Inmortos eyed the wolf even as he righted himself, his pulsating blade still in hand. The freezings mists rolled from the activated blade about the Sith mage. His gaze did not falter, his vision following the swift movements of the wolf. It was due to this evil-fueled gaze that Inmortos saw as the moving blur of fur and fang tossed an explosive into the air overhead. The sorcerer’s lips twisted in a smile of evil glee. The dog was rushing his encircling array of razored spears and shards of ice. The fool.
As the explosive detonated overhead, Inmortos winced, his eyes squeezing shut out of some bit of primal survival reaction still carried in his decrepit and defiled form. And as his sight was obliterated in the moment, ending his continual glare of disdain, the Sith laughed. It was a deep rasping cackle of glee that carried over the battlefield; magnifying as the wolf threw itself onto the spears of ice. He could taste the blood in the wind-whipped air. Like a dog, this rebel had thrown himself forward, unable to calculate a safer path to it’s goal. So focused on it’s rabid intent that it did not care what could befall it before such a task could be completed.
With his vile saber in hand, Inmortos lashed out. He did not need his eyes to see, for he was a creature of thebdarkness, a servant of the black eternal abyss. His was the vision of the ancients. His was the vision of the gods. His was the vision of the darkest realms of the force and it was this that he allowed to speak to what remained of his tattered and shriveled soul. Twisting Inmortos, drove his saber forwards into the storm of emotions that painted his attacker. He directed a broad sweep and stab of his black blade of despair towards the dog’s maw. He was not a bone to be chewed upon, cast away from the master’s table. He was the master, this battlefield his table, and this dog an infidel to be put down.
Even so, the dog’s claws raked against Inmortos’ arm. It was a touch. It was pain. The dark man’s flesh split beneath the canine’s rabid talons. The touch, the pain, was all he needed. The dark energies of the force rejoiced in their servant’s pain. Inmortos’ face twisted in pain and rage. How dare this dog touch him again!
Inmortos’ blade flurried blindly against the wolf, the winds of the gale surging once again to try and drive him back unto the spears of death. The wolf’s claw-filled paw that raked the sorcerer’s arm were met by the touch of icy flesh. Inmortos own hand, the one free of the saber, came down atop the muscled tendons and fur of the dog, the deepest recesses of the force pouring forth their storehouses. From the lowest depths of hell, Inmortos called the absoluteness of nothingness. No heat, no life, pure still death. With a touch, Inmortos loosed these powers unto the world, their frigid grasp expanding, seeking to draw the wolf into their gasp, a frozen statue, breath sapped from his body, life imprisoned for eternity in a moment of time. Rapidly these tendrils exuded outward, seeking whatever they might touch, so as to entomb whatever fell to their grasp in an eternity of timeless ice and death.
((3))
((ACTIONS:
-was blinded by the flash grenade, but guided by the force and close proximity of Mythos’ raw emotions.
-moved his saber to intercept Mythos’ bite attack to simultaneously seek to skewer Mythos in the face.
-Used a blast of wind coupled with some indiscriminate slashes of his saber to try and drive Mythos back into the spikes from last round.
-Received lacerations to the arm from Mythos’ claws, using the skin to skin contact to try and freeze Mythos via a direct touch attack of Creeping Doom.))