Wynn felt the tug, he could feel Worror tug on his mind like a gentle child. The Catuman decapitated another clone who had attested to sneak up on him. He then fell to his knees as a fresh wave of Jedi were slaughtered. His initial rage was powerful enough to keep him from sensing all the destruction and death that was happening. Thousands were dying, gunned down by a fearless, limitless army. He could feel the realization of this genocide crashing down around him, twisting him and taunting him, it knowing that no matter how hard he fought, he would lose. He roared with rage and got to his feet, the pain of his wound fading to the back of his mind. He pushed forward, bending the force in violent ways, smashing the ribs of clones and rattling their bodies with power. How dare they? How dare they march upon this temple and cause all this destruction and death. In a scared place. Then his mind cleared a little and he remembered the angry force that washed over the temple before the attack. It wasn't the clones. They were just pawns. No, it was [i]him[/i], whoever he was. Wynn rounded the corner and saw Worror, and several others. His mind was immediately soothed. Worror simply had that affect on him. However, with peace, comes the knowledge of the physical body, and Wynn immediately growled in pain as he clutched his side and stumbled over to the group. His side was dressed with his blood from his blaster wound and he greeted the group quite frankly "I've been shot, anything you lot can do to help?". He sensed smaller, less developed forces approaching their position. [i]Younglings.[/i]