Location: Rooftops of Cinnagar
Allies: [member="Dred Varad"] @B'arin Graad
Enemies: [member="Darth Carach"] @Darth Mieren
OOC Note: i didn't know it was my post mein bad
Oh no. The force. He felt it wrap around him, an invisible force field around his head and his body. He could feel the Beskar'kandar begin to crush inward, the heaviest plates giving way to the vile nature of the Sith's sorcery. The Sith would have a tough time to crush it all- after all, Beskar was tough naturally, but Beskar'kandar might as well been Beskar times three. However, he could feel his own helmet failing him, as it began to squeeze against his skull. Then, it came. His chest lurched forward, slamming him into the concrete. The pain in his head stopped, however, due to him being thrown around. That's why he didn't really understand why they relied on the force- breaking their line of sight caused a loss of...well, the thing you were trying to do. He weighed his options, being slammed onto the ground. He closed his eyes, preparing for the worst.
And the worst came. He was repeatedly slammed into the concrete, while the grip around his helmet tightened. It was a jarring, painful experience. But not too much momentum nor force could be gained without throwing him too high, and his armor took most of the blunt force trauma, though he still felt the concussive force- which was a dizzying, painful experience in itself.
But then, an angel appeared. An angel of steel, laser, and bravado. He smiled, beneath his failed helmet, as he jetpacked along the ground, creating a shower of sparks along the concrete, before slamming into the edge of the rooftop, cracking the wall, and disabling his jetpack with a sickening crunch. He reached behind him, removing the thrusters with a crunch of his crushgaunts, and then grasped the grappling hook that lay atop the jetpack, and yanked it outwards. Magnetically attracted and turbo-projected, it would come in handy. He clipped it to the magnetic locks on his back rather quickly, and reached up to his helmet as he was laying on the ground.
Crushgaunt hands grasped the crushed side of his helmet, and started to open his own helmet like taking the wrapper off of a peanut butter candy, before he managed to use his crushgaunts to bend the beskar enough to throw his helmet to the side. He lay there, as the Mandalorian gunship would have most likely sent the Sith scattering. He needed a minute, as he crawled towards his spear, as the roof began to break around them from the massive barrage of missiles. He felt weak. He felt tired. But he had to keep moving. The roof began to groan, and chunks began to slip inwards. He still had to keep moving, as his arm weakly gripped the fallen spear.
The building was collapsing.
Please let this work, please, please let this work.
Pain. Lots of pain. Blunt force trauma. Rib probably broken. Where was Aditya when he needed her? Where was Triam? Loneliness was a queen when he felt weak.
Keep moving, soldier.
To the spear. This'll work.
