To his credit, Orren meets her assault readily. Her sabers dart in an out, attempting to lance through him and he turns them aside, parrying with his own blade or pushing them back with the strength of his own mind.
The Force push - the telekinetic cannon ball she launches at him ... it hurts. It rattles his bones, knocks the wind out of him, and staggers him ... but his own strength, his own push in return spares him from the worst of it.
Without that, though ... she'd have killed him outright with that. It's clear that whatever she has learned, whatever dark power she has claimed for herself, it has made her into something far beyond the Kreia that he used to know. She was always strong with the Force, but he'd have been able to overpower the woman that she used to be.
Whatever she is - Jedi, Sith, or something else ... it's becoming increasingly clear that she's beyond his ability to fight on his own.
'Atris is fallen, by my whispers. Your masters, my betrayers, will die for the stupidity they are about to unleash, out of their weakness, their fear ... their apathy towards making the universe truly better. I will tear down everything. Know that, and suffer."
The words cut deeper than the blades would have if they'd struck home. They cut because she's capable of delivering on every, single one of those promises - he can feel it. In that moment he can almost see the faint outlines of what would come if her ambitions were fulfilled. They are amorphous, almost entirely without shape, but the impressions of them fill him with a familiar dread.
Perhaps he's always known where that path ends.
Perhaps that's why he'd always felt ill at ease in her presence, even decades prior to her fall.
He doesn't have any time to consider it. The storm of force lightning she unleashes crashes into him. He's able to block some of the tongues of forking energy with his lightsaber and blunt others with the force, but the assault is far more than he can defend against. Other bolts of searing energy stab into him, burning across his skin and along his nerves, sapping his strength.
"You're every bit as lost as the masters who wronged you!" He snarls through teeth gritted against the pain. "Just as they let themselves be consumed by their dogma - their self-righteousness - you've given yourself over to the pain and rage from the betrayals you've suffered!"
He takes a step back. His body instinctively begins to draw into itself, as though he can somehow shield himself from the pain.
"What was done to you was wrong. The Jedi have been in wrong for a long time, they've forgotten the ideal the need to live up to, but unleashing a travesty on the galaxy won't undo their mistakes!"
Orren drops to a knee. He can't withstand much more. He'll lose consciosness soon, and be left at her mercy.
Behind him, the fires started by her first volley of lightning are beginning to consume the hut that had been his home for the past year, and in that, he sees an opportunity. A desperation play that might give him the opening he needs to escape.
"I am sorry, Kreia, for what was done to you ... for all the failings of the Order ..."
And there are many ... far too many to count.
He still holds hope, though. That the Jedi might learn from all the mistakes that have lead them to this point ... that they might live up to the lofty ideal that they're meant to embody as protectors, and start helping the galaxy again instead of harming it any further.
He reaches out through the Force. He feels the wooden walls of the hut, weakened by the flames, start to splinter.
"But you must be stopped."
Orren pulls on the weakening structure with everything he has left. The walls shatter, shredding into a cloud of splintered wood, burning debris, and cinders - a swarm of missiles that Orren guides towards Kreia with as much force as he can put behind them with his rapidly depleting strength.
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The Force push - the telekinetic cannon ball she launches at him ... it hurts. It rattles his bones, knocks the wind out of him, and staggers him ... but his own strength, his own push in return spares him from the worst of it.
Without that, though ... she'd have killed him outright with that. It's clear that whatever she has learned, whatever dark power she has claimed for herself, it has made her into something far beyond the Kreia that he used to know. She was always strong with the Force, but he'd have been able to overpower the woman that she used to be.
Whatever she is - Jedi, Sith, or something else ... it's becoming increasingly clear that she's beyond his ability to fight on his own.
'Atris is fallen, by my whispers. Your masters, my betrayers, will die for the stupidity they are about to unleash, out of their weakness, their fear ... their apathy towards making the universe truly better. I will tear down everything. Know that, and suffer."
The words cut deeper than the blades would have if they'd struck home. They cut because she's capable of delivering on every, single one of those promises - he can feel it. In that moment he can almost see the faint outlines of what would come if her ambitions were fulfilled. They are amorphous, almost entirely without shape, but the impressions of them fill him with a familiar dread.
Perhaps he's always known where that path ends.
Perhaps that's why he'd always felt ill at ease in her presence, even decades prior to her fall.
He doesn't have any time to consider it. The storm of force lightning she unleashes crashes into him. He's able to block some of the tongues of forking energy with his lightsaber and blunt others with the force, but the assault is far more than he can defend against. Other bolts of searing energy stab into him, burning across his skin and along his nerves, sapping his strength.
"You're every bit as lost as the masters who wronged you!" He snarls through teeth gritted against the pain. "Just as they let themselves be consumed by their dogma - their self-righteousness - you've given yourself over to the pain and rage from the betrayals you've suffered!"
He takes a step back. His body instinctively begins to draw into itself, as though he can somehow shield himself from the pain.
"What was done to you was wrong. The Jedi have been in wrong for a long time, they've forgotten the ideal the need to live up to, but unleashing a travesty on the galaxy won't undo their mistakes!"
Orren drops to a knee. He can't withstand much more. He'll lose consciosness soon, and be left at her mercy.
Behind him, the fires started by her first volley of lightning are beginning to consume the hut that had been his home for the past year, and in that, he sees an opportunity. A desperation play that might give him the opening he needs to escape.
"I am sorry, Kreia, for what was done to you ... for all the failings of the Order ..."
And there are many ... far too many to count.
He still holds hope, though. That the Jedi might learn from all the mistakes that have lead them to this point ... that they might live up to the lofty ideal that they're meant to embody as protectors, and start helping the galaxy again instead of harming it any further.
He reaches out through the Force. He feels the wooden walls of the hut, weakened by the flames, start to splinter.
"But you must be stopped."
Orren pulls on the weakening structure with everything he has left. The walls shatter, shredding into a cloud of splintered wood, burning debris, and cinders - a swarm of missiles that Orren guides towards Kreia with as much force as he can put behind them with his rapidly depleting strength.