a huge stone hit the one remaining Baedurin, likely killing him, but at the least knocking him out. Sethrak on the other hand had been knocked back far enough that the winds...whatever they were...weren't quite strong enough to push him back.
That being said, the debris still flew towards him. First he dodged an undead, then a rock. Finally he deflected some sort of sharp piece of metal.
"Enough of this."
The young Warlock said, his words almost silent due to the sounds of fighting, explosions, and what was surely the last wave of the wind.
It was his turn.
The dead Drael from his squad filled his mind. Then he thought of his leg, and how he had failed to destroy a droid without injury. Finally, he thought of his strike earlier, that had hit a fellow Bryn. Anger filled the young Warlock, this would end, and it would end now. He dropped his spear, and raising both hands he unleashed a storm of lightning. The power of the electricity made anything it hit explode on contact. Beyond the power, the heat of the pure electric power disintegrating any flesh, paper, and thin debris that came his way. The blast was so bright Sethrak nearly had to close his eyes.
He couldn't hold it much longer but he didn't have to. The wind had stopped, the rocks, bodies, and whatever else had been flying toward him were now mostly still. He released the blast, exhausted. He knew it hadn't reached the source, but it had served its' purpose.
Still, the fight wasn't over.
There was another ground-shaking reverberation. This one was distant, toward the city, and away from Sethrak. He looked over to the city outskirts where he saw a cloud of darkness. In the darkness, a glow of flames and smoke. The outline of a ship was visible through the smoke and fire. The Jedi forces had crashed a ship into the heart of the battle. How many Bryn would be killed? How many jedi? Of every battle he had participated in, this one was the craziest, and the most surprising. How could they endure this?
And the surprises weren't done yet.
One final event was set to begin. The building that had housed Sethrak and his squad just minutes ago had met its' final moment. With a thunderous rumble, the building slowly fell toward the Warlock.
He was exhausted, injured in several places, and he knew he couldn't run far enough. Instead, he found a large sheet of warped metal, perhaps from an artillery shot. Around it, several bodies..human and Drael alike. One Drael was a Baedurin. He had no choice.
Sprinting with a limp, he dived for the metal sheet. First, he covered himself with the Baedurin, yelling as he struggled with the extreme weight of an armored Baedurin (4200 pounds). Then he took the two other bodies, a human and a Srael. Finally, the metal sheet, which he pulled with one arm, his other buried under the bodies. It was all he could do. He wouldn't be able to breath well, but at least he wouldn't be impaled or struck by any rocks, glass, or metal. The final step was to focus on his breathing. One last inhale before the building landed. The Force would give him the strength he no longer had.
If he endured this, he would kill the jedi scum that caused the death of his brothers (
Yula Perl
), assuming the building's collapse hadn't already. Then, he would find the city, and he would kill every last Jedi and soldier there (
Beltran Rarr
). That wouldn't be the end of it. The weak civilians that hid like cowards would be shown mercy. This battle will be their doom. They would regret ever facing the self-proclaimed soon-to-be-successor of
Tathra Khaeus
. No, not if he endured.
When he was finished enduring this.
)
