Raikou examined the stone door blocking entry to the chamber where the spectre incident happened. The party, himself included, had tried everything to get past it, from blaster fire to thermal detonators. Not a scratch. The Raider didn’t care much for the Sith whore that was trapped behind the door, but being appointed as the new Quaestor of House Shar Dakhan meant losing her would disturb the state his Clan was finally in, ordered and disciplined.

The sound of hastened footsteps coming from behind him broke the silence. The Keibatsu turned his attention toward the sound, only to see an enormous Dashade, whom he immediately recognized as the Consul of Clan Tarentum, making his way toward him alongside a handful of troops.

“I believe there is a situation here?” The Warlord’s presence was ominous. “Would you mind if we gave it a shot?”

“Knock yourself out,” Raikou replied, stepping out of the way. “We’ve tried everything, it won’t budge.”

Frosty Romanae Tarentae stood two meters tall in front of the stone barrier, his eyes closed, his arms wide open, and his lips moving as he muttered something silently under his breath. All of a sudden, he let out a deep, loud cry that made the atrium tremble and started running at his target. With a loud crack, his clenched fist made contact with the door, leaving a deep dent in it.

The Tarentae turned toward Raikou, blood running from his knuckles. "I suppose you haven’t tried that yet?"