Phantom of Death
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Darth Strosius
| Revna The atmosphere was alive with the sound of blaster fire and the sound of droid bodies colliding. The Sith moved with unhuman grace; his dual blade continued being a blur amongst the foe that surrounded him. Kasir could sense the thrumming pulse of the Force around him, powered by the dark energy surging through him. He pressed forward; fear was a foreign concept to him.
The first droid met its end with the sound of broken machinery. A blade cleaved through its torso, sending sparks flying as it crumpled to the ground. As he engaged the next target, he twisted his body in an angle that seemed impossible. His saberstaff sliced clearly through the droid’s head. He pushed deeper into the melee, moving naturally with the dance of death.
In a heartbeat the prowess emanating from the High Priest was felt long before seen. His gaze shifted just in time to witness the arrival. The pressure that formed the crater in the ground rivaled the weight of allegiance that commanded respect. At the least, the vibrations were still felt under his boots. By then the crew’s cries of terror were nothing more than an echo, and for an instant all he could do was focus on the Sith Lord's mastery over the chaos. The blade that cut through the skiff was like a knife through butter.
Upon hearing the words of showing no mercy, his cloaked figure glided towards one of the halted skiffs. Every step was as silent as death itself. Two brothers flanked him, their faces masked with more sinister like grins, while they all shared desire for vengeance.
He could taste the anxiety radiating from the trapped mercenaries. With a swift motion, the Darkseeker to his right lunged forward, channeling his raw strength into a brutal kick that smashed a mercenary's kneecap, sending him to the floor while screaming. Kasir felt excitement ripple through him; his mind felt linked to the others with dark desires.
The weapon returned to his side as the Sith’s gaze fell upon a jagged piece of metal amidst the wreckage. Its coldness was welcoming, feeling like the perfect instrument for execution. With a steady breath, he positioned himself behind the injured man, mercilessly gripping his hair so that he might realize that fate had finally arrived. His eyes widened as Kasir pressed the steel against his throat, pulling it back and forth with precision, sawing through the flesh. A sharp scream erupted in the air, but was cut short as the head was severed from the body.
As he descended back down the ramp, everything around him became a blur.
