Your anger bubbles under your skin within your blood. You have never been able to accept uncalled for hostility directed at you. Like predictable clockwork, the injustice of their insults and vitriol has made the fire within you blaze bright. It has led to situations where you end off the worse, but it is something you do not want to rid yourself of. After the events, if you were the one who got beaten, you would never decry that burning instinct within you. You will fight for yourself even if you lose. Otherwise, if you meekly bow to those who mock and hate you, you will kneel to others who wish to walk over your supine form.

The Force trapped inside your blood gnaws at its prison, aching to break free and be unleashed upon your enemies. You could throw your fists, but this power inside you is one you want to test and develop, and if you can harness it now on command rather than it puppeting you through instinct during times of desperation. Furthermore, brawling can lead to you getting bloody and broken; if you are successful with the Force, then they won’t touch you. Once again, the dragon within roars a deafening screech.

Listening to the power within, you swipe your hand towards Murl, unleashing a portion of the welling strength. The human that spends much of his time and care on looking his best loses all composure as he is thrown away with great force. Murl slams into tables and chairs, scattering them with the impact, letting them slam loudly as they crash to the floor. Your head swivels to Halaben, who stares confused and slack-jawed at his ally being tossed like a child’s doll. The primitive instinct that calls for more violence has you in its grasp; with your other hand, you slam down as if trying to squash a bug against the table. Halaben is smashed against the ground by a giant invisible palm.

Never have you felt more invincible and potent. Halaben gazes up at you with a concoction of hate and fear in his eyes while blood spills from his nose. But he does not move any more than that. He has accepted his defeat. Murl is different, he does not stir from the overturned table and the scattered chairs. He is alive, you think. The strength of the blow has left him unconscious. Your system is still pumping with primal energy. You walk off in triumph, feeling like the world is yours; it just doesn’t know it yet.

You walk away from the scene of the fight, was it a fight? Do fights need to be multidirectional? Beating, it was a beating. The flaming engine in your soul that fuels your world-bending strength is still there, tired but still active if needed to be called upon again. It feels so natural to you, like breathing. How could this have been hidden for so long when it is so potent. The fact that the two could not defend themselves asserts that this newfound strength is something that the other Acolytes do not possess or have not unlocked.