Placeholder 04
Character
It had been months since Graxin had delved into the depths of combat. He had not drawn his blade since the death of the Dark Lord of the One Sith. He'd little reason to living back on Naboo. There, people fought with words and ideas rather than guns and swords. This was a more primal place; a sort of situation that Graxin had secretly missed.
There was a brutal honesty in battle. There were no lies when you were trying to kill a man and that man was trying to kill you. It was all instinct: pure and expressed violence. All or nothing.
The Lord of House Rade let that feeling linger for a moment as blaster bolts soared toward him. His lightsaber was naught but a streaking blue light as it batted away the assault with ease. Some were sent back toward their points of origin, others in random directions. Graxin did not care which so long as his daughter was not hit.
"No captives Marcus. We've no use for filth," Graxin snapped as he marched up a slaver position. Two of their guardsmen had just managed to affix a blaster cannon atop the ramparts when he arrived. He reached out with invisible tendrils and crushed the cannon into tiny particles. The Zygerrians looked on ins horror as he carved them asunder into multiple little parts. Gruesome work, but needed.
"Finger will have gone ahead. We need to catch up to him," he shouted as he carved through another warrior. Men of the 501st were popping up everywhere now. They rallied to support their liege.
With his men in tow, Graxin threw himself down into the gladiatorial pit and made his way toward the slave quarters, only to find them empty. Finger had already been through here.
He keyed into his comm, "Get to the ships. The slaves await us on the landing pad."
[member="Finger"], [member="Talaya Rade"], Marcus Itera
There was a brutal honesty in battle. There were no lies when you were trying to kill a man and that man was trying to kill you. It was all instinct: pure and expressed violence. All or nothing.
The Lord of House Rade let that feeling linger for a moment as blaster bolts soared toward him. His lightsaber was naught but a streaking blue light as it batted away the assault with ease. Some were sent back toward their points of origin, others in random directions. Graxin did not care which so long as his daughter was not hit.
"No captives Marcus. We've no use for filth," Graxin snapped as he marched up a slaver position. Two of their guardsmen had just managed to affix a blaster cannon atop the ramparts when he arrived. He reached out with invisible tendrils and crushed the cannon into tiny particles. The Zygerrians looked on ins horror as he carved them asunder into multiple little parts. Gruesome work, but needed.
"Finger will have gone ahead. We need to catch up to him," he shouted as he carved through another warrior. Men of the 501st were popping up everywhere now. They rallied to support their liege.
With his men in tow, Graxin threw himself down into the gladiatorial pit and made his way toward the slave quarters, only to find them empty. Finger had already been through here.
He keyed into his comm, "Get to the ships. The slaves await us on the landing pad."
[member="Finger"], [member="Talaya Rade"], Marcus Itera
