Perfect serenity and oneness with the Force was turned to fractured emotion in an instant, the instance when the life of another was plucked from the physical and entered the invisible realm of the living force; T'ish and Worror together, capable warriors as they were, could not have hoped to stop every single bolt from the heavy-duty weapons of the Clone Commandos, and each time another Jedi was struck down - Jedi that had fought their ways to this point, but would go no further in their journey, those that had tried with all their might to remain alive... - it seemed to the Kel'Dor that another piece of his own spirit was blackened by righteous anger and grief. Such feelings came to a head when the very life force of his own Padawan was snuffed out, like the separating of a child from its parent, or the genocide of an entire culture, every life was precious and he did not even feel those bolts that singed his inner robes and flesh as his attention was distracted.

Slowly he began to fade in and out of focus, the use of the Force to power his own reflexes, and so much death in such close proximity, causing great strain upon him. It did not seem that they would be getting out of this alive...and then Master Worror seemed to do, as many Jedi Masters could, the incredible; T'ish had never seen an entire group of adversaries frozen in time, their bodies still and the whole world around he and his comrades now locked in a capsule of time produced by the sheer will of the elderly but powerful Ithorian Jedi.

"T'ish, please collapse the roof of this room. I can't hold them forever."

It sounded as if the request, or very polite order, was coming from a lot further away than it actually was, sound and sight varying as he sought to do as he was asked; he knew there would be little time before the strain became too great even for Worror, and, deactivating his sabers, he sought to become more focused on the task at hand. No good could come from brooding upon his Padawan and her demise, at least not at [b]this[/b] moment, and so, with a steely force of will, T'ish flexed his three-fingered hands and sucked in a deep breath through his mask.

[I]There is no emotion...there is peace...[/i]

He allowed his eyes to close, certainly not the best option in their current predicament, seeing everything in the sort of 'sonar' that came to one using the Force as their source of vision. Everything seemed as it might to a bat or a dolphin, various shades of black and blue outlines, the clones as darker and more empty forms while his Jedi kin appeared as beacons of radiating light in the dark.

Allowing for another deep breath, he raised his arms high above his head and locked his mind onto the materials of the ceiling, letting his own being meld itself into the very atoms of the construct. Deep in the back of his mind he began to will it to break, to crumble, to collapse, unaware of how much of himself he was exerting or just how drained he would feel once this was all over.

With a grunt of effort, his entire body slick with sweat and shaking as one who has just sprinted a thousand miles, not only was there an almighty din as the ceiling collapsed, but - likely due to the flecks of rage he was now feeling, those that had mingled with his [i]lighter[/i] efforts - the walls of the room seemed to implode on themselves and do more damage than any explosives. It was as if the whole room had never existed, save as a pile of cracked rubble and twisted metal. What happened to the clones was truly none of his concern, his mind on protecting those that had gone before him, and on helping Worror as best he could.

As he turned away to follow the others into the subterranean tunnels, he allowed his arms to hang limply by his side, bending down to recover his coarse outer robes and struggling even to walk. It was only when he was within the mouth of the tunnel that a hiss of air escaped from his mask, shallow breaths coming from him, and he collapsed completely on the spot.