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- May 31, 2016
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He could feel it. Even before the boots of the assassin collided with the pieces of glass which littered the sandy earth outside of the palace. This was not over. Ever present and unrelenting, hunters had sought to bring him down from the very moment he had begun distributing "mercy". There was no such thing as rest for the boy, there never had been and there never would be. No time for wounds to heal. No time for memories to fade. Each day was an endless chase of the hunter and the hunted. Roles were reversed so often that Xanthier no longer knew if he was on the tail of the Sith, or on the run from them and those he had wronged. A hypocritical circle of events. Seeking vengeance for all the strife the Empire had caused him, yet with each blow that they dealt against him he slipped further and further into their ways. Now, just as before, he had let himself become consumed by anger and agony. Pain fueled rage. Rage that could not be controlled. His cold calculating mind was now utterly devoted to eradicating the man who refused him the right to leave. In the deepest part of the youth's heart, he did crave peace. Yearned for it. His past prevented these feelings from ever surfacing. Frozen in endless torment as he both accepted pain and delt it to anyone unfortunate enough to get in his way. He wanted nothing more than to kill the masked man and continue from there.
None on this miserable rock deserved life.
Crunch
Sounded the assassin's boots as they landed upon the broken glass. Followed by soft cracking as the man shifted his position to line up the shot, bringing his weapon up to his masked face while flipping up the sight on the rifle. The youth was not far, having traveled just enough distance to render his lightning almost useless at that range, but well within the perimeters of the rifle. It was almost as if the assassin had planned it that way, yet it was simply chance.
Xanthier turned as his ears picked up the unmistakable sound. His acute hearing missed little in the world around him. An unalert predator would never survive. Vigilant and paranoid the boy was on edge at the best of times. Now his senses were in overdrive.
As Kip released the first shot he dove into a leftward directed roll. Throwing his body upon the ground rather than face the full wrath of the blaster fire, deactivating the saber still held within his hand. The burst of blaster rounds sailed past where his body had been just a moment before. The assassin of course had no intention of giving up that easily, and as the boy moved, Kip pulled the trigger a second time. Unleashing a flurry of shots towards the youth as he began to evade, tearing up the dirt around Xanthier's body and severing the belt around his waist, leaving a singe mark where the bolt had slightly cut into the armor beneath as it did so. His belt and sash came off as his momentum carried him in the roll. Coming to a stop a body's length from where he had stood, now in a low crouch.
His leg pained him, refusing to lift him back unto his feet as fast as he wished. Having to rely on the strength of his right leg to bear the stress. Anger boiled within him. The very same aura that had polluted the inside of the palace at the very start of all this now spewed forth, emanating from his body. A radiating pulse that was far more obvious to those sensitive with the force than without, contagious anger.None on this miserable rock deserved life.
Crunch
Sounded the assassin's boots as they landed upon the broken glass. Followed by soft cracking as the man shifted his position to line up the shot, bringing his weapon up to his masked face while flipping up the sight on the rifle. The youth was not far, having traveled just enough distance to render his lightning almost useless at that range, but well within the perimeters of the rifle. It was almost as if the assassin had planned it that way, yet it was simply chance.
Xanthier turned as his ears picked up the unmistakable sound. His acute hearing missed little in the world around him. An unalert predator would never survive. Vigilant and paranoid the boy was on edge at the best of times. Now his senses were in overdrive.
As Kip released the first shot he dove into a leftward directed roll. Throwing his body upon the ground rather than face the full wrath of the blaster fire, deactivating the saber still held within his hand. The burst of blaster rounds sailed past where his body had been just a moment before. The assassin of course had no intention of giving up that easily, and as the boy moved, Kip pulled the trigger a second time. Unleashing a flurry of shots towards the youth as he began to evade, tearing up the dirt around Xanthier's body and severing the belt around his waist, leaving a singe mark where the bolt had slightly cut into the armor beneath as it did so. His belt and sash came off as his momentum carried him in the roll. Coming to a stop a body's length from where he had stood, now in a low crouch.
Gripping the metal hilt of his saber in fury, he ignited the crimson blade which crackled to life with a loud fizz. As if it too could feel it's master's hatred.
Xanthier began to rush forward. Hindered by his leg and sustained injuries, he was far below the speed at which he could normally move, but pressed on despite the obvious signals his body sent him. Focusing only on the stream of enraged emotions which flooded his mind. The hunter had plenty of time to formulate a plan, as the boy charged forward at full sprint.
The blood on his left hand fizzled as electricity once again arched around the clenched fist. Drops of the dark liquid stained the sand with each step.
Though he was still too far away for the hunter to sustain any damage, Xanthier forced his left arm forward despite his shoulder's protest and lightning crackled within the open air between the two darksiders. Not close enough reach the masked man, it arched in unnatural directions, searching for something to latch on to. The blast was noticeably weaker than the last, lacking the intensity but certainly not the potential agony. It would not be long before the youth could close the distance. The rifle still remained an imminent threat, one that Xanthier hoped he had at least postponed by sending forth the flash of energy.
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