IC (Vel Orral)
The young Zelosian barely had time to swear as the great beast barreled towards him. A lightsaber couldn’t do much too several tons of muscle, rage and predatory instinct. Where were the others? With a strength born of desperation and fear, the apprentice leapt out of the predator’s path, collapsing in a mess of limbs and ill-temper. Few beings could face an adult rancor, one seemingly intent on eating them, without that reaction. Blind panic when charged at by a Rancor was more or less universal.
The droid cocked his head for a moment, an odd gesture from a mechanical being. “I would prefer to remain active. I am still processing my overall approach this particular strategic theater. If it would impede your work however….I understand.” TD-69 paused. "I have observed your record. You have shown a marked deviation from the norm. You are more efficent then many in the employ of the Confederacy. Such a thing should be noted." In it's own, odd, cold way, the droid was making small-talk.
IC (Mother Talzin)
Talzin inclined her head in Jaron’s general direction, a small gesture of acknowledgement. “I do endeavor to prepare the apprentices for war. In times of peace, I suspect Scitus would not allow me so much…leeway.” Her tone of voice made it clear just what she thought of that. The wrinkled night sister grinned for a moment. “But then, he doesn’t have much choice does he? War strips away the illusions beings place upon themselves I find. Did you need something? Or do you wish to observe?”
One the apprentices, a Zeltron female by the name of Sashya, stepped forward into the small clearing, while the rest of the dark-robed mass merely observed. She’d joined up with the Sith a few years ago, found her on a back-water colony even she couldn’t remember all that clearly. Sashya smirked, observing her enemy, making notes on his style, the way he held his blade. Best to test him a bit before she got serious, she tapped into the dark side, drawing upon the energies swirling about the unnatural forest that grew within the room. Moving with supernatural speed born of these energies, she lunged forwards, hoping to blade-lock her enemy with one training saber whilst striking him with another.
A simple maneuver, but his response would tell her much.
Edited by Basilisk, Aug 14 2013 - 09:32 PM.
"Shall this great kingdom, that has survived, whole and entire, the Danish depredations, the Scottish inroads, and the Norman conquest; that has stood the threatened invasion of the Spanish Armada, now fall prostrate before the House of Bourbon? Surely, my Lords, this nation is no longer what it was! Shall a people, that seventeen years ago was the terror of the world, now stoop so low as to tell its ancient inveterate enemy, take all we have, only give us peace? It is impossible! ...My Lords, any state is better than despair. Let us at least make one effort; and if we must fall, let us fall like men!"
-William Pitt the Elder, before suffering a fatal stroke on the floor of the House of Lords.