Shadow Priest
Location: Muunilinst, Financial District
Enemies:
Diarch Reign
Detritus had hoped to use sheer might to break into his foe’s speeder. Eyes locked onto one another, it became clear that whoever that Ren was facing was no ordinary Force Wielder. The man tried to wrestle back control from the hulking brute, but would quickly jump from the seat of his speeder only to land on the debris strewn ground. The brute would only narrow his eyes through the thin visor of his helmet. The speeder fit firmly within his grasp, letting out a grunt in frustration did his hands tear through the hunk of Durasteel and toss the bike into the burning flames.
His attention focused back onto the mysterious force Wielder. His lightsaber activated with a hiss, the man looked at Detritus with unfaltering intensity. Detritus would pace around the man slowly, his lightsaber pulled from his belt, a snap-hiss followed the orange crackle of his lightsaber. The man before him settled into a Form V stance, while Detritus would follow in turn, his saber repositioned with the hilt close to his head, both hands firmly grasped the weathered hilt assuming his own Form V stance, though this one aimed to reflect the heavy hands needed to utilize the form.
There was a moment of silence, both eyes looked towards one another, both reading each other. The blazing orange contrasted well with his foe’s own blade. Looking at either of the two, it was clear they were both dark siders, but little could be said of they were actual Sith or they followed a different creed altogether. It didn’t matter, the two combatants stared each other down, the howl of the winds, the flames that were spreading from the ruins, the sound of lightsabers humming, and the smell of blood and ozone filled his senses.
Then at last did Detritus begin. Both hands on his blazing Crossguard blade, he attempted to launch a series of probing strikes towards his enemy. Orange and Blood-Orange blades clashed against each other in a mix of white flashes and sparks. The first few slashes were meant to test his opponent, each stroke of the blade carried the power and strength Form V was known for, but the man before him didn’t shift into the ground, but remained as still as a statue. A set of strikes aimed for either the chest, or the head were met with swift blocks.
Gritting his teeth Deteitus would try another set of strikes, this time heavier than the ones before, each strike brought a grunt from his lips, both hands tightened on the hilt of his saber as he tried to drive his opponent back and break through his defenses anticipating his enemy’s next strike and the fury that would come from him as blades clashed against each other.
