Reaching out Vael grasped at the rippling psi around him, focusing on
it's flow. It's current ebbed through him, carrying his movements
giving form to his motion. He began a dance, a slow melody of fluid
death. A step and a twisting at the hip swept the blade level before
him, slicing through a pair of attacking forms.
Sharp steel-like tips slammed together with a snap a mere inch behind
the graceful Ghost snaring only air. Another volley of the dead
busted over head, bringing Vael's attention back on the scavenging
Reaching within he called on his psi and channeled it into his legs.
Bursting with speed he raced over the snapping of claw and teeth to
close the gap between the bother-some corpse slinger. His blade held
before him it slid into the slothful tower with a wet crackle. A
shadow of living tissue now he turned back to face the remaining
forces marshaled against him.
In a matter of moments the creatures were little more than empty
husks, adding to the littered ground. Centering himself once more
Vael released his minds focus on the formed blade and felt at his
surroundings. Concentration yielded the quiet pulse of psionic power
wasn't completely asleep, but instead distorted hum. It's energies
dampened and altered somehow.
He listened to it, sending a small spar of himself, like a pebble
into a waiting pool. It's ripples were ancient and slow, but it was
deep. By the elders was it deep, and vast. Slowly he traced it's
path, feeling his way along.
Not much further he thought. And then one way or another he would
cleanse this hallowed place.