The Return of a Supernova.

[Darth Oblitus]

[member="Lord Depravious"] [member="Mikhail Shorn"] [member="Cin'ciri Jurir"] [member="Anesia Jy'Vun"] [member="Cameron Centurion"] [member="Darth Inferno"] [member="Hal'kanor"]

A little further behind, but loping as fast as he could came another four legged figure. This one was slightly larger than the previous two and sported brown fur rather than white. Ursino could only run so fast at his size, though even that was a fair speed. His smaller brothers could outrun him, true, but he consoled himself with the fact that he was a bit bigger than they were. Sure, that meant he needed more to survive, but it was a fair trade off, he felt. He could kill what he caught more easily as he was bigger and stronger. At least, when he caught it. Mostly he used his larger size to knock down trees or the like to get the tastier things up high. He could climb, but at his size... there weren't many branches that he could sit on for long.

With the fighting up ahead, Ursino realized it was close to snack time. His hypoglycemia would kick up soon if he didn't have something to eat which meant Cin'ciri and Hal'kanor would have to carry him to food, or feed him. While the big, brown Arkudan normally didn't mind being fed, he would really rather it not happen in a fight.

For the moment, he loped onwards. He'd find a target eventually and, from there, an eight hundred kilogram freight train of fur, teeth, and stomach would get to work.

 

[Jaxton Ravos]

While his kin [member="Cin'ciri Jurir"] and [member="Hal'kanor"] engaged in battle, and his more distant brown-furred cousin [member="Ursino Puff"] waded into battle Larg'haree was a bit closer to the battle, but not yet engaged in it. He had just overpowered a pair of Tuk'ata, and was ripping off thigh, rib, shoulder, and whatever meat he could. Sithspawn had a nasty aftertaste, but were a guilty pleasure of Larg'haree's. As he stared at the corpses though he found himself seeing more and more bone and less and less meat. Blood and entrails still stuck on his face, Larg'haree not thinking to carry napkins with him, he began heading towards the battle to acquire a new target of his own. If Sithspawn tasted so good, just how would good would their masters be after a fine barbeque?


[member="Lord Depravious"] [member="Mikhail Shorn"] [member="Anesia Jy'Vun"] [member="Cameron Centurion"] [member="Darth Inferno"]

 

[Hal'kanor]

Har'kanor replied to [member="Cin'ciri Jurir"] with a short growl, a simple acknowledgment, before his eyes narrowed on [member="Darth Inferno"]. The younger of the others, it seemed, just could not shut up. Ever. The bear continued to barrel towards him, running as hard as he could to try and knock the Knight on his butt. Rage poured out of him as he charged. He knew he'd be on his own soon. The idea crossed his mind for a moment. But he couldn't dwell on it. If was time to kill.

Lowering his head less than a second before impact, he would slam into the sith's side like a battering ram. 400 kilograms plus armor was more than enough force to break bones. One may even say it was an un​bearable amount.

 

[Lord Ghoul]

[member="Darth Inferno"] was now forgotten in the wake of a charging bear. The Force Crush had either broken his legs, or it hadn't. Either way, the eavesdropper had his own problems to deal with.

Meanwhile, [member="Lord Depravious"] was facing a couple rather large problems that stood in the way of his oh so allegedly inevitable victory.

Problem number one, you can't toss around waves of darkness and bolts of hatred manifested as crimson lightning like candy. Every output of energy takes a toll on the user. Depravious could think of himself as being some infinitely powerful being, but reality was that his body had limits. Chucking a bunch of penultimate master-level skills around within seconds of each other meant that the effects of each were progressively less impressive, especially after that thing he did with the tornadoes.

As a result, his bolt of hatred sailed intimidatingly toward Mikhail, all very Sith-y, flashy, and impressive. Then came the waves of darkness, which manifested as a little raincloud of doom over Halberd Boy's head and not much else. At least, not that Mikhail could feel. His helmet was fashioned from the bones of a terentatek, a beast immune to exactly the sort of mind games that Mr. Big Bad was trying to employ. The use of the dead monster in the helmet's construction gave Shorn a similar sort of defense.

In short, the waves of darkness made him feel a little nauseous.

Problem number two, Mikhail Shorn had exactly three skills in his arsenal that would be considered master-level for combat application. Telekinesis, Force Lightning and.... tutaminis.

The bolt of hatred sailed straight toward Mikhail and smacked into his outstretched palm, which suddenly emanated a golden glow as the energy from the bolt of hatred was absorbed. The glove covering his hand melted to his skin, eliciting tendrils of smoke. His features twisted beneath his helmet at the agony of it, causing him to delve further into Dark Side, seeking refuge in his fury.

The pain of his flesh was minimal to the ecstasy he soon experienced as the all 'formidable might' of Depravious's hurled bolt of hatred now suffused his being.

Problem number three, giant bears.

Problem number four, with the absorption of the crimson lightning pure energy now coursed through Mikhail's body, seeking release which if not found would destroy his body. Shorn channeled that energy into, surprise, telekinesis.

He wrapped a telekinetic hand about Depravious' form that would not be denied. Shorn didn't care about inductions to Sith Orders, rising through the ranks, or proving himself to some has-been Sith. He just wanted to turn an emblem of what he hated most into a bloody pulp. And then smash that pulp into the ground. Again. And again. And again.

The Thronebreaker, a man who'd knocked an Emperor off his seat and made nations tremble, brought all his focus to bear on ending the other Sith. Whatever deeds Depravious could claim, Shorn could double them. But he didn't care about how big his e-peen was right now. In fact, the only thing he cared about, eclipsing all else like some big, fat blazing sun in the force-damned desert, was turning Halberd Boy his own personal piñata.

Lifting his hand into the air, he attempted to swiftly raise Depravious off the ground with telekinesis, then he sharply jerked his hand back down. The endeavor was simple combat pragmatism: lift Halberd Boy into the air, and then telekinetically body slam him into the ground with all the impact force of a crashing meteorite. It might not kill him, but it would turn his lower half into a crumpled mass of shattered bones and torn flesh.

Mikhail listened eagerly for the wet-snapping of breaking bones.

Mr. I'm-Invincible-Dark-Nexus probably didn't like the idea of being body-slammed by what he thought of as some whelp, but by sheer like-to-post ratio... he'd already lost.

@Darth Infernape @Bear, @OtherBear, @FireBreathingBear, [member="Cameron Centurion"] [member="Anesia Jy'Vun"]

 

[Hira Mitsae]

Behind his brethren came the looming form of yet another bear, this one wasn’t really pissed off, or hungry, as he stood on one of the hills looking over the battlefield it was curiosity that radiated from him in waves.

Comparable to the Waves of Darkness woven by the Sith Lord, just slightly less snobbish.

Dovak’in noted the various stages of battle that were already on the way. [member="Mikhail Shorn"] facing off [member="Lord Depravious"], with his kin @Cin’ciri Jurir storming into the direction of the later.

[member="Hal’kanor"] taking cues from Cin and assaulting [member="Darth Inferno"].

His brother [member="Larg’haree Ubehr"] stalking for prey, and [member="Ursino Puff"] doing the same.

Two curious individuals standing on another hill, [member="Cameron Centurion"] and [member="Anesia Jy’Vun"], curious because they seemingly weren’t doing anything. Merely watching the proceedings like some kind of show, hard for Dova to understand such behavior, strange stuff.

Once again he looked at the silhouette of Mikhail Shorn, he could almost sense the hunger of his kin, it was influencing him too, and yet Shorn didn’t seem all too attractive a prospect. His face was marred with dirt of the sand; suggesting that bodily hygiene wasn’t a top priority for him and who really wanted to eat a dirty piece of meat?

Dova stood watch, weighing the odds before finally following Larg into the fray of battle.

 

[Caulder Dune]

CORUSCANT

Darth Janus suddenly stopped on his way out of the office, momentarily paused as something rippled through the Force. His secretary gave him a quizzical look.

"Mr. Janus?"

No response.

She cleared her throat. "Mr. Janus?"

"Yes?"

"Is something wrong?"

He turned, slowly, boring into her with a stare that went on for thousands of miles. A hollow gaze that spoke of uncountable atrocities being committed before it. Something that had glimpsed into a horrible visage of something terrible. The secretary partially wanted to know what was bothering him, but more than that she wanted him to stop looking like he had seen the Ghost of Sithmas Future.

"Did you feel it?"

"Feel what?"

His voice sounded hoarse and strained as he spoke. "I have a feeling... Someone, somewhere has done something so unconscionably stupid, something so profoundly idiotic- an action with no perceivable cognitive reasoning or significant forethought behind it- that it has sent... Ripples, Sheila, ripples- through the Force itself, beckoning those within range to respond to it. Respond to it in tumultuous, overwhelming, righteous force. And they did, and now they do battle. But the battle is just as, if not moreso, intellectually bankrupt as the action that ignited it."

Sheila blinked.

"What is it that happened?"

"Oh, I don't know." He said simply. "It was only a feeling."

But deep down, Janus knew exactly what was transpiring.

And it was unBEARable.

 

[Lord Depravious]

Lord Depravious simply sighed at the mans feeble attempt of resistance against even what he called, Mr. I'm-Invincible-Dark-Nexus. If that was so then why resist something that is far beyond your reach of power? Regardless, the man had thought he stood a chance for some bewildering reason. And still, there was some how an army of inexperienced bears coming to fight against him. WHERE DID THIS ARMY OF BEARS SUDDENLY COME FROM!? Lord Depravious would never know and never care.

You see Shorn, had thought himself more intelligent than Lord Depravious. Even after years of building up force power for this very moment sure the waves of darkness may not have been summoned from Freedon Nadd; however, if they were enough to make the man nauseous that could be used in some way or another later down the line in the battle - everything can be used. Regardless, Shorn was right about one thing, Depravious was running slightly low on the force, thus this powerful attack posed a threat to Lord Depravious. How riveting it must feel to the young tantrum throwing boy to be within inches of ending a duel with a god. Lord Depravious used what little was left of his Force reserves for the moment to dissipate the force that was enrwapping him. The sheer momentum slammed him into the ground but not perhaps in the way that Mikhail Shorn had hoped for. As Depravious fell to the ground his hand jutted outwards expelling the arcane power saved up in the runes of his chest to the ground. Nothing more than a force orb of sand rose from the ground simply to break his fall. Depravious fell upon what could be considered a cushion of sand; however, his power in the force was spent for now otherwise he risked conciousness - something he was not afraid of - but simply could not risk at this point in the duel.

His legs were no more than strained under the weight of the great telekinesis master of the day Mikhail Shorn. Something Mikhail Shorn obviously did not understand is that he was far out classed by a superior opponent. One who had fought for years before he was born, and would fight for years after he was dead. This boy did not understand the meaning of sadness, of agony. He was simply throwing a tantrum because he couldn't defeat an opponent as quickly as he was used to defeating them. Lord Depravious had all of the time in the Universe to defeat this boy, not only physically but mentally. And if that meant putting him in a time-out so be it.

Lord Depravious had trained for ages in not only force competency but in true war - where your blades would meet more often than your force ego's would. Something Mikhail Shorn probably knew nothing of, so Depravious leveraged this. He saved what little was left of his force power to defend the very obvious telekinetic blast that would be coming his way quite soon. As he rose to his feet he darted from his current position. Each step was timed, each step that was taken was eloquent in and of its own right; however, the speed at which he approached the man was not that of an ordinary human, his legs had taken these steps before - they had taken them a thousand times. The sand sunk into more sand with each step , and behind it was a little mountain where perhaps molecules were fighting just as they were. With the adjustment of a hand along his halberd he stepped forwards in the simplest of attacks - a stab. There was nothing like a good stab to skewer someone, but there was much more of a surprise coming for the young boy when he dodged, for that he would have to find out.

Lord Depravious was also very ready for the obvious incoming attack so he began his mental onslaught. He slowly and carefully began to reach out to the boys mind with his own at first only whispering faintly at it. You fight against a god. Would ring through out his head as Depravious's strike fell true straight against the boys chest. Lord Depravious's ears mourned for the sound of flesh being struck by his halberd once more, he yearned for the blood splatter along the sand, the sound that it made was so bitter sweet. But he knew Shorn would not be dying so easily today; however, the man himself must have been spending his own excessive amount of force power. Perhaps not as much as Depravious had but his reserves were running low after dispelling the tornadoes, the blast at the boy and him, and the bullet - and he would take that to his advantage in this close quarters combat.


What a great thing it was to be Mr. I'm-Invincible-Dark-Nexus.

[member="Mikhail Shorn"]

 

[300]

[member="Hal'kanor"]

Even though the sith had tried to break his legs, the Sith he had allied with in option to being killed by him had distracted him, so now it was his turn to help out again.
The bear was obviously not experienced in a fight, come charging at Inferno was a bad mistake, and the bear was not as quick in reactions as he was. In a hasty side step, he would turn, and watch the bear crash into air. He pulled out his saber, a black blade emitting with a hiss. "WHERE THE HELL DID BEARS COME FROM!?" He yelled out, and snapped his finger. See Darth Inferno was a near master pyromancer, and he was at his prime at the moment. His fingers emitted a fire, then drawing in the darkness coming from the Halberd sith, he drowned himself in the essence of the force. The fire began to creep up his army, then WUSH! His whole body was on fire.

He raised his free hand, as his left hand held a saber, this would be his right hand rising, and from this hand would come a wall of fire of extreme heat, and it would coil around the bear. Inferno was ready to cook some bear, and eat it for dinner, then with his left hand, and lashed out with the saber, and a slash of fire in a arc rushed towards the bear, using the saber to make the fires form.

 

[Hal'kanor]

Well,it seemed [member="Darth Inferno"] had better reactions than the bear had anticipated. However, there were a few things the Sith had failed to consider. First, he was coming from being under fire from two Sith Lords. One of whom could wipe the floor with all present, and wasn't the biologically toughest. He should have a pair of broken legs by now. Secondly, this bear was armored. And that armor, with it's very basic levels, could ignore an inferno, allowing the bear to focus on more important things. Like the ever-so-annoying talkative Sith. And finally, his saber swings would hit nothing but air due to Newton's second law. And another thing. The flames would need a fuel source. And the nearest available one was a certain Sith.

Har'kanor, of course, cared or understood none of this. The creature skidded to a halt, turning back to the Sith in rage. Slowly, carefully, he began to stalk towards the psycho who had lit himself on fire. This would get messy.

On the other hand, most meals don't cook themselves.

 

[Lord Ghoul]

The mental whisper never reached Shorn's ears due to the aforementioned terentatek bone helmet. What did reach him was a jab with the halberd. The tip slammed into black akk wolf scales covering his chest, failing to pierce them but leaving a bruise beneath the armor. Shorn grunted, stumbling back a step.

Sure, Mikhail didn't play around with swords and spears anymore, but he did have a few cards left to play. Like the previously mentioned lightning.

Pivoting to his left, he reached across his body and grabbed the halberd with his right hand, just beneath the axe head. Chain lightning crackled from his fingertips, conducted easily by the metal surface of the halberd and transmitted straight down the haft toward the Has-Been's hands. Even if the face-melting amount of lightning didn't kill him, the voltage would be enough to zap his hands off the halberd and send him flying backward, leaving the pole arm in Shorn's grasp.

Right now would be a prime moment for an opponent much more suited at melee combat to enter the fray. Namely, a bear.

[member="Lord Depravious"] [member="Cin'ciri Jurir"]

 

[Anesia Jy'Vun]

Curious indeed. So curious it was strange.


"Mmm... I'm going to have to get me one of those," it was indiscernible if she was speaking of the sword [member="Cameron Centurion"] wielded or the bears.

No sooner had Anesia spoke the words did they fall to the wind and her thin muscular frame moved as if to chase them. There was no strained will, no forcing her body to accomplish what she was already physically capable of- never having been the type to stop, to settle. Jy'Vun was, essentially, in peak condition. Impregnating that with The Force, or moreover, The Darkside could be considered... criminal. And it was. However, she was not the only one on the field today that was in constant preparation for such demands to not only meet them, but surpass them with confidence and intensity. Something that could not be done while slumbering or otherwise brooding in the same position for incredible, albeit miserable eons. If anything, without proper, continuous physical therapy and an adequate amount of recovery-considering a lengthy down time-the body would suffer immensely and bones... would break, if not shatter. Power would surely diminish rapidly should there be an attempt to restore ability so soon. This was inevitable. It was a harsh reality, one she came to know rather intimately. Then again, Ferrius was not foolish enough to jump head first into battle upon awaking.

"Cameron," soft lips tugged slightly into an easy smile regarding the Moross God. "Always a sight for sore eyes." Lifting her chin, the Sith's vivid jade eyes stared up at her past, meeting it's silver-green gaze for the first time in centuries. [member="Cameron Centurion"] appeared not to have changed appearance wise, bar a few scars. Profound enough, worth remembering...reason enough to recant memories, but she paused and embraced the present. Still, she was undeterred -had to be- and only placed a hand at his forearm for a second when she would rather it linger. The smile faded and her arm dropped to her side. "You are still the warrior I knew?" The answer would present itself in action and not words. That much Anesia knew- much like herself, he lived war, never trained in it and survived. It was not a game.

Alas, the timing was always wrong and resolve ferried her further in to the fray. The robes she donned fell in the wake of the sure footing calf-high boots offered, leaving only a hood and the complimentary black widow attire; synthetic fabric that molded to the specific wearer, so as to ensure absolute maneuverability for refined prowess. A classic utility belt hung secure about the swell of only slightly generous hips and from it dangled a very small armory.

The distance between [member="Lord Depravious"], [member="Mikhail Shorn"], and that of the female Sith was becoming ever shorter. Awareness of the environment and the surrounding obviously amplified. Only now did the metaphysical chains start to shatter, Korriban's power and hers at a constant, even entangled flow that reached and clawed until it found something to strike, to engulf in the flames of madness. Fire did not lurch from her palms, no, but sprung like fountains of crimson-gold from the rubble. Entertainment, by manipulation, a distraction. That was all it was for now.

"This is not ORDER, my lord," a sirenic symphony, dulcet... saccharine tones parried the sounds of hysteria, carried over to reach the ears that were open, "this is CHAOS." ​

[member="Ursino Puff"] | [member="Hal'kanor"] | [member="Dovak'in Ubehr"] | [member="Larg'haree Ubehr"] | [member="Darth Inferno"]​

 

[Lord Depravious]

Lord Depravious watched as the wretch touched his Halberd. The lighting that arced along it signified that he was going to strip it away from him. This is something that he couldn't stand for; however, in that split second he didn't have a choice, he attempted to let go of it as best as he possibly could mitigating most of the damage it would have done to him; nonetheless, he flew backwards several feet before landing downwards onto the ground. The sand shifting under his feet.

He was fully enraged now.. The man had thought to take his weapon forged by his ancestors? Lord Depravious withdrew his Sith Sword from the side of his body. With the single flourish the blade shone against the light. The sand reflected some of the light from the blade as it was removed from its sheath of which it had been in for quite some time. With his feet shoved into the ground and his emotions fueling his movements now the sand flew up from behind him as he ran towards the man - yet still his movements were eloquent his sword flourished in his hand as if it had never left and with each step his movements became more crisp; however, the emotions in his face signified something very different.

As Lord Depravious approached the man - as the bear was more than likely still dealing with the Bolt of Hatred in some way - he brought the sword down in an overhead arc downwards towards the boys right shoulder. As the blade slashed through the air it sang the hum of war Lord Depravious had longed for, the hum of battle, the hum of death. He however, kept his right hand free in the charge and even as he went to slash he had kept it free.

As the blade arced through the air at an alarming rate the fiery red eyes of Lord Depravious began to shine through the helmet and his right hand came downwards on the halberd knocking it down to Shorns waste area should he attempt to use it. Lord Depravious's shot would more than likely be going for the weak point in any type of armor that the man wore as per usual most links between armor can be found in between the neck and shoulder area. Should this attack follow through the flesh - it would more than likely not kill Shorn; however, losing a limb is a devastating blow in any battle.

Finally, the womans words penetrated the mans mind.. "This is not order, this is chaos.." The words rang around in Lord Depravious's head as his rage continued; however, his retort was nothing more than crisp and cold, "Order, Obediance, Love, it all comes after the blood of those who stand in your way is split." The words bit through the force into any force sensitives mind who could bear it, "To have order, i must first gain everyone here's respect, they must fear me, you must fear me and love me at the same time for it.." His words would lick the back of her mind as he continued to follow through with his strike upon the Telekinesis user.

[member="Mikhail Shorn"] [member="Anesia Jy'Vun"]

((I won't be on until sometime a bit later tomorrow, so i'm sorry if none of you receive replies from me for a solid 12 hours. Try not to overwhelm me too much with 9000 more bears.))

 

[Ashin Varanin]

[member="Lord Depravious"] had chucked a bolt of hatred at Cin while chucking another at someone else, then branched out with an AOE spirit attack, darkness, whatever -- then flourished some weapons, talked to some people, countered some telekinesis, and, in general, postured and bloviated.

Cin had done none of that. All he'd done was rear up at a dead run, take the sutta chwituskak to the chest, and keep running straight for the Sith Lord. His armor was nothing special, just durasteel beskar'gam (bearskar'gam) proportional to his size, but if durasteel was good enough for command ships, it was good enough to stop one measly apex Sith Master Magic Spell. The impact chewed into his armor, warming it against his chest, but conveyed negligible momentum compared to the basic p=mv of a seven-hundred-kilogram bear wearing over fifty kilos in armor and running at twice the average speed of a humanoid sprinter. The math equated to ouch.

And Depravious hadn't bothered to compensate. On the contrary, he'd explicitly assumed that Cin was momentarily out of the picture. Oh, Depravious was moving all over the place -- tossed to and fro by every wind of Shorn or by expedient release of his own hot air -- but none of that was meant or calculated to counter Cin's charge. His focus remained very thoroughly on Shorn. So far as Cin could estimate, that constituted a serious mistake.

Cin was now too close to avoid. He would run into Depravious like a freight train, paws outstretched for a very large hug, presenting his armored belly and an awful lot of, well, bear -- forcing the Sith Lord into an active counter, maybe with that toothpicky sword.

 

[Lord Ghoul]

Now in possession of a ridiculous pole arm that he had no desire to keep, the most obvious reaction was to throw it away. Mikhail was preparing to do a variation of that - hurling it with telekinesis like some sort of absurd spear - when he witness from his vantage point what newly christened Sword Boy could not: a giant bear fast... ahem... bearing from behind the opposing Sith. Shorn could all too easily envision himself chucking the halberd at Sword Boy, Sword Boy dodging and halberd continuing on to impale the erstwhile friendly bear. With no desire for an ursine-kabob at the present moment, Mikhail decided to take a different course of action.

[member="Lord Depravious"] advanced, smacking down on the halberd with his bare hand, while the other tried to skewer Mikhail on his blade.

No thanks.

Mikhail never let Depravious get close enough to land his intended sword strike. Gripping Sword Boy in the Force, Shorn attempted to fix him in place. Every limb would feel as though it had suddenly locked up, paralyzed by telekinesis. Sure, if the guy bent all his recently expended Force energy to the task he could probably get out of the grip, or at least move, but that would take exactly one second longer than Depravious had to spare.

Shorn then planted the butt of the halberd in the sand and gripped it with two hands, tip of the weapon pointing directly at Sword Boy's chest.

It didn't take a genius to realize that setting up the halberd in that way would make for a great point of impact when the runaway cargo cruiser of a bear barreled into Sword Boy from behind... and sent him directly onto the nasty end of the pole arm. Mikhail would probably become collateral in the process, but he'd take those odds.

[member="Cin'ciri Jurir"]

 

[Jaxton Ravos]

While the female food of [member="Anesia Jy'Vun"] began to head toward Cin'ciri Jurir and his prey, she left another morsel behind. One that would, in time, prove scrumptious. Larg'haree just barely wasn't close enough to go for an all out tackle on the man, but he was in range for something else. The spiciness of Tuk'ata meat coursed through Larg'haree's stomach, accented by the bear's focus in the force causing great rumblings of satisfaction. A different sort of heat emerged from the bear's mouth in reply to Larg's admittedly paltry use of the Force, throwing the only Force power that Larg'haree possessed at [member="Cameron Centurion"]. The Fireball Belch.

Though not excessively fast or wide it would wider and faster than a typical blaster bolt. Though the Gamorreans Thok and Gorc could use the Fireball Belch with such proficiency as to melt durasteel Larg'haree was not that proficient, the ball, if it hit Centurion, would probably ignite his hair, clothing, that sort of thing, cause quite a bit of pain and burning, but it wouldn't melt through armor, give third-degree burns or inflict such pain that Centurion wouldn't be able to move, or anything ridiculous like that. It'd still hurt like a schutta, but that was to be expected. In any case, he'd have gotten the attention of Moross God, and true combat would be upon them soon.

 

[Lord Depravious]

Lord Depravious found himself in quite the precarious situation. He was now about to be entangled by a force grip that would assuredly end his life if he did not do something about it soon. Mikhail Shorn had done something for him though, he had set up the perfect counter attack but it all had to be timed perfectly. The bear would also prove useful in the end as well. But for now he had to deal with the force that was slowly beginning to manifest around him.

In this moment time began to slow for Lord Depravious, his thoughts washed over his mind and he began to devise a way out - for death was now knocking on his doorstep. This wasn't some crazy time-warp theory, no simply all of his thoughts began to become crisp, he began to think of a way out, he began to think. He knew the trajectory of the bear. He knew his force power was almost up, and he knew that he would need to do something and NOW.

In this moment he closed his eyes and slowly extended his hand outwards in the force attempting to deflect the force back at Mikhail Shorn. The force grip would no more than probably be drained off his body and perhaps knock Mikhail off of his own balance for possibly a millisecond or two, but including the fact that he was probably nauseated still from those waves of darkness cast earlier that was all Lord Depravious need. There was still however the impending threat of the bear, or tank that was now hurdling at him. As Lord Depravious's feet touched the ground once more he began to spin. He knew that he would be hit by this truck of a beast; however, the spin would allow his momentum to carry.

As the bear hit him Lord Depravious used the claws - now crushing through his armor - to spin off into the sand at the side. The momentum of the spin and the step would have spun him out of control and onto his face in the ground. The sheer size and weight of the bear would have more than likely cracked a few ribs and bruised some others. Luckily for Lord Depravious that was all they did. The sand now littered his face as he turned his head to catch a peak at what had happened.

You see, as stated before probably nine thousand times, these bears were tanks 700+ lbs tanks. That means that while they could get going and were tanks, they could not stop that easily, specifically on the surface of which they chose to hunt. Sand. That left both Mikhail and this bear in quite the precarious situation. The bear having missed his target, and even had he hit the target would have gone hurdling into the halberd that was now sticking quaintly out of the ground. And with Mikhail possibly being knocked off balance and a bit nauseated and perhaps unfocused for even the slightest split second, he could be hit by this 700+ tank. Even if the bear had decided it wanted to come to a stop placing both of its paws on the ground there was absolutely no way according to any type of physics anywhere it could come to a stop before hitting the halberd or Mikhail - had it adjusted its course even the slightest bit.

Lord Depravious, however, laid in the dirt face first - blood began to slowly pour from his mouth due to the broken ribs - and falling that hard onto the ground even if it was sand didn't feel to great. He slowly stood from the ground the blood now dripping down his face as he turned to look at what would come of the bear and Shorn. He slowly began to stretch into a charging stance as he readied for his next attack.. The wound of his ribs hurt him as he did so, but a seasoned and trained warrior, Lord Depravious had learned how to use that pain to fuel his attacks a long time ago.

[member="Mikhail Shorn"] [member="Cin'ciri Jurir"]

 

[Ashin Varanin]

[member="Lord Depravious"] [member="Mikhail Shorn"]

Cin, having run on treacherous footing once or twice in his life, had some small idea of his own momentum. Paws outstretched to make sure of hitting Depravious, at which he'd succeeded in a gratifying way, the spell-weakened breastplate formed the contact point between himself and that halberd that the bone-splinter-in-your-teeth Sith Lord had brought up just now. The alchemy-forged polearm punched through the softened durasteel and into his chest; his immense weight bore down on the halberd, and its butt dug into the sand. With half a halberd-head in his chest, the polearm thoroughly stuck in the durasteel, Cin came to an abrupt halt just before he would have reached Shorn. Immense eyes bored in on Shorn's, wide and unblinking with the pain and intent of his last conscious moment.

"Kick...his...shebs."

Syncope put Cin down for the count. One bear out of the fight, though he had no illusions: in his sleep, he might well achieve his cubhood ambition of becoming a telekinetic bludgeon.

 

[Lord Ghoul]

The nausea was nowhere near incapacitating, just a light stomach ache, neither for that matter was the counter-push. Mikhail Shorn, bracing in hope of impaling a flailing Sword Boy, was in exactly the wrong kind of position to knock over. Using telekinesis on a practitioner who utilized it more or less exclusively was also what people tend to call a 'bad idea.'

A counter push dispelled the incoming blast and minimized its effects dramatically

Shorn's feet stayed on the ground, but slid an inch or two backward in the sand.

Then a lot of things happened at once and blue eyes grew wide as seven hundred pounds of fur impaled itself on the halberd. His fingers tightened on the haft, wincing as the spearhead punctured the melted durasteel breastplate and rammed home. Gouts of hot blood splashed across the front of his armor and he could feel the red vitae seep into gaps and course down his body.

The bear's giant eyes fixed him with a feral stare as the beast rumbled a last request. For a stunned millisecond, Mikhail just stared at the creature.

​"You can talk."

He gaped behind his helm. Then it collapsed.

"Oops."

Grunting, Mikhail grabbed the bear's body in the Force and swung its slumped form off him, chucking the armored animal right at Sword Boy... all seven hundred armored, impaled pounds of it... at one hundred and eleven kilometers an hour.

He didn't feel bad for killing the thing - at least he was pretty sure it was dead - but it'd been one of those accidents that always seemed to occur around him. Like accidentally chucking his senior officer through the window of a five story building. Grimacing, Shorn raised a crimson drenched hand in the direction of the bear-projectile and Sword Boy.

The implications of getting hit by the thing at that speed should have been obvious. Broken bones, probable death. If, however, the Walking Relic managed to survive the impact of the hurled bear, Shorn had a few more spots of warm hard ground to show him.

Sword Boy might have studied the Force and sword play for a thousand years. Mikhail didn't care. The guy had been sitting underground for who knows how long. Unless he managed to find a sparing partner with a nearby corpse every century or so, he wouldn't be dazzling Shorn with any magnificent displays of swordsmanship anytime soon. The expenditure of his Force energy was problematic at this point, especially since Shorn decided to levitate a dozen or so fist-sized rocks littering his half-built temple and send them zipping toward the punk at bone-shattering speeds.

[member="Lord Depravious"] [member="Cin'ciri Jurir"]

 

[Darth Oblitus]

"BEAR DOWN!" shouted Ursino, slowly turning around to make a beeline for his fallen brother. "BEAR DOWN! I GOT IT!"

Massive paws dug into the sand as he ran. His weight was an issue, but with wide paws and massive muscles he was doing well enough. Sure, he'd be sore tomorrow, but running in the sand was a good workout, right? The armor he wore weighed him down a lot more than the other bears. For one, it was made of beskar (bearskar) plates in a form of armor known as beskar'kandar. For another, it was really, really, really heavy. Of all his brothers, he wasn't sure who else could wear his armor as he did, but after a long time of wearing it, it slowed him down only marginally. He couldn't sprint, but at a steady lope like he was already in, it would take a far larger force to stop him.

As he ran, he prepared himself for what he must do next. Would he need to fight off the people around his brother? Would they let him tend to his fallen comrade?

The fact that one of them lifted his brother and threw him at an enemy answered it all for him.

"I'M A-COMIN' BROTHER!" he bellowed, his rage very, very evident in his voice at the ill-treatment of his badly wounded kin. "URSIIINOOOOOOO PUUUUUUUUUUUFF!!!"

[member="Cin'ciri Jurir"] [member="Lord Depravious"] [member="Mikhail Shorn"]

 

[Hira Mitsae]

His brother had fallen, but Dovak’in was too far away to be of any help. Rage filled him when the emo sith used Cin as a simple rock to be thrown at his convenience, and yet he was still far away to do anything about it.

Then he heard the rumbling voice of Puff doing what Puff did best, combining comedy with furiousity and the fear of God.

Satisfied that Cin was in good hands Dova looked further, his other brother from the same mother was dealing with that other guy, and the woman was suddenly walking to the battlefield too; fire blazing from her.

Good target.

He started running.

[member="Anesia Jy'Vun"]