Thursday, 3 October 2013

I'm still alive and why

Wow I realized I haven't posted anything up here for a while - time to remedy that. Guess life as an author isn't as 'chill' as most of the people I knew think. And it's not like I have an actual topic to write about, unlike other blogs. Instead, as the few followers who read this think know by now, my prose is directed solely by a mixture of insanity and bouts of creative genius.
Not sure about that last one, but you'll get plenty of the first.

So what have you been up to Ryan?
I am so glad you asked audience. As most of you know I am now published by AEC Stellar Publishing (pretty much the most awesome group of people around - and I'm not saying that just because I signed a contract with them). Firstborn (version 2 - aka the real deal) will be out in December, and I am extremely happy to cross that sucker off of my to-do list. Don't get me wrong; I loved writing it. That book is 3 years of my life and the formation of myself as an author.
I'm just saying that, after 3 rewrites, I'm glad to move on to other projects.

Like the Pandora Chronicles.

I'm sure there's a post here somewhere about that, but I'm too lazy to stifle through my own crap to find it. I want you to understand something: this is my 'relaxing-after-work' time. I am watching episodes of Friends, Saint Seiya (the 1986 version, cos why not?) and reviewing a book by a fellow AEC author (I won't say anything else cos I'm not sure where I stand legally and I can't afford a lawsuit.) Well, no one can afford a lawsuit, not in this day and age. I'm surprised we all don't just wear metal detectors and prowl beaches for those long lost tapes proving the landing on the moon was in reality just wanker on a trampoline who got high in a completely different sense of the word.

So anyway - back to my shit.
The Pandora Chronicles is the second series I''m currently working on in conjunction with the Legacy series. I have Book 1 of Pandora Chronicles halfway done and it is a blast. Sci-Fi alien gods and high speed chases on boats with helicopters.
I'm gonna give y'all a minute to digest that. (And I will get Nashville out of my vocabulary).
No offense Nashville - love the show.

I have also completed Book 2 of the Legacy series. I don't have a title yet - I hate those suckers. How is it possible to write a 55+K (Or in this case somewhere close to 90k) words and then blank out on 1 word? Or a phrase?
I mean It's Just One Word! Mathematically speaking (now all the authors hate me) it should be the easiest thing in the world.
Our minds work in mysterious ways. Sorry I meant to say, retarded.

And please nobody get offended on my use of certain adjectives. If you're sensitive about my completely objective and innocent (since I'm not actually referring to a person but rather an object which can scientifically be proven not to exist) use of the term 'retarded' - well, guess what you are.

Wow. Am I unleashing the beast tonight.
No not that beast. (Although I could be persuaded for a small fee)

Get back on topic Ryan.
There is no topic. What can I tell these nice people (some of whom I called retards)? I can't mention that I am working on two pilots right now - one for a serialized fiction series and one for a script. None of those things have been finalized, you see. They are my secret projects, my Area 51s.

I'm also not planning to let this blog run cold. I think if I could spout 2 lines of bullshit every week, that should keep the 7 people reading this happy.
Maybe I should start a podcast. It'll be just me and my muse - and she'll totally dominate me because she's an utter bitch.
More like a dominatrix.

She's like a siren which I constantly follow, only to find myself drowning and in a stick situation where I'm forced to trade my singing voice to a tentacled fat lady and montage with a performing crab/lobster. And if you didn't get my Little Mermaid reference - checkity check yourself.
That's my muse in a nut shell - a beautiful, bitch siren and whenever she visits, I have to put her on my To-do list.
(High five to all the perverts out there who got the joke. That was a hard one to work in. Oh, there I go again.)

Until next time guys.
Stay tuned,
Me. Whoever the fuck I am.

Friday, 23 August 2013


It's been a long while since I posted something on here and I think it's about time we change that.
Below are the opening lines of a novella I just finished called Big Wolf on Campus (Yes I'm a 90's child. Moving along).
Title may be subject to change.
This little baby will be part of a Halloween release and will also be included in a short story collection published by AEC Stellar.
More details on my twitter account (@enkousama).

This story still takes place in the Legacy universe but it is way before First Born. No succubii, no Sins, no angels - just a wizard and his talking cat.


I live life by two tenants: number one - never speak to me before my first cup of coffee.
Rule number two - never break rule number one.

“Yep. That's a dead guy,” I said nonchalantly.
Detective Roland March raised his eyebrows from where he was kneeling - right next to the pile of flesh and bone that had once been Woodridge High's most prized quarterback.

I had barely made it to the small clearing outside of campus when a small swarm of journalists assaulted me with questions: Roland wriggled from the crowd and shooed everyone away before handing me some coffee.

He showed me what was left of the corpse: it looked like it had been through a blender. And believe it or not, that wasn’t the part that interested me - I’m used to gore.
I was more intrigued by the set of paw prints leading from the corpse into the woods next to the high school.

“Maybe he met Lord Voldemort in there.”

Saturday, 10 August 2013

Murphy can suck it

It's been nearly a month since I posted anything on this thing, so I better get cracking. As you can see I'm not an avid blogger: this is really just a diary for me where I dump all the horrible mental shit that goes through my head.
It's very cool though that you guys react to it.

So I should maybe give some updates and see where that leads.
For starters, I have finally finished the last draft I am willing to do of First Born. Now it's in the hands of God, my manager and the worker bees at AEC Stellar and an editor. Book 2 is written but needs to go through the process before I am even comfortable releasing proper snippets of preview chapters.

Then there are the Pandora Chronicles.
What is that, I heard you ask.
Well, my ethereal friends; the Pandora Chronicles is a series of books the first of which I am working on right now. It's Sci-Fi and action-adventure. It's Indiana Jones meets Assassins Creed.
And if you want to read the prologue of the first book take a peak over here:
Yep. Genesis is in fact the prologue of this novel and should give you an idea of what to expect.

Wraith: Agent of the Force is over as well. That Star Wars fanfiction short story took a lot out of me as one of the longest projects, but it is over too.
check out the full story here:

As of yesterday I have finished writing a TV pilot and am trying desperately to improve it. It's bad right now- I mean, this thing looks like it's been hit by a truck.

Meanwhile I've had one of the worst weeks of my life. It seems that the universe is trying to impose Murphy's Law on me.
Here's a list:
- a minor car crash which did no damage to the cars involved but left me with nine stitches around the knee.
- my computer is away for repairs for two weeks
- I can't work on the things I need to work on with regards to edits and short stories.
- and of course I can't walk, drive or train or otherwise alleviate the stress welling up inside of me.

Maybe there is a God out there - and the bastard is probably laughing his ass off at me. All I know is that if I ever see Fortuna, the Roman goddess of fortune, I am bitch slapping her to the next dimension.

My only complaint so far is that I have a lot of time doing nothing, and that is not healthy for me. I tend to start asking questions and be more of an introvert, which usually leads to self doubt and depredations of mental nature.
Once that happens your day is just ruined.

Though I was never a big believer in luck.
One of my favorite Celldweller songs ( and trust me there are a lot of those) is called the Lucky One. The bridge goes something like this:
"I've tried to push straight through the suck
head first but now my fucking head is stuck
I'm feeling like a stupid schmuck
Lucky for me I don't believe in luck"

Anyone who's an artist knows that those words aren't just lyrics - they are a hard hitting documentary!
Anyone who fought through years of sweat, blood and torment (often self inflicted) knows that luck is just a perspective.
So yeah, maybe some people have a random chance of success better than others. That's only 10% of the formula. The remaining 90 is divided between 10% skill and 80% perseverance.

And through that perspective I suppose I'm starting to see the world a little differently. I mean, so what if I can't walk right? At least I didn't lose my leg.
So what if I can't get an much work done as I want to. If I hadn't grabbed pen and paper and decided to write new projects from scratch then I wouldn't have two new shiny additions to my idea drawer. I wouldn't have branched out into writing in a format completely out of my comfort zone.

So I suppose the point of this post is to
A. Let you know I'm alive although only partially kicking.
B. To give you some updates and wave my new projects in your face whilst I'm still in denial of just how much they truly suck big balls.
C. To say a big Fuck you to Murphy, whoever that guy is.

My philosophy is that of the Lucky One (Song not the lame movie).
Murphy's Law can suck it.

Friday, 12 July 2013

Oh by the way

Read my Author's Note here:

I thank people and make promises for future madness. no big deal.

So click on the link.

Do it.

Welcome to the End

Welcome to the final part of the Star wars original fanficiton entitled Wraith: Agent of the Force.

Thank you for your support and please enjoy,

Welcome to the End

They were back on Dathomir: Elara’s home planet. After Darth Ozar’s defeat, she had found her beloved weak and in a pile of rubble. His Force signature was only a fraction of its former self. It seemed that Wraith had burnt through the last of his power and was left as a husk.
She had healed him and marvelled at the look on his face. She had always noticed the heavy look in his eyes; the heavy burden which the universe placed on his shoulders. But now he looked light and at ease. She found herself attracted to the newer version of Wraith.
He had regained his strength on the ship as he asked her to take him to her home world. He needed a planet coated with the Force, a nexus of power, far from prying eyes and curious power mongers. She knew of a cave, on the far edges of the Signing Mountain Clan’s territory.
During this short trip she noted his change and spoke to him about it. He agreed – liked the newer version of himself too. It was then when she asked about his name. Was there a meaning behind Wraith? He said that once his master told him about these ghosts fuelled by a desire to torment and punish. When the Force illuminated him to a higher purpose he decided to become a wraith, a phantom of torment, for the Sith. Now; now he was just a ghost in a shell. There was no purpose for him anymore.
Elara did not understand, but that was fine with Wraith; he would show her soon enough. They arrived at the mouth of the cave and Wraith motioned for the Wraith to sit with him.
“Let me show you,” he said. “All of the future.” He leaned in and kissed her.
Their minds linked and Wraith passed on thoughts to her. He showed her all he remembered: the future that the Force showed him, with all that pain and suffering. But after that wave of darkness, hope and love will reign again and that was what his purpose was.
However, there was no place for him in that future. Mortris, Ozar, the mutants: they were anomalies. But so was he. He needed to remove himself from the future.
A tear welled up in Elara’s eyes:  he had come here to die. That’s why he needed a nexus – to disappear within the Force.
“No,” she whispered. “Not now that we can enjoy peace.” She cupped his face and cried.
“I must,” he said. A lump had formed on his throat. “There is no place for me here. If I am here, then the future will not take place. I will become like Ozar; and I would rather die than destroy the universe.”
He squeezed her hand. “I love you.” He had to stop to swallow and wipe away tears. “I love you but it’s time for me to go.”
“Blast the universe,” she said furiously. “Blast the future too. Why can’t we be together now? We deserve it!”
He smiled at her and kissed her gently. “You don’t mean that. Your heart is good and you know I’m right.”
He looked at the cave. “I’ll stay there and become one with the Force.”
She squeezed his arm. “Then I’ll come with you.”
“You do not have to. You do not have to disappear with me.”
“No!” she screamed. “If you are an anomaly than I am one too. And if I have to become one with the Force to be with you, then so be it.”
Wraith’s tears increased. He couldn’t say anything – just how does one express love so strong, so certain, so pure, in mere words?

So together they entered the cave, never to exit again. They sealed the entrance and created a cocoon of energy for them to lie in. They lay down together, holding hands.
They became one with the Force, transcending the living world. The cave too was hidden from the physical realm. There, they would lie, as phantasmal energy hidden from everyone and everything. There they would lie, in wait until the universe and the Force needed them again.
It was a good life, they lived. They had done right by the universe and now the universe will give them everlasting peace. Theirs was a little world of tranquillity and love. The wraith had served its duty: now the ghost shall rest.

Until the universe called for it once more.

Thursday, 11 July 2013


Penultimate chapter to the Starwars story.
Part 30


Ozar was waiting for the right moment.
Turge’s blades were almost upon him and that was the right moment.
Losing his facility meant he lost a good chunk of power input but they had made a grave miscalculation. It was Ozar’s innate darkness that had created the facility and kept it going. He was the black heart and dark soul of that facility and, without it to siphon off his power; he had become a nexus of the Dark Side.
His sulphur eyes gazed at Turge and emitted hatred: pure, unfiltered hatred. The Dark Side powers flared as his gaze transmitted that hate and turned it into offensive power. Ozar gazed at Turge – and the mutant disintegrated. He became a puff of ash, like a piece of paper burning and its ashes left in a breeze.
Wraith and Pym remained stunned, as if frozen in time. It was the rarest of Dark powers called Deadly Sight. Whilst most Dark Side powers used anger as their source, Deadly Sight was the gaze of hatred.
The Sith turned his gaze at Pym. Wraith stepped in front of him, shielding the small Bimm from sight, and channelled his own Force powers. He could feel Ozar’s will power as his Deadly Sight willed his body gone. But Wraith countered with equal willpower and managed to remain intact.
“You are just like a plague,” spat Ozar. “You’re impossible to get rid of.” He ignited his lightsaber and a veil of darkness gathered around him. “Unless I cut you off at the source and annihilate you once and for all.”
The three clashed. Wraith and Ozar traded vicious blows, whilst Pym used his smaller frame to navigate is between them and leap. His shoto shot out like a blaster, stabbing into Ozar. The Sith’s veil of darkness blocked every strike.
Wraith retreated suddenly and unleashed a barrage of red lightning. Ozar dissipated the attack and ducked as Pym shot from out of nowhere and nearly beheaded him. He hovered in the air as gravity increased. The two warriors were soon on their knees, struggling to breathe.
‘It’s a Force power,’ said Wraith telepathically. ‘Absorb it.’
Pym was not a master of tutaminis, the art of absorption and redirection of the Force, but could perform it. They both redirected the gravity power back at Ozar: Wraith blasting him with lightning and Pym unleashing a blast of pure kinetic energy.
Darth Ozar was sent upwards and into the ceiling. Wraith Force pushed, keeping him in place. The Sith was disarmed and completely vulnerable. Pym leapt, ran up the wall and Force jumped. His orange shoto was inches away from killing the Sith.
All it took was a twitch of his fingers. Ozar telekinetically brought his weapon upwards, like a red arrow. It intercepted Pym’s leap and impaled the little furred Bimm. The force of the impact sent the now dead Jedi against the wall; nailing him into the stone like a grotesque ornament.
Ozar broke free of Wraith’s hold and retrieved his weapon. There was a silent look between them. Then the Sith brought the ceiling down and flew out of the hole he just created.

Wraith’s powers saved him from the falling debris. He glared at the hole where Ozar escaped through – no, not escaped: the Sith simply changed location.
His eyes wondered over Turge and Pym. Perhaps he should heal them. No, that was not the will of the Force. His destiny was to destroy Ozar and set the future for the rest of the galaxy. That was why he was enlightened in his jail cell all the time ago – it felt like years. He, as a person, may have changed, but his mission, his reason to live, had not.
He extended his senses and felt Elara’s Force signature. She was alive and that made him happy. If he fought Ozar away from here, she had a better chance of survival. It was a battle to the death between him and the Sith. If she interfered, she would be killed.
So he squeezed his lightsaber and allowed the Force to guide him again. He took a step and felt space shift around him.

He reappeared on the rooftop of the building. Darth Ozar stood at ease on the other side. He wore only his boots and billowing pants. Natural lightning illuminated the grey skies and his black Sith tattoos showed briefly under the flash of light. His red lightsaber hummed in anticipation at his side; the plasma blade pointed downwards.
Rain began falling; gently at first, then picking up the pace. Every drop hummed and hissed against the Sith lord and his weapon.
Wraith removed his cloak, revealing the sleeveless black tunic he wore beneath it. His lighsaber ignited twice, and a flame coloured plasma blade appeared on each end.
Both Force users stood there, starring at each other. Their Force signatures were at their fullest and loudest. There was no more need for secrets now- this was an all-out fight.
Their presence began pushing against one another before they even moved. It was like two opposing tidal waves crashing against each other. Then the fight began.
Red lightsaber met amber lightsaber in a flurry of blows. Wraith blocked an overhead strike and spun low. Ozar pushed with the Force, saving himself from impalement. He suffered a light scratch on the leg and Wraith was sent sprawling.
Wraith shot lightning and the moisture increased its power. Ozar deflected it. Wraith teleported to his flank and their weapons met again. Ozar’s free hand collected shadows and became a spike. Wraith unhinged the unused end of his lightsaber and parried the shadow blade. Ozar augmented his strength with the Force, driving Wraith down.
Wraith focused his power on the moisture and a tidal wave of water rose from behind Ozar. He turned in horror as Wraith slip from under him with a Force pull and saw the wave crash down on the Sith.
Ozar yelled in anger and his lightning arced towards Wraith. The latter dodged and Force pulled his leg from under him. Still holding the Force grip, Wraith rose to the skies, spun and slammed Ozar down on the roof ground. Ozar steadied himself and absorbed most of the impact.
Both of them now hung in the air clashing against each other. They were evenly matched and the storm raged more violently as they went in for the kill over and over again.
They smashed into a blade-lock again and Ozar drove them down. He straddled Wraith as both lighsabers hummed dangerously close to their faces. Shadow tendrils rose from Ozar and threatened to piece Wraith. He utilized a combination of powers: first the rendered himself intangible. At the same time he put up a barrier of light so that the Dark Side powers will not harm him. Lastly he Force pushed himself: upwards and into Ozar.
He phased through his enemy and materialized above Ozar’s back. In one swift motion he conjoined his weapon again and spun. Ozar’s red lightsaber parried his strike and shadows rose. Wraith broke off his weapon and defended himself using the Jar’kai technique called Rising Whirlwind, in combination with Shien and Soresu techniques.
The Force users clashed again. Ozar’s weapon arced in an overhead strike as Wraith’s paired weapons met it in a cross shape. They pushed against each other.
The ground shook beneath them and crumbled. Their Force powers reacted with each other and an anti-matter field was created around them. They ended up floating in midair. The more they struggled, the large the field grew. The roof began disintegrating as the sphere shaped field consumed every material thing.
From Ozar, shadows rose and engulfed him. His red lightsaber was shrouded in obsidian. From Wraith, light emerged and his twin amber lightsabers were bathed in light.
They let go of their weapons: this was a battle of wills. The lightsabers remained there, remotely controlled by their owners- they were mere extensions of their willpower.
As their weaopons floated above them, the two pushed with their palms extended. There was an invisible heavy force between them, the balance: it was a surge of destructive energy, and the key to win. If only he could do it, if only he could push through, Wraith would finally be at peace.
But his strength was failing. Even the Force within him began ebbing. He was reaching the last of his reserves. Perhaps this was how it had to end – mutual destruction.

He felt the Force answer his plea. Power siphoned through him as he felt himself become one with the Force. And in that blizzard of sensations, he got a glimpse of Ozar’s past and his destiny. He also felt Elara. She had gotten away long before the building had collapsed.
He saw the future he desperately fought for: the destruction as Order 66 would be issued. The fall of the Jedi. And then, one man, chosen by the Force to become the kindle of hope. He also saw the fearful Sith who renounces evil at the last moment to save his son. The fall of Sith and an era of peace.
And then, like a tiny black hole, he saw an anomaly. A world, perhaps even a different galaxy. The Unknown.
Then he saw them: the next generation. A Nautolan with a curved lightsaber smiling happily. A purple skinned Twi’lek, not unlike Elara’s blade. A skilled yet shy Zabrak mechanic and a brash female human pilot. An engineer who spends his time tinkering with mechanics. All of them Jedi and somehow connected.
But that was another time. Perhaps even another lifetime. Perhaps this was how the Force reassured him that the fruits of his labour will prosper.
He felt all their power, every living creature, who was to perish should Ozar exist, and he fought for them. This was why he fought – all this time, he thought it was the Force. But the Force was alive: life from these beings who desperately wanted to live.
And live they shall.

Blinding light exploded from Wraith as he pushed through. Ozar felt his power and wondered: just where can such strength be found? All this time he spent searching for power and now that he found it, he was to perish by it.
Light and power consumed the sky and Darth Ozar felt himself disintegrating. In one fell swoop he ceased to exist, all of his influence gone.
The light kept on expanding, travelling through the Force, to reach every corner of the universe, cleansing the Sith’s presence forever. Only one remained now, but he needed to be kept alive. Darth Sidious – the lynchpin of the future.
Then finally the light faded too and Wraith found himself face up on debris. He no longer had the strength to move or even fell the lightsabers pressing painfully against this back.
He felt nothing.
And in that nothing, he found total peace.


Wednesday, 10 July 2013


Part 29 of the Star wars story.


They were back on Drummund Kaas, back in that eerie Citadel. This time their target was a skyscraper, illuminated like a firefly.
Wraith spent the journey there in deep meditation. he knew that Darth Ozar was a businessman on the planet, running the corporate world from above and the underground as a Sith. It was a great enterprise had it not been for Wraith and Elara destroying his facility. The Force showed Wraith where would be located. He constructed a plan based on that information.
Turge, armed to the teeth and cloaked in an oversized black tarpaulin, separated from the group and headed towards the front entrance. He knew what his duty was: wreak havoc and drive Ozar out of hiding. He was more than happy to do that - anything to destroy of Ozar's was a joy in his tiny mutated heart. He would destroy everything and finally Ozar himself.
He planted his feet at the front entrance and removed his cloak. His eggshell white body was covered in plate armour: he looked like the segmented body of a Krayt dragon. Then again he was going for intimidation.
He wore giant oversized gauntlets, going all the way up to his elbows. Two enormous barrels extended forwards from the underside of the gauntlets. Giant ammo packs were strapped to the mutant's back. He raised his weapon at the building's main entrance and smiled.

Wraith, Elara and Pym were waiting for the first signs of panic. They heard Turge's artillery blast off duracrete chunks and glass. There were screams, as citizens and workers rushed out of harm's way. Wraith's could feel the wrath of the mutant - he just wanted destruction. The initial assault was a massacre.
It was easy enough to infiltrate the building afterwards. Security rushed out towards Turge, leaving an open path for the time. They made their way towards the main conference room.
"There." The voice belonged to a security guard. Four droids aimed their blasters at them, but it was too late. The Force users made short work of the droids and the man.
"Run, run." The members of the conference room came spilling out and there was a momentary confusion as twenty or so businessmen of various species burst from the door.
They stayed their weapons until Wraith identified which one was Ozar. The Darth hid his presence very well. Wraith extended his powers and held the members of the conference in his grasp. slowly he begun to squeeze. One of them broke free and Ozar's Force signature spiked for a moment.
"That's him," said Wraith as he pushed aside the other members.
Ozar was dressed in a formal business suit and his weapon was not to be seen. He must have been at a disadvantage because he ran, using the Force to speed up his movements.
The trio gave chase after him.

Ozar ran and stripped out of his suit.
“Kra,” he yelled in his wrist comm. He could feel Wraith hot on his trail, maybe three seconds away.
He sprinted down the corridor and sensed his apprentice. She was a female Mirialan wore a black body suit and carried her lightsaber like a wand. In her other hand she held Ozar’s weapon, and threw it as him as he passed.
“There are three of them. Distract them until I am ready to face them,” he ordered her.
“Yes Master.”

The three ran after Ozar and felt a second Force signature. They leapt over a desk that came hurtling out of nowhere and dodged a Force blast.
A Mirialan female leapt into their vision, scything a double-bladed lightsaber at Wraith. He dodged and Elara kicked her in the chest, sending her flying.
“Go, get Ozar,” she said as she reached behind her. Her lightsaber pike extended and she ignited the purple blade. “I’ll take care of her.”
The two women eyed each other before trading a set of vicious blows. Elara could feel her opponent’s technique – it was deliberate and careful. The witch went in for a killing strike but Kra was too fast and disappeared in a blur. Elara whipped her weapons but missed again.
“I may be at the initial stages of my training, but my basic training is perfected,” said Kra as she augmented her speed and zigzagged from side to side like a fly.
Elara blocked a red blade to one side, then the other. Kra was using hit and run techniques. Her speed made it impossible for Elara to counter attack. All she could do was block and hold out. She studied the Sith apprentice – her strikes were direct albeit random. She had revealed that she was at the beginning of her training. Elara remembered Wraith explaining the seven forms of lightsaber combat to her – the first style learnt was Shii-Cho. It had basic strikes but also emphasized randomness. She recalled the advantages of the system: it was perfect for disarmament and multiple opponents. It relied on body position shifting so it did not make it ideal for a one-on-one fight. Kra’s Force speed however had removed that disadvantage.
The witch channelled her powers and two thin strands of flame shot out. She tried to pincer Kra’s movements – the blur that had been the Mirialan was now restricted to a space between the flames. Kra, however, became a blur once more and appeared under Elara’s arms – far beyond the reach of her spells or weapon. Elara could only block one strike before her pike was ripped out of her hands.
A second strike descended on her neck.
The witch caught the blade with her bare hands, absorbing the plasma energy of the Sith’s weapon. Kra remained stunned at this seemingly impressive feat.
Elara’s other hand grabbed the saberstaff’s handle. She channelled all that energy from the plasma blade, through her and into the hand holding the handle. The energy became intense fire and she literally melted the lightstaff’s handle.
The plasma blades disappeared as their power source was cut off and Kra dropped the burning handle. She was in too much pain to defend herself against Elara.
The witch accumulated all that energy she absorbed and thrust her palm out against Kra’s chest. The resulting Force blast not only sent Kra flying but left a wide gaping hole through her chest.

Ozar dodged a Force blast and spun into a corner. They were leading him towards the commotion. There was probably a task force waiting for him.
‘No,’ he thought. ‘They would not involve clones. The beast.’
That was it. The giant mutant, that genetic defect must be the one distracting security.
Darth Ozar smiled. He had a score to settle with that mutant.

Turge had spent his ammo packs and dropped them. The barrels too – he did not need the extra weight. He threw bombs wherever he could, creating even more destruction.
And then he smelled him.
Ozar came into view and Turge lost his mind. From his giant gauntlets a pair of thick, short and wide blades, shaped like triangular chisels, popped out. The vibro-cutters were usually used to cut stone and precious stones, but any lesser weapon would be useless with Turge’s bulk. With a vibro-blade on each forearm, he charged at Ozar.

From behind Ozar, Wraith felt Turge’s wrath and saw him leap with his vibro-blades extended.
But he also felt Ozar’s bloodlust and realized that the mutant would die if he confronted Ozar alone.

“No!” he yelled but it was too late. The beast had been unleashed.