Administrator
Location: Leaving the Area - Returning to the Ferocity
Fighting Beside: [member="Var Talon"] and [member="Nysana Talon"]
Quote: "The most dangerous person is the one who quietly listens, thinks, and observes. When they make their move. Run."
Between Srina, [member="Nysana Talon"], and the unknown Force User ([member="Tobias Dib"]) along the tree line the inferno bent to their whim. The natives began to run in the other direction, trying to escape a merciless wall of flame, but there was nowhere to run on their end of the battlefield. Nowhere to hide. Ash fell like snow, leaving little black marks on her fair skin, but she paid it no mind. The whole of her being was consumed with controlling flame that would have done [member="Muad Dib"] proud. Her yellow-gold eyes gleamed, glowing with inner light, burning with corruption.
She could feel the seductive edge that power breathed. The urge to give in, to fall into the well of night, with a head full of arrogant dreams was ever a temptation. Who would not be enticed by the sweet whispers of the dark? Many a Jedi had fallen, beings far stronger than she, yet her iron will placed an impenetrable wall between herself and the line she would not cross. She killed for the sake of those around her, for the sake of the Confederacy, and for the fever-bright anger that hid in the pit of her soul.
Srina had come a long way, since leaving Eshan, and the towering wall of red-hot death that incinerated the fleeing cultists was simply more evidence. The pale-skinned woman wanted to ask the dark questions. She wanted to give in, and demand that it show her, all the things she shouldn’t know.
Yet, she did not.
As the natives began to focus on something else, with a chant rolling through the ranks, she could feel the presence of the spirits of the Mandragora. The Jart that had tied itself to her cried out, reeling from the death, the destruction, and Srina heard it over the screams of their enemies. Her hands began to turn, spinning the flame, pooling it in on itself. What was a wall of death, became a tightly wound cyclone that moved up, instead of spreading through the land, feeding on lifeform made fuel.
When it had nothing to devour and the oxygen became thin the flame went out. It dispersed as if it had never been, and the white-haired Sith Apprentice turned from baleful disaster with an unfeeling eye. She could not allow herself to take these deaths to heart. The Orcani seemed to be losing the will to fight and the Echani-born warrior had no desire to slaughter cattle. It was pointless if they would already bend to the Nightmother.
The Spirits whispered of a plan. The three heads of their pacts had designs for these people. They had seen strength, they had seen blood, fire, and death. Perhaps, now, they would see something different from the invaders that had crashed down from the stars.
Srina turned away, a smoke-filled breeze obscuring her form, swallowing the carnage of her wake.
If [member="Katrine Van-Derveld"] required her further, she would most certainly reappear, however, for the time being, the Talon siblings had served their purpose. When the smoke cleared they would not be found.
