Thread: A Zabrak's Mate (Sanoci and Dreamgirl)

RE A Zabrak's Mate Coerced in failures of the fleeting past only spiraling indirectly into erupting racially a Zabrak's known self-assuredness prompting a berserker physiology oozing complete animalistic fury. Drakron held prestige amongst the elite of the Empire, forgoing the christening names sith are accustomed towards seizing after the metamorphism. Attunement over one's mental attributes paralleling to the traits strengthening this beast by raw emotion. Deep immersion to the gifts of the dark side were symbolized immeasurably by the trademark corruption of luminous, sulfuric yellow hues tracing over the form of his Jedi prey. A Zabrak nightbrother held no contempt, only acclamation for his origins despite feelings he was taken as some exotic barbarian warrior-slave for the Emperor himself. Neglecting repressed opinions, a barbarous grin psyched for glorious combat listening to the wailing and screams of dead rebels by the cumulative streams of red lasers emitting from E-11 blaster rifles the Stormtroopers fired with reckless abandon. Witnessing the vulnerable surface rattled, he patiently though expressing an virtue even partially associated for placid action was an unfortunate forgery of his intentions for his prey. A stratagem befitting for a formidable force sensitive as herself, Drakron kept his blood lust famished when such subtleties became significant, though to the rebel's fortunes he relied on his own skills versus larger scale skirmishes with complexities involved. An abundance of capable combatants from both sides of the conflict never beheld a specimen of his stature, towering warriors with an staggering height of seven feet tall with protruding obsidian colored horns fashioned like a crown secured over the dark brown complexion harmonizing with the motif of sheer terror masked with blackened tribal tattoos of the planet Dathomir amplified further by highlighting the tattoos with red scarfication marks adorned in his perverse version of glory and perhaps a hint of masochism. Shirtless with armor allocating near the Cestus like gloves, bracers, even braces near the dark cloth of his pants, he represented the martial warrior of the ancient times. DDecided running not worth dead comrades? The dilact was chalky in pronouncing words within the confines of comprehend, utilizing the most prevalent of languages known as basic or galactic standard. Brawny, infused by the passion of a challenge and other horrific imagery amassed in the horned skull of this venomous creature of importance to his military. Cheyenne's lightsaber once conjured painted vivid supposition over the details of past battles. A lightsaber burned marked the left corner of his face where eyebrows would be positioned should his species really bore hair, another greeting flesh through the bicep and an invisible one cloaked by clothing through the right upper thigh. Anxious to test her fighting prowess after an extended vacation away from each other, the Zabrak would finally exact revenge in a style only suitable for his species and the disciplines of the dark side itself. Diverting into a mantra emulating a mirrored sentiment of the former Jedi order, its served for psychological warfare and heightening himself mentally for the duel ready to commence between two practitioners of the force. Peace is a lie, there is only passion. Through passion, I gain strength. Through strength, I gain power. Through power, I gain victory. Through victory, my chains are broken. The Force shall free me. Weight began to distribute between the staggering feet of the martial sith, fixated at width approximately at the shoulder. Aligning them accordingly, she eavesdrop upon these antics prior to combat itself, both feet angled slightly to the side and the knees should be facing in the same direction of the feet never flatfooted. Hands adhered to about temple level, back slightly hunched, and most important having elbows raised to safeguard the chest. Manufacturing a distinguishing fighting style of unarmed combat with the capabilities of a sith warrior made this brute versatile and incredibly lethal. Muscles swelled, though trained eyes could watch the force manifest throughout his core with controlled breathing. Literally the calm before the blood stained storm, Drakron's hunger gre insatiable the longer he stood composed. Unknowingly this effect struck at a Force-user's energy and metabolism, pulling out all the weapons for the long ride. Assuming the usual stance, his right foot rose above his towering height before slamming his armored boot forward appearing akin to a blur. Masking telegraphed maneuvers, a powerful current of kinetic energy surging through the might of the sith targeted the midsection, soaring like laser fire and crashing like the fury of a Wookie tackling an adversary. Peace is a lie, there is only PASSION!!!!!