The Reaper of Won Shasot
The sharp smell of burnt flesh quickly filled the room as the orange flames lit the room up with light and a heat slowly growing to a terrifying level. The contorted piece of metal, a chair one could say had been made collapsible, slammed into the man's ribs, eliciting a grunt as he slid out from beneath the table, back nearing the flames. Thank the Force that armorweave was heat resistant. Curling his legs to his chests, and poping off the ground with his shoulders, the Rogue returned to his feet. The sabers' muted hum was almost non-existent, the roaring flames behind drowning out their song. Rounding the table, Dax swung at the Sith from the left, a strike aimed at the Sith's neck.
[member="Asharad Graush"]
[member="Asharad Graush"]