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  1. You must embrace your since, little one. You must drink deeply of its power, to bathe in its waters, to let it take you into itself. Wrath is a deep power. It is so much more than simple Anger, it is an evolved anger, a profound hatred for that which opposes you. ***** The solder’s voice ripped into her head, but it was distorted by her growing hatred. Every instinct within the Sith Lord cried for his blood. Wrath wanted to rend his flesh, to shatter every bone and revel in the pain of his last breath. Chaos will not control me! Darth Awenydd actively withdrew her power, shutting down her emotions before she could destroy the man and his men. She was still learning control, and the Dark Side did not bend easily to one’s will. To consume its power required payment, and often the Force demanded her own sanity. She had no desire to be only a conduit. When she spoke, her voice was grave and carried a twinge of sadness at their disobedience “The Sith do not ask twice. You saw the power of the Dark Side in battle, I will not hesitate to use it on Imperial Soldiers.” The word Imperial came with a disdainful sneer. She had no love of those that claimed to be of the Sith but could not use its power. To her, the Imperial troops were but a minor convenience, pawns to be used and thrown away. “We will take a freighter, the one we captured from those pitiful lizards. See that it is prepped.”
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  2. The nightsisters exchanged a look and Lilia flipped the arrow around and lay it softly back into the bag at her hip. At little less than a meter in length, the arrow was not the most fitnesse solution for close quarters combat, but should the confrontation with this Shiro had gone differently, it would have greedily drank he and his crippled companions life blood. The short Dathmiri stepped back at the order from Darth Awenydd and grinned maniacally at the pair of Sith Troopers. “The Lamb looks on us with defiance!” She cackled a laugh and sprang back as if to distance herself from a plague. Her mistress’s eyes flashed from a pure amethyst colouring to a pale yellow. And Telperiën Ar-Pharazon strode forward, no grace, mirth, or laughter on her lips. The crystal at her neck glowed a dark crimson as she muttered a curse under her breath. The Two Dathomri behind her mimicking her words. The Force moved heavily, surrounding the two men with it’s grasp, tightening on their necks like a slave collar. Telperiën’s stretched out her hand and made a fist, tightening the grip upon their bodies and necks, her eyes flashing. Her voice echoed through the hallways, filling the ship with her words of command. “Imperial command means nothing to the will of the force. Corporal you and your men are being pressed into service. You have no option. Submit or die.”
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