T'ish had been on edge ever since entering the warren of tunnels, although it was impossible on the outside for anyone to tell, and the implosion of the ceiling - and a cargo of four heavy-set clones along with it - had simply tipped him over the precarious edge that he had been standing upon. He had seen many of those he knew fall to these...these 'men' and their ilk, and deep inside he could feel a hot surge of anger that was most unbecoming of a Jedi. Without conscious thought he made use of this, spreading it throughout his body, his muscles relaxing but becoming even more attentive to his every thought, each nerve within him seemingly on fire.

"GO! Get out of here-" Grunted the only Master among them, a bolt whizzing past his right arm, close enough to burn the flesh. "-I'll be right behind you."

The Kel'Dor twisted his neck to see Lyla dragging Enrik along with her, both moving quickly toward the only escape route now left to them. Nodding silently to himself, he leisurely dropped his outer robes to the floor in a crumpled heap, revealing his saber and a shorter [i]shoto[/i] with which it was paired; it might be suicidal, but he would rather die than leave the old Ithorian to his fate, who would then be left to continue the Jedi teachings? Who would the Padawans and and other survivors look to for guidance if he were to fall? No, if T'ish had to die then he would willingly do so, but he would not see Worror fall this day.

[I]One deep breath...two deep breath...three deep breath...[/i]

All around him the world seemed to slow, the blades of his two weapons emerging from their hilts at a fraction of the speed expected of reality, bolts passing by him as he twisted and turned, some deflected back toward their attackers without much accuracy, until he stood beside Worror. Although the other could not see, he had twisted his mouth into his own species version of a smile, and with almost casual indifference to his assailants he knelt and swept his blades along the floor about them until a fully circle was formed around their feet; it was meant as a challenge to his enemies, as well as an actual instrument that would be used if needs be - the corridor, and the room into which the enemy had entered, narrowed considerably the closer it got to the bowels of Corscant, and they would need to get past he and Worror if they wished to capture the rest of his kith and kin.

"Please, Master," he managed to shout above the fizzing of contacts and the projection of blast bolts, "you must survive...I beg you to go with the young ones!"

Letting his sharpened nerves and trained sense of precognition guide him, the Knight sent bolt after bolt back at his foes, yet he could not keep it up forever...and only now, with the explosion of a thermal device further along the corridor, did he realise that Seris was missing from the group. He expected that whoever she had been fighting was at least crippled now,  not many could survive the close-range blast of a detonator, but she still had to make her way back to the underground route before the four commandos firing at him realised and turned their fire between the two pairs.

"Master?"

If Worror did not wish to go, then there was no way that he could be forced, but T'ish would remain with him whatever the outcome might be.