- Joined
- Dec 19, 2015
- Messages
- 349
- Reaction score
- 411
This was the destruction his people foretold of? This was the destructive theory they had dreamed, realized? A figure stepped down one quaking hall of the Republica building, walking opposite of the gentrified wealth fleeing their estate buildings. In days past it would have been a glorious reckoning, something promised to him as his right, and he would spill blood in the glorious name of the Sith.
Mors lifted his gaze, shadowed under the guise of his hood, to reveal ice blue eyes washed clean of their sithly corruption. He was clear of mind, able to see that for all the destruction that surrounded him, it was nothing. Another great conquest to grace the tragedies of history and be forgotten to time. The petty wars of creatures too short-lived to see their victories pass like breaths. The jedi knight lifted a gloved hand to brush the hood back from his ashen black hair, decorated with the braids of a jedi learner. He was renewed, revitalized in his faith. Where once he was but a cradle of fear and anger he had found purpose. Deft ears took him toward the sound of lightsabers humming and buzzing through the air.
Something pulled at the back of his mind, however, dulling the senses as he listened for the location of his enemies. It was an intangible sensation, the calling of the force. It was trying to alert him of something, but to what he knew not...
He ignited his saber, holding the slender hilt by the center as he admired the glow of the orange blade, crackling wildly like it was born of pure fire. A few more steps around the circular hallway and he saw the fiend, a hooded warrior bearing a crimson red blade. Another terribly corrupted soul holding onto their want to cause pain. A hollow disciple, he thought, fooled just as he was. Mors rose the column of plasma up into a fighting stance, held strong within both palms. The anzat uttered not a word, achieving a mystical battle focus.
Mors lifted his gaze, shadowed under the guise of his hood, to reveal ice blue eyes washed clean of their sithly corruption. He was clear of mind, able to see that for all the destruction that surrounded him, it was nothing. Another great conquest to grace the tragedies of history and be forgotten to time. The petty wars of creatures too short-lived to see their victories pass like breaths. The jedi knight lifted a gloved hand to brush the hood back from his ashen black hair, decorated with the braids of a jedi learner. He was renewed, revitalized in his faith. Where once he was but a cradle of fear and anger he had found purpose. Deft ears took him toward the sound of lightsabers humming and buzzing through the air.
Something pulled at the back of his mind, however, dulling the senses as he listened for the location of his enemies. It was an intangible sensation, the calling of the force. It was trying to alert him of something, but to what he knew not...
He ignited his saber, holding the slender hilt by the center as he admired the glow of the orange blade, crackling wildly like it was born of pure fire. A few more steps around the circular hallway and he saw the fiend, a hooded warrior bearing a crimson red blade. Another terribly corrupted soul holding onto their want to cause pain. A hollow disciple, he thought, fooled just as he was. Mors rose the column of plasma up into a fighting stance, held strong within both palms. The anzat uttered not a word, achieving a mystical battle focus.