Kiskla Grayson-Matteo
Redeemer
LOCATION: Outside of the Great Library on THE STAIRS AGAIN
OBJECTIVE: Never be a mummy of any sorts.
ALLIES: The Force
ENEMIES: [member="Darth Vornskr"]
The enraged howl scorched the airwaves and even through the filter of her helmet, Kiskla couldn’t block the metaphysical quake that came with the shattering octaves. She scowled, gasping at the horrendous noise and took an involuntary step back. She would have covered her ears, but…the helmet kind of already did that. Her teeth clamped together and she winced, focusing on her calm centre rather than the external noise. It was like soothing a headache, she had to breathe instead of dwelling on the immediacy of the pain.
Her head didn’t stop throbbing though, even when The Sith Lord decided he was no longer interested in a tantrum. He launched with terrific energy, fuelled by his own angst. Instinctively, she moved to meet his Djem So onslaughts with tight, Soresu movements. One after the other, parry after parry she measured and reciprocated to his demands. She could feel his seething attitude simmering like hot coals had been reaped on his head. She countered this with her calm, almost benevolent state.
There wasn’t a way that a government with this sort of being at it’s helm could flourish. The Sith mirrored and reflected one another, and Vornskr’s deathly desires were only a fraction of their entire structure. He was a wicked carnation, vile to the core. Kiskla had read him on Coruscant, considering a path of redemption, but there was nothing but shadows and an abyss of nefarious and noxious intentions in his soul. Her Force Light had not worked on him, for he had met it with his own summoning of darkness. Two Masters of their elements, that had been entangled in a stalemate.
Her wrists twisted beneath the metallic plating, her hilts turning and rotating on command through her nimble fingers. Her footing crossed as they circled, his attacks continuous and her defences just as guaranteed. A blue basket of woven light met the barrage that vindictively slammed against her. His blade was like a crimson fan. She miscalculated one of his strikes, and it struck her shoulderplate with a sparking hiss. With so many attacks coming at once, it was fortunate her first master had been a Jedi Guardian who had insisted on instilling the concept of time and focus. Something she’d not appreciated during his tenure. While Vornskr hammered with finesse, time both slowed and raced for the Grandmaster in a combined synergy of her trained genetics that gave her complete control over her adrenaline in times of extreme stress such as this. The churning architect in her being also enhanced her natural aggression during shock, and allowed her to draw on The Force beyond her natural prodigal ability.
Suddenly, the sound of their angry windmills shrieking against each other was cut when Vornskr advanced. He was much taller than her, and Kiskla had always been a nimble fighter (although as mentioned, this was her first run with additional metallic weight). Thankfully, this form was a very lung-y one that she could use to her advantage. She countered one of his thrusts by lifting her right foot to meet his thigh as he leaned into his Form V attacks. She applied enough pressure to propel herself upward, giving herself enough air to twist above his head while hopefully keeping his blade locked. Kiskla usually got more height without the armour’s weight, and was cutting it close; not elevating his arms to the height she would have preferred to have under her control. She landed loudly on her feet, facing his back, and a little more wobbly than she would have liked. Instantly, her elbows snapped outward and two sapphire strips paralleled and struck against the back of his knees where she had detected his armour had an opening last time. Though, he’d likely got that repaired after her little shatter point trick.
OBJECTIVE: Never be a mummy of any sorts.
ALLIES: The Force
ENEMIES: [member="Darth Vornskr"]
The enraged howl scorched the airwaves and even through the filter of her helmet, Kiskla couldn’t block the metaphysical quake that came with the shattering octaves. She scowled, gasping at the horrendous noise and took an involuntary step back. She would have covered her ears, but…the helmet kind of already did that. Her teeth clamped together and she winced, focusing on her calm centre rather than the external noise. It was like soothing a headache, she had to breathe instead of dwelling on the immediacy of the pain.
Her head didn’t stop throbbing though, even when The Sith Lord decided he was no longer interested in a tantrum. He launched with terrific energy, fuelled by his own angst. Instinctively, she moved to meet his Djem So onslaughts with tight, Soresu movements. One after the other, parry after parry she measured and reciprocated to his demands. She could feel his seething attitude simmering like hot coals had been reaped on his head. She countered this with her calm, almost benevolent state.
There wasn’t a way that a government with this sort of being at it’s helm could flourish. The Sith mirrored and reflected one another, and Vornskr’s deathly desires were only a fraction of their entire structure. He was a wicked carnation, vile to the core. Kiskla had read him on Coruscant, considering a path of redemption, but there was nothing but shadows and an abyss of nefarious and noxious intentions in his soul. Her Force Light had not worked on him, for he had met it with his own summoning of darkness. Two Masters of their elements, that had been entangled in a stalemate.
Her wrists twisted beneath the metallic plating, her hilts turning and rotating on command through her nimble fingers. Her footing crossed as they circled, his attacks continuous and her defences just as guaranteed. A blue basket of woven light met the barrage that vindictively slammed against her. His blade was like a crimson fan. She miscalculated one of his strikes, and it struck her shoulderplate with a sparking hiss. With so many attacks coming at once, it was fortunate her first master had been a Jedi Guardian who had insisted on instilling the concept of time and focus. Something she’d not appreciated during his tenure. While Vornskr hammered with finesse, time both slowed and raced for the Grandmaster in a combined synergy of her trained genetics that gave her complete control over her adrenaline in times of extreme stress such as this. The churning architect in her being also enhanced her natural aggression during shock, and allowed her to draw on The Force beyond her natural prodigal ability.
Suddenly, the sound of their angry windmills shrieking against each other was cut when Vornskr advanced. He was much taller than her, and Kiskla had always been a nimble fighter (although as mentioned, this was her first run with additional metallic weight). Thankfully, this form was a very lung-y one that she could use to her advantage. She countered one of his thrusts by lifting her right foot to meet his thigh as he leaned into his Form V attacks. She applied enough pressure to propel herself upward, giving herself enough air to twist above his head while hopefully keeping his blade locked. Kiskla usually got more height without the armour’s weight, and was cutting it close; not elevating his arms to the height she would have preferred to have under her control. She landed loudly on her feet, facing his back, and a little more wobbly than she would have liked. Instantly, her elbows snapped outward and two sapphire strips paralleled and struck against the back of his knees where she had detected his armour had an opening last time. Though, he’d likely got that repaired after her little shatter point trick.
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