Star Wars: Retaliation (IC)

[United Islands of Polis]

Captain Cornelius Mors [CALLSIGN: Scarbrand]
Galactic City, Coruscant

The funeral of Director Pereira was not as extravagant as Cornelius had taught, but it was respectable enough. None of his family members cried however, as if they had foreseen such a thing happening. What would've broken their hearts was if they had knew how and what had happened, Cornelius knew but if he told them then none of them would be safe. Directly after that however Cornelius had escorted them to Naboo, it was a two day trip thanks to premium tickets Mrs. Pereira had bough the family, it was comforting to a degree that they seemed prepared for such an inevitability.

Now however, there was no new director, not even an interim director. For now the Direct Action department was under the command of the general chain of command of the Imperial Intelligence, meaning most of their missions were either assassination, or office work. It was such a low blow to perform office work after having been on the front. At most they deserved to be going after Separatist holdout leaders, however Cornelius did not complain on taking out criminals.

This case had been looked into by the ISB for weeks now, an influential human who ran a shipping business. There were no problems, this man ran a clean business, complete permits, however the problem was that he threatened to kidnap the family of the Senator of Anaxes, naturally the Senator had brought in additional security after one unconnected kidnapping incident stopped by the Coruscant Guard, however the company had strongly said it was not their doing, but one of the Vice-Directors of Imperial Intelligence was a batchmate of the senator from the Anaxes War College and thus due to some form of nepotism, an investigation started, and now a hit was made.

Under the charges of conspiring to abduct a citizen, CEO Salk Craterrider of the Forlorn Shipping Ltd was sanctioned by the government to die.

Cornelius stood on top of a building facing the residence of CEO Craterrider, a mansion in a sense, guarded by mercenaries and security contractors, he looked at the compound using his the rangefinder attached to his helmet. At some point the antenna looking device was brought up at a neural order, soon enough a communication came through to him, he sighed, it was the ISB agent attached to the mission.

Cornelius answered and the voice came through. "Remember Captain Mors, this isn't the frontlines, don't destroy everything you see like a damn clone, we need the manifest and permits intact to liquidate the company."

Cornelius pressed a hand into the right side of the helmet and responded. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, look, if you slow me down, I'm putting a cap in your ass, put me in danger and I'll use you as a shield."

A complaint came through but Cornelius shut it off before the agent got up to speed on the complaint. Cornelius fired the ascension cable into the wall and descended quietly. Having reached the compound, Cornelius saw two guards nearby. He picked up a trash can cover and threw it like a frisbee, hitting the wall. One guard went towards the sound, the throw was not too far from Cornelius' building. People almost never looked up, so Cornelius used the ascension cable to cling himself onto the wall like a spider and readied his vibroknife.

As the security contractor looked at the alley, Cornelius jumped and pounced on the guard. The knife found itself in the neck of the guard, however the weight of Cornelius had most likely killed the man in reality. The sound was not as loud however, thankfully. Now there was only one guard. Without a silenced weapon he’d have to get as close as possible to kill or subdue him, however there was one object that could help, a rock. It was a good and hefty rock with some sharp edges, how a rock ended up here in the upper levels of Coruscant, he’d never know, but it will do the job.

Cornelius got up to a crouch and threw the rock as hard as he could, aiming for the head of the guard. The Quarren was unable to see the rock sail through the air in time and was hit right in the forehead before he could whip out his communicator. Just for good measure, Cornelius stabbed the now dead guard twice before he began scaling up the wall.

The compound was very well lit, with a few dark spots, the target was a very cautious man, however if his ISB agent counterpart was as competent as his Anaxes War College results say then the power should be cut right about now.

On cue the place went dark and Cornelius made a silent sprint across the courtyard, getting into the cellar of the main house before the backup generator came back online. The guards did not panic as much as the power outage was a scheduled one, at least on paper it was an announced relapse in power given the district’s power grid still being repaired as a part of the cleanup operation from the Battle of Coruscant.

The halls were relatively clear, save for a few guards roaming around. The target was on the second floor, front-facing room, Cornelius was in the cellar, from the center. Going up the stairs he opened the door slowly, there was another guard nearby, however the door had seen better days and the hinges squeaked at the action, prompting the Duros guard to check the disturbance.

The blue alien opened the door and Cornelius grabbed the man by the collar, pressing a hand to his mouth and then knocking him out with three strikes to the head using his fist, before stabbing at the neck and leaving him there, this was not a very good start to the operation.

The only weapons he had were his KD-30 Dissuader slug thrower pistol and his vibroknife, the main reason being a footnote on the file, it wasn’t about eliminating a threat, it was about sending a message. The acidic payload of the weapon would be perfect for such an occasion.

Cornelius traveled down the hallway, sweeping left and right for guards with his slugthrower and vibroknife held in a reverse grip right below his right hand holding the pistol. For now it was clear, up until the main entrance, where a large landing for a large staircase set itself. There were four guards, two on the ground floor and two on the upper floor. Cornelius had no idea how he was going to sneak through until he heard and saw the body of a guard hit the floor, falling from the second floor. It was the work of the ISB agent who had now brandished a small blaster and began to fire upon the remaining guards, killing the one parallel to him on the second floor.

Cornelius fired twice at the guards who didn’t expect him there, the rounds made contact and released its acidic compounds as the guards panicked and then simply went limp.

“A slugthrower? Really? How primitive can you get Caridan?” the ISB agent said as he looked at Cornelius from his elevated position.

Cornelius went to barricade the main doors and set up thermal detonators set to a proximity fuse. “Are you fucking mad?! Now we have the whole merc garrison on us and maybe the police!”

The ISB agent laughed. “Oh calm yourself, Scarbrand. We can get away with this, if you’re not slow.”

“Oh go fuck yourself, Kingfisher, that was sloppy. A clone could do better than you.” Cornelius dashed up the stairs to the second floor.

Not shortly after more mercenaries and security contractors came out of the hallways, a total of six, Cornelius with his accuracy would have solved the issue easily, however the slugthrower had a lot of recoil to it, only being able to take three down, while his ISB counterpart had taken two with his blaster, and now was engaging in CQC with the last one.

Soon enough they got to the large double doors where their target had hidden himself. They stopped to prepare a breaching charge which Cornelius had brought with him and primed a flash grenade as well.

“What’s with the funny helmet?” Cornelius asked the ISB agent as he attached the breaching charge.

“Why are you playing dress-up?” The ISB agent responded back.

“At least I look better.” Cornelius replied. “Breaching!”

The charge blew and swung the doors open, the duo blasted at the remaining guards inside, but failed to take the two large Zygerian guards, adorned in armor reminiscent of the Zygerian military armor, a symbol of slavers some called it.

The ISB agent was more than willing to engage in a slugging contest with the large alien who brandished an energy whip. Cornelius however was more than willing to shoot. As he was about to end the dance they had, an energy whip had struck Cornelius, sending him back to the wall.

The Zygeran muttered what he could only assume was a curse or taunt. Cornelius presented his vibroknife as a challenge to fight, however just as quickly put two rounds into the chest of the Zygerian who collapsed as a portion of his armor and chest area began to disintegrate. After that, Cornelius also ended the fight on the other side of the room, the disappointing scowl of the ISB agent pleased Cornelius, the man was too boastful.

Behind the overturned table was CEO Craterrider, who held an ornate blaster in one hand, but was still reeling from the effects of the flash grenade. Cornelius hoisted him up from the table and threw him to the other side of the cover.

“Oh you done fucked up now, trash. Where are the permits and logbooks? Make this easy or sports equipment over there will beat it out of you.” Cornelius said.

“You, you aren’t a clone.” CEO Craterrider said as he raised both hands defensively.

Cornelius kicked the man on the ground fast and hard. “Wrong answer. Where are the permits and logbooks?”

“Why are you doing this to me? Don’t you know who I am? Your career is done!”

“Dear God you dumb cunt, the government sanctioned this, last time, where are the permits?” Cornelius pressed the magazine release and dropped it on the face of the CEO before inserting a fresh magazine, pulling the hammer back and pointing it at the man.

“They’re in the cabinets there!” the man pointed. “I hope you’re happy robbing a paying citizen!”

“None of my concern.” Cornelius replied back coldly.

The ISB agent went through the boxes of permits and logbooks, reading some of them and making a sound of revelation. “My, my, mister Craterrider, deathsticks, spice, and trafficking of live specimens, people and animals. Take a look, Scarbrand.”

The book was tossed and Cornelius caught it with one hand and saw the records, on a separate paper, ready for immediate disposal. “Hmm, well at least I’m robbing a criminal, Ironic isn’t it Carter-boy?”

“You got everything you need, sports gear?” Cornelius called out.

“Yes, and don’t call me that.” The ISB agent began collecting the books and permits into a bag.

Cornelius nodded and unloaded the whole clip into the man, leaving a mess for certain and leaving a message. Out of curiosity he opened the remaining cabinets and was shocked when he saw a mother huddling two children, a blaster in hand.

“Mrs. Craterrider?” Cornelius managed to say before he was hit in the faceplate by the blaster, forcing him back on the floor.

The ISB agent fired three shots, two missing but one hitting the armed hand, forcing her to release the weapon. Cornelius tackled the woman to the ground, acting fast to restrain her and take the weapon away from the children.

The ISB agent pointed at them. “Well. We’re supposed to leave a message, Scarbrand. Do it.”

“No, that was a footnote, our objective is done, let’s go.” Cornelius began to leave the room.

But then he felt a hand reach for his utility belt and saw a thermal detonator in his hand. “Fine, I’ll do it.”

Cornelius had never moved as fast as before as he kicked the ISB agent in the gut, forcing him to drop the grenade. In a quick manner the agent continued the fight, the flurry of kicks and punches were too fast for Cornelius, only managing to block the most important hits, but the amount of hits were wearing him down. Timing for the right moment, Cornelius grabbed the leg and pulled him down onto the floor. The awkward position didn’t allow for much to happen, however Cornelius turned and threatened to break the leg of his partner.

He slipped loose however and tackled Cornelius as he got up, but a sudden rush of adrenaline had gotten on top of the ISB agent, pummeling the man with downward smashing from his fists, fighting like an ape of sorts. Soon enough they separated, but the ISB agent still didn’t want to give in, at least until he saw Cornelius aiming the KD-30 and his blaster at him.

“Listen to me! They’re not part of the job! Don’t you think that they never asked for this? The opinion of the Empire is not as solid as you think, you kill them now, you give the activists a reason to pull people to their side.” Cornelius explained.

The ISB agent picked up a long piece of the door that broke off. “But we have the proof! It’s sanctioned!”

“It’s the original copy! The bureaucracy does not hold the original copy! Use your mind.”

“We have a job to do, Scarbrand! Do you value the life of the innocents so much you’re not willing to sacrifice it for a larger goal?”

“Are you that weak to go for the innocent, Kingfisher?”

The ISB agent yielded after a while and picked up the bag of documents. “Get back in the closet.”

Cornelius picked up the ornate DG-29, the scope was gone and it was black with gold designs on it. He switched the safety on before he tossed the pistol to the ISB agent along with the blaster he took from him. “Take it, so you don’t feel too bad.”

As they left the room, two detonations were heard from inside. The guard finally got through the barricaded doors. They had to leave now. “Split up! Get to your speeder and get out of here!”

The ISB agent ran but stopped and looked back as he saw Cornelius planting a breaching charge on the window. “What are you doing?”

“Getting out of here.” Cornelius blew the window and activated his jetpack, shooting past the guards and the compound, reaching out of sight almost immediately.

[The Cyberiad Council]

Ovek'Ress'Tornavoth
Lotind Voornan
Ruby Base, Ilum

The icy tundra of Ilum stretches outward for miles from the base, the ancient Jedi temple in the distance one of the only signs of civilization besides the Imperial equipment and mining equipment that hadn't been put to use in the caves as of yet.
"You are different than the others..." Voornan's voice booms across the snow to Kress' right.

"A hunter? Have I become your quarry, Chiss?" The voice comes from the left.

"Or has the poison of the Empire tainted you into a subordinate animal like their cloned dogs of war?" Voornan asks from straight ahead.

Kress stopped as the voice echoed around him, craning his neck slowly, nearly meditatively, as he listened to the voice. His eyes betrayed no emotion, and his mask hid the slight frown from view. But the male voice was clearly reading his thoughts. Kress reached out into the Force, but found the presence that was speaking him to be nearly surrounding him. It was powerful, oppressively so. Still, there was no call for violence, at least not yet.

"Show yourself," Kress called out, both vocally and through the Force, "That we may speak as equals."

"I don't think that to be possible. You have been yoked by a servitude you have scarcely begun to grasp." Voornan says, walking up a snow drift and into view of the Inquisitor, further away than the volume of his voice may have suggested.

"You know little of what you speak, my friend," Kress said, now starting towards the man. He kept his hands away from the lightsaber on his hip, and focused his mind on thoughts of mediation. The fact that this individual was clearly no Jedi gave Kress no reason to hunt him. In fact, in the face of a Force-user who didn't align themselves exclusively with the Light Side, a duel of words and thought may be just as exhilarating. Not to mention, Kress may learn something.

"Servitude is merely a concept of the powerful, invented for safety, is it not? They have no perception of the minds under them, only their actions. Look deeper, old man, see the mind as it should be."

"Are you free?" Voornan asks, sinking into a meditation pose on the ground, with a gentle push of Force to slow his descent. "You say Servitude is merely a concept, yet I sense a great weight upon you. Fetters of both ideals and desires. You ask me to see the mind as it should be, yet your own introspection lacks clarity."

Kress cocked his head to the side, confused by the statement. He had a feeling he should be insulted, but was in no position to declare the man wrong. He thought of the Empire as a source of the hunt, a way for him to gain access to the prey he desired, when he wanted it. His servitude was a facade, or so he thought. Perhaps he was...? No, he banished the thought. It wasn't the Empire he was weighted to.

"We are all tethered by the Force, are we not?" Kress asked, softer than his normal imperious tone. Now, he pressed his own mind forward to read what lay inside the old man's head.

"Your great storm tethers you, you want so badly to become harmonious with it, to blend with the raging lightning and rain. But you are tied down, attached, weighted by the death of your padawan and the destruction of your lightsaber. These thoughts are shackled to you, and drive you away from the peace you so desperately desire."

"Yes, good. You can see my storm. The representation of wrath and destruction perfectly balanced in renewing life and flowing power. But your viewpoint is still that of a Sith. You see first the power of the storm, not the peace of the eye. I am a part of the storm, but I do not bathe myself in the lightning and rain of fear and loss, but I can command them. I purge these emotions, but I do not discard them as the Jedi, for they are power; the very essence of our minds and spirit. Surely, the Force would not bend to these emotions if they were not meant to be used. Yes, I push them from my mind so my thoughts are clear, but I draw them back and let them burn as the fuel of my will."

Voornan takes a breath, letting the Force flow as a wind begins to pick up, circling around the two in a wide arc as clouds begin to form in the sky.

"Look again. This time, view not my pain and loss of my padawan as tethers, but as conduits. The Force binds, yes, but it also flows, moves, pushes, and reveals. To view it in any one facet is to deprive yourself of true power and freedom."

Before Kress dove again, he smiled under his mask. He thought he may have an angle on the man.

"Ah, but what is the eye to the storm? Dwarfed, swallowed, and sometimes not at all there. The eye is temporary, ever moving, illusive and deceptive. For on all sides of the eye, the storm rages. Brief respite is disrupted by more of the same: wrath. Purported peace is the great lie of balance. Peace brings mollification, a loss of instinct, of primality. The Force does not evolve, but stays the same, it is only we that change. We ignore the aspects of our existence that truly connect with the Force: our raw being, unfettered by lies of society and structure. The eye is merely constructed by our own hubris, and it is in that hubris that the weak foundations of the light are formed."

Kress paused, now sitting down with the man. He had stood over him before, but realized that perhaps it was time to retain equal ground.

"For the eye to exist, there must be a storm first."

"The Galaxy changes as well. The Force is far from static. You say there must be a storm, but look at the Galaxy! Look at the pain and torment! Look at your Empire!" Voornan taps into his internal storm, drawing out the sensations of those who died, the pain they left behind, the fear, the poison,spreading across the stars.

"See the Storm from which I forge my eye of peace. There is no peace except that which we make ourselves, which we fight for; peace is not natural. It is a fleeting moment that we must fight to hold. You see yourself as hunter, but are you blind to the fact that you are still prey? There are many stronger than I who hold no goodwill in their hearts. No measure of self-image will save you from reality when it comes crashing in.

"You are no Sith, you are no Jedi; not if your will is strong enough to step from either false path. You wish a hunt? Look at the path I set before myself. I kill not for revenge nor for thrill, but I kill for balance; to be the Avenging Herald of the Force."

The storm continues to grow, dark clouds beginning to billow around them.

At first, Kress could see the galaxy for what the Empire had made it. At first, he understood why Voornan was acting the way he was. The peace in the center of a storm of violence, the serenity in a cacophony of death and blood. It was almost...picturesque. Life and death on the knife's edge, predator and prey in perfect harmony, equally matched, where only the stronger willed creature would prevail.

And then, the old man called him prey.

Images of Mygeeto, of the spider, of the fear and cold he felt that fateful day, filled Kress' mind. The rage at the clone's betrayal, the hatred for the needless slaughter of the Jedi. The realization that they were the creatures of cowardice, and Kress would not be like them. He shook his head, banishing the thoughts. Standing, he summoned lightning to his hand. A snarl escaped his lips.

"I am NOT prey!" He raged, and with a scream he fired the lightning into the sky, exhausting his supply after a long several seconds. Then, he stopped, his breath ragged and his head hung. Falling back to a knee, he looked at Voornan hatefully. The man promised a hunt, but Kress would not hunt with a weak predator.

"You will show me your strength," Kress growled, his reserve slowly returning after his outburst, "I want to know the limits of your will. If you are to be hunted."

"Very well." Voornan says as the clouds around them spark with lightning before arcing down onto the Chiss Inquisitor.

The lightning slammed into Kress, running through his body and quivering his bones. He gritted his teeth, letting the pain fuel him. His lightsaber ignited as he resisted the urge to give in, trying with futility to control and dull the pain. He lunged forward, bringing the blade to bear in a cascading downward strike that he channeled all of his raw strength into.

Surging up from his seated position, Voornan brings up his palm to bat the club to the side. The crushing force from the Chiss proved a surprise, the jolt from the impact making him shudder, his focus slipping on absorbing the burning heat. With a hiss of pain and a searing wound on his palm, Voornan takes a half step back. Bringing up his good hand, Voornan unleashes a bludgeoning strike with the force.

The blow came incredibly fast as Kress recovered from his strike, and the Inquisitor barely had time to raise a hand from his weapon and catch Voornan's hand. A sloppy maneuver, but one that ended up working for Kress. The shockwave exploded early, throwing up snow and crystalline fragments as both combatants reeled from the blow. Kress was the first to recover, standing and once again channeling his anger. The whispering in his head became a hiss, and then a primal scream. Hunter had emerged.

Hunt the animals. Hunt the animals. Hunt the animals. Hunt the animals. Hunt.

Kress obliged the beast. With a gaze that burned, Kress stared at Voornan, hoping to simply break the man down from the sheer hatred in his eyes.

Feeling the Force itself boil around him, Voornan reached into the storm, holding steadfast. "I feed on your hate, channeling it, unleashing it with my one chosen purpose!" Voornan says, as the hate sends a ripple down his arm, igniting into crackling lighting that surges out in one coherent bolt towards Kress.

The lightning did more than just burn Kress, it reached into his mind. It shattered his illusions of strength and of the hunt, of who was prey and who was predator. It forced to him a knee, the residue from the blast dancing across his armor. He breathed hard, hanging his head in defeat. His muscles twitched as the effects of the blast wore off, leaving him beaten and shamed. But there was still something left inside of him. The burning desire, the resolve that started him on the journey away from the light to begin with. The beast remained, waiting and watching. It measured Kress' resolve, and found him wanting. With finality, it whispered.

"Prey."

But this time, Kress did not fear the beast. He did not fear the gnawing hunger that it left within him. He knew that there was something he must do, something he could do, to discern himself from the quarry of the predator. He looked up at Voornan, his gaze as baleful as it was before he had been defeated, and muttered a singular request.

"Show me."

"Do you renounce the teachings of the Jedi and the Sith?" Voornan asks, holding his burned hand as he approaches the kneeling Kress.

"I care not for either side," Kress said, shaking his head, "Neither have given me what I need. Have satisfied the hunger. There must be something better."

With the storm still raging, Voornan closes the distance in the eye, placing his wounded hand on the crown of Kress' head. "Cast off your shame. The hate turned against you was your own. That power is yours to use not mine or any others. I can teach you how. There is a mighty storm within; you just have to create your eye. 'There is no ignorance; there is knowledge. There is no fear; there is power.' Such are the lines that start the code of the Je'Daii. Such lines are now my code. I, Herald, would name you this day, Arbiter. For you have rightly seen the false divisions between Jedi and Sith."

With his hand on Kress, Voornan reaches out to the force to heal them.

Kress felt the healing powers of the Force flow through him, closing his wounds and soothing his muscles. It felt more than physical, but still, Kress would need more than just wise words and a mending touch to push him away from the pain and anger that fueled him. For now, however, that rage was directed somewhere else. He turned from Voornan, striding back towards the Imperial base.

"There is something I must do first," He said, looking back at the old man, "You will know when it is done."

Voornan nods, reaching out to his storm and expanding it, causing the wind to howl and lightning to crack, ensuring that none could escape the new Arbiter of the Force.

---

Imperial Base "Ruby" could be an imposing sight to the unknown observer, situated between two crystalline crags in the Ilum landscape, it jutted outwards like a strange dark scar on the otherwise bright planet. Currently, Kress contemplated the strange juxtaposition that it had with the rest of the area. Despite this, he did not come here to philosophize over Imperial architecture. He came here to put finality on what was going to be called treason. He strode through the doors of the base, looking around at the faces that stared at his now lightning-marred armor. It was a scar he would keep for a long time, until he felt he had earned the right to clean the armor again.

Moving towards the command center, he stepped inside without a word, waiting for the commander to greet him.

As the Inquisitor entered Base Ruby's Command Center, CC-5522 "Blades", looked up from the holo-table that mapped out a 16km radius around Ruby's perimeter, marking two patrols in blue arrows, both making their way back to the Base to prepare for duty change.

Commander Blades looked up from his posting, his helmet sitting by his hand as he overlooked the active patrols. Upon seeing Kress, he smiled. "Ah, Inquisitor! You've returned. I'm assuming that Jedi wasn't a match for you, eh?" He said as he picked up his helmet and placed it under his arm.

“He wasn’t a Jedi,” The once-Inquisitor said, folding his arms as he looked at the data center and planned his attack. First, the security cameras. Then, the ones with weapons. After that, the base would be a simple hunt.

“He was a new point of view,” Kress growled, igniting his lightsaber almost without warning. His first rays of lightning fried the security cameras and data feeds, and then he turned on the Commander.

"Inquisitor!" Commander Blades yelled as he dropped his helmet, moving to draw his dual DC-17 blaster pistols. Three other clone troopers, their armor scheme matching that of their Commander's rose from the terminals that monitored communications, radar, and base systems, quickly grabbing ahold of their DC-15A blaster carbines from the under their seats or leaned against the terminals.

"Stand down! Put that thing away!" Ordered Commander Blades, the sight of the lightning scaring him a bit, but trusted in his pistols as well as his three brothers behind him.

“This is not personal,” Kress said, advancing and keeping his crimson blade in a high guard. The first swing came downwards across a clone’s shoulder, cleaving through him and into the control panel behind him, throwing sparks across the room. Almost simultaneously, his hand shot out behind him, summoning the Force to launch Blades across the room.

Commander Blades let out a haunting yelp as he was thrown, his back smashing against the door at the other end that led to barracks, training rooms, etc. With little more reason to kill this Chiss, the two clones opened fire with their carbines. the Commander, with his blasters thrown from his hands and the air knocked from him, he crawled up onto all fours, letting out a wheezing gasp of air. He reached up to his wrist-mounted com-link.

"The Inquisitor....he's...he...." He breathed in deeply again, coughing deeply as he struggled to get air.

Two blasters were trivial to the ex-Inquisitor, double flourishing his blade to slap the bolts away before finishing the two with a stab-slice combination. He took a moment to savor it, the last moments of his quarry, before moving to Commander Blades. As he stood over him, he let the soldier finish his transmission.

Kress wanted everyone to know.

"The Inquisitor's gone rogue, send reinforcements to the Command Center....shoot to kill." He said, getting his breathing under control just as the Ex-Inquisitor loomed over him. He looked up at the Chiss. With his blasters gone and no other weapons available to him, he snarled and with one final defiant move, he scrambled to get up and throw a single punch.

The punch surprised Kress fair and square, moving his face ever so slightly as the clone shattered his hand on the Chiss' respirator. Kress' only reply was to plunge his lightsaber into the clone's chest, letting him die before withdrawing the blade and standing to his full height. He was satisfied now, reinforcements were on the way. Stepping backwards, he fiddled with the control panel until a lowing hum was heard. The entire base went dark, its emergency lighting casting an eerie red over the floors and walls of the base. Fitting, in fact, for the name of the stronghold.

From the barracks, fourteen troopers hastily threw on their armor as the lights went out, a Sergeant screaming at the men as two troopers stood guard by the bulkhead door, their DC-15A's raised towards the hallway leading to the Command Center. Behind them, a column of four troopers, their feet matching in step, their carbines held against their chests, marched down to the Command center, halting just before activating the door's sensors, awaiting for more troops.

From the mess hall, a dozen Troopers rose from their trays of Republic surplus rations, sliding on their helmets and ran hastily towards the Command Center, the lights flickering out, quickly being replaced by the red emergency lighting.

As the patrols made their way back into the base's perimeter, the two six-man teams, tired from the marches, returned to high alert as they watched four troopers that were formerly guarding the perimeter sprint towards main complex then stop short by the entrance, their rifles raised. In response, they nodded to one another and did the same.

"This is Captain Tye. I cannot establish comms with Commander Blades or anyone from the Command Center. We have our orders. We are to neutralize this rogue Inquisitor by any means necessary. On my command, we will flood in from the North and South Entries and overwhelm the target." Said Captain Tye, joining the four other men who were previously standing guard. He was joined by the troopers from both the Barracks and the Mess Hall, all lined up and ready.

"Thirty men on the South Entry...four on the North....we've got this....time for you to die, traitor." Captain Tye thought to himself as he readied his carbine. He took several deep breaths.

"Move in!"

"Move in! Came the shouted call from outside. Kress nearly smiled under the mask. This time, two voices battled within him. The familiar hateful growl of the Spider came first, begging him to hunt. To shed blood. To end lives and feed on their fear. But then, another voice. Softer, feminine. It still spoke in a commanding tone, ordering Kress to begin the battle, but it preached of knowledge, of the avoidance of fear, of keeping courage. It was not murderous, it was inspiring.

Hunt the animals. Hunt the animals. Hunt the animals. Hunt the animals.

Kress' blade passed through another clone, his brute strength forcing it past the solder's flimsy armor as he launched a salvo of lightning at the next in line. A blaster bolt whisked past his ear from behind him, and Kress' baleful gaze simply withered the man away where he stood, the dust cloud floating in the stale air of the Imperial base. The voices came again, this time the Maiden.

There is no fear. You are power. There is no fear. You are power. There is no fear. You are power.

The narrow corridor that Kress found himself in lent itself much better to Makashi, as he switched from his high guard to a more traditional Makashi low-guard. A series of upward slashes brutalized the clones as they tried to fall back to a more advantageous position, Kress ever-advancing. Another hail of blaster fire forced the Chiss to take a pause, before he surged forward once again.

Hunt.

Animals.

Fear.

Power.

Prey.

Predator.

The voices were nearly overpowering, slowly fading into soft whispers, and then to nothing at all. The only sounds left in the base was the dull hum of Kress' blade, the soft sizzling of recently-inflicted lightsaber wounds, and the whirring of alarm klaxons. With a button press, he deactivated his lightsaber. It was over.

As the base fell deathly silent, the scattered remains of the Base's clone trooper contingent lay bare for the former Inquisitor to see. From the North doors to the command console to the hall, dead clones lay strung out, clumped together in hideous and gruesome fashion, streaks of dimly glowing slashes across the hallway's walls. From the silence came a whimper.

Captain Tye crawled towards the door leading outside, his right leg completely gone above the knee, the flesh still glowing from the heat of the cauterization. His helmet remained on, though his weapons were gone. "Please......no...." He said in a low whimpering tone, the door's sensors activating, the door hissing open.

Kress let a sigh escape his lips, following the clone and dropping to a knee beside him. He looked the man up and down. The wound he had suffered would be lethal sooner or later, unless a miraculously-timed medical crew suddenly landed on Ilum. The best that Kress could do was be merciful, and ease the man's passing.

"I can give you a soldier's end," Kress said, laying a hand on his un-ignited lightsaber, "Or I can ease your pain and leave you."

Captain Tye, realizing that he wouldn't get much further away, stopped crawling. He knew this was his end. With all of his might, he flipped himself over to face the Chiss. With slow hands, CT-9965 removed his helmet, allowing it to roll away from him. With struggling breaths, the clone shook his head.

"Damn traitors, the lot of you. the Emperor puts red blades in your hands, puts our symbol on your armor.....but you're still nothing more than cold-blooded, hateful, backstabbers. We should have killed every....last....one of you. Instead, the Empire takes pity on a number of you. Stupid...all so stupid. Do what you will with me. Sooner or later, you'll die for this....you'll die and the last thing you see will be this face, smiling down upon you." Said Tye, pointing to his face, the face of a clone.

"Perhaps," Kress replied, nodding in response, "And on that day, you will be the hunter."

Kress stood, the deep thrum of his lightsaber's ignition echoing across the halls of Imperial Base Ruby.

"But for now, you are the prey."

Kress raised his lightsaber, bringing it across Tye's chest with a final stroke.

---

It took Kress merely two hours to return to Voornan, but when he did it was clear what had been done. As the Nu-class shuttle landed near the center of the storm, Kress stepped out. His armor was further marred, covered in dried blood and one errant blaster mark that had slipped past his defenses. His breath was calm, the slow hiss of his respirator penetrating the howling winds of the storm.

"It's done," He rasped, then turning back towards the base, "Or it will be in a few moments."

The fireball bloomed in the sky first, coating the ground in an angry orange glow as it rocketed upwards and outwards. Among the blaze were pieces of the base, spinning and reeling from the blast at supersonic speeds. Then, the shockwave hit, thundering across the landscape with a terrifying boom. Snow and crystals were thrown into the air, disrupted by the force of the sound wave. Kress even had to take a step back from the sheer pressure of the blast. As it turns out, overloading the energy reactor that powered the base created a much larger detonation than anticipated.

The storm began to subside. "Look at the destruction you have accomplished here today. You have turned violence and hatred against those who seek to use it. Their power you have made your; the hunter has become the prey of the hunter, superior. Now, Arbiter, where else is the Empire weak? Where else may we strike a blow against it?"

"I am not fully swung yet, Je'Daii," Kress said, nearly snapping at Voornan as he watched the fireball. Though, he had to admit, the power that the man promised could feel intoxicating. If it brought balance and a softer voice than The Spider's, Kress could see himself being entirely convinced by what the ex-Jedi had to offer.

"Not to mention, I don't even know your name."

Voornan cracked a smile. "Once, I was Lotind Voornan, Master Jedi. Now, I am the Herald of the Force, the rekindling of the Je'Daii."

"Well then, Voornan," Kress said, starting back towards the Nu-Class, "Someone will find the remains of that base eventually, and want to know what happened. To that end, we should make haste off this rock."

"And where do you propose we go, Arbiter?"

"To the place where we can begin to dismantle the Inquisition from the inside out," Kress said, now walking up the ramp to the shuttle, "To Nur."

[Castriarta]

TR-6283, Emperor’s Shadow Guard.
Tython.

The dark interior of the Nu-class attack shuttle did not betray the burning brightness of the arid landscape of Tython, save for the stifling heat that filled the cabin as the four occupants steadied themselves during the shaky descent. Ignoring beads of sweat that began to trickle down their tanned skin, the three Imperial Commandos sat upright in their metal seats, their faces setting into grimaces of focus as they prepared for the mission to commence. Slowly, their armored hands lifted the fixed gaze of their helmets up and over the human expressions of their faces, each of the Clones now disappearing into a cohesive unit of identical killers, their humanity hidden from view. They tightened their grips on the heavy weapons in their hands, weapons they knew better than they knew themselves, tools they had faithfully relied on for years to complete their missions -- and kill their targets. These weapons were their lives, the sum of their experiences, and when they rested in their hands the Clone Commandos felt secure, assured once again about who they are and what they do: they are good soldiers, and good soldiers follow orders.

The Shadow Guard stood near the door of the shuttle cabin, still as motionless as when they had taken off from Coruscant hours ago. Behind the immovable black shroud of her cloak and mask, TR-6283 could feel the apprehension, determination, and excitement emanating off of the Clones like hidden currents swirling in the depths of a dark ocean. The Shadow Guard knew their focus and commitment, sensed it in the Force and read it off of the language of their bodies. She knew their hearts and she felt hers burning with them, felt her own heart stir with pleasure and pride as she realized she was in the company of skilled and dedicated warriors. The Emperor had been very generous: she would need to repay her Lord with unfaltering service. TR-6283 would repay him with the death of a Jedi.

TR-6283 lived to execute the will of her Lord, and as the Clone Commandos focused their minds on the task at hand, she felt her own fading and splintering into the blackness of the Dark Side. Lord Sidious had shown her, as he had all his Shadow Guards, how to forget herself, to leave her identity behind so that she may assume her flesh purely as his agent, as an instrument of his power. TR-6283 was a shadow, and a shadow had neither hesitation nor question. The shadow is fear. The shadow is death.

The gears of the spacecraft let out a mechanical hiss as the ship settled into the cracked dirt of the planet below, flashing lights on the walls of the cabin signalling that they had arrived. The Commandos muttered amongst themselves, but the words did not reach the Shadow Guard’s ears: she was already gone, replaced by a singular will to complete her mission. As the heavy doors of the shuttle edged open with the methodical groan of machinery, TR-6283 stepped around, facing out into the blazing sun of Tython. As the exit ramp descended and TR-6283 marched imperiously out into the hot air, the Clones stepped behind her, shielding their eyes as their visors adjusted to the sudden brightness. Standing at the bottom of the ramp, TR raised one of her hands in a closed fist, signalling a stop. Without looking back, she lifted a finger and motioned back at the ship: one stay here. Of course, that would be the pilot. Motioning with three fingers now, TR signalled for the remaining Clones to follow her, keeping low and avoiding sight.

TR-6283 already had a plan for where they would be going: on their descent, she had noted on the holomap Ato, the Commando squad leader, had been looking at during their journey, that there was an ancient city not too far from their drop point. From her experience in the Clone Wars and the tactical training she’d received as a Guard, TR-6283 was sure this was the correct point to begin their search. The Clones and her would make a stealthy approach, hopefully retaining some element of surprise in their mission. From there the plan was simple: search the village, find the Jedi, kill the Jedi.

By the time they reached the outskirts of the small, primitive village, it was nearly dark. TR-6283 motioned for her men to stop, then spread out around the perimeter of the location. They would enter from different points, discover the target and have him surrounded. As the elite Clone Commandos moved silently off into the darkness, crouched low and at the ready, TR-6283 scanned the village. As night fell, the hungry nocturnal birds had begun to utter their cries. In the skies the first stars, the biggest, were kindling. TR-6283 would like to wait until it was darker still: she must not be seen by the Jedi in the village. Pulling the darkness around herself like a garment of silk, the Shadow Guard prowled forward into the village.

As she stalked through the dark paths, a harsh noise broke the silence of the still night air: SWISH-SNAP-”AHHH!”. TR-6283 froze in her tracks, recognizing the pained scream as coming from one of the Clones. Before she could gather herself to react, she heard the voice of Ato, the squad leader, shouting out into the dark: “Booby traps! Stay on alert!”

Silently cursing herself for falling into this trap, TR-6283 felt a wave of rage rush over her body, filling her limbs with power and making her eyes burn like red-hot coals. The Jedi will pay. She hissed in her mind. My Master will not be disappointed. As the thoughts burned themselves like gory wounds into the walls of her mind, TR-6283 felt the familiar pull of the Dark Side of the Force. Agony, fear, lust for power, and bitterness -- all of them took hold of her like the fangs of a great dark beast, dragging the woman into an all-consuming shadow where she lost connection to herself. Raising a black-cloaked arm, the Shadow Guard channeled this dark power down along her limb, and out into the world: a burst of energy lept from her fingertips, pure Force destruction superheating the air around it as crackling beams of whitehot lightning burst outward and into the night that surrounded her. The streams of energy connected with the dry thatch roofs of the houses around her, snapping and hissing as the beams of lightning set the wood ablaze. The crackling lightning danced from one rooftop to another, setting up a veritable inferno as the fire began to spread.

Jedi Knight Ra Ada Vian Aenir and Imperial Inquisitor Ruhr Draay
Odessen

Ra Ada stood in the charred and upturned dirt surrounding his crashed starfighter. His hands folded in front of him, boots firmly planted in the earth, tattered robes flowing in the wind, Ra Ada looked as solid and ancient as the trees that surrounded them. Closing his eyes, the Jedi let his Force-enhanced senses expand to absorb his surroundings. His mind and body opened and relaxed; he drew from the Force, touching ripples made by the life-forms crowding the forest around him. With heightened senses he could hear the rustle of millions of leaves, twigs scraping, small animals scurrying through the underbrush. Every being, every event, every movement around him joined into one giant hum. Ra felt birth and death blossoming across the surface of the planet. Letting out a yelp of pain and terror, a rodent thrashed and died as a predator crushed it in its jaws. Flying creatures sang mating songs to each other through the dense treetops. Large grazing animals fed on leaves, tearing tender shoots from high branches or grubbing for fungus in the forest debris. But Ra could not allow his mind to wander, and after expanding to encompass all of this for a matter of seconds, he quickly redirected it, focusing on the issue at hand. All of his great sensory might was honed on the single event that stood before him, the single confrontation which he faced. Even with his eyes closed, he could clearly feel every detail of his immediate surroundings. He felt the Darksider approach, cloaked by anger. He could track every miniscule element of the other Force user’s body, the exact positioning of his limbs and posture, the weight and thickness of his armor and clothing, the movement of his hairs in the wind, the steady but excited beat of his pulse, the in and out of his rhythmic breathing, the tension of his muscles as he approached across the field. Ra could hear with intense detail the crunch of every particle of dirt pushed down by Ruhr’s boots as the former Jedi approached, the displacement of the air as he moved forward, the movement of blood and oxygen inside his flesh. But Ra’s senses expanded beyond the physical plane: he could sense his enemy’s emotional, mental, and spiritual presence. He could feel anger and fear eating away at Ruhr’s heart, reinforcing Ra’s knowledge that his foe was steeped in the fundamental powers of the Dark Side. He could feel Ruhr’s determination to complete his mission, to serve and please his Master. It consumed his mind, hanging onto all of his thoughts like a parasite. Though Ra did not indulge in the vampiric practices of his semi-mythic species, he still had a natural connection to their realm of Silent Voices, and he was attached to the feeding and flowing of mental forces and personalities in the same way a fish was attached to the ebbing and flowing of ocean currents and the movements of predators in the deep. Ra could feel that the power of the Living Force that swelled all around them dissipated as the dark man approached, as if fleeing from his presence; Life is repelled by Darkness and Evil.

Lifting his head, Ra opened his shining golden eyes, gazing calmly but sadly at Ruhr. “I do not wish to fight you, young one. I wish even less to kill you.” Letting his hands fall to his side, Ra opened his fingers. “I am Ra Ada Vian Aenir, Jedi Knight.” A gust of wind blew by, sending the disturbed soil of the field floating by them, and making Ra’s long silvery-white hair flow dramatically. Ra’s lightsaber unclipped from his belt and flew into his hand, summoned by the Force. “Come, let the Force decide our fates.” The Anzati bowed his head respectfully to Ruhr as the blue blade of his lightsaber snapped to life with a crackling hum. Raising his saber, Ra performed the traditional salute of a Makashi duelist before falling back into an opening stance, raising his free hand and beckoning the Inquisitor forward.

"It is my duty as an Inquisitor to hunt down and defeat Jedi and an honor to slay a Jedi that my former master, Thor Fey'lir, spoke of in high regard in honorable combat. Don't bother trying to surrender. Lord Vader's orders were to take no prisoners." Ruhr said to Ra Ada Vian Aenir as he entered the Djem So opening, sunlight flashing off the copper handle with bamboo finish of the Lightsaber hanging from his belt. He then charged the Jedi Master, swinging his blade at him.

Inquisitor, huh? Ra thought as Ruhr spoke, confirming Ra’s strong suspicion that he was indeed a fallen Jedi. The revelation of this truth ignited a certain passion in the Anzati Jedi Knight, an outrage at the horrible nature of his former brother’s betrayal. This burst of rage flowed unbidden through his body and mind, blinding his thoughts and setting his limbs alight with anger. Struggling internally, Ra tried to release this disruptive force out of him, letting it return to the Force so his body and mind could be steadied for the coming fight. This all took merely a few milliseconds, but it was enough to cost Ra dearly. Before Ra could fully extinguish this internal disturbance, Ruhr had struck with a mighty blow, his crimson blade burning through the air at blistering speed. Reacting as quickly as he could, the Jedi dodged backwards. He moved quickly enough to avoid being split completely in half, but not quickly enough to avoid any damage whatsoever. The Inquisitor’s lightsaber blade arced across the Jedi’s chest, burning a deep graze into the Anzati’s flesh. Gritting his teeth against the flare of heat, Ra repositioned and dodged forward with a stabbing riposte of his own. Unfortunately for the Anzati, Ruhr was already on the move again and slapped his blade aside, coming in hot with another ferocious slash. Staggered by the strength of his enemy’s attack, which was surely powerful enough to obliterate the bones and muscle of any normal combatant and shatter stone, Ra barely managed to avoid having his arm cleaved from his body. The attack grazed down along the side of Ra’s saber arm, burning a long line of raw flesh across the Anzati. Gasping with pain as stars exploded across his vision, Ra rolled backwards and to the side.

Looking up from where he knelt on the ground, the wounded Knight drew the calming and healing power of the Force into himself. The grievous wounds across his chest and arm sizzled with pain, but Ra knew that physical agony was temporary and unimportant. “I never had any intention of surrendering, Darksider.” Ra spoke the last word with the power of the Force, boring his intention into his foe’s ears. “Strike me down, I do not care. My life has been in service to the Force, and I die fulfilled. All the power you steal from this world will not save your soul, lost one.” Ra gasped, catching his breath as pain continued burning itself into his flesh. “There is no honor left in you, murderer.” He rose, gracefully advancing on Ruhr with an overhead slash that turned out to be a feint as he twisted sideways and launched a new vector of attack, a fierce stab at Ruhr’s side.

Ruhr Draay blocked both blows , but he was still injured by the second. "Impressive. You are as adaptable as I've been led to believe. Sadly, your effort will be for naught, especially since you dared to insult me, old man." Ruhr Draay said to Ra as he swung his blade again.

Ra pulled on the Force to strengthen his focus as he glided past Ruhr, carried by the momentum of his attack. He sensed Ruhr’s retaliation far before it even got close to him, tracking its exact direction and velocity with his mental abilities. Casually sidestepping the blow with minimal exertion, Ra honed his focus on Ruhr’s mental presence, seeking to understand the Darksider’s mind. In his enraged state, the Inquisitor’s psyche, although it exuded the raw power of the Dark Side, was easy to see into. Gliding backwards, away from his opponent, Ra let his mind melt into the cracks and fissures of his enemy’s mind. A large part of the Hunt, for Anzati, was the devouring of minds. Ra would never do such a thing, refusing to take anything that was not delivered to him directly by the will of the Force. But although Ra refused to consume the minds of his enemies, he could not avoid his natural predatory connection to them. He was a hunter, if not a killer. Ra Ada connected with the personal presence of every sentient being he encountered, touching the totality of their life with his instinctive senses. As Ra reached out, letting the Force guide him into the mindless purity of the Hunt, he felt so much from Ruhr. The Anzati called the mental “soup” which they drank from their prey the “Sea of Memory”: they identified it with all the experiences and knowledge that each of their victims carried with them. The soup was the past and the future, the truth of who each individual was and the potential of what they could have been. Letting his innate Senses merge with the presence of his “prey”, Ra felt massive waves of presence coming from the man. This human would surely be an extremely prized prey to any other Anzati, his Soup considered beyond value. He had been so much, seen so much, done so much. Ra had noticed that Darksiders tended to project their emotions and thoughts like broadcasted waves, unlike Jedi, who specialized in restraint. This could be good for Darksiders when they were facing unskilled and weak-minded opponents who could be easily influenced by their projected power, but it could be deadly in other situations. Seeing into Ruhr’s mind, Ra pushed Ruhr’s thoughts subtly in directions that he wanted them to go. The aching pain that drove and consumed every Darksider throbbed in Ruhr’s mind like a living wound, a growing tumor seeking to break down all that was left around it. “There is so much pain in you, young one.” Ra said, nudging the Inquisitor away from his fury and power. He did not want to destroy Ruhr’s mind, just disrupt its connection to the evil power of the Dark Side. “Hatred will not cure your pain, my brother. You will only hurt more.”

"Shut your damn mouth." Ruhr Draay said to Ra as he switched to Schii-Cho and performed the Sarlacc Sweep, a move that was meant to take out multiple enemies. Even if he failed to kill or disarm his opponent, he would break his foe's concentration.

Ra, though exhausted from his months-long ordeal and burning with the pain of multiple lightsaber slashes, raised his guard once again as Ruhr approached. With their minds connected, and Ra at a mental advantage, the powerful Anzati could sense Ruhr’s resolve and focus weakening, his connection to the hatred that fueled him beginning to break. As the Inquisitor approached with ferocious speed, the analytical Jedi noticed him switch forms, to another stance he recognized easily. Watching Ruhr’s body weight shift as the Inquisitor lunged with a grand, sweeping strike, Ra smoothly sidestepped around his opponent and spun backwards, creating more distance. Now further away from his enemy, Ra pressed his mental manipulation. He was not a Darksider, and would not try to seize control of Ruhr’s mind or crush it with his power. In his heart of hearts, Ra wanted to help and heal his enemy. He felt agony in him, and wanted to release Ruhr from the Dark Side.

Pushing with the Force, Ra tried to flow past the psychological barriers of Ruhr’s blinding hate. “Do not deceive yourself, Ruhr Draay. This is a battle you cannot win. Even if you kill me and every single last Jedi in this Galaxy, you will not be free of your pain. You will always be tortured, to the core of your being, to the end of your life. Nothing but love can save you from that, my brother. Throw down your lightsaber. We need not fight. Let us join together. Let me heal you. Forgive yourself.”

"You think I am fighting a losing battle? The Jedi destroy the Sith, only for them to rise again. Naga Sadow, Exar Kun, Revan and Malak, the Sith Triumvirate, Vitiate, Darth Ruin, Lord Kaan, Count Dooku, Lord Vader. Your fallen order's war against the Dark Side is nothing but pointless struggle that feeds a never ending cycle." Ruhr Draay said to Ra as he charged his opponent and made another swing, this time aiming for his opponent's sword arm.

Ra shook his head sadly, looking on his enemy with sympathy. “You do not understand, Ruhr Draay. For a Jedi, victory is not slaying your enemies and standing among their lifeless bodies. We all die, and death is no loss. It is an entrance into the Force. Death is a victory, if a Jedi dies faithfully. You cannot defeat me as long as I stay true to the Light Side.” As Ruhr came in with a powerful swing at Ra’s saber-holding hand, the Anzati stepped back and flicked Ruhr’s blade away, then made a swift and elegant cut at the Inquisitor’s legs.

Ruhr Draay dodged the blade, the Lightsaber cutting off the top of a nearby sapling. "Fool. Did you learn nothing from the Clone Wars? I fought on Hosnian Prime, Nantoon, Arkania, Serroco, Cathar, Telos, and Vjun. All killing fields where Clones fought flesh and blood infantrymen as well as Battle Droids. Battlefields where victory was determined by body counts, not territory." Ruhr said to Ra as he switched back to Djem So and made a powerful slash.

Lifting his saber as he fluidly moved back into a guarded stance, Ra met Ruhr’s saber with his own, gently guiding it away from himself as he maneuvered behind his opponent’s guard. Ruhr’s words rang true in the Jedi’s ears. “Yes.” Ra answered softly. “During the Clone Wars, we Jedi lost our way. We believed that victory meant martial supremacy, a superior display of force on the battlefield.” Gliding backwards, Ra smoothly evaded two more blows from his fierce opponent, gliding them across his blade with precision and finesse. Staring directly into Ruhr’s inflamed, reddened eyes, Ra felt the Dark Side emanating towards him. “When Jedi believe that victory means conquering your enemy no matter the costs, they have already lost.” Their sabers clashed once again, Ruhr pushing the offensive while Ra sidestepped and moved around the field with simple footwork. Watching his enemy attack, Ruhr let the Force seep into him. He was one with the blade, one with the will of the Light, one with the fight. He merged into nothingness, dissolved into the flow of combat like a true Anzati hunter. As they danced across the burning field, Ra felt the world illuminated by the brilliant light of the Force. He could see everything so clearly, the echoes of what had been and the shadows of what would come to be merging into the instantaneous happening of the present. Gliding along in an ethereal way, Ra pulled his foe forward into an overextended lunge, twirling behind him.

“But it is you who has lost today, Ruhr Draay, in more ways than one.” As he spoke, the Jedi cleaved his saber downward. The humming blue blade of energy cut easily into the exposed flesh of Ruhr’s back, carving a deep path of burnt bone, skin, and muscle that would surely be debilitating.

Ruhr Draay fell to his knees as pain coursed through his body, his Lightsaber extinguishing as it fell to the ground, the once shiny bronze hilt now covered in the mud of the battlefield. For the first time since Order 66, he was now vulnerable. For the first time since his sparring session against Jace Tholme, he had been defeated by a wielder of the Force. "What are you waiting for? Finish it. You know that if you survive the upcoming raid, I will not stop hunting you until I present you to the Grand Inquisitor, either in chains or in a body bag. That my honor demands that this defeat be avenged. All I ask for is that you end my life with a decapitation, not the drinking of my 'soup', if you do decide to kill me." Ruhr Draay said to Ra as he stared at the Anzati in the white robes, willing to accept his fate.

Stepping back, Ra let his hand fall to his side, the blade of his saber pointing towards the forest floor. He was breathing heavily, and burning pain continued to course through the wounds on his chest and arm. As Ruhr collapsed to the ground, his muscles twitching and contorting to deal with the severe wound cut through his body, Ra knew it was finished. There was no way his opponent could continue fighting after taking a blow like that. Ruhr’s words only confirmed what the Jedi knew: the so-called “Inquisitor” expected death. A deep sadness overtook the Anzati as he looked down on his fallen enemy. The man before him had once been a Jedi, a noble defender of peace, a loving servant of the Light Side. To Ra, Ruhr Draay represented the deepest failings of the Order. That one of their own could be so ignorant of the true nature of reality and the Force was a tragedy beyond compare.

Ra’s blade hummed shut, retracting into the simple silver handle. Stepping slowly around, Ra stood in front of Ruhr Draay. Extending the fingers on his empty hand, Ra summoned Ruhr’s lightsaber from the mud, catching it as it flew into his grasp. Standing silently for a moment, Ra considered his words. The terrible tragedy of the tortured soul before him left Ra almost beyond a capacity to speak. Having touched Ruhr’s mind, Ra knew his pain. Despite Ruhr’s delusional beliefs, Ra did not hate him. Instead, he felt great love for his foe. Love, empathy, and a sorrow that he could not fix Ruhr’s shattered fate and twisted heart.

“I did not come here to kill you, Ruhr Draay.” Ra reminded the Inquisitor. “You came here to kill me. Executions and murders are not the Jedi way.” The Anzati’s voice was quiet, tired, and firm. “My victory over you would be for nothing if I killed you now. I show you compassion, brother, so that you may show it to yourself. Free yourself from the delusion and the madness of the Dark Side. It is never too late. Find peace within yourself.” Looking down at Ruhr with sympathetic eyes, kindness and serenity imprinted across his features, Ra spoke his final words to Ruhr.

“I am so sorry, Ruhr Draay.” With that, the Anzati turned and began limping slowly into the forest. As he walked, he pulled the cloaking powers of the Force around him, hiding his presence from any who sought to pursue him. Soon he had disappeared into the forest, leaving a mortally wounded Ruhr lying in the clearing.

Ruhr was not pleased by this turn of events. He could tolerate defeat and accept an opponent deciding not to kill him, but to have his Lightsaber, the one part of his past as a Jedi he kept, to be taken away from him was a humiliation he could not tolerate. Hate and rage filling him, he ignored his pain and reached out with the Force, pulling a tree branch into his hand. He quickly used it to prop himself up enough so that can use it as a walking stick, heading towards the mountain he saw while flying towards his landing spot. The pain that he couldn't simply ignore tempted him to contact the Deliverance, but he quickly pushed such thoughts from his mind. If he called Karnu and asked for a medic, the Admiral would not hesitate to report his failure to Vader and Vader would respond by ending the Draay Bloodline with a Force Choke. To someone as honorable as Ruhr Draay, that fate was unacceptable. His only hope was that if there were Jedi hiding there, there would be Healer among their ranks and that he could reach them before the Anzati, provided that the Jedi didn't cut him down on sight.

[Flarbinia]

Ruhr Draay continued limping towards the mountain, his back hurting like Hell as he paid close attention to his surroundings. He knew that the undergrowth could easily hide enemy troops waiting in ambush. In a way, his current predicament reminded him of Cathar. Three Clone Legions were marching to Fort Juhani (a stronghold that had been abandoned by the Republic after the Seventh Battle of Ruusan) through Vast Veldt, a region of Cathar with the two notable features: abundance of wildlife and its tall grass. The Cathar had purchased large quantities of Bacta and Kolto prior to the Clone Wars and the Council had ordered Master Thor Fey'lir, Master Hulkas Fomdaman, and Master Mouse Mak were assigned to seize the stockpile, a mission that, if successful, would cut off the supply to the Separatist field hospitals, forcing the Cathar to surrender. Their plan was to overwhelm the garrison with a surprise attack and during the march, they had not encountered a single Battle Droid. However, hours after reaching the halfway point, the AT-TE stepped on a mine, taking out one of the legs and tipping it on its side. The explosion was quickly followed by blaster and slugthrower fire, Clones dropping like flies. Mouse picked up a pair of DC-15s and fired into the tall grass, taking down two entire squads of Cathar before being killed by a slug between the eyes. Ruhr Draay and Hulkas succumbed to their rage, charging at the Cathar and cutting them down like grain during the harvest. Once the ambush was over, one legion was wiped out and two had lost half their number, Thor and Hulkas forced to order a retreat due to no longer having the element of surprise. It would be another four months before the Republic retook Fort Juhani, the Separatists on cathar, having realized that their supply of Bacta and Kolto was at risk of being captured by the Clone Army, using the time to remove the majority of the stockpile from the ancient stronghold.

[Okayanos]

Odessen
Temple Outskirts

Captain ZZ had made cordon duty sound like such an exciting job. In theory, it would’ve been- the 411th would be the fence keeping the Jedi locked in, like the good little sheep they were. In practice, it was a lot of standing around, staring at trees, and waiting for something interesting to come out of the comms. At least it was a good excuse to start swapping stories.

“-And then he hears a kid on his comms! Flying an N-1 right alongside ‘em, talking about pod-racing or something, I can’t remember the details,” Chet spoke animatedly, using his hands to map out the alleged flight paths of Bravo Flight in the Battle of Naboo.

“That’s a load of bantha poodoo. Hernwick’s either senile, or he’s pulling your leg,” Beach replied, DC-15A cradled across his lap like a baby. The clones sat on the ground with their backs against trees, taking advantage of the dull assignment to rest their legs.

“Next you’ll be telling us that there was a whole squad of kid pilots, and that they all grew up to be Jedi,” Shorty chimed in, fixated on a holo-readout of the Odessen Temple. He sat above the others, leaning against the handlebars of an AT-RT.

Chet continued to defend the legitimacy of his story, while Beach and Shorty nitpicked the details, both out of skepticism and a desire to irritate their squadmate. The three were only standard clones, but their CO was a Purge Trooper. When said CO barked out an order for them to quiet down, the three obliged.

“Got a ping on motion tracker,” Steppenwolf, the black-clad leader of the group, muttered. “Could be a stray Jedi. Move to surround and intercept.” The command was obeyed in an instant. Chet, Beach, and Shorty on his AT-RT began to spread out, slowly moving to encircle the location Steppenwolf had marked.
Steppenwolf kept his electrostaff at the ready as he crunched his way through the undergrowth, getting nearer and nearer to his quarry.

“Shorty here, no eyes on the target yet.”

“Chet here, don’t see anything either.”

“Beach here, negative on visibility.”

Steppenwolf gripped his weapon tighter. Was the coward trying to hide? Could they be chasing something that didn’t exist, a mind trick to distract them while the real Jedi made a break for it? There would be only one way of finding out. Steppenwolf moved faster, nearing the pinged target until he finally came face to face with….

An Inquisitor. A familiar Inquisitor, from the meeting above Atzerri. A familiar, lightsaberless Inquisitor. A familiar, lightsaberless, injured Inquisitor. Steppenwolf tried not to let himself grin too widely behind his helmet.

“Hold fire, men. Just a wayward Inquisitor,” Steppenwolf spoke into his helmet comm, before addressing said Inquisitor directly. “Well, well. Second Brother, if I remember right. You’re a good bit late to the fun- your siblings are already inside the temple. What held you up?”

"I sensed the presence of a Jedi Master and pursued him into the atmosphere. The dogfight was brief and I forced him to crash land in some small ruins. Naturally, I landed in a nearby clearing and immediately head to the crash site. I found an Anzati wearing white robes, alive and unscathed. We faced each other in a duel where I had the upper hand until my foe resorted to trickery to turn the tables and land a cowardly blow before fleeing with my Lightsaber, though not without suffering wounds that will kill him if he does not receive immediate medical attention." Ruhr Draay said to Stepphenwolf as he approached the Purge Trooper and drew the Lightsaber with the polished copper hilt with bamboo finish. "As you can see, I am not entirely defenseless, for he neglected to take my former master's Lightsaber." Ruhr said to Stepphenwolf as he ignited the Lightsaber, steam rising from the green blade as rain began to pour from the clouds.

“Uh... huh,” Steppenwolf said, in reply to Ruhr’s story. He took a single step back as the lightsaber blade sprung to life. Not in retreat- his feet sunk into what could become a fighting stance, and his grip on the electrostaff adjusted minutely. Steppenwolf wasn’t about to let his guard down when an armed Inquisitor stood in front of him, brandishing a laser sword. The Inquisitors were the types to kill on a whim, he’d seen it when Commander Brutus had been choked over holocall.
“So the Jedi came out of the fight even worse off than you did?” Steppenwolf asked. The weight of injury was evident in Ruhr’s stride, in how he carried himself. It ever-so-slightly raised what little respect Steppenwolf had for the man.

"He is most likely a corpse by now, whereas I am still live." Ruhr Draay said to Stepphenwolf as he extinguished the Lightsaber. "Get me a medic at once. The sooner my wound is patched up, the sooner I can get back to facing the Jedi in combat." Ruhr said to Stepphenwolf in a respectful tone, not wanting to anger the Clone while they were in an active war zone.

"Hm. We'll keep an eye out for wounded Anzati anyways. I don't fancy being killed because an Inquisitor didn't confirm a kill," Steppenwolf replied, relaxing somewhat when the lightsaber switched off. His irritation was directed less at Ruhr and more at the Inquisitorius, perhaps even at force users in general. The 411th was swiftly building a reputation for their distaste of Jedi, Sith, and everything in between. It was a boon to their purge operations, and a hindrance to cooperation with Inquisitors and even with Vader. At the mention of a medic, Steppenwolf glanced over the Inquisitor's shoulder, taking his first real look at what he could see of Ruhr's back wound. The respect in the Inquisitor's tone was noted, and it just barely convinced the Purge Trooper to be slightly helpful. "That looks like it'll take more than a stimpack and a field dressing to fix. Commander's delivering a captive up to the Star Destroyers, if you want to hitch a ride on the shuttle."

"Thank you for the advice, but I promised Lord Vader heads and Lightsabers and I will not fail in this task. As for the Anzati, good call. Their species are feared for their skill as hunters and their thirst for the "shop" of their enemies. One of them proved to be a problem for the Jedi Order before Master Vos ended his life" Ruhr Draay said to Stepphenwolf said in a polite tone before heading into the temple, knowing that he would have to scrounge for a Medpac, whether it contained Bacta or Kolto.

Steppenwolf shrugged. “We’ll keep our eyes open.” He curiously watched the Inquisitor leave for the temple, the heart of the enemy- even despite his injuries. The purge trooper had seen a great deal of fighting during the Clone Wars, and one thing he was certain of was that injured soldiers never ran for the enemy base- unless they were expecting the enemies to treat them.

He waited, quietly, until Ruhr was out of his sight, then switched on his private helmet comm. “This is CT-2130 to 411th Regiment, be advised that Draay is making for the temple... he’s heavily injured, refusing emergency transport- could be seeking aid from the enemy. Keep the channel open.”

Steppenwolf sighed, and set off in the opposite direction of Ruhr to rendezvous with his squad. Force-users. He’d never understand them.

Ruhr Draay headed inside the Temple and began reaching out with the Force, concentrating as hard as he could to find a healer. While Jedi and Sith could sense each other without effort, finding a specific Jedi amidst the chaos of battle can take considerable effort, especially for if the one doing so is inexperienced. After several long moments, he sensed the presence of a Miraluka, a pari of Jedi Masters, and an Inquisitor. Ruhr immediately picked up his communicator and activated it. "411th, this is Ruhr Draay of the Inquisition. One of the Jedi is a healer. Most like under light escort." Ruhr Draay said over his communicator as he attempted to contact the 411th.

"Get out of the temple, idiot. You're injured, and that healer isn't on your side. Mobilizing a squad to intercept them." The voice that came from the comm was that of a clone, but different from Steppenwolf's. The rough, rasping sound was clearly Brutus. "And next time, leave the tactical planning to someone smarter."

"I wouldn't have contacted you if I didn't want the Healer removed from the board removed from the board." Ruhr Draay said to Brutus in a respectful tone right before he turned off the comm and headed deeper into the Temple. He knew that returning empty handed would result in either the Draay bloodline ending in disgrace or him being forced to live with such disgrace. Neither possibility was acceptable for Ruhr. He would either return to Vader with the heads and Lightsabers of his fallen foes or die with honor. However, he needed to find a Medpac before he could head back into battle.

[Miekzhemy]

Jace Tholme
Tuka Tisrygian
Third Sister

---

Odessen
Jedi Temple - Hangar

Still hidden out of sight, Third Sister peered over the enormous steel beam into the hangar below, hearing the Kaleesh's voice echo through the corridors from the...front door? Impressive. Perhaps she had overestimated the Jedis' security. She took one more look at her datapad. First Sister was en route.

Now or never, she supposed. Third Sister clambered to the edge of the beam, and hung upside down like a predator waiting to pounce upon her prey. As her gaze scanned the hangar once more, she held out one hand, her deactivated saberstaff floating comfortably into her palm. She saw one of them had marched into a starship a ways away, and another out in the open - a Padawan, likely distracted by Third Brother's rather dramatic entrance.

'There...'

The Inquisitor fixated her bloodthirsty gaze on the fledgling Jedi, and let the hate within her begin to boil. She let her cloak down, and dropped into the hangar, flipping once before landing gracefully on her feet.

Suddenly, Tuka heard twin lightsaber blades spring to life behind him, followed by a taunting, vocoded voice.

"Hello there..."

Tuka's heart nearly skipped a beat as he heard the low sound of a thump and the ignition of a lightsaber behind him. Grasping his own lightsabers hard, his attention was momentarily taken away by the arrival of another enemy. His eyes darted back to where the Sith-King was last, now seeing that he had moved further back, probably to observe the fight that was inevitably going to commence.

Turning around to face the one who dropped from the roof, the Padawan eyed his opponent up and down before igniting his own sabers and muttering to himself.

"Oh great, just what i needed today..."

---

As First Sister and Master Shan resigned themselves to their little "honorable duel" atop the former's shuttle, the Third Sister's cold gaze remained fixed on the Padawan before her. Though her maniacal guise was concealed by her black helmet, even he could probably feel the twisted, chaotic thoughts that dwell underneath it. She couldn't wait to paint this hangar with his entrails...

The woman did not even give him another second to prepare himself. With an animalistic growl, she charged at Tuka with blinding speed. Her twin red blades sang as she twirled her saberstaff in a whirlwind of death, before being hurled towards him. Tuka was momentarily taken a-back by the sudden movement of the female assailant and only just managed to bring his sabers up to block the incoming saber, but not before it had managed to make slight contact with his arm.

It was then that Jace sprinted into the hangar. Seeing the duels break out in front of him, he quickly assessed the situation. It appeared that Master Shan had things under control as he entered his defensive posture. Continuing to scan the hangar, Jace locked in on the saberstaff-wielding Inquisitor charging Tuka. He began running to support Tuka. Using the Force to boost his movements, Jace launched himself towards the Padawan. Landing softly next to Tuka, he looked over at him while entering a defensive stance. "Well then, now that you've got some proper assistance, let's get rid of this scum."

Grunting at the minor damage, the Padawan felt relief as Jace made his appearance and only nodded at him. He then looked back to the masked woman and twirled his sabers in a taunting manner before sending his left lightsaber flying through the air towards his target.

The Inquisitor was able to duck to avoid the incoming saber with relative ease, even going so far as to roll out of the way as it came spiraling back. She came to a stop with a bit of distance between herself and Tuka, as well as the second Jedi that rushed to the latter's aid. The figure said nothing, and took a split second to assess this new intruder. She gripped her saberstaff in one hand, letting one of the red blades scrape along the floor of the hangar as she steadily paced around them.

The sparks that were subsequently flung up into the air, however, were a petty distraction. With a simple gesture of her free hand, the Third Sister snatched two sizable objects - a steel crate and an empty fuel canister - from a nearby pile of leftover scrap and refuse, brazenly casting both objects their way. Jace promptly reached out with his hand, easily grabbing the fuel canister out of the air with the Force, and with a flick of his wrist, sent the canister flying back the way it came. He cursed quietly under his breath as the canister missed its target and continued on its way, exploding upon impact with a wall.

As his saber returned to his hand, Tuka eyed the Inquisitor closely, but not putting all his attention on her. Seeing the two objects come flying towards him and Jace in the corner of his eye, he quickly reached out with the Force, grasping the steel crate, and used the momentum it had already gained to fly past the two Jedi and instead head right for the Third Sister. After having thrown the crate, Tuka quickly rushed forward, and brought his sabers to bear with a quick slash.

Third Sister reeled her head to the side just in time for the crate meant for Tuka was hurled right back into her, missing her helmet by mere inches before crashing to the far end of the hangar. She slowly looked back to her opponents, letting out a quiet hiss beneath her mask. They could feel it. She was getting angrier.

She stood her ground as Tuka charged, swinging her saberstaff outward to meet his incoming blow. His twin blades crashed upon the Inquisitor's in a flicker of red-blue light before the brute force of her swing repelled him. Despite her size, the Dark Side made her strong.

In a swift and decisive transition to Juyo, she followed through with her powerful swing, spinning herself around to send the second blade of her saberstaff screaming towards the Padawan's side in a violent, horizonal strike.

Jace moved to the side as the Tuka also engaged with the Third Sister. When she moved in for a strike, Jace brought his lightsaber up for an overhead slash, bringing his lightsaber down quickly. The Inquisitor carried herself through her powerful blow into Tuka's guard just in time to veer just off mark of Jace's saber. The tip of his blade barely skidded along the edge of her shoulderplate, carving a red hot burn across the Imperial sigil emblazoned upon it.

With her stance kept low as the two Jedi danced around her, Third Sister twirled her saberstaff once more, sending a vicious slash towards Jace's midsection as well. But Jace quickly dodged to the side, narrowly missing the horizontal slice of the Inquisitor's lightsaber.

As the red blade of the Inquisitor came barreling towards the Padawan, he realized he was just to slow as the blade made slight impact on his horizontal side before being forced away by his saber and Jace's attack. Quickly moving back, Tuka grunted and growled slightly at being wounded, something which caused the voice in his head to start up again.

"You will have to do better than that if you wish to get off this planet alive, Jedi. Unless, you use my powers, let me steer your hand against our foe."

Tuka ignored it as best as he could and once more sent his lightsaber flying towards the Inquisitor with more force than last time. At the same time, Jace moved his free hand towards her, attempting to pull her lightsaber out of her grasp.

Third Sister retreated a few steps after their momentary clash, the outnumbered dark-sider keeping her distance as she steadily attempted to wear them down. As she rose back up to her feet to ready herself for another attack, however, she found the evasive Jedi not charging in, but yanking the Inquisitor's weapon right out of her hand. She barely had time to process it before jerking her gaze to the Padawan, coming face-to-face with another incoming lightsaber.

The Inquisitor reached out in an attempt to catch it mid-flight, but instead felt the searing pain of its blue blade carving across her wrist.

"AGH--!"

The previously silent figure let out a momentary shriek of pain, stumbling back a single step as the arm of her uniform was sliced open. The bracer housing her datapad fell from her arm, cracking in two as it hit the floor, and exposing a smouldering gash over her red-black tattooed arm. As the Inquisitor gazed upon the open wound, a low murmur escaped her lips.

The murmur, however, grew in decibel - until the Jedi heard that it did not resemble a groan of pain, but a childish, horrid giggling that scarcely resembled a human laugh. She craned her neck to gaze upon the two Jedi, and suddenly lashed both hands towards them.

In an instant, violet arcs of lightning burst from her fingertips, with such force that her jet black cloak billowed outward. The blinding torrent of electricity exploded into the hangar, with stray arcs of the crackling beams jumping indiscriminately to the floor, walls and any nearby object it could reach - an unleashing of raw, uncontrolled power, barreling right towards them both.

Tuka's lips seemed to curl into a small smile automatically as he watched his saber finally make impact upon his foe. This, however, was very short lived as he watched the dark-sider giggled and lashed both hands towards him and Jace. Something within him quickly made his hands go infront of him as a flood of lightning shot from the enemy's fingers and crackled all around the hangar. As soon as Tuka was sure he was about to be impacted, he closed his eyes and he was indeed right, but he was not hit was hard as he thought. Still, clenching his teeth from the pain of the chaotic force lightning, he opened his eyes to see that some of it had been bouncing off a barrier which seemed to cover him. A closer look would reveal small and medium holes where the lightning had gotten through, but at least some of it had been stopped by this force barrier. Once more the voice inside his head spoke.

'Impressive, Tuka. Not many a-Padawan could conjure a Force Barrier in such a stressful situation. The voice paused some while Tuka continued to grit his teeth, watching as more and more holes of the barrier started to appear and let the electrifying bolts through to him. "The enemy wishes not to capture you, they want to kill you, Padawan. The light side of the Force stands no chance against the power of the dark side. Use your anger, let it consume you, become one with it, and we shall best this miscreant that would dare challenge m- us!'

Jace smirked as Third Sister's saberstaff flew through the air. Grabbing it with his free hand he quickly cut through it with his own saber. Discarding the two halves, he was then caught off-guard by the lightning attack. Two bolts ripped across his face and his chest, leaving visible gashes in their wake. Jace grimaced and tapped into the Force, channeling all his remaining energy into a push.

The maniacal cackling of the Inquisitor was drowned out by the deafening arcs of electricity that continued to channel out of her bare hands. Even the mere sight made her smile with childish glee beneath her mask, reveling in the prospect of reducing both of the meddlesome insects to dust. She could hardly see the two figures at the other end of this storm of power, and the shattering of her saberstaff only seemed to fuel the Third Sister's hate-fueled channeling of lightning. The lightsaber be damned. The Force was her weapon.

Her concentration on maintaining some semblance of control over the already unstable display of power, however, found itself rudely interrupted. While the sheer energy coursing towards them was great, a stray force smashed upon the black-clad figure with just enough strength behind it to send her stumbling back. Her arcs of electricity momentarily scattered about the area around them as the Inquisitor tumbled towards the opposite end of the hangar. She hit the ground hard, rolling several times before the acrobatic dark sider managed to regain her footing. As she skidded to a halt, she growled once again, and raised her hands once more.

"HRAAAAGH!" she screamed as a second torrent of raw, elemental power was hurled towards the two of them, bathing much of the hangar in a bright, purple-blue sheen.

"YOU ARE ALL BENEATH ME!"

Tuka felt relief wash over him as he watched the dark-sider tumble towards the opposite end of the hangar, causing the lightning to finally come to a stop. His relief was once more taken away as the Inquisitor unleashed yet another torrent of Force Lightning. Still keeping his Force Barrier up, Tuka felt the terrible and rage-fueled lightning hit his barrier harder than before, causing to almost instantly shred into pieces. As the bolts penetrated, he felt them coursing over his old Padawan robe, searing holes in them and burning some of the skin underneath. As the arcs of electricity continued, Tuka grit his teeth hard in agony as it touched his face, causing skin and hair to burn and vaporize. A stray arc tore across his face, leaving him with a nasty scar stretching across his closed right eye and causing some of the closer skin to peel off, leaving him scarred and deformed.

As the lightning towards him eventually stopped yet again, Tuka opened his eyes to see that his hands, still holding his sabers, were almost completely burned by the lightning. Smoke was rising from his cloak, while he couldn't even feel his face due to the pain of the vaporization. Hands clenching hard, Tuka let out a small growl and grunt as the voice in his head started again.

"Look at the pain they have wrought you, you have been made scarred, deformed, by your enemy. Strike now, with all your fury, all your anger. Let me guide your hands, let me show you the power of hatred!"

Almost automatically, Tuka raised his right hand towards the Inquisitor, and closed his eyes. In his mind's eye, he felt the pain of his wounds, the anger against his attacker, but most of all, he felt complete. Perhaps this was just the Sith-King influencing his mind, but at this point, Tuka did not care. His hand now shaking with power, he pulled it back, exactly like one would when readying oneself for a Force Push, and then moved his arm forward, creating a powerful energy field that flew towards the dark-sider.

As the lightning arced towards him, Jace closed his eyes and reached out into the Force. Desperate to prevent another devastating lightning attack, he reached further, putting his faith in the Force. Then, as if on instinct, he pushed forward with both of his hands. Opening his eyes, he saw the lightning breaking against a barrier of the Force. He silently thanked the Force for guiding him. As the lightning dissipated, he leapt forward, unleashing an overhead slash towards the now saber-less Inquisitor.

With the force of a tidal wave, the energy crashed upon the Inquisitor who stood her ground, the frayed, loose bits of her cloak and uniform billowing outward. She brought both arms up to shield herself, growling as the brunt of Tuka's wave of anger caused her boots to slide across the ground, despite her body not moving an inch. While most of her being continued to seethe with hatred, part of her was pleased to finally see the Jedi no longer hold his own power back. It would make her kill all the more satisfying.

However, as Third Sister composed herself to unleash a third chorus of violet lightning, the second Jedi charged yet again, leaping into the air and readying a powerful, overhead strike. She reached out with the Force, casting a single hand towards him. In an instant, Jace found his forward momentum stalled, the Inquisitor's telekinetic blast stopping him dead in his tracks. The red-glowing visor of her helmet bore into his eyes.

"I'm going to peel that smug face from your skull and wear it as a TROPHY..."

She clenched her fist, as if trying to snatch him into the air. Suddenly, Jace felt a constricting pressure bearing down on his throat...

Jace struggled in the air for a bit before managing to break the choke hold. He dropped down to the ground, gasping for air. He looked around and took in the scene around him. The others need to hurry up, he thought to himself. Gathering himself, Jace stood up and spoke to the Inquisitor. "Those who choose the dark side are weak. I will finish this." Bringing his lightsaber forward, he charged, aiming a horizontal strike at the enemy.

The Inquisitor, momentarily surprised to see the Jedi Knight weasel out of her grip, reeled her head back as Jace's saber came right towards her. She reached out with the Force to leap out of harm's way, but found her concentration in the heat of the moment to be lacking - a single misstep. Third Sister braced herself for the inevitable, as her vision was momentarily blinded by the Jedi's bright blue blade.

Third Sister gasped as, in a flash of light, her faceplate was sliced cleanly in half, leaving two chunks of bent, molten slag crashing to the floor.

She let out a second shriek of pain, stumbling backward as she lost her footing from her pathetic attempt to avoid it, before falling to a single knee on the ground. Her helmet in its entirety fell from her head as her gaze momentarily fell to the floor. The woman sported a set of stubby horns, protruding from a head of disheveled, jet black hair. With short, heavy breaths, the Third Sister looked up, bringing to light the marred features of the foe before him. A scalded, cauterized burn spanned across her red-black tattooed face, and a set of fiery yellow eyes glared daggers into his own. She said nothing, and her visage darkened - with an expression no longer conveying anger, but pure hatred and unbridled rage.

Slowly rising to her feet, the Inquisitor outright marched unarmed towards the Jedi before her, and outstretched both hands yet again.

A third chorus of hate-fueled lightning was blasted from her palms, even more powerful and unstable than the last. It seemed to carry with it the gale force of a hurricane, as if it would sweep any unfortunate soul in its path clean off their feet; a final discharge of unshackled power, building in energy by the moment...

Jace gasped as the wave of lightning swept over him. He stumbled backward as a bolt struck him in the chest. Struggling to catch his breath, he looked up to see that the now un-masked Inquisitor was indeed female. This surprised Jace but he did not allow the thought to break his concentration. He lowered his saber and spoke. "I can feel the pain inside you. Let go of your hatred and embrace the light again. Only then can you heal yourself." The Inquisitor barely even moved, staring at Jace with a hate-filled, almost feral stare. He sighed, and spoke again. "You have made your choice, Inquisitor." Looking up, Jace saw a ceiling light that had been jarred loose by the fighting. Reaching up quickly, he flicked his wrist downwards, sending the large light flying towards the target.

The enormous fixture was torn from its circuits on the ceiling with the grating squeal of folding metal, showering just about that entire section of the hangar with a cascade of sparks that only complimented the fifth wave of lightning that the seething Inquisitor prepared to unleash upon the Jedi. She arched her brow, and snapped her gaze to the ceiling just in time to see the thing coming straight for her. Gritting her teeth, she refocused her torrent of electricity not to Jace nor Tuka, but the incoming fixture, hoping to send it barreling away from her with the sheer force behind the crackling arcs.

Her eyes then suddenly widened, as it was all for naught...

Jace saw it crash to the floor of the hangar in a deafening, cacophonous screech of steel upon steel. An explosion followed, momentarily blinding both him and Tuka and lightly peppering the two with the bits and pieces of jagged metal that were cast haphazardly all over the ground.

The Inquisitor, feet from ground zero, was utterly blasted off of her feet. As the flash of the fixture's detonation faded, the two could see the faint silhouette of the black-clad woman being hurled right out of the hangar. A fading shriek trailed past their ears as she was sent spiraling, kicking and screaming...

Before finally disappearing into the canopy of the open forest outside of the temple...

[Skyggeheim]

Kalixinos vs. Vrudun
A Path Begun, A Path Ended

---

Odessen
The forest fire had begun to entirely encircle the old Odessen base, casting the rocks and landscape in an orange and red glow, the sky had begun to blacken with the smoke.
Third Brother had arrived at the base, alone, under these conditions. The forest quickly developing into a hellscape. Though by himself, Kalixinos at least knew that soon other Imperial forces would follow, either purge troopers or other clones.

The singular remaining entrance to the base presented itself, an old blast door, sealed from the inside, there was no exterior panel to make it open. It was easy to observe there was only one solution to get inside, after all, Third Sister was waiting on him.

Kalixinos ignited his red lightsaber and plunged it deep into the metal door, cutting an oblong circle into the blast door. Using the force to pull out the giant metal plug, he throw it out into the blazing treeline.

The Inquisitor, confident in his entrance, stepped inside saying but one word, "Jedi!"

"You were correct, we have company" Listening to Master Shan's response was somewhat comical to him, though he knew how odd it was to find humor in a situation such as this. He had heard the Inquisitor that was now at the primary entrance to the Temple, moving himself closer to the Lab's doorway, drawing his lightsaber from his belt. He looked back to both Afon and Rhys. The young Aatahl seemed nervous by the Darksider's seemingly open-ended challenge in his shriek, understanding that the Empire was now upon them and that survival would be a struggle. Afon, who had kept his lightsaber hilt in his hand, seemed ready to jump from the table, even as the droid continued to treat his wound. There was to be little choice in the matter. Vrudun would need to face this threat. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath in.

"I am one with the Force and the Force is with me." He whispered under his breath. The stress and nerves of their predicament fell from his shoulders as he opened his eyes. He smiled.

"Stay here, my young Padawan. Watch over Master Nard. Afon, watch over them both." He said, his tone more peaceful than before as he stepped out of the doorway and into the hall, turning a corner to step face to face with the enemy.

"Yes?" He simply replied to the Khaleesh.
Kalixinos struck his lightsaber, from the wall to the floor, sending a flash of sparks and embers down the corridor; the light from the forest fire outside casting him in an orange glow.

Third Brother would not entertain the zabrak jedi, remaining silent as he moved down the hall, towards his enemy. The Kaleesh Inquisitor entered an offense stance, as he reached the halfway point between him and the Jedi. It was here he entered into a sprint and a warrior's yell, jumping forward, brandishing his saber for an attack.

Vrudun's confident appearance scattered to the wind as he ignited his own lightsaber, moving to block. He was utterly caught off guard by the Inquisitor's savage assault, his blade rattling in his hands, his defense breaking and allowing the Darksider an easy shot to his chest. Stumbling back down to his knee, Vrudun held his chest, looking down briefly and grunting. The Zabrak knight said not a word. He understood that this one wasn't one for speaking. Placing his strength behind his right leg, he bolted forward, diverting to Form Five. With a growl uttering from his mouth, Vrudun slung his lightsaber over his head and brought it down with every ounce of force he could produce.

Kalixinos quickly brought up his lightsaber to defend. But in sloppy haste, as Vrudun's lightsaber met the Inquisitor's, Third Brother's angle was too steep. The blue lightsaber slide down his own red, causing a shower of sparks and striking Kalixinos's shoulder.

Kalixinos recoiled instinctively, stepping back from the Zabrak. The Kaleesh looked as his own injured shoulder, then back at the Jedi, glaring with his yellow eyes.

Rage bubbled up in Third Brother's mind, the wound just another in a decade's list of them, every lashing he had endured because the Jedi had abandoned him to the slavers of the Outer Rim. He would not let this stand.

In a primal roar, Third Brother lunged forward, striking a barbaric punch at the Jedi.
Vrudun's eyes widened, though he kept his composure. He took a deep breath in as he raised his hand, fingers spread wide, palm facing the Inquisitor's chest, light surrounding his hand as he pushed all of himself into a push, attempting to center his Force. The Push was utterly successful, throwing the Inquisitor away from him, his back smashing into the blast door he had come in through.

"You would be wise to surrender." He said solemnly, positioning himself into a proper Soresu stance.

Kalixinos smacked into the great metal blast door that had been his entrance, the brief snap of pain reminding he wasn't in the slave pits anymore. He wasn't bashing in the brains of one of his enslaved peers anymore, this was a Jedi, someone of equal strength and power to himself. He regained his composure, spinning his lightsaber for a second in his hand.

"Surrender is death." Kalixinos said, quietly, recalling the mantra that had kept him alive over the years.

Third Brother would not turn back, the Inquisitor did not come to Odessen to flee like the Jedi, and if the Jedi could use the Force, so could he.

The Kaleesh Inquisitor rushed forward again, to the midway point, stopping abruptly, rage fueling his actions, calling forth lightning from his finger tips, sending a bolt of it down the hall.

As the violent bolts shuttered towards him, Vrudun acted quickly, dropping his lightsaber to free both of his hands, taking another breath as he focused himself, staying composed, staying calm as best as he could in this moment. With both hands in front of him, he called upon the Force once more to assist him.

The lightning funneled into his hands, the wrath and anger behind the power diminished as it filled his palms. As the lightning began to die down, Vrudun closed his hands, releasing a deep breath.

"It's not too late for you. We can help you. You can still come back from this. Do not give into your hate, your anger." Vrudun said, trying to speak in a calm voice.

Vrudun's words did nothing to sooth Kalixinos, he could hardly even hear them. Instead, his mind was focused on the Jedi down the hallway; Kalixinos's back burning with the memory of pain.

"Jedi!" Third Brother yelled, as he started another rush down the corridor, brandishing his lightsaber again. The Inquisitor swinging his red lightsaber into another slashing attack.

Vrudun stiffened his posture, pulling his lightsaber back up with the Force and quickly igniting it. Pushing his right foot back to counterbalance his weight, he pulled his lightsaber up to prepare for the hit. The two sabers clashed, the force of the strike causing both blades to crackle, but Vrudun held his defense.

"Stop this!" Yelled Vrudun, pushing back the Inquisitor's blade, immediately following through with a swift lunge, right towards the Darksider's chest.

Kalixinos reacted quickly, swatting away Vrudun's lightsaber blade with his own, regardless, the Kaleesh took a step back. The Zabrak Jedi had excellent defense, something that the Inquisitor could at least admire, considering his own pitiful defense. As such, he'd need to continue to find new avenues of attacking in order to keep his own advantage.

"I will stop when the Jedi Order is dead." Third Brother stated, following his words up with another burst of lightning.

Vrudun lifted his saber with a grunt, the lightning crackling against his lightsaber, the blues swirling together across the blade as his arms held strong, the lightsaber shaking a bit from the high levels of energy coursing through his weapon. The words of the Inquisitor shot through the Zabrak and for the first time in the battle, he was growing aggravated with the enemy. He was trying to hold true to the code of the Jedi, but it was quickly becoming the route to impatience. Vrudun slung his lightsaber across him as the lightning stopped.

"So be it!" He yelled, twirling the blade across him, the blade coming back around him and forming into a strong horizontal strike across the Inquisitor's left side of his body.

Vrudun landed another strike on Kalixinos, slashing down the left side of his chest. Kalixinos winced, another injury, the second the Jedi had given him, but yet still nothing to compare with the Inquisitor's initial strike.

The Jedi's attack had cut the strap holding the Inquisitor's breastplate to his body, with this, Kalixinos stepped further back and ripped the piece of armor way, revealing the many old scars on his chest.

"You are strong, Jedi." Kalixinos said quietly, "Maybe if things had been different, we could've been allies."

Third Brother lunged again for another attack, he needed to kill a Jedi, for his own self-worth.

With a quick flick of his lightsaber, he managed to beat the lightsaber back from his, throwing his right foot back and turning it to the side, planting his weight for the moment. He listened to the Inquisitor as he spoke.

"Things can still be different. Turn from the Dark Side, turn from the evil that has consumed you. Or you will be struck down." He said, pushing forth with his blade and moving for another overhead strike.

Without thinking, Kalixinos reacted, dropping his own lightsaber as he reached for Vrudun's hands, attempting to stop the strike from coming down.
But in his miscalculation, the stupid attempt was in vain, Kalixinos's timing was off. The Jedi's lightsaber came down, cutting through the Kaleesh's right arm, just below the elbow.

Kalixinos recoiled in pain, falling backward away from his lightsaber. He scrambled away; a sense of fear he had not felt in ages coming back, the same fear he felt the day he had lost his family, the same day he lost his master, and the same day he was made a slave.
The Inquisitor reached into his boot, pulling out the holdout blaster he had stored there earlier in the day. It was his last defense.

"Jedi?" Kalixinos asked, his voice quiet and scared.

Vrudun made no attempts to follow him, no attempts to exact a final toll upon the Khaleesh. Instead, he remained in place, looking at the wounded Inquisitor. Deep within him, he could feel the sorrow and fear of his enemy and in that moment, the Jedi Knight granted him mercy.

"You will not die this day, Inquisitor. Leave this Temple, at once." He said, pointing his lightsaber directly at the Darksider.

Kalixinos looked out the hole he had cut early, into the forest fire raging outside, embers from the outside had begun to float into the base. A stark reminder for what was waiting for him.

"Surrender is death," He said to himself again. Kalixinos stood, dropping the holdout blaster where he stood, then slowly walking toward Vrudun once again.

"I have failed." Kalixinos stated, "I am your prisoner."

Vrudun eyes squinted at the sudden surrender of the Inquisitor before him, noticing the holdout blaster that had fallen to the ground behind him. Despite the Khaleesh offering himself as prisoner, Vrudun kept his blade close, looking down to notice the Inquisitor's lightsaber laying just a few inches from the zabrak's feet. As a precaution, Vrudun reached out with the Force to pull the enemy's hilt to him, connecting it to his belt in absence of his own. Vrudun was taken by surprise by the Darksider's response. With the other Jedi in battle, the Zabrak Knight, for a moment, was confused on how he should proceed.

"Then I would suppose you're under arrest." He said. He reached up his arm to his com-link.

"Afon, Rhys. I have an Inquisitor in custody. I'm coming to you with him."

Kalixinos felt a strange mix of relief, anxiety, and fear. His life was one long mess of pain and suffering, and trying to escape it. His confusion was immense, unsure of his path.
He could take back his lightsaber now, stab the Jedi in the back, and return to the Empire he had no loyalty to.

Kalixinos pushed the thought from his mind, instead trying to remember his old master, his last days as Jedi.

"We must hurry," Kalixinos said, almost whispering, "He is here."

Vrudun turned to look at the entrance, now blown open and giving him a look at what was outside. The familiar glow of orange had grown closer to the entrance, the flames raging high. Vrudun motioned the Inquisitor to walk ahead, keeping his lightsaber up and ready. After turning the corner and walking down the hallway, they had arrived to the Science Lab, where Rhys and Afon waited. Rhys sat near Master Nardrashtasch, keeping watch over the Wookiee while Afon had stood, his side bandaged up. It was still sore, but he would live. As the two entered the room, Afon Ekker ignited his own blade, pointing it right at the Khaleesh.

---

The Science Lab

"Sit down." Vrudun said to the Inquisitor, pointing to a chair next to a bed on the other side of the room.

"What do you suggest we do with him?" Asked Afon, who kept his eyes on him. Vrudun thought for a moment on an appropriate response.

"Padawan, can we wake Master Nard?"

The Miraluka he addressed sat quietly at Master Nard's bedside. The Wookiee was still out cold, though most of his wounds were now wrapped and his broken arm bound in a sling. Stray flecks of blood were spattered on the young padawan's hands. Rhys stared into space much as he had done in the control room some minutes prior for a long time. When he came to, he looked back up at Vrudun with another pale, shocked look on his face. The Knight's question, however, distracted him for a moment.

"He will be out for a while..." Rhys told him. "We..."

He looked to the wounded Master again, and then off into the distance - in the general direction of the advancing Imperials. Something else was coming for them. The very thing he saw up in orbit...looking back at him at last...

"We need to leave. Are you hurt...?"

"I am fine, Padawan. Patience. We will leave when it is time, young one. We must prepare Master Nard for immediate departure. I sense that whatever is out there.....its very powerful, but no one will be left behind." Said Vrudun, placing his hand on his Padawan's shoulder.

As hard as Rhys tried, the padawan couldn't seem to force his vision of what dark creature lay in wait out there from his mind. Could it feel his own presence - what he'd seen up in orbit? He could not feel it reaching back out to him, nor did it even attempt to fight his attempts to sense it. It simply stared back, sending chills down the exhausted young sage's spine...

"Y-yes..." he collected himself with a short nod of his head. "Of course. We can move him now." Rhys paced back to Nard's bedside, taking another moment to catch his breath. "...Master Ekker?"

Afon managed to peel his inquisitive gaze away from the figure Vrudun brought in with him, and stepped to the opposite side of the injured Wookiee. With outstretched hands, he and Rhys reached out with the Force.

"Thank you-- Gently now..."

They began to carefully lift Master Nard from his bed...

Kalixinos shook his head as the Jedi lifted the practically deceased wookiee from the bed.

"You are wasting your time with this one. He will be here soon, certainly you have felt his presence! We must go now!" The Kaleesh said in a demanding tone.

He felt agitated and even more anxious, with his feelings getting worse the longer the Jedi took; Kalixinos felt he had made a fatal choice, one he was regretting more and more every minute. There was no going back for him.

To the young sage lifting Nard from his bed, something suddenly cracked within him. In an act that seemingly came out of nowhere, Rhys lashed out at the newcomer.

"No!" was the only thing the previously brooding padawan could muster to shout at him. A short silence followed, where he and Afon exchanged a brief look. Rhys swallowed hard, and let his voice grow calm again. "He will not be left to die here..."

He glanced to Vrudun. "We are ready," he said. "Shall we escape to the hangar, Master...?"

Vrudun's eyes snapped to the young Miraluka upon the Padawan lashing out at the prisoner of theirs. He said no words regarding the moment. He understood that the situation placed so much stress on all of them. For a Padawan in this new era, being able to control oneself in certain matters where stress was high and chances of survivable were low was a challenging feat, that not even some knights or even masters could fulfill.

"Yes, we are leaving. Medical droid, you're coming with us." He said as he reached up to his com-link.

"Master Shan, we are coming to you....with a prisoner."

[Brusia]

Martius Shan and Barriss Offee
Odessen
Alliance Base
Hanger

As the Third Sister emerged from the shadows, the First Sister, a twisted smile upon her face, lifted into view of the other Jedi, standing at the edge of her Actis interceptor, her twin lightsabers in her hands. She gently stepped out and into the hangar, walking slowly at first as she chuckled, her starfighter pulling away but maintaining visual range with the Hangar.

"You scared the boy half to death, Sister. Hmm, who is that back there?" She said before jumping up and onto the roof of the Vigil, walking forward slowly.

"Ah, he's got friends! How lovely..." she said, lightly giggling as she witnessed the one in the white tunic and brown cloak. She ignited her twin lightsabers, pointing one at Martius.

"I want you."

As Vrudun’s message came in warning Martius of the potential threat in the ventilation system, Martius replied: “Understood, we’ll keep an eye out for…” he was interrupted by the sound of a lightsaber plunging through one of the main exterior entryways into the hanger, followed shortly thereafter by the arrival of a large fellow clad in black Imperial clothing admixed with unusual primitive accoutrements that looked to perhaps be markings of some sort of tribe.

His appearance was followed soon after by the occupant of the ventilation system Vrudun had warned about dropping down from the ceiling directly behind Tuka. Martius activated his comm and warned Vrudun: “You were correct, we have company…” He was about to move off to go help Tuka when the familiar silhouette of an Eta-2 Actis appeared outside the hanger with a third figure clad in black soon exiting it to join the other two.

It was clear these three were adherents of the Dark Side, and yet unlike Count Dooku, he didn’t get the sense that they were proper Sith; or at least not Sith Lords. Whatever they were, the fact that they were here alone rather than with a Legion of Clones at their back meant that, at the very least, they likely shared the Sith’s arrogance; a much-needed plus for the Jedi as it bought them some additional time before the large Imperial force swarmed the base.

For now though, he wasn’t going to get any more time to think on it as the most recent intruder to arrive stood atop the Vigil and with a point of her lightsabers, called him out directly. From her bearing and the way she spoke to the others, Martius assumed she was most likely the leader; though it was difficult to say with how little he knew of this group. All the same, she seemed as good a target as any, and with a challenge issued he replied: “Than you shall have me.”

Dropping his cloak to the floor, Martius jumped up to the end of the Vigil’s roof opposite his foe, then faced her and ignited his lightsaber; the primary blade lighting first followed shortly by the two shorter blades that formed the crossguard. Lifting the hilt of his blade in front of his face in a salute to his opponent, Martius then flourished his blade down by his side and back up perpendicular to his head as he assumed the tradition Soresu opening stance with his opposite arm raised and two fingers pointed towards his foe, then stating: “At your convenience…”

At the Jedi's response, Barriss smiled widely under her helmet. With little left to hold her back, Barriss bent her knees, pulling her arms back, lightsabers facing the opposite direction to her. Leaping forward and into the air, she let out a wild scream as her body contorted into a spin, her twin lightsabers creating a pale red aura around her as she spun. With all of her strength, she came down on Martius with both of her blades for an overhead strike.

As the foe launched into her overhead strike, Martius moved to block but was overwhelmed by the ferocity of the attack. He was able to block one lightsaber strike but the second glanced his shoulder, singeing his tunic and burning the flesh underneath. Still, despite the pain, he was at least able to learn something about his opponent from her attack; observing her body movements, she attacked with a great deal of rage, but underneath that it was clear her movements were well practiced. Whoever she was, she had certainly had more than three months of training which meant either there was some sort of Dark Side training academy that had been operating under the Republic's nose or more likely that he was dealing with a former Jedi. Intent to find out, Martius utilized his Djem So training to initiate a fluid riposte and made a counter-strike aimed at his opponent's helmet.

Barriss was thrown into a sea of ecstasy as she watched her blade initiate first blood. She giggled under her helmet as the Jedi filth initiated his own counter attack, aimed right for her head.

With both of her lightsabers mounted firmly into her hands, she rose them to meet the Blue blade, sparks flinging off both as her defense met his. She laughed at it.

"How adorable. Give me more!" She screamed out, pushing away his lightsaber, spinning around to bring both lightsabers to bear on the Jedi's right side in a sweeping horizontal swing.

After his strike failed to connect, Martius was narrowly able to bring his blade back to guard his right side as his opponent attempted another strike. Even through all the anger and hate, there was still a certain gracefulness to his foe's movements which the Guardian couldn't help but admire. "Impressive" he stated as the two were drawn into a saber lock. Still trying to probe into her identity, he continued: "Your Master clearly trained you well" then broke the saber lock and attempted a cho mak strike at her left arm in the hope of ridding her of one of her sabers.

The Jedi's words only brought more joy to her as the two's sabers had locked in.

"Yes." She simply replied as the Jedi attempted a familiar move, moving to take out her left arm. Without moving her left arm, her right came in just in time for the defense. Her arm struggled having to reach across, her muscles shaking. She gritted her teeth.

"Better than anything the Order ever gave me!" She yelled, pulling her left arm back whilst deactivating her right hand's blade, hoping the Jedi's muscles would force him to follow through, leaving him open long enough for a counter-strike. With her left blade, she came down with it, hoping to go for his right shoulder.

His strike again missed its mark, but fortunately was not entirely without merit as his foe confirmed his suspicion that she was a former Jedi. Fortunately, as she then deactivated one of her lightsabers Martius quickly recognized the old Trakata unbalancing block maneuver and pulled back before he stumbled forward, intercepting her remaining blade with his own just in time. Pushing back from his opponent and disengaging briefly, Martius continued: "I thought as much, from the fluidity of your movements I take it you studied under either Master Unduli or Master Secura?"

Looking to confirm his theory, Martius brought his blade back and jumped up, reinitiating the engagement with a falling avalanche strike.

With both of her blades raised to receive the Jedi's strike, she formed an 'x' with her lightsabers. She received the blade between both, the crackle of her blades filling the air around them. She grinded her teeth as the Jedi attempted to probe her for information.

"You'll get nothing from me..." she said in an almost hissing tone. Even hearing her name...

With her right hand, she stepped forward with her right foot and pushed her blades to the left, throwing the Jedi's attack away from her. Barriss held back, the two beginning to circle one another.

With a heavy grunt, she slung herself forward once more, attempting to break through his defense with a double lunging stab right into his chest.

Again his attack was blocked, and though his opponent didn't verbally confirm his theory as to her Master, her anger and hissing tone did. After circling each other for a brief while, she reengaged with a double lunge with such ferocity that he was only able to partially deflect her blades, sparing his vital organs but resulting in another searing burn along his side. For the pain he suffered, the attack did at least buy him some additional information as her style further narrowed her likely Master. Keeping his defense up with his dominant hand, he clutched his side with the other and stated: "So Master Unduli I take it." Thinking back to a few months prior, he continued: "I seem to recall she had a Padawan involved in the Temple bombing before the Empire but her name escapes me at the moment."

Focusing past his pain, he brought his offhand back onto his saber and attempted a jung ma maneuver, executing a quick spin to build momentum for a strong attack against his foe.

Under her helmet, Barriss snarled. Her anger, hatred, fury, was beginning to rise, boiling within her mind. Even though her attack struck close to it's target, he wouldn't stop prying, wouldn't stop asking questions. She was caught off-balance, barely bringing her lightsaber up just in time. He was unnerving her. And she feared that he knew it. The lightsaber buckled in his hand as the two sabers struck once more, nearly breaking her defense. Her eyes widened and she bared her teeth under her helmet.

"Wrong, Jedi!" She screamed, forcing his blade back, though she didn't return retaliate with her lightsaber. She backed away, releasing both lightsabers from her hands, though they remained floating. With twirls of her hands, her two blades began to spin around her, gaining speed as they spun. She let out a wild scream, both blades spinning wildly towards the Jedi.

As he sensed her anger growing, Martius could tell he was on the right track as to his opponent's identity. As she screamed that he was wrong and let out a furious lightsaber throw, Martius deflected one of the incoming blades away but was again unable to stop the second which this time singed his left leg as it passed through. For all the pain he was in though, from their interactions thus far he believed he finally had an identity for his attacker: "Barriss. Yes, I believe that was her name; from what Luminara told me she was one of the most gifted pupils she'd ever had, with a great future in the Jedi Order. That's a future she can still have and with an Order that needs her now more than ever." Switching from an offensive to a defensive stance to not alarm her, Martius continued: "You know I heard her speech that day during her confession; I couldn't see it then, but time has proven her correct. We allowed ourselves to become so consumed in the fighting that we lost our way, and in seeking victory in the Clone Wars over peace we became the very thing we had set out to destroy. I can understand her anger at the Order, why she would want to bring it down, but to do so through greater violence is not the answer."

Pointing out the hanger at the burning forest before them, he continued: "For millennia this planet knew nothing but peace, but now it burns to ash all around us and for what? To slaughter a handful of survivors who pose no real threat? Is that really the answer; to bring war to more peaceful worlds? I recall she warned that we had fallen from the Light that we once held so dear; is the best solution really to extinguish that light entirely?”

Staring into her mask directly where her eyes would be, he continued: “It’s not too late for her; for you Barriss. We’ve all made mistakes, but if you come with us together we can work to make things right; to rebuild the Order not as soldiers or Generals, but as the Peacekeepers we were always meant to be.” Extending an arm in friendship, he concluded: “Please Barriss, help us to find a better way; to rekindle the Light we all hold dear…”

After the successful attack that had once begin pierced his defenses, Barriss followed through with the forward energy, turning swiftly and pulling her blades forward in a Makashi-type stance. The hate inside of her, the pain, anguish, and anger continued to boil over, continued to rise with each word the Jedi spouted at him. But despite her training, despite the hate she had for the Order that had shunned her, left her to die, she could feel something within her. Something she hadn't felt in a long time. Master Luminara, Ahsoka, Obi-Wan. They came back to her. Came to haunt her. She began to lower her lightsabers, very slowly. Her eyes shot over to the Third Sister, fighting staunchly against those two Jedi. Then, the haunting mechanical breathing of their leader, their commander.

Her lightsabers deactivated. She clipped them to her belt and slowly removed her helmet, the seals hissing as it moved upwards. Revealing herself to the Jedi, she dropped the helmet to the ground, rolling away from her onto a flatter surface of the Vigil.

"I want nothing from you, Jedi. Luminara is dead. The Order fell from the Light long before the Clone Wars. I see that now. Now, you stand here, in your failed attempt to resurrect your flawed Order and have guaranteed the deaths of all your followers, and attempt to bring me into your fold." She laughed.

"You are nothing compared to what stands just outside your Temple. Nothing compared to what our Empire is doing across the Galaxy, what the Republic never could. No....I Like it here." She said, the darkness within smothering what tried to rise from her. She would not be so easily pulled, not from what worse fate waited for her. Electricity pulsed through her hands. Her anger grew, the fury became focused and within her eyes, the Jedi before her was nothing more than vermin.

"I like....this!" She said, raising her hands and unleashing a furious scream, lightning streaming towards the Jedi.

As Barriss lowered her lightsabers and removed her helmet, Martius had hoped the former Jedi had come to see the Light, but her words revealed he hoped in vain. Looking into her eyes, he could almost see a small glimmer of light quickly repressed by anger and hatred as she unleashed a powerful bolt of lightning at him. Retracting his arm, he moved just quickly enough to block the attack and deflect the lightning back at its caster. Seeing it was clear that, for today at least, he was not going to be able to sway her back to the Light Side, he stated: "Than I am sorry, but I will do what I must." Readying his blade, Martius charged forward rapidly hoping to take advantage of her shocked state and attempted a shiak lunge.

Barriss's own lightning reflected back to her, briefly crawling across her body, forcing her to yelp in pain before the flow stopped. She shook her head and reached out her hands, pulling her lightsabers to her with the Force. Almost missing the opportunity to defend herself, her lightsabers ignited just in time to swat away the enemy's blade, the two circling one another once more. Her face painted in anger.

"Haha, you will try."

She quickly slung both of her lightsabers up, close to her face, then spun them down, giving the Jedi a proper Makashi salute. She changed her stance, moving to walk towards the Jedi, lowering her blades to the ground, their blades sparking and leaving behind glowing scars across the Vigil's thick outer hull. With a strong flick, she flung her lightsabers forward, sending slag right towards Martius, followed by a flurry of horizontal strikes with both of her lightsabers.

Martius returned Barriss' salute then with a quick flourish brought his blade back to a defensive position. After she dragged her blades across the Vigil's hull, Martius narrowly dodged the slag she flung in his direction then moved quickly to block her rapid horizontal strikes. On the last of her attacks, rather than withdrawing his blade as well, Martius attempted a flowing water cut utilizing his more stable two handed grip against just one of her lightsabers to bring all his strength down on one area of the red blade in an attempt to strike her with her own weapon.

As the bright blue blade came thundering towards, Barriss was only able to get a single saber up in time to meet his attack. The force of the impact was entirely too strong for her and with a shocked gasp, the two blades collided, her strength breaking against his, her once stiffened arm giving way to the superior form and strength of this Jedi. Her own blade's tip came back at her, slashing across her right arm before flying from her hand. She let out a painful shriek, pulling herself away as she stared in anger and pain at the Jedi, a single red blade remaining in her hand. She looked over to her fellow Inquisitor, who seemed to be handling the two Jedi better than she could handle one. She snarled as her sight panned to the left of the separate battle, her second lightsaber laying upon the ground. She reached out with the Force to pull the lightsaber back in to her.

Martius' strike rang true, and in addition to wounding his opponent it sent her second blade flying out of her hand. Martius watched Barriss closely as she pulled herself away, and noticed that her focus seemed to drift from their fight to the fights happening around them; he wondered if perhaps she did not have the same faith in her allies that he did in his fellow Jedi. Whatever the cause, Martius hoped to take advantage of her momentary lack of focus and when he observed her raise her arm up to retrieve her second lightsaber, he attempted a strike not at Barriss herself, but just beside her outstretched hand in an attempt to cleave her lightsaber hilt a mere instant before it landed back in her palm.

With that single strike, the hilt was split, just under the middle section, separating it's power cells from the rest, the weight of the lightsaber's strike forcing the destroyed saber to spin, missing her hand and flying past her, clanking against one of the Vigil's sensor arrays and resting snuggling against it. Barriss's eyes darted over to Martius, a look of determination on his face. The First Sister, growled, responding to the attack by slinging her saber up, hoping to bring it down right into Martius's shoulder.

After disabling Barriss' second lightsaber, Martius received a message from Vrudun informing him that the Knight was headed his way with a prisoner. Before Martius could reply however, Barriss attempted to strike his shoulder, though with one quick motion he was narrowly able to block her attack before it connected. As they were drawn into another saber lock, a loud creaking noise nearby interrupted the hissing sound of their clashing blades as Jace brought one of the hanger’s light fixtures down on top of his opponent; soon resulting in the Dark Sider being flung out of the hanger.

Now injured, alone, down to one lightsaber, and with more Jedi on the way; the writing was clearly on the wall for Barriss. Pushing back from the saber lock, Martius extended his blade towards the former Jedi and stated: “It’s over Barriss. It should be clear now that whatever strength your new masters in the Empire promised you and your allies was a lie; as you well know the Sith have but one rule: there can only be two, and you and your colleagues are not among that number. You’ll never be anything more than pawns to the Sith, and even if you did find the power you seek with them, they’d strike you down before you could use it to prevent you becoming a rival.”

With a final impassioned plea, he continued: “But it’s not too late, you can still join us and find true strength, which can only come through resisting the temptations of the Dark Side. Come home, and let that Light which once burned so brightly within you spark again.”

Being the last Inquisitor in the Temple, Barriss looked around her. Two Jedi below, their attention now brought to her with Martius still prepared to attack, she lowered her guard, realizing that victory was now out of their grasp and Vader's scorn was on the horizon. She slowly backed up, switching her lightsaber to her left hand and pulling the broken one into her right. She deactivated her blade as she neared closer to the warm engines. She was visibly exhausted and she remained silent after the Jedi's offer to stay with them. She halted just before the edge and for even the briefest moment, a look of sadness washed over her. She'd dropped the veil of the dark side and for Master Shan to see, was Padawan Offee, another lost apprentice of the Order. Her eyes connected with his and he knew this wouldn't last long. She uttered quietly.

"It's too late for me."

Using the Force, she jumped away, throwing herself out of the hangar and falling below, out of sight.

Her Eta-2 Actis rose up into view, Barriss crawling into the cockpit. She looked back once more to her former opponent and visibly snarled, the veil replaced for the last time.

As Barriss deactivated her lightsaber blade, Martius deactivated his in turn and followed the Inquisitor as she backed up towards the engines; maintaining his distance so as not to worry her of a possible attack. When she reached the Vigil’s edge, he looked at her and without even needing to reach out through the Force, could see the sadness in her eyes. As she dropped the veil of the Dark Side around her, Martius no longer sensed a foe standing before him, but a Jedi; the Jedi she was and the Jedi he hoped she may become again. For a moment, it seemed even the yellow of her eyes gave way to their original blue, but that moment was sadly not to last.

As she stated it was too late for her and jumped off the ship and out of the hanger, Martius dashed to the ship’s edge, ready to reach out with the Force and break her fall if possible, only to see her rise back up before him atop her starfighter. As she reentered the cockpit and gave him one last glance, he replied simply: “It’s never too late Barriss” before her Dark veil returned and she flew away. Martius looked down for a moment and let out a heavy sigh; he wished there was more he could do to return the former Padawan back to the Light, but for now he knew the Empire would soon be back and that he must keep his focus on getting the rest of his fellow Jedi out alive.

Activating his commlink, he opened a channel to allow those allies still in the base and stated: “The hanger’s clear for now but it isn’t likely to stay that way for long. If Master Nard is stable enough to be moved, now would be the time to get him to the ship…”

[Tethrys]

Elru and Rasana/TR-6283 Part 1
Tython Village
Co-Writers:
Tethrys
Castriarta

Elru sucked in a breath as fire quickly spread across the old buildings he had painstakingly been working to repair since his arrival. So quickly his work seemed to go up in literal smoke. The figure at the center of the growing blaze put every one of Elru's hair's on end. He could feel the dark side flow off in waves. It was the strongest darkside feeling he had encountered since the massacre at the temple on Coruscant. With little choice due to the flames engulfing his current position Elru strode out to face the stranger. The thought of trying to flee up the hills to the shrine occurred to him but he would be leading them directly to the seeing-stone and his own ship both of which he hoped to avoid.

"Such unnecessary destruction is unsightly. Your intent is plenty clear. I'm Jedi Knight Elru Tess, let me know your name before we try to kill one another dark one." Elru spoke as calmly as possible. He was on edge, hilt of his saber drawn and ready to ignite. All the while he slowly maneuvered closer toward his opponent while watching for the others he knew were somewhere nearby. Hopefully he could face down and defeat the strongest of his enemies before trying to hunt down what he felt were troopers. Either way it benefited him to keep them separated for as long as he could.

The Shadow Guard stood like an immovable mountain of obsidian, her long black cloak rippling slightly in the wind. She was only barely illuminated by the glow of flickering flames that ate away at the ancient village she had set ablaze. The inferno she had lit was reflected in the glare of her burning red visor, like an oozing crack of lava splitting a dark volcanic surface. Her body filled with the glorious power of rage, energy rippling through her until her flesh burned, and the intensity of the Dark Side clouding her mind until normal thoughts passed away and all that existed was her mission: kill the Jedi and please her Master. TR-6283 was a mind molded by the evil power of Emperor Palpatine, a soul totally corrupted by the great Lord of the Sith.

The tide of Dark Side energy that welled inside of the Shadow Guard threatened to explode out, as if it would tear apart the very body that contained it, as TR-6283's eyes fell upon her target. The Jedi had revealed himself, stepping out into the square of the village to face her down. His words barely registered with the Shadow Guard, and what she heard did not matter. The dry, serpentine voice of the Emperor spoke in the jagged chasms of her mind: A Shadow Guard hears no voice but the Emperor's, responds to no words but her Master's commands. TR-6283 would not bandy words with this man. She was not a negotiator for her Lord; no, she was a killer. Lifting the long black staff of her saberpike, TR-6283 stepped forward slowly, her robe flapping against the hot air of the fire consuming the village.

No words left her mouth, but a single sound interrupted the crackling and snapping of the smoldering thatch roofs: the ferocious hum of a lightsaber blade coming to life. The bright crimson shard of plasma cast a harsh glow about the black surroundings, seeming to fight the shadow that seeped out from the Guards' presence. Not deigning to bow or salute to her opponent, TR-6283 gave him merely a second as the intense red visor of her mask bore into his soul before she leapt forward, lightsaber pike flashing forward in a vicious stab as she dropped into a thrusting attack. The Shadow Guard was relentless, pressing onto her opponent with rapid jabs of her blade. Keeping her center of gravity low in a balanced crouch stance, TR-6283 unleashed a flurry of stabs intended to overwhelm her enemy's defenses and probe his fighting style.

Shocked by the black clad figure's sudden charge Elru reacted on instinct igniting his saber, sadly, months without proper training had left him somewhat rusty and the power of his shadowy enemy's attack drove through his block landing a glancing blow and searing his arm badly. Jumping backward to gain a bit of distance he did not remain back for more than a split second. Having regained his bearings from the initial shock of his attacker's charge Elru launched himself at them in a pivoting motion to the right. Swinging his blade for their arms in the hopes of disarming them and possibly forcing a negotiation. A tactic he had grown used to during the war when facing separatist militias.

The Shadow Guard watched the movements of her opponent closely, some subconscious part of her mind activating as she slipped into the kinetic language of her people. Originally trained as a Sun Guard, TR-6283 was trained in the knowledge of the flesh, not the word. She could learn a person's soul through the movements of the body in the fight, where the true being of the heart is revealed. On a level that operated below her full awareness, the Guard was beginning to build an understanding of Elru's heart: the hesitation as she struck; the twitching reaction to the slight cut of her blade; the graceful speed-based leap past her ferocious attack; the pivoting retaliation in a graceful redirection of momentum. All of this showed the Guard what kind of fighter she was facing -- and this meant she knew what kind of man she was facing.

The Jedi was fast, TR-6283 could be sure of that without any kind of analysis. He came back in with a blinding attack for her arms, and TR rapidly repositioned her footwork, falling a step backwards and catching the strike with the shaft of her pike. Although she managed to avoid losing a limb, the Shadow Guard felt a slight twinge of pain as the edge of his blade grazed her skin through the black armor she wore. Pushing his blade back to create an opening, TR-6283 ignored the small pain on the new cut to her wrist and swung the butt end of her lightsaber pike upwards in a blunt strike at Elru's jaw.

Elru felt his teeth rattle as the butt of the pike connected with his chin but flipping with the strike he shot a kick toward the apparent sith's abdomen.

TR-6283 was already on the move as her strike began to thud into his jaw, but unfortunately for her the Jedi was as well. She watched, almost impressed (if such an emotion was capable of reaching her darkened mind) by his skill as he rolled backwards into a flip, lashing out with his foot as he went. Because she had already begun her forward movement and hadn't anticipated such a high level of agility, TR-6283 caught his kick straight into her chest. The blow was hard, staggering her slightly, but luckily TR-6283 had strong armor beneath her robes: what would have been a bone-snapping kick merely drove the wind from her lungs. Gathering the energy of the Dark Side in her to negate this loss of momentum, TR-6283 spun into a rapid maneuver: feinting overhead with the blunt end of her staff, she redirected her motion into another direction, dropping low and crouching to the side as she drove her blade upwards towards the Jedi's ribs.

Seeing the pike racing toward him Elru sent himself into an acrobatic leap of his attacker. As he flipped over the black figure's head he swung with his saber following his momentum aiming for the head, no longer risking disarming blows having realized just how very skilled his opponent was.

TR-6283 barely had time to register an inkling of shock, staring at the empty air that her blade penetrated, before her mind registered what the Jedi had done. In the span of a few nanoseconds, the young man had completely cleared her lightsaber pike, jumping high above. The red plasma blade of her staff was left smoldering in empty air, denied the satisfaction of a kill. It all happened so fast that the Shadow Guard almost thought, for a fraction of a second, that the Sephi male had disappeared. But then she heard something above her, the familiar hum of a lightsaber in motion. TR-6283 looked up, angling the blank black void of her mask toward the sky just in time to see the green glow of a saber blade descending onto her face.

A flash of pain, a flash of light: TR-6283 was momentarily blinded, both physically and mentally. The blade of her enemy's saber easily cut through the thin black protection of the Imperial Guard's mask, but it did not stop there. Further down it went, slicing through the brown skin of her face. Agony lit up TR's brain, sending waves of confusion through her mind and scattering her senses. Throwing herself backwards, TR-6283 rolled over and stumbled uneasily to her feet. The black helmet of the Shadow Guard fell uselessly to the ground, glowing red from the cut of the lightsaber that had split it in two separate pieces which now lay in the dirt. TR-6283 stood, still unspeaking, but now making noise for the first time: gasps of pain. Her hand covered her face, blocking it from Elru's view, as she tried to understand what had happened. Slowly, shakily, she lowered the gloved hand, revealing a shocking sight.

Beneath the mask of the imposing Shadow Guard was not a scarred, battle-hardened man. It was the face of a young woman, with soft brown skin and curling hair that fell gently around her shoulders. However, the beauty of the young girl, still cloaked in the flowing black robes of the Guard, was disrupted. A long, fresh wound carved its way down the side of her face. The still-sore burn of the lightsaber cleaved a path across her flesh, straight down over her right eye. Although her left eye still glowed with a surprisingly warm, intelligent light, the socket on the right side of her face was empty. The eye was burnt away, replaced by a cauterized wound. The woman's eyes would have been strikingly attractive: the one remaining glowed with a bright golden color, shining in the night like some kind of star. But now its light was uneven, mismatched by the hollow darkness of its partner.

TR-6283's mind raced, but she was only stalled for a moment. The Shadow Guard had endured far worse at the hands of the Emperor, the Sovereign Lord she was sworn to defend and protect until her last breath. Calling more dark power into herself despite the pain ringing across her skull, the Guard stepped forward uneasily. She was off-balanced by the loss of vision in one of her eyes, but she would make do. Lifting the lightsaber pike high above her head with one hand, TR continued to press the offensive with a series of direct slashes. Her determination would not be broken, her Master would not be failed

Landing and turning ready to defend himself should his enemy continue their assault, Elru paused as his now revealed foe's helmet clattered to the ground. For a brief moment the young jedi forgot himself. Years of imagining the appearance of dark lords and ladies of the sith had never led him to the image before him. Dark side users had always been characterized in stories by their deformed and damaged appearances, whether through hard lives that had corrupted them, or the foul nature of the dark side itself. Now though, this deadly dark side warrior proved his mental image to be a total falsehood.

Beyond the grievous wound he himself had dealt her Elru was stunned by not only the woman's appearance, but also the simple fact that it was a woman. Elru had known plenty of fellow Jedi that could defeat him from the opposite gender, this woman had proven to be as skilled as most of them if not even more than them. However as he stopped to stare into her lone eye for a moment he felt a need to try and stop this battle before it continued. No longer was she just another face less attacker he had sadly grown used to over the years of the Clone Wars and the months following the betrayal of his order. Now he could see the woman hiding behind the mask.

"Enough of this, we've drawn plenty of each other's blood let's stop this fight and-" He didn't even get the opportunity to finish as the woman launched another set of slashes his way.

The slashes from her pike were as deadly as before and Elru had learned already that offense remained his best defense against her. Hoping to get in close and render the woman unable to continue her attacks Elru misjudged her reaction time and received a painful slash across his left side causing him to hiss in pain and re-engage with his foe.

Despite the loss of half her field of vision and a ringing pain eating away at her face, the ferocious Shadow Guard managed to break her opponent's defenses one last time. However, as her blade flowed away from the cut delivered to his side, the Jedi moved in close with hand to hand combat. Still bewildered by the loss of vision from one eye, TR was all but helpless as he knocked the lightsaber pike from her hand. Now weaponless, TR-6283 tried striking at the Jedi with her fists. He was too fast and too skilled, knocking aside her blows and coming in hard with his own retaliation. Panic and despair rushed through her mind as she realized she was failing her Lord, and TR-6283 gasped again with pain as the Sephi's fists drove into her, knocking the Thyrsian woman to the ground with a series of solid hits. Breathless, pain flaring through her body, and her head spinning, TR-6283 desperately tried to call on a last-minute Dark Side surge. But the Shadow Guard was exhausted, and it was all she could do to pull on enough energy to maintain consciousness.

From the darkness of the village perimeter, the Imperial Commandos had been watching. They were just as shocked as Elru, maybe more, to see their silent commander revealed as a woman. But unlike Elru, it did not change their mission. They had orders, and would not be disobeying them. As they watched the fight go south for the Shadow Guard, seeing her overwhelmed by the agile Sephi Jedi, the Clones looked to their squad leader. Ato motioned with his hands, giving the men their cue. Nodding in recognition, the soldiers loaded their grenade launchers and unleashed a torrent of explosives on the combatants in the village. Shadow Guard or no Shadow Guard, they would kill the Jedi.

Elru was already feeling the exhaustion by the time he had the dark side user disarmed and on the ground. He was prepared to continue landing blows to send her into unconsciousness when he heard a familiar thunk that he recalled from the war. Reacting more on instinct than anything else Elru threw himself to the ground, and more out of simple placement than anything, against the woman he had previously been fighting. Nearly as soon as he impacted the ground and covered his head, the grenades impacted as well. The town, already engulfed fully in flames, shattered from the explosions. Around the pair of force wielders the small structures that had stood natures test for thousands of years if not longer collapsed. Shards of brick and flaming debris scattered all over and smoke and dust blocked any sight of nearly half the village. Whether by luck or the will of the force though Elru was largely unscathed beyond his earlier injuries. Taking hold of his now deactivated saber hilt the Jedi pressed himself low and held his saber ready to activate and take his former opponents life if need be. All while praying the troopers wrote him off as dead.

Through the fading awareness of her surroundings, TR-6283 could dimly perceive the image of her Jedi opponent standing over her, his silhouette set against the dark night sky. The Jedi looked as if he was drawing himself together to strike her again, his body language conveying that a final blow was approaching as the Shadow Guard still reeled in pain from his previous blows. However, even as his fists raised and his muscles tensed in preparation for the final attack against the floored and wounded Shadow Guard, something gave him pause. Trying to take advantage of this half-second delay, TR-6283 lifted her arms weakly, one gloved hand clinging desperately to the staff of her lightsaber pike as she struggled to lift it from the dirt where it lay. She had just begun to pull herself up, raising her chest from the ground, when the Sephi Jedi did something completely unexpected. Elru threw himself downward with the same urgency as he had used to dodge TR’s earlier attacks. This time, however, instead of using his agility to escape the Shadow Guard, Elru dropped directly onto her. TR-6283 grunted softly as his weight hit her body, shooting pain across her as he pressed into the still-sore wounds she’d received during the duel. She was knocked back into the ground, her head hitting the soft dirt with a thump. Before TR-6283 could react to this bizarre action, however, she discovered its cause. The world around them ripped apart with explosive booms as the small village was practically bombarded by the Clone Commandos.

Having been too dazed from her wounds and preoccupied with the duel at hand, TR-6283 did not anticipate these explosions that sent waves of heat and concussive energy rippling through the air around them. Luckily for the Shadow Guard, most of her body was covered by that of the Jedi pressing down onto her. However, her right hand had been reaching for her weapon when the explosions hit, and was exposed to the blast. Her golden eye opened wide in pain as heat from rolled over her arm, and she tensed as she felt her skin beginning to burn, but managed to hold back any more noticeable signs of pain. However, her misfortune wasn’t over there. There was a storm of shrapnel scattered around them by the grenade launcher bombardment, and one long shard-like sliver of debris flew through the air, impaling itself into her forearm. The shrapnel drove straight through her armor and pierced the flesh beneath, entering one side and sticking straight of the other.

TR-6283’s whole body twisted beneath Elru’s weight as her arm was stabbed by the debris, the thunderous explosive blasts still ringing in her ears. Finally unable to hold in her silence any longer, the battered Shadow Guard let out a soft cry of pain: “Ahh!” Her voice was feminine, gentle, and would have been almost soothing if it wasn’t so obviously filled by pain. Her arm flailed slightly, her fingers dragging desperately across Elru’s back as blood poured from the open wound caused by the gory impaling. As she cried out, TR-6283 threw her head back, her one remaining eye rolling back in her head as she blacked out from pain and blood loss. Finally overwhelmed by her wounds, the Shadow Guard’s robed body slumped limply against the soil of Tython.

Meanwhile, at the perimeters of the village, the Imperial Clone Commandos shielded their eyes from the brightness of the explosive blast that rocked the night. “Pull back!” Ato called to his men as shrapnel flew around them, ancient walls crumbling and crashing to the ground around the village. The Clones fell backwards as smoke billowed upwards around the ruined village. The Commando Tel spoke: “No way either of them could have survived that, sir. We lost the Shadow Guard, but we completed our mission.”

Ato stared over at the smoldering remains of the village through his darkened visor. “Perhaps, Tel. We can’t go in there right now, though, the fires are too thick and those buildings are still coming down. We’ll check in the morning once things have died down. For now, I want you to go back to the ship and contact Emperor Palpatine.”

After listening to the troopers head off, presumably back to their ship, Elru took time to check himself and his former adversary. All together they were both worse for wear. He had even mistaken the woman for dead briefly before realizing she was still breathing. The explosion had definitely rattled them both, but she had received the worse injuries from it. Her arm was in terrible shape and while he had already wanted to get cleaned from the ash and smoke as well as his own blood from their fight, he now looked as if he had tried to bathe in the woman's blood. His hair and back were dyed red by the substance that was beginning to act much like a glue for the particles of ash and dirt that settled upon the pair.

Realizing that the woman wasn't likely to wake up for some time the Jedi Knight hoisted her along with her pike onto his back and began the short trek to his ship. Inside he hoped to treat his injuries as well as the woman's. After a small amount of walking the exhausted jedi gently lay the unconscious woman on the cot in the med bay of his stolen ship. The med bay of the Starseer was unlikely to pass any kind of inspection by trained professionals. It had supplies, a few handy guides, and the skeleton of what Elru assumed had been a medical droid. With what was available he set to work.

As he had thought, the woman had received the worse injuries out of both of them. With that in mind he went to work on her first. Doing what he could for her arm, he stopped the bleeding and had moved on to the largely cauterized wound on her face. There was little he could do there beyond spreading some salve and ointment and giving her an injection of a painkiller. After finishing bandaging her wounds Elru set to removing his own shirt to better treat the injuries to his abdomen and arm. Like her face wound his slashes were largely cauterized from the saber so he did what he could with some salves though he avoided taking any pain medication of his own. He wasn't about to risk his mind having even a mild fog while an enemy, wounded or not, was in his ship.

Finally he bound the woman's uninjured arm to the cot and got comfortable, well out of her reach on the other side of the room. Tightly gripping the pike she had nearly killed him with earlier in the night Elru settled in to meditate until his 'guest' awoke.

TR-6283’s sleep was fitful; the Shadow Guard twitched and thrashed weakly as her wounded mind floated in the darkness of unconsciousness. Frightened moans and soft groans escaped her lips while the black robed woman’s face twisted with grimaces and scowls. Although the pain of her fresh wounds was doubtless causing the Imperial some discomfort, it was clear that something more was at work. The Dark Side of the Force seemed to swirl around her sleeping form like a circling school of dreadful fish.

In the world of dreams, TR-6283 wandered around a familiar landscape. Burnt trees smoldered in the sun; torched earth scattered with thousands of bodies; heaps of machine wreckage spitting flames and sparks; gore and blood splattered everywhere -- in short, it was a battlefield. One that TR-6283 had been to before, in fact: the aftermath of Brentaal-IV, a conflict during the Clone Wars. TR-6283 had served here in what felt like another life, before Sidious had taken her and made her his shadow, when she was a member of the elite mercenary corps the Sun Guard. As TR-6283 staggered forward over the strewn aftermath of war, she felt unbridled anguish welling up inside of her. Her arms began to tremble as pain and memories rushed back into her mind, and the sun in the sky began to darken. Strange shadows twisted around her, seeming like they tried to claim her and steal the life from her flesh. A low, crackling hiss sounded in her ears, growing into a long cackle that resounded in her mind and echoed across the surface of the whole planet. Squeezing her eyes shut and covering her ears with armored hands, TR-6283 fell to her knees in the blood-soaked dirt.

“Please! Master, have mercy!” She cried, knowing what the sinister laugh meant.

The laugh echoed into silence, and the disembodied voice called out to her in a derisive sneering tone. “Do not speak to me of mercy, pitiful one.” As he spoke, the shadows around her grew more ferocious, sinking into her skin and trying to pull her body apart.

“I have given you everything. I have saved you from all the lies of this Galaxy.”

TR-6283 tried to fight the shadows, struggling against them as they encircled her arms and waist, but it was no use. The voice continued. “Your eyes once were blinded; now through my darkness do you see.” It spat, anger growing as the volume raised to near-deafening levels. “Your hands once were idle; now through them my will is worked.” TR cried out desperately as she was completely pinned by the shadows. “Far from yourself, your Master grows ever nearer to you.” A long tendril of darkness rose from the morass encompassing her body, angling downwards at her face. “Here in my life, here do you die. Here do you reclaim what faithless minds have stolen.” As these last words were spoken, the tendril of darkness shot forward. It pierced directly into TR’s right eye, the one taken by her Jedi opponent on Tython. Unspeakable pain ripped through TR-6283’s body and she opened her mouth in an anguished shriek as the tendril of shadow tore into her body, filling her from the inside out. Every pain or fear she had every faced was resurrected in the Shadow Guard’s heart, and her scream turned to pure Dark Side energy, a rippling wave of destructive blackness emanating from her mouth

The voice rose to maximum levels, its resonating boom shaking the very ground of the planet. “AND WHEN YOU SHALL LISTEN, WHEN YOU SHALL SEE.” With that, the dream imploded. The world, the voice, the shadows, and even TR’s own body tore apart in an instant.

Back in the world of the living, the Shadow Guard awoke with a yell of fear. The woman’s eyes shot wide open, the glowing orbs that normally emanated a soothing aura now bloodshot and bewildered. TR-6283 felt both too hot and too cold, her skin burning to the touch and yet also flaked with cold sweat. The right half of her face was almost completely numb, and the Thyrsian girl felt groggy and dull, almost as if she had been drugged. Pushing past this daze with the power of pure anger, TR-6283 managed to sit up, taking in her surroundings with a wild glare. Summoning all the strength she could, TR-6283 yanked upward with her arm, feeling it chained to the side of the bed. It was a fruitless endeavor; she was still exhausted from her earlier fight and weak all over from the beating she’d received. She pulled with such force that the metal dug into her flesh through the armor, definitely bruising her, but she could not break it

While meditating nearby to the sleeping woman Elru allowed himself to become enveloped in the force. Like a friend welcoming him home he briefly enjoyed the sensation before his mind was jolted by a sudden feeling of dread. While he was initially repulsed by the dark feeling Elru soon pursued the sensation. following his instincts until he could feel the dark side swelling around his hostage. A sense of worry briefly entered Elru's mind as he witnessed the jerking and thrashing of the woman. He could feel her pain. It seemed to grow to a crescendo before she suddenly awoke.

The sudden yell from Elru's prisoner had the Jedi to his feet in an instant. His meditation interrupted the young sephi held the woman's own weapon in a defensive position as he looked her over. It was clear she was less than thrilled about her current situation. The restraint he had placed on her was no doubt harming her with how much she was pulling at it. Frowning at that, disliking seeing others in pain, no matter an enemy or a friend, Elru cleared his throat to try and gently gain her attention.

"You'll only hurt yourself more. Please stop and I can check your wounds." Elru tried. Hoping the kindness in his tone would put her at ease as he lowered the weapon he held in a less combative position.

TR-6283 snapped her head around at Elru, staring at him with a wide eye. Now facing the Jedi, the full effects of her wound became clear. While her remaining eye flickered with fear and hesitation, her empty socket stared dead ahead. However, even the fear in her gaze lasted only a second. The Shadow Guard steeled herself against the situation, trying to focus on what her Master would desire for her to do in this situation. Unfortunately, she knew the answer: kill or die trying. Drawing away from Elru, TR-6283 pulled as far back into the bed as she could. I will not answer him, TR told herself. A Shadow has no voice. She repeated the phrase she had been told so many times during training.

To TR-6283’s immense displeasure, Elru’s softened approach did have a calming effect on her. It was as if his words carried peace in them, like softly winged birds promising hope. TR-6283 had never experienced such a thing before, and could not even comprehend that this was the presence of the Light Side of the Force. Sitting in the bed with her knees pulled up to her chest, TR’s eye caught on Elru’s gaze. Staring into his face, she felt some of her agony decrease, like the weight of her pain and fear was beginning to lift.

However, it would only last a moment. The Shadow Guard felt a twisting despair in her stomach as she realized that she was betraying her master, betraying her Lord with every second she didn’t spend trying to slit this Sephi’s throat. Pulling her eye away from Elru’s, TR dropped her gaze, glaring at the dark robes of her uniform. Trying to build up hate within herself, her single eye hardened. Gathering the Force, she suddenly lashed out, raising her hand and releasing a telekinetic blast at the Jedi.

Briefly Elru believed he was reaching the woman. His heart slightly clenching at the vulnerable appearance the, thus far mute Thyrsian woman, made. His pity was short lived however as he watched the change in her body language from her turning inward to lashing out. He wasn't stunned by her suddenly lashing out with the force to try and throw him back. He leaned forward slightly against the sudden pressure that impacted him, but whether it was because of her injuries, exhaustion, or simply positioning there was not enough pressure to budge him.

"You need to stop, you're both too tired and injured to continue doing this. Let me check your injuries and see if I should change your bandages." He said with a further growing frown.

Although she would not admit it, the Jedi was right. The exertion of her Force blast, ineffectual as it may have been, left the Shadow Guard feeling suddenly drained. All of a sudden very lightheaded, she almost fainted. Exhaling softly in surprise, she lost the ability to hold herself upright and tipped forward towards the edge of the bed. Before she could fall, the chain holding her good arm went taut, catching her and keeping her on the bed. Groaning with frustration, the young woman blinked heavily as she half-dangled off the edge. The painkillers were still in her system, and she was beginning to feel very drowsy. Pulling herself back upright with apparent difficulty, she simply stared up at Elru, her face set in an expression of disappointed defeat. Although she looked suspicious and like she wished she could break his spine, the Shadow Guard was also clearly surrendering to the fact that she had no immediate means of escape.

Hesitantly while keeping his eyes on her, Elru stepped back and placed the pike he had been holding against the wall. Approaching the woman with his hands up to try and keep her at ease he made his way over to her. Gently he reach out to take her injured arm and brought some fresh bandaging up to patch at the wounds. All while tensed to react should she try and fight him further.

TR's golden eye seemed somewhat dim and passive as the Jedi approached, though her gaze struck her staff with an unmistakable hunger. Despite this, the Shadow Guard didn't try anything and allowed Elru to get near. When his hands delicately unwrapped the bandage applied to her arm, TR-6283 winced slightly. The cold air of the ship's cabin stung as it touched her wound. TR-6283 watched her captor with something that almost looked like curiosity, which was by far the least aggressive of the emotions she had displayed that night. In fact, it almost looked like she wanted to say something. Before she allowed herself to speak, however, the Guard stifled it, suppressing the hint of emotion.

As Elru worked as re-applying bandages and salves to her wounds he noticed the flicker of emotion on her face. She looked as if she wanted to say something before clamping down on her self. Letting out a soft sight the Jedi moved on to the wound on her face gently taking it in his hands and checking the burned slash across her now missing eye.

"You know I can't help but wonder what goes through your head. You seem rather well disciplined. Would have probably made a fine member of the jedi. Though, then again part of being a jedi was diplomacy and you need to speak for that. I mean I haven't even gotten your name. Unless you are mute of course, then I will have to name you myself. I warn you, I'm terribly uncreative." Elru let a soft smirk spread on his face as he tried to provoke some conversation from his prisoner.

The woman had to consciously stop herself from pulling back as Elru reached for her face. Despite the fact that she'd spent her entire life in different military units, TR was completely unused to being attended to with sensitive medical care. The Sun Guards had been very scant with their use of medicine, only rarely making use of it and mostly just insisting that a strong warrior would need to endure all wounds or die. The Shadow Guards of the Emperor had been even more brutal, with each trainee being intentionally harmed to the point of near death and given no assistance as they dragged themselves back from the brink of death. Now, for what may have been the first time in her life, TR was receiving gentle medical care, and from the enemy she was ordered to destroy. It was a very strange experience that left the Shadow Guard feeling somewhat conflicted.

TR's eye narrowed at Elru's words. Clever lines and jokes were also something that were never exchanged in the Shadow Guard training facilities. She blinked a few times, looking up at the Sephi as he rambled at her. For a long moment, she said nothing. Then, slowly, hesitantly, she opened her mouth. Her voice was soft, and it sounded like she regretted speaking somewhat. "I... do not have a name. Anymore." She managed to keep her expression completely even, not even a bit of emotion on her face. "I am called TR-6283." As she stated her official Imperial designation, a slight hint of pride hung onto her words. It was a great honor to serve the Emperor as a Royal Guard, and not many beings were capable of the sacrifices it required, including leaving your name and identity behind. TR hadn't exactly had a choice in the matter, to be fair, but she didn't let that dull her dedication to the job.

Elru had to fight off his mild surprise at the woman's voice as she spoke. Despite having heard her cry out during the end of their fight, and the mumbling she had made while stirring in her fitful sleep, he hadn't really thought about what her voice would actually sound like. Now though he couldn't help but force back the brief flicker of enjoyment he felt from hearing her speak. Part of it was simply getting her to respond, but a greater part was that her voice was nothing like what he had imagined an acolyte of the dark side possessing. Forcing the thoughts away he hummed aloud at her response.

"That's awfully sad. You know the clones I fought alongside even give each other or themselves names other than their numbers. I have seen how happy it made them to gain a name, I wonder if it was equally painful to lose yours." Elru said in a soft tone as he began finishing up the bandages on her face.

Stepping back to the otherside of the room Elru began working on his own injuries, hissing slightly as he removed the old bandages. His neck and hair remained red from TR's blood but the wounds on his side and arm were all his.

"So, not sure you heard me before when we were fighting, but I am Elru, if you were curious. It's polite to give someone your name when introduced. So I want to say, it's a pleasure TeeArr." Elru said as he slid back on his shirt, still stained red on the back from her blood.

TR's expression hardened as Elru made note of her loss of a name. She answered swiftly, as if trying to push the sympathy away, however she was not overly harsh or angry. "The pain of growing is to be embraced..." She paused, taking a short breath. "And all pain required of me by my Master is growing pain." At the mention of her Master, the woman stiffened, her hands clenching into fists.

The moment of tension passed, and she looked up at Elru, watching him redress his bandages. As he finished up, she turned away once again, yanking on the chain that held her to the bed with a sudden movement. She seemed to ignore his words, falling back into her own thoughts.

Narrowing his eyes at the woman's words Elru shook his head slightly. He could agree that pain helped a person to grow, but the devotion and sacrifice she was prepared to make for this master was nothing short of zealotry. As he stared at her tugging at the restraint the jedi let out a tired sigh before picking up the woman's pike and stepping out of the med bay for a moment. After a short time away he returned, this time without her pike and instead with two trays of meagre rations and water.

"I told you earlier you are simply making your injuries and exhaustion worse with that. Eat something, it will help regain your strength. You'll need it if your friends that blew you up come around. If they tried to kill us both last time, I doubt they would hesitate now." Elru said as he set the tray down on the cot beside TR.

The Shadow Guard frowned as Elru lectured her about gathering strength and taking rest. Her mind ran as she tried to determine what the best course of action would be to complete her mission, and what he stood to gain from helping her heal and recover. The Jedi's kind treatment was creating conflict within her, stirring up doubts and feelings that could interfere with her service to the Emperor. TR told herself that she must not be allowed to get distracted or to lose focus. She tried to empty herself, leaving nothing behind but a cold intensity.

Disregarding his advice, TR continued to tug at the chain, albeit with less force. She eyed him suspiciously as he set a tray near her, offering food and water. Mentally, the Shadow Guard ran over his words. She knew he was right, and that the Clones clearly didn't care for her safety as long as the Jedi died. Stifling the feelings of betrayal and upset that rose inside of her, she forced herself to accept this reality. She told herself that her own life was of absolutely no consequence, so long as the mission was completed. The Guard would readily die for the Emperor, even if that meant being killed by his other servants.

"Why are you keeping me alive? Am I too be your hostage?" She asked coolly, her voice low and calm.

Elru picked at his food, while trying to ignore the woman pulling at her restraint. He was hungry but the fight and watching his prisoner had dulled his appetite greatly. Still, he had learned long ago that it was best to eat or rest when one had the opportunity. So he quickly, though politely finished off his plate before setting it aside and frowning for what felt the hundredth time at seeing TR not eat anything.

"Is that how you see things? Everything is done only for one's benefit. I nurse your wounds and didn't kill you when I had the chance only because you are a bargaining chip? Clearly you would be a poor one if what happened in the village was any measure of your value." Elru commented with a bit of a scoff.

"No, TeeArr, I don't want you as a hostage, I only secured you as the way I did to keep you from trying to strangle me or the like. We both know you would if given the opportunity. I do believe your first reaction to seeing me when you awoke was to try and crush me with the force was it not?" He laughed slightly at the situation.

"Honestly though, to answer your question, why I'm keeping you alive? It is who I am I suppose. Why take a life you don't have too? Well that sounds a bit too nonchalant. I suppose a better way of phrasing would be, I dislike having to kill and only do so when I can't avoid it. That make sense?" He quirked his eyebrow in a cartoonish manner, overexaggerating his question

TR stopped struggling with her restraints, seeming to consider his words as she sat still for a long moment. The woman appeared to be deciding whether or not to say something, still struggling with the training that commanded her silence. Despite this training, however, TR felt a strange desire: she wanted to be understood. She wanted Elru to know why she acted the way she did, why she had to act that way. The Guard had never felt the need to explain herself before, always feeling content with the legitimacy given to her by the Emperor's commands. On any other mission, TR was surely have simply ignored the Jedi's conversation and dedicated herself to his death. But now, perhaps due to the combined strains of her defeat and betrayal, the nightmare that haunted her dreams, the painkillers dulling her mind, the wounds she'd suffered during their fight, and the unprecedented kindness of her Jedi captor, TR felt weak. She felt like giving voice to herself, something forbidden to a Guard.

Finally, the Shadow Guard looked up, clearly having overcome some kind of inner turmoil. Responding to Elru, she spoke.

"Yes, Elru. You make sense." She replied to his snarky question earnestly, almost as if she didn't grasp that he was intending to be humorous. Taking a small breath, she continued, addressing what else he had said.

"Everything is not done for oneself, but for the mission. For the Master. We all have a Master. Sometimes he is a tangible being, sometimes not. In my case he really is called Master and he is a Lord of the Galaxy, whose power extends without limit. He has chosen me and his calling cannot be denied, or I have nothing, not even a mission." Her words flowed smoothly and evenly, in a pleasant and almost conversational tone that only barely hinted at her darker thoughts.

"For many people the Master takes the form of vanity, a desire for wealth, for glory or immortality. For you the Master is..." TR gazed at Elru with her one eye for a moment. "Life?" She ventured, pausing a moment before she added, in a tone like she was admitting something best kept secret, "This is a good Master, Elru. This makes you a good man."

"My Master is stronger than any abstraction the Galaxy has to offer. For my Master I must sacrifice every abstraction, be it life, death, or anything in between. I must even sacrifice myself." She paused, feeling the weight of these words.

"I am sorry that I must kill you." Her eye met his own, genuine sorrow reflected in her gaze. "I wish I could show you what I know, Elru." Her voice grew softer, more distant. "I wish I could show you why we must either live or die for the Master. It is not fair for this to happen to you without your understanding. You do not deserve it... but it is the way it must be. I must serve him."

As TR spoke Elru initially blinked dumbly back. His first reaction being more stunned that she was actually giving him a full answer than anything. Soon though his surprise melted away and was replaced with genuine pity and understanding. He actually found himself nodding along as she explained her views on one's master. Her willingness to give everything to serve her master was admirable in it's own way. While Elru's devotion to his own master as a padawan had been nothing compared to her zealotry, he still could see parallels.

When she went so far as to compliment him for his devotion to life he felt a small smile grow on his face. He could almost see it. He had been right before, TR had she been found by the order would have made a grand jedi. While she would never be one, arguably neither would any one else being that as far as he knew he was the last of his order, he could sense the compassion hidden within her. The light if he would to guess.

As she expressed her sorrow at having to kill him, even apologizing to him, Elru felt a bizarre mixture of morbid humor, exasperation, and outrage at the situation he found himself in. Ignoring that odd mix of emotions swirling within he decided instead to focus on what the woman had said.

"Why can't you show me? Why must you serve this master anyway? What makes this the way it has to be? You know, I have spent my entire life almost devoted to the teachings of my order. All my life they told us over things almost exactly as you have. Then in the last few years I have slowly realized that they knew far less than they believed. They presumed to know the fate of themselves and the galaxy. Now look at where they are." Elru said. he had an odd fire in his eyes as he laughed shortly.

"Look where I am. Sitting here across from you on the ancestral world of the Jedi talking philosophy. If there is anything more than chance and choice in their galaxy, I honestly need a little more evidence." His voice practically mocking the universe and it's odd twists and turns.

When the words had finished leaving her mouth, TR-6283 felt a sense of growing bewilderment. Why had she spoken to this man, betraying the commands of her Master? Besides that, TR was surprised she had been listened to. As a Sun Guard, her role was to learn and obey without discussion. As a Shadow Guard it had been silent obedience to the highest degree possible. Never before had someone asked for her thoughts, let alone listen to them provided unprovoked in such a manner. It left her uneasy, stranded in uncertain territory. A simple conversation was not something the Guard was prepared for, unlike a duel to the death like they'd had earlier. She felt a rush of excitement at the idea of finally being able to share and explore her thoughts, but also apprehension at the unknown. The Shadow Guard shifted restlessly on the bed as Elru began to reply.

"It's..." Her restlessness increased and she began twisting idly on the chain attached to her arm. "It's not easy to show... I can't express it with words, Elru." Her expression scrunched with frustration. The Thyrsian people did not believe words could carry truth, like most other beings trusted. For them, truth could only be perceived in the language of the body, communicated through combat. That is where the intensity of revelation could be made. Scowling, TR tugged at the chain once again. "I do not know how to show you."

Surprised to see that glint of fire in Elru, TR leaned forward slightly. "So you have lost your mission?" She asked, almost in awe. "Who will you serve now, Elru?" Her voice sounded concerned, as if she could not imagine life without service to a mission.

An odd sense of happiness filtered through him as TR continued to use his name when she spoke. While he was somewhat disheartened to hear she didn't know how to express herself with words he wasn't really surprised. From what he could gather so far TR had lived an extremely strict and regimented life, one that put even jedi to shame. He allowed a warm smile to spread further on his face as he placed himself at TR's eye level.

"You ask who I will serve now, but in truth I will serve who I was always meant to. Whoever I can help I suppose. The Jedi weren't supposed to ever become as entwined with the republic as they did. It's sad that we lost our way, but perhaps now, myself and any other survivors of the order can find a better path. Perhaps you can too. You say you don't know how to express your thoughts in words TeeArr. Maybe the force can do what your tongue can't. Perhaps even together we can find understanding." Elru said calmly keeping his smile as he offered his hand to the woman's unbound side.

TR tilted her head to the side, her hair cascading down over her shoulder as the Jedi responded. His smile was warm, genuine, and comforting. TR was not sure why, but she found it slightly pleasing that he reacted this way to her words. She listened to what he had to say, and could not deny that the nobility of his convictions touched her heart. To her great dismay, another emotion surfaced as she spoke: doubt. Hearing of his dedication to the unfortunate and the downtrodden, TR found herself despairing at the life she had led, the mission she had been called to. Although she still knew she must serve the will of the Emperor, the Shadow Guard was hurt that his will must be so difficult to follow. Why must she bring death and pain to others, others who did not even understand its necessity as she did?

But Elru's next words ignited a certain hope in her. If it was possible to show him the truth that she felt and carried with her at all times, then her burden would be lessened. If he could know what she served, he would not resist its will. They could be united in their sacrifice. For this, TR was willing to go along with the Jedi's idea.

Slowly, she reached her free arm out towards him. She moved it delicately, as it still ached with pain from the shrapnel wound. Taking his hand gingerly in his own, she felt calmed as he held his smile. "If you can see, Jedi, I will show you."

[Tethrys]

Elru and Rasana/TR-6283 Part 2
Tython
Co-Writers:
Tethrys
Castriarta

A fearful uneasiness tugged at TR as she clasped hands with the Jedi. She knew what she would have to face; that the truth she must show him was a terrible one. It was this truth that petrified and commanded the woman every second of her life, one so great that it conquered her mind and threatened to destroy her body. It was the truth of the Emperor, the truth of his power. TR knew that she was incapable of facing this horror alone, that it would annihilate her, overwhelm her meager being. But, holding the hand of the seated Jedi Knight, TR-6283 felt comforted, perhaps even assured. His warm smile and the calming posture of his body helped settle the aching anxiety that gripped onto the woman’s nerves. She felt safer somehow, unaware that the Light Side presence of the Jedi Knight was very much to blame for this. The connection of their hands felt like a bond, a glowing point of union in the Force where two beings could converge and share. TR had very little training in the contemplative applications of her Force connection, having been trained only to know that the Dark Side was the medium through which she could channel the power to do her Lord’s will. She knew very little of the spiritual depths of the Force, besides that they were there. Because of this, she tried to follow the Jedi’s lead, mimicking his behavior and actions. As he closed his eyes, she did as well, settling into the deeper movements of energy that surrounded and transcended their physical bodies.

When she released herself into the Force, the Dark Side rose to greet her almost immediately. It was so sudden, like a predator rising through the night to snap its jaws around an unsuspecting prey and drag them back to its lair. This sudden grip of Dark energy threatened to overwhelm the girl, and her grip on Elru’s hand tightened. Immersed in the Force, she did not even notice as this sudden motion sent pain rippling across her wounded arm. However, TR managed to regain some control of herself, calming her mind as the Dark Side sunk its fangs into her. This was mostly due to the comforting presence of Elru, the Jedi sitting nearby acting like an anchor in a stormy ocean. She subconsciously clung to his Light Side presence, preventing herself from being consumed by the Dark.

As the initial shock of their joint submergence in the Force wore off, TR-6283 felt the Dark Side rising up around her like a great cloak. It is coming. The words resounded out of her mind like an alarm, reaching the thoughts of her companion as their now-tied minds were taken by what TR knew lay in waiting for them. The two Force-users were transported far away from the physical plane of the ship cabin as the journey began, sending them spiraling through waves of night. The darkness rippled and twisted around them as they soared into the black, contorting to form passing images. Screaming faces, fear-filled eyes, broken bodies covered in blood, gaping mouths gasping as death claimed them: the two were shown every image of death and murder TR had witnessed in her life. Many of the faces TR recognized as her own victims, and her heart stung with guilt. Finally, a distant opening appeared at the end of the long tunnel of darkness. As they approached, ripping through the terrible images of the vision as quickly as they appeared, the end of the tunnel came into greater focus. It was an opening onto some kind of field, but their access was blocked by a long line of soldiers, clad in heavy battle armor, guarding the entrance.

Elru and TR were ejected from the tunnel and into the field, placed directly across from the line of warriors. Now closer, these men were revealed to be the famed mercenary organization the Sun Guards, whose armor was the model for Palpatine’s Royal Guard. Facing these immobile ranks, TR stepped forward longingly, like she was looking at a photograph from sentimental times. The young woman’s arm raised imploringly toward the Sun Guards, like she wanted to join them. Before she could get closer, however, a clap of thunder shook the night air with deafening noise. As the rumble faded, a disembodied voice, low and vicious, spoke out of the empty sky.

“Your people,” it said, “Dead by my hand.” As the words faded, a flare of light split the field, originating from somewhere behind the line of soldiers. It streaked forwards, coming closer to Elru and TR. As it approached, it forked out in crackling streams, striking the bodies of the Sun Guards assembled there. Many of them were simply obliterated by the electrical light, turned to ash. More were thrown around, left twitching and squirming in pain until their life faded. Some tried to run, racing across the field towards the side where Elru and TR stood, but the lightning was faster, catching them and cutting them down.

“No!” Cried TR, stepping forward again, but a heavy blast of wind sent her stumbling backwards. “Please! NO!” She roared, watching helplessly as the community that raised her was wiped out by the lightning summoned by the unknown voice. Across the field, one of the Sun Guards was faster than the others, dodging and evading the lightning. This figure tore across the ground, racing towards TR like their life depended on it. TR watched desperately, wishing she could help this figure, but it was no use. Just when it seemed the Sun Guard had made it to safety, a sudden bolt of lightning materialized out of thin air, striking them in the back and sending them hurtling forward. The energy scorched their armor, blasting the helmet off the Sun Guard. Now much closer to the pair of Force-users, the Guard rose onto their hands and knees, smoke rising from their body. Slowly, they lifted their face, locking eyes with TR. The Guard was a woman, almost identical with TR, but clearly older. A grief-ridden whimper escaped TR: “Mother…”

Moving with difficulty, the woman rose from the ground and stumbled up to the Shadow Guard. Reaching forward, she extended her hands toward TR’s face. “Rasana… my Rasana…” She said, tears streaming down her face. TR’s expression lit up with a tortured smile, moving toward the woman -- but their reunion was interrupted. A sudden humming snapped into life, and a glowing blade of red energy materialized through TR’s mother’s chest, burning a hole in her. The Sun Guard stiffened, her mouth moving desperately as she tried to speak, her eyes fading out. Painfully slowly, the woman slid forward off of the lightsaber blade, collapsing onto the ground. Behind her stood the killer, a cloaked figure whose face was hidden by a deep hood. The figure began to laugh, the sound echoing across the field. TR yelled in rage, rushing at him, but he merely lifted a finger and sent the Guard flying backwards into a pile at Elru’s feet. The hooded man spoke.

“Do you not understand, foolish one? I am your Life; Life, horrible and necessary, commanding and unknowable. The darkness that I am represents the darkness of your life. I am everything to you, just as life is everything to the contemptible living.”

As he spoke, the ground of the field began to crumble away, all of it falling down into an immeasurable abyss below the pair as the cloaked figure levitated around them. Soon, the Jedi and the Shadow Guard were left on the last piece of remaining solid ground, surrounded by a sheer drop. TR-6283 rose, stepping to the edge of their floating platform. She seemed mesmerized, as if she was pulled by invisible strings. The cloaked figure floated closer to them, TR staring at him as if hypnotized, the golden glow of her eye slowly dimming into a dead grey.

“There is only one conclusion for you, weak ones.” The man spoke, now addressing them both. “I can give you enlightenment, make you realize you are nobody," Thunder crackled in the sky as the figure drew towards them, his voice growing more sinister as he added, "absolutely nobody." He paused for emphasis before continuing. "When my lightning flashes, you will see that what you had thought to be a city was in fact a deserted plain and, in the same sinister light that reveals you to yourself, you will know there is no sky above it.”

“Join me, in the darkness. You will be relieved of any possibility of ever existing before the world. I can give you silence. If you are ever born, it will be done so without yourself, without a self to give birth to. You are the outskirts of some nonexistent town, the long-winded prologue to an unwritten book. You are nobody, nobody. You do not know how to feel or think or love. You are a character in a story as yet unwritten, hovering in the abyss and undone before you have even existed, among the dreams of a cruel Galaxy that never quite managed to breathe life into you.”

TR-6283 leaned forward slightly over the edge of the platform, swaying above the limitless depths. “Yes.” She replied dreamily as the words of the dark phantom sank into her skull.

“Fall into the shadows and join me, through infinite space, in a directionless, empty fall.”

“Yes.” Came TR’s reply.

“I will make your soul into a black maelstrom, a great madness spinning about a vacuum, the swirling of a vast ocean around a hole in the void.” The ferocity in his tone reached a crescendo as the wind rose around the pair stranded in the midst of a storm.

“Yes.” Once again TR answered, finally letting go and allowing herself to fall forward over the edge of the platform and into the dark abyss.

As she fell, the vision was torn apart, their surroundings fading out and the cloaked man disappearing from view. The tempestuous world of the Dark Side fell away and was replaced by the familiar surroundings of the ship’s cabin, filled with the cool night air of Tython. TR-6283’s eye opened as a slit, and her hand fell limp from Elru’s grasp. “Do you see, Jedi,” She began to say, slumping downwards toward Elru as she was suddenly overcome with exhaustion. She fell swayed slightly for a moment, then fell forward towards the Jedi, mumbling weakly, “Do you see now what I could not show you?”

As Elru witnessed the vision around them he felt TR tighten the hold of his hand. Watching as her people were culled by the monster she was forced to call master, as he slew her mother, as he demeaned and belittled her, Elru could feel himself growing angry. Not just at the acts of someone like this master. No, he was angry at the injustice TR suffered. She was no mere dark side acolyte, she was it's slave and Elru could feel his determination to do, something, anything for her grow.

As they returned to the present Elru watched her sway briefly before he caught her, holding her gently. Somewhat awkwardly he tried to comfort her. Brushing a rubbing a soothing hand on her back.

"I see now. I see what this monster has done to you. I can see you perfectly Rasana." Elru replied in a soft whisper. "And I see that I will sever this monster's hold over you no matter the price." He growled slightly slowly lowering her back to the cot.

"I won't allow you to remain a slave to him, Rasana, I won't let you keep being TR-whatever. I can see the truth in you. That's not who you are."

As she came fully back to the realm of conscious awareness, TR-6283 choked with distress. She was emotionally distraught, her eye staring at the floor with a look of absolute heartbreak. For a moment, as Elru held her, it was all the woman could do to catch her breath as it came through in gasps that shook her body. Her free hand instinctively wrapped around Elru for support and comfort as her mind was assaulted by the images she had been shown. As he spoke softly to her, a soothing hand running over her back, she cringed into him, barely holding back a sob. The Shadow Guard was devastated not only by what she saw in the vision but at her own weakness in the moment, allowing the Jedi to console her like a pitiful child. As Elru used her birth name, the name she hadn't heard in years, the woman squeezed her golden eye shut, giving her head a small but desperate shake. When she was lowered back onto the cot, TR-6283 did her best to purge the anguish from her face, trying to imitate the blank expressionless mask that she used to wear, before Elru had split it apart with his saber.

"No." She stared up at him, letting go of the supportive Jedi with a fraction of reluctance. "No, Elru, you still don't understand. It doesn't matter he is a monster, it doesn't matter that he has hurt me, it doesn't matter that he has broken me and destroyed who I used to be." Her eye bore into his as she tried to make him feel her words. "I know that I am being enslaved. It does not matter. I am his. He has taken me." She broke eye contact, holding onto the chain with her hand and clenching her jaw. "You are right about one thing. Shadow Guard, servant, slave: that is not who I am. That is what I am. There is no who left. There is no person here for you to redeem, Jedi." With the last sentence, she seemed to gain some composure, and looked up at the Sephi again. "If you want to free me, let me have death. I will welcome it. It would be the merciful act, Elru."

Her words stabbed at him like she had with her pike. The defeat she spoke with honestly sickened him. Not that she sickened him, that a person could be brought so low by another sickened him. It went against everything he had ever held up as right. Earlier he had been shocked how unlike the stories of sith TR, no, Rasana was. This master fit the bill perfectly. He was cruel, corrupt, and disgusting in every way. He was what the Jedi were to fight against. Evil incarnate. He wasn't sure why he was becoming so dead set in pulling this woman from the darkness that enveloped her. At the moment his best argument was that it was who he was as a jedi, but that didn't feel as if it fully encompassed it.

It didn't matter why he supposed, he had already spoke, Rasana could not stop him now. Even as she asked for death Elru refused. Shaking his head and gently placing his hands on her shoulders.

"Perhaps you are right that death would be a mercy. Perhaps it would be the easiest way to end your suffering at the hands of that monster." He said grimly. Then another small smile took it's place on his face.

"I just don't see you as one to take the easy road honestly. It seems to me you are more of a fighter. Yes Rasana, is definitely the name of a fighter. That is who she, and you are." He spoke with finality, staring into her gold eye with his own blue.

TR-6283 felt a soft flittering feeling in her stomach as the Jedi stared at her, affirming once again that he would see her saved. His words rung in her soul like a bell clattering in an empty cavern. Part of her wanted to believe him, to draw hope from him, to put faith in him and find strength in his compassion. But more of her knew that it was hopeless, that the Emperor had control over her in ways that neither of them could begin to understand. She slowly lifted her untethered hand, taking one of his own as he placed it on her shoulder. Holding it softly for a moment, TR hesitated, and then pushed it away.

"To condemn me to life is to condemn me to him, Elru. You were there, Jedi, in the vision that you prompted: Palpatine is my life." Her voice quavered slightly. "He has shown me... so much horror. So much pain. It is my reward, so that I do not forget the truth. The suffering he allows me to feel, the sacrifices he allows me to make... it is all to remind me that I do not belong to myself. It is love, Elru, more fearsome than any other. More fearsome than the blinded love of normal beings that seeks nothing but to protect life. True love unifies all the broken pieces of life in universality of death. Palpatine has shown me this." Her words did not sound like an argument now, but more like a confession, like she was reading her own court sentence.

"He has freed me from myself, and I cannot return to those chains. Before, as Rasana, I was light, with a source and a path and a goal. Now, as his Shadow, I am the dark, and am condemned to the freedom of coming from nowhere, traveling nowhere, arriving nowhere. His words were not lies in that vision, Elru. Please, if you do not want me to be broken even further and kill you in his name, you must slay me while I am so weak."

"He has fed you nothing but lies. You have been lost in darkness but I have found you, and if you can't find your way back to the light then I can help you. He may be terrifyingly powerful but in the end your master is just a man. He bleeds, and will die like all the rest of us." Elru felt like he was being preachy so he stepped back and sighed.

The sephi was quiet a moment as he debated a reckless plan in his head. He, like all jedi had become accustomed to reckless gambles in the recent years, but Elru typically disliked such actions. Still, seeing little other avenues the young knight made his decision.

"As I see it, the shadow died back in that explosion in the village. Rasana is here again. Right before me, and her path from here is her's to decide if she only reaches out to take it." Elru held out his hand on his palm the small key to Rasana's restraints.

Her single golden eye lit up slightly at Elru's rant, feeling both disturbed and excited by the promises he offered. Every word he spoke left the woman feeling conflicted, torn between the Darkness she was trapped in and the light he offered. The Jedi seemed so sure of himself, so prepared to face down the Emperor. TR-6283 could only assume that he did not know Palpatine like she did. Yet, as she reflected on the words exchanged, she was reminded of the experience of the vision earlier: how through all the darkness, in each moment when evil threatened to devour her spirit, there had been a grounding presence, something that seemed to prevent her from being completely lost. TR-6283 knew that this presence had been Elru, whose soul manifested itself as a light in the place that she thought allowed only darkness. Elru had done the impossible, and TR could not abandon that.

Elru's words continued to strike a chord within TR-6283, lighting a small fire of inspiration in her darkened heart. As he spoke, his hand extended, palm upright and revealing a most unexpected gift. TR's eye widened and her head tilted as she looked in shock from Elru's face to the key in his hand. Almost not believing this turn of events, the girl reached out with her bandage-wrapped right arm, softly pressing her fingers into the palm of his hand and retrieving the key. Moving as if she did not trust her own actions, TR reached down and inserted the key into the manacle binding her left arm to the bedframe. The chain clacked open, and TR released it, letting it fall to the floor with a clatter. For a moment she just sat there, rubbing her newly freed wrist with her other hand to bring the blood flowing back into it as the pressure was released.

"Thank you." She said eventually, looking back up at Elru. Her expression still showed that she was stunned, and the woman shifted uneasily on the bed. "I... I will try. I will try to.." She went silent, frowning and then rising to her feet. "I do not know what it means to be a person anymore, Elru. I do not know who Rasana is. It is like I never existed. You are asking me to do the impossible." The Shadow Guard stood face to face with the Sephi Jedi, looking up into his eyes. The girl was a full head shorter than him, the elf-like Jedi standing a full half foot above her. "I wish you had simply killed me, Jedi." She said sadly, clenching her hands into fists. "I do not know what to do. I want to believe you, to trust your hopes and make them come true." Distress stamped itself across the caramel skin of her face as she obviously struggled with the choice before her. "But I-"

Before TR could finish her sentence, a loud explosion rocked the ship, making her stumble to regain her balance. Another boom followed, and the heavy doors of the starship flew inwards, crashing into the wall behind them. Moving on instinct, TR threw herself in a sidelong dive, barely avoiding the hail of blast bolts that lit up the inside of the room, spraying into the room. The familiar voice of a Clone called out over the mayhem: "Drop the Jedi, but try not to harm the Guard!"

TR slid across the floor and into the wall, watching as the Commando squad streamed into the cabin. Elru was immediately hit in the shoulder by one of the blaster bolts, but still managed to react with impressive speed. He whirled around to face the intruders, his lightsaber ignited and in his hand in less than a second. Before the Clones could even release a second volley of blaster bolts, the leading trooper was on the ground, the long cleaving burn of a lightsaber slash cut into his chest. But the Clones were trained specially in the tactics needed to take down a Jedi, and took the death of their comrade in stride. One of the remaining troopers stood by the door, driving Elru back with an incessant storm of blaster bolts. Another circled around from the side, trying to bring the Jedi off-balance with another angle of attack. While these two focused down on him with their blasters, the third rolled forward and came up on Elru's side. Distracted as he was, with no room for the acrobatic maneuvers of his favored lightsaber Form and already wounded, the Jedi was taken off guard.
The end of the Clone's rifle smacked heavily into Elru's hand. The Sephi stumbled, dropping to his knees. The two clones with rifles stepped forward, barrels raised, as the one who had gotten right on top of him lifted his wrist-mounted vibro-blade. It was about to be over: Elru was about to be killed, just like that. In a split second decision, before she even knew what she was doing, TR summoned the Force and leaped forward off of the ground from where she had been watching the combat in a daze.

"Get away from him!" Her yell was elemental, expressing a pure emotional reaction. She landed on top of the Clone that stood over Elru, tackling him with such force that they flew across the room and into the opposite wall. A quick struggle ensued as chaos broke out in the cabin. TR swiftly snapped the Clone's neck, but as she rose, the other two trained their guns on her. Ato, the leader, prepared to squeeze the trigger, but before he could, Elru's emerald lightsaber blade cut his head off. The Sephi had risen from the ground, stepping in and taking out the captain. The last remaining Commando, Tel, turned his gun on the apparently unarmed Shadow Guard. He fired a few times, and TR rolled backwards, dodging all of the blasts. As she rolled, one of her hands reached into the folds of her robe and whipped out a heavy blaster pistol. Coming to a stop in a kneeling position, TR fired once, sending a blaster bolt directly through the Clone's visored face.

Catching her breath, she looked around at the now blackened and charred room, taking in what had just occurred.

The ache in his jaw and even the sting in his shoulder faded for Elru as he watched Rasana go to work on her former comrades. Her shout in his defense and subsequent slaughter of the troopers stirred an odd feeling within him. While he disliked death, as was his nature, he was no fool and had taken plenty of lives himself. Rarely though, had he witnessed another take lives in direct defense of himself. The emotional wave he felt from her cry simply added to the brewing storm of emotion he felt from this roller coaster of a night.

He was reminded of the world around him though as a sudden throb of pain in his shoulder caused him to physically wince and curl in slightly.

"That definitely hurts. Thank you Rasana. I knew I could trust in you." He smiled up at her. "And don't worry, together we will make them come true. my hopes and dreams to bring the hidden Rasana out and to help this galaxy find it's balance once again. Sometimes just having a little faith can reap great rewards. Like just now. I'd be dead if it wasn't for you."

He smiled again before another wince wracked his body. "That being said. Do you happen to have a stimpack in that med-kit on you, or maybe one of these clones has one. Maybe a little something to take the sting away." His attempt at a chuckle smothered under a grunt of pain from overusing his swelling jaw.

Rasana rose stiffly from the kneeling position on the floor, holstering the blaster she had just used to take down her former comrades. Her chest rose and fell with heavy breaths as she tried to calm herself, her gut twisting as the realization that she had just betrayed the Empire began to set in. The former Shadow Guard had only a moment to collect herself before her attention was pulled away again by the Jedi beginning to speak. She spun around, assessing his wounds in a moment and moving in to help him stand up. Rasana gently lifted Elru's arm over her shoulders, encircling his waist with her arm as she pulled the Jedi to his feet.

"Please stop talking, Elru." Rasana managed to maintain her normal soft tone, but a undertone of concern hung onto her words, despite her attempt to mask it as annoyance. She helped Elru over to the cot where she had been restrained only a few moments before and gently lowered him down, trying to be as sensitive as she could.

Rasana could tell just from the Sephi's body language that he was very weak, and suffering greatly. She moved as quickly as she could, making Elru comfortable on the cot as she opened the nearby medkit and pulled out a stimpack. Leaning over Elru, she placed her hands on the edges of the burnt hole in his tunic, gazing worriedly at the Jedi. "You are going to be okay, Elru." She reassured him, pressing down softly on his shoulder as she tore his already ripped tunic further open, clearing a patch of open skin around the burn. Biting her lip with focus, Rasana leaned down over the Jedi and carefully injected the stimpack, releasing a mix of bacta and painkillers into Elru's system.

Leaning back into the cot Elru let out a sigh of slight comfort once laying down. Seeing this more gentle, despite her attempt to hide it, side of Rasana brought a warmth to the sephi. He watched her work as she gently pressed the stimpack injector into his skin. Almost instantly the comfort of the medication and bacta filtered into his body and the jedi further relaxed into his cot.

"Thank you Rasana. You already are coming out of the darkness. Beautiful as can be like I thought." He said with a smile before moving into a sitting position so she could sit beside him if she wished.

"Now we need to really decide on something though. You can't go back now. You shouldn't have in the first place but you really can't now." He pointed out glancing at the cooling corpses on the floor.

"You don't belong in the dark, I can't say here. Let's get off this rock together. This ship is busted from the damage they caused. We can take the one you all came in. Find another temple or more jedi to help break you fully from the monster's grasp." Elru asked with more honest emotion than he had honestly put forth in a while.

For a long time now he ha been forcing himself to act the part of a benevolent jedi knight when the war had darkened his mind and slowly pulled him down toward depression. Here on Tython he had found peace, but only now, when interacting with this woman did he find something more than apathetic peace that he had known for so long. It was new and confusing but warm and plenty welcome.

"i'm not asking as a jedi Rasana. I'm just asking as Elru. Just me asking you."

Rasana was a little relieved to see through Elru's body that the pain was fading away. She believed she had hidden her apprehension about his condition well, and was glad the Jedi couldn't see how bad the wound on his shoulder had been. Now, though, she could already read the tension leaving his muscles, the bacta restoring his bodily functions to a safer level. It made her feel good, to help someone heal instead of being forced to make them hurt for probably the first time in her life. As Elru spoke, the Thyrsian woman looked away, hiding her face by shuffling through the medpack nearby. At the word "beautiful" Rasana felt the heat of embarrassment rising into her face in the form of a slight blush, and a small flutter in her heart. Very frustrated by this behavior, she pulled some soothing bandages from the pack and turned back to the Jedi.

She sat down beside him, scanning his face with her eye as he addressed from the heart. The last words he spoke struck Rasana, and she felt her heart swell up with the hint of something unfamiliar, a kind of hope or joy. Breaking her gaze, she pressed her fingers into Elru's jaw, gently angling his head so she could get a look at the blunt trauma on his face. "We must leave here." She agreed, avoiding eye contact as she pressed the bandage patch onto his bruised jaw. "But I do not know if we can go together."

Pulling her hands back, she turned away slightly, looking out of the shredded doors at the dark landscape. "You can escape Elru, but I don't think I can. The Emperor can find me, he can hunt me with ease. He knows where I am at all times, he can probably hear my thoughts from across the Galaxy. As long as you are with me, you are vulnerable." She shuddered slightly, not wanting to think about what might happen to Elru if they were caught together.

"I have no choice but to return to him." She truly believed this; this would solve all her problems. Palpatine would kill her, and she would be a threat no longer. His control over her would not extend into the afterlife. She would win. Rasana did not say these last things, instead turning back to Elru.

"But for now you must sleep. The night is nearly over, and you haven't gotten any rest, but plenty of strain. I will keep watch in case something happens." Reaching her arms around herself, Rasana gripped onto the long black robe that flowed around her body. Lifting it up, she removed it from herself, revealing the segmented armor that lay beneath. This layer was much more form fitting, revealing some of the curves of her body. Rasana lay the cloak over Elru, offering it as a blanket. The Shadow Guard felt awkward, completely unused to giving gifts. "It is cold." She said simply, as an explanation.

He didn't speak on it now, he knew it would matter little at the moment beyond leading them to argue about the situation. However he had no intention of letting this woman off on her own. Pulling the cloak in closely he enjoyed the warmth the cloth provided and smiled at the sweet nature she tried to keep hidden.

"Thank you Rasana. You are a very kind woman. I look forward to speaking with you more once I wake up." Elru said as he let himself slowly drift off.

It was a light sleep, one for those like himself and Rasana who knew the vulnerability of one at rest. However despite their earlier battle he felt comfort from the thought of Rasana watching guard over him. It was hard to think that only a night's past and they had been trying to kill one another. A sense of guilt flowed through him at the thought of the wound he had given her, taking one of her beautiful eyes. That saddened him but also impressed him how easily she adapted to such a sudden loss.

Yes he had no intention of letting Rasana slip back to that darkness, and perhaps no intention of letting her slip away from him at all.

Rasana nodded in acknowledgement at Elru's compliments, fighting back the pleasure that his words brought. Praise had been a scant thing in the girl's life, and she was very sensitive to the young man's kindness. After seeing that Elru had drifted into a soft sleep, the woman set about dealing with some tasks. She could not stand to see the bodies of the Clone Commandos strewn so haphazardly around the cabin of the starship. They had been good soldiers and loyal men, ready to fight and die for her. They had merely been completing their mission when they had bombed the village, and the former Imperial held no malice toward them for that. Instead, she felt a deep sorrow and guilt at their loss. Calling on her expert powers of stealth, Rasana carried each of the men outside and lay them a short distance from the ship without making a single noise. She could not bury them tonight, but this would have to do.

With that attended to, Rasana sat at the edge of the ship's cabin, in the now empty doorframe. The night was cool and breezy, and the wind felt good running across her weary features. Taking deep breaths of the fresh air, Rasana carefully removed her armored black gloves, setting them aside. Leaning forward, she began to softly run her fingers over the scar that ran across her face. Rasana was hardened against such losses, and felt only a twinge of sorrow at the disruption this caused to her appearance and how it had halved her ability of sight. These were ultimately but minor inconveniences in the grander scheme of things, just as inconsequential as her own life itself. Having traced the length of the scar, Rasana buried her head in her hands, her mind turning to the vision she had shared with Elru.

Rasana had waited well past sunrise before she decided it was time to wake Elru. She was still worried about her companion's health, and wanted him to get as much sleep as possible. By the time she did come over to get him up, the sun was nearly halfway across the sky. Rasana knelt next to the cot, placing a hand on Elru's shoulder and giving it a soft shake. "Elru." She said. "Elru, wake up." Her voice was soft, as usual, but not light -- it carried some of the troubles she had faced during the night. "We must begin making our way to the other ship."

Elru's rest had been dreamless until a soft voice seemed to filter in. For a moment the face of an attractive young woman smiling back at him, though her features were concealed, seemed to beckon him. Upon fulling getting his bearing and opening his eyes though he twitched slightly at the sight of Rasana softly shaking him. Fighting back a childish blush at the woman's closeness Elru gave her a small smile and slowly stood and stretched from his place on the bed.

"You're right. Gather anything you feel could be useful. our journey truly starts today Rasana." He shot her a wink, as if telling her he remembered her words from last night and simply refused to accept them.

"What can we expect when we get there? Just the pilot or more troopers?" He asked as he began packing a small satchel with medical supplies

Rasana blinked at him as he twitched when seeing her and pulled her hand away, rising to her feet. Suddenly a bit self-conscious, she questioned if she had startled him, even momentarily worrying if the disfigurement of her face had been a repellent image to awaken to. Pushing that idea away as irrelevant, Rasana tilted her head to the side as he spoke. She was so unused to being referred to by a name, it set her on edge, raising so many questions in her mind. Questions that the former Shadow Guard did not have time to answer right now.

"No. I brought four Clones, and yesterday we killed four Clones. They must have brought the pilot with them in their attack on your ship because they thought they'd need as much manpower as they had available. He was a Commando too, like the rest."

Rasana already had a similar satchel packed, and she slung it over her shoulder, lifting her lightsaber pike in one hand. Taking a moment to wait for Elru to gather what he needed, then motioned out into the open landscape of the planet. "The shuttle is this way."

Seeing the slightly self conscious look on the woman's face, and slight angling away to try and avoid presenting her new scar to him, Elru realized Rasana was actually worried about what he thought about the injury. Another wave of guilt for marring her face in such a war coursed through him but he grunted as he lifted his pack and turned to her.

"You know, I need to apologize. If I could I would take back the wound I gave you. Give back your eye. I'm sure it was a bright as the other one is. Beautiful color by the way, that gold." Elru stopped talking while a mental image of slapping himself played out in his head.

Intending to comfort her about her injury that she was self conscious about he had instead brought up the injury, reminded her he gave it to her, and then stumbled on his words like a smitten teenager. It had been far too long of a night, he was going to blame the fog of having just woken up should she point anything out he decided.

Following the woman he sighed at the look of the village he had worked to rebuild. It was more a ruin now than he had initially found it, and that saddened him. He couldn't help but worry for those that might one day respond to the call he sent out. Would they see this and assume themselves the last. Was there even anyone else from the jedi out there or was he the last truly?

Pushing the thoughts from his mind Elru continued after Rasana as they trekked toward her ship.

Rasana felt another unwanted blush rise to her face at Elru's words, and she looked down. "There is no need to apologize for wounds inflicted in self-defense. I attacked you, came here to murder you. You had the right to take more than my eye." She addressed the first part of his comment, too unsure of herself to even begin responding to his compliment. However, she did give him a sidelong glance, her remaining eye glowing with what might look like happiness. Despite this, Rasana was still yet to smile, or really show any emotion beyond mild levels of concern or frustration.

Still thinking about Elru's comments, Rasana hiked on in silence, knowing it would be a few hours before they reached the landing site.

[Tethrys]

Elru and Rasana/TR-6283 Part 3
Tython
Co-Writers:
Tethrys
Castriarta

They travelled in silence for some time. Elru stealing glances repeatedly at his companion. By the time they had made it to her ship, the sun was high overhead and Tython had warmed to the more arid climate he had grown used to. He stopped for a moment when they reached the ship walkway and looked back out to the smoke pillars that continued to rise from ashes of the ruins. sucking in a breath before turning on his heel he followed Rasana onboard.

The shuttle was far more utilitarian and militaristic than the rust bucket he had been in previously. It reminded him strongly of the war. Both good and bad memories. Setting his bag down, Elru took the time to scan the ship and nodded slowly.

"Not a bad ship. We probably want to trade it as soon as possible though. No doubt easier to track us on here than say a civilian freighter. Though we could probably make this ship disappear as well if we tried. What do you think Rasa?" Elru asked while trying a nickname for the woman.

As Rasana entered the ship, she headed straight for a compartment in the wall, clicking a few buttons. As she administered to the panel, the little locker slid open, revealing the supplies she had left there a couple days ago: a stack of rations, a heavy blaster rifle, two vibroswords, two vibroknives, a force pike and, on top of it all, a neatly folded Shadow Guard uniform, a duplicate of the one she had originally worn to the planet.

The blood suddenly felt icy in her veins, like frost was growing over her heart and spreading across her body as she stared down at the shiny black helmet of the Shadow Guard. The red visor seemed to be glaring at her, calling to her. Rasana picked the helmet up, swearing she could almost hear faint whispers hissing around it. Enraptured as she was by the dark mask, Rasana took an extended moment before Elru's comment even seemed to register.

"Yes? What? Um," Rasana set the helmet down, looking a bit startled as she turned to face Elru. "Wait, Rasa?" She tilted her head to the side as she looked at him, taken aback by the nickname. For a moment her expression was blank, then her eyebrows raised in a friendly look. A nickname, how exciting! She thought.

"Yes, we should get as from the Coruscant as we can and drop this ship off, then get another one and you'll go even further from there." Rasana didn't notice that she let slip a 'you'll' instead of a 'we'll', implying she had not abandoned her original plan.

Elru saw the brief slip as she encountered what probably seemed like a mirror of her old self. he didn't mention it though as she seemed to brighten considerably from his nickname for her. He nodded along as she directed their best plan of action but snorted toward the end.

"Oh, no. You seem to misunderstand. You realize you saved me back there right? From those troopers. You patched me up after I patched you up. So, being neither of us are in full working condition, I think it's safe to say we are much better off together. Plus I did say I would find a way to cut that connection he has to you." Elru commented as he snooped about the ship's interior.

"I think we travel to the outer rim we can get a jump on that." He plopped himself into one of the seats and stretched out wide enjoying the roomy nature of the compartment when not filled with clones ready for battle.

Rasana turned back around as Elru responded to her slip, not wanting to face the fact that she still believed she must part ways from her new friend. Looking back into the compartment, this time Rasana shoved the black helmet aside, picking up two of the rations packs stacked beneath. Smacking a button on the wall, Rasana shut the compartment door and turned back to Elru. Walking across the cabin, she tossed one of the rations to him, then stepped forward into the cockpit. "You should be hungry by now."

Settling into the pilots' seat, Rasana hesitated before responding to Elru's additions to their plans. She didn't want to leave Elru, but she had it set in her mind that it was her duty, and she could be a very stubborn woman. Flicking switches and levers on the control panel, Rasana lifted the shuttle into the air, pulling them upwards towards orbit.

"How could we break that connection, Elru?" She finally managed to respond to what he said, asking a genuine question without directly confronting their disagreement.

Happily chowing down on the ration pack Rasana had tossed to him Elru hummed in a cheery tone at the taste. It was arguably a bland tasting pack of necessary calories, but compared to the rations he had stored on the Starseer when he didn't have native game, this was delicious.

"I most definitely am. Thanks again." Elru said while digging into his meal.

His chewing slowed as she asked him her question and after he swallowed he paused. He took a moment to think of an answer for her. To be honest, no clear path was in front of them. He hoped to find some sort of help from a fellow jedi or powerful force user. Someone capable of severing her ties to the Emperor himself would have to be strong or perhaps numerous. Either way the first step would be hiding, then finding fellow jedi or force users.

"It's going to be tough Rasa. I won't lie. I know though, despite my worries, somewhere others survived the massacre of the Jedi. Even if they didn't there are ancient temples scattered all over the galaxy. We will find a way. First step though, we need to disappear for a while so we can actually look." His voice was soft, and his eyes were focused on the back of the woman's head as he tried to come up with solutions.

Rasana shook her head in amusement at Elru's loud cheerful chewing. While they ascended into space, the woman listened to Elru's ideas. Although she knew it was an important discussion, she felt a strange feeling rising, one she hadn't experienced in longer than she could remember. She wanted to distract herself from the mission, wanted to do anything but focus on the problems that faced her. She could hear the seriousness in Elru's voice, and thought it would be amusing if their typical roles reversed, and she were the one drawing attention away from the problems at hand. Rasana swiveled around suddenly in the pilot's chair, her eye gleaming with am excited realization.

"Elru, did you know that this is the most I have spoken in, well, years." She stated it matter-of-factly, sounding energized. "It is exhilarating."

The jedi brightened up with Rasa's change in demeanor and after she turned around he was already smiling by the time she began speaking. As she finished he couldn't help the laugh he let out at the almost childlike energy she was putting off. It brought a light to their situation that he welcomed.

"I'm glad! Your voice is sweet Rasa, you should definitely speak often. Nice to hear." He laughed again at the change from the woman it really was nice to hear.

There were butterflies stirring in Rasana's stomach as she turned around to see the Jedi already smiling at her. The joy in the Jedi's voice and face honestly astounded her, given their situation and history. Despite this, it was contagious. Rasana felt herself wanting to smile with him, but it was almost as if her face could not remember how. As the man let out another one of his refreshing laughs, Rasana felt a rush of shyness. Looking away for a moment, she replied without leaving the pilot's chair.

"Thank you, Elru." Standing from the chair with a smooth motion, she got up and walked into the cabin, placing herself in front of him with arms crossed.

"This is also by far the most kindness I have received in my life." She said. Rasana's way of speaking was very blunt and to the point, sounding somewhat untrained, almost like a robot reciting lines from a language program or a child who had a limited knowledge of vocabulary and grammar. Despite this, it was always honest and genuine, the lack of embellishment meaning she never hid anything under layers of meaning. Looking over at the seated man with her one eye, she continued.

"I have to ask, Elru," Rasana spoke Elru's name excitedly and used it in her sentences often, likely because it was the first time since she became a Guard that she was allowed to refer to another person by their name and not their title or rank designation. It was like a person stranded alone on a desert island getting their first glimpse of civilization, getting to interact with people again, and she clung to this small humanizing detail that reminded her she was more than a dead shadow. "Are all Jedi as charming as you?"

The Jedi barely contained the surprise from Rasana's sudden question. It didn't help how honestly innocent and open the question seemed. Fighting his blush at her question down Elru slid easily into his normal friendly nature.

"What a question. Charming as me? Well, I don't know, I think the best answer is simply there is no Jedi quite like me hmm? That being said, what about you? Are all women of the Emperor's guards secretly such sweet and good company? I find it hard to believe. I imagine you are more a diamond in the rough sort of situation rather than the norm right?" He asked with a cheeky smile sent Rasana's way.

Mentally he had the brief image of all of Emperor Palpatine's guards actually being a throng of beautiful and deadly women and had to shake the thought from his head before he followed the rabbit down it's hole.

Rasana felt her stomach jump up again as Elru gave her another compliment, and she swayed a little, shifting her weight from foot to foot. She was quite unsure how to feel about his words: she had never been taught to be sweet or whatever other of her qualities he pointed out, simply silent and obedient. It was very strange for her to even begin considering these emotions as anything more than tools or obstacles in pursuit of a mission. As Elru finished speaking, the former Shadow Guard appeared to become thoughtful. Her hand drifting upwards to trace the scar, fingers running over the line that cut down her face as she considered his question. To be honest, Rasana had never gotten to know any of her "coworkers". There was certainly not any socialization, and she didn't get much familiarity with their personality traits under the masks.

"We were not supposed to show emotion to one another. Ones who did were punished, sometimes killed. The only trait of ours that mattered was dedication to the Emperor." Her fingers lingered over the edges of her hollowed, burnt eye socket. "I don't really know what the other Guards are like."

Elru smiled at the slight swaying Rasana did. He was still a bit jarred by the sweet woman that had been hiding beneath the mask of one of Palpatine's own. His smile dimmed slightly as she traced the scar on her face. Another pang of guilt running through him.

"Well, I doubt any could hold a candle to you Rasa." He stepped closer peering at the scar he had given her.

"May I?" He asked as his hand came up near the side of her face. He wasn't sure why he was asking to touch it. Simply thinking of the injury made him feel bad, he expected actually tracing it with his hand would worsen it, and he had no way of healing it.

Rasana looked up at Elru as he stepped nearer to her, the thoughtful expression fading from her face. She gazed at the Jedi for a moment, noting that he reacted with something akin to pain as his eyes locked on her scar. Like all Thyrsians, Rasana was more than fluent in reading the body language of others, often able to understand how they felt or what they thought better from merely watching them move than from listening to them speak. Words were often deceitful, in Rasana's view. The flesh would never lie.

Taking note of Elru's interest in her scar, she slowly lowered her hand from her face, blushing once again at his compliment. This time the Guard didn't try to hide it, simply looking up at the Jedi. She didn't flinch or pull away as Elru raised his hand, still looking into his eyes.

"Yes." Was all she said. As he reached out, a bit of determination locked in her eye. "You should not feel guilty, Jedi. You should not even consider this wound as harm done by you -- it was I who attacked you and brought this loss upon myself." She explained her reasoning behind the scar.

Gingerly tracing his finger down the scar marking her face. Despite her words he couldn't help the small feeling of remorse he had for hurting her. Such an odd feeling having only met the woman recently, still he couldn't help what he felt.

"Maybe, that doesn't mean I don't feel guilt for harming you." He said softly. He dropped his hand and lowered himself back into a seat looking away from Rasana to try and hide his conflicted expression. He would need to meditate later to think clearly on his situation and feelings.

"What is our destination Rasa? Any ideas where we can hide out, you probably have some grasp of where the Emperor would look." He said while trying to regain control over his feelings.

Rasana's scar twitched involuntarily under Elru's touch, but the woman did not feel any pain. Instead, as she looked up at the Jedi, she was confused by the compassion she saw on his face. Ironically, she felt herself feeling bad for him, for the guilt he expressed. She found that she wanted to comfort him, to show him that she was okay and ease his worry.

When Elru backed away and sat back down, Rasana only hesitated for a moment before following him. Taking a seat next to him, she tried to place a comforting hand on his arm. She was slightly awkward, never having expressed friendship before, but she wanted him to know it was okay. As she tried searching for words (damn those things), her eye etched over his face, wanting to know his thoughts. Unfortunately, there were other issues to worry about as well.

"I will take us to Hutt space. It will not be safe, but at least it is not certain death. There are many beings hiding from the authorities there, for all kinds of reasons. We can try to blend in." She stated her thoughts flatly, her mind obviously still fixed on other concerns. "After we get a ship, I do not know what to do. I am afraid that nowhere is safe from the Empire."

He nodded along with her words, placing his own hand on top of the one Rasana used to comfort him squeezing it slightly. She was right. There was really nowhere that was truly safe. Not from the Empire, and not from the nature of the galaxy. So Elru was silent as he thought about that for a moment. Nowhere was safe. So it was best to make do with what they had. He knew that he had to find fellow jedi to help Rasana either way, and with more jedi he hoped that they could try and forge a safe place. Maybe even fix the broken galaxy they lived in.

The thought felt plenty ambitious, and honestly even to Elru a bit mad. Still, what other option was there. They couldn't run forever, eventually they would have to fight. They needed to move in ways to try and prepare themselves to repair the damage done, and if possible, replace this Empire with a proper republic once again.

That was long term planning of course. Elru needed to focus on more immediate issues now. Like finding a new ship and fellow jedi.

"Well, we could try and use another beacon like I did on Tython. It could help us find more jedi. Maybe jedi that can help with freeing you fully. It could also paint another target on our backs like Tyhton did mine." He said.

Rasana looked down at Elru's hand as it covered her own. The touch was comforting, a reassuring feeling she had not felt since before her parents were killed. As Rasana reflected on this, she realized how much she wanted to be comforted. It was a sudden realization, a simple observation that just surfaced in her mind completely unannounced: I want to feel safe. It surprised her, rocked her internally. For as long as the girl could remember, any feeling of safety was forbidden at best, and unthinkable at worst. Now, sat beside the first person to offer her any sort of genuine care or compassion in years, the Shadow Guard felt something change. A part of her that she wasn't even aware of had begun to surface, and the formerly single-minded killer's shell had truly begun to crack.

Yawning a little, Rasana blinked her eye heavily. She also suddenly noticed how tired she was. She hadn't gotten any kind of rest since her forced unconsciousness after the fight with Elru and the bombardment by the Clones, and the woman was exhausted. Their long multi-hour hike to the shuttle had not helped things either, nor the wounds still straining her body or the emotional turmoil of the last 48 hours. She gave a small yawn, and her head began to dip to one side. Managing to keep her eye open, Rasana unconsciously leaned onto Elru, replying with a small drowsy voice.

"I do not want any more Jedi. This one is enough." Whether the comment was merely part of Rasana's unusually blunt way of communicating or even some kind of joke, was not clear.

'This woman...' Elru thought as he smiled gently. This was a new experience for him, one that he quite enjoyed. Leaning his own head back to rest against the top of Rasana's he yawned slightly as well. He was not near as tired as she was, he was pretty sure of that, after she practically put him to bed the night before. Still though he found himself far too comfortable to move from his position, and doing so would have disturbed the woman beside him.

So he let himself fully relax, leaned against this woman who he had previously tried to kill, and who had previously tried to kill him. He found himself not wanting to be anywhere else in the galaxy then right here, and like her words earlier, the thought brought a sense of warmth to him that he hadn't felt in the slightest in years. At least prior to the clone wars.

It was only a matter of seconds before Rasana had slipped into sleep, her head falling onto Elru's shoulder as weariness overcame the young woman. Her breath evened out to a soft, slow rhythm, and she got better sleep than she had in as long as she could remember. No nightmares, no mocking voices or horrific visions disturbed her brain during that time.

Eventually, some time passed, and Rasana began to come out of her sleep. Her legs stretched beneath her, and her mind began to stir. Not opening her eyes, the woman nevertheless began to gain some awareness of her physical surroundings. She felt a warm presence beside her, a solid figure that offered much more comfort than the cold air of the ship's cabin. Still mostly asleep, Rasana instinctively pulled at the figure, wanting to bring them closer. This movement stirred her somewhat, and she blinked her eye slowly open as she grunted quietly. "Mm?"

It took her a minute to adjust to the synthetic lighting of the room, but she soon realized where she was. Lifting her head slightly, she realized it had been laying on Elru's shoulder. Moreover, her body was snuggled against his, having sought the warmth he generated while she slept. Her hand still rested on his bicep, but it seemed she had been tugging at it in her sleep. Petrified, the woman's eye opened wide with embarrassment. Clearing her throat, she released his arm and sat up stiffly.

Elru had been dreaming. The same woman from the last time he slept was enjoying the sunrise over Tython's hills with him when he was suddenly jolted awake. Hand shooting to his saber he looked around for a threat before realizing the situation and avoided eye contact with Rasana as he stood. Though a small smile at the woman's embarrassment could be made out on his face.

"Um, so do you want to use the refresher? If not I think I will. My shirt and hair still need to be cleaned from, you know." Elru said awkwardly.

When Elru jolted upright and grabbed his saber, Rasana shifted backwards, surprised by his sudden movements. She studied him as he stood, noting his unusual avoidance of eye contact, tempered as it was by another smile. Nodding agreeably, she looked over his back, arms, and hair, all coated in layers of dried blood (some of which had belonged to her). The wound on Elru's shoulder was still exposed, the fabric of his robe hanging open where Rasana had torn it to apply the stimpack.

She shook her head. "No, I think you need it more. I will get us on the move." Standing up, she rolled her shoulder back and stretched out her arms, then stepped around Elru and walked into the cockpit, leaving the door open. Not wanting to sit down again, Rasana stood and leaned over the controls, adjusting different instruments and typing coordinates into the navicomputer. When all was prepared, she took one last look at the horizon of space around them before pulling a lever, sending them blasting off into hyperspace.

As the shuttle sat down at one of the pads in one of Nar Shaddaa's most crowded and thereby poorest regions, Elru hummed at the look of the city-moon before him. He had rarely seen such a wretched hive of scum and villainy in all his travels throughout the galaxy. The pain of the downtrodden was almost overpowering for his senses and he couldn't help the grimace he had as the door to the ship opened and the rancid atmosphere swept in. This place was practically the complete opposite of Tython.

Trying hard to ignore the stale air and general roar of the daily life here her turned to Rasana and gave her a half smile.

"As much as I hate places like this, Nar Shaddaa is perfect for what we need. There is no doubt someway for us to win a ship here and possibly even create a sort of false identity to better hide ourselves. This is Hutt territory so lets head to one of the millions of cantinas and see if we can't hustle ourselves a new ship." He said as he began to step down the ramp.

His attire was changed now, and he was clean again. Having changed into some old clothes from the Starseer's former owner. They were snug, and fit his form a little too tightly for someone used to robes and loose-fitting attire, but they would do. He still wore his green sash around his mid section but otherwise looked more like a spacer than a fighter. Too help hide his identity his saber was concealed within his sash at the belt line and instead he wore a blaster pistol in a holster openly.

The stench of the metropolitan moon hit Rasana’s nostrils like a stampeding bantha as the doors to their shuttle slid open to the scene that awaited them. Seething masses of beings swarmed across the cityscape, every type of alien imaginable intermingling in the crowded space. Her nose crinkled as she stepped forward next to Elru, listening to what he had to say. Rasana also had changed clothes, having showered after Elru took his turn. She was now wearing a simple black zip-up flightsuit, one that she always had on under her Shadow Guard cloak and armor, but that was only now exposed. Rasana had carefully placed a small bandage over the burnt hole of her empty eyesocket, hoping to diminish what she considered to be a gory element of her appearance. She still had her blaster pistol on her hip, and a pair of vibroswords slung over her shoulder, strapped to her back. Her hair fluttered as the putrid air flowed around them, disrupted by gusts from starship and landspeeder engines.

Nodding to her companion, Rasana followed him down the ramp and into the city. They passed through dark alleys and crowded streets, having to make their way past countless unsavory groups and suspicious figures. Eventually, the pair found themselves at the doors of a bustling cantina. The flickering sign above the door read: “The Drunken Kowakian”. Turning back to look at Elru, she nodded her head at the bar.

“Do you want to try our luck here?”

[Okayanos]

Bar-room Blitz

Three Months After Order 66

Dramatis Personae

Xez Kraid, Mandalorian Bounty Hunter
Meikai, Gen'Dai Bounty Hunter
Trecort, Junker Bounty Hunter
Kroawbaesa, Wookiee Bounty Hunter
Elru Tess, Sephi Jedi
Rasana Ohn, Former Shadow Guard

The Drunken Kowakian
Nar Shaddaa

Elru wanted their stay on Nar Shaddaa to be shorter, the more he saw of it. His heart went out to the masses here, groups of people who seemed defeated and repressed while Elru could do nothing to help without putting himself and Rasana in danger, and while it felt slightly selfish, Elru wanted to give both himself and her a chance at a new start. When they stopped at the Drunken Kowakian Elru fought back yet another grimace.

"It's as good as any other I think. Plus it's close enough to the ship should the worst happen we can make a break for it." He said giving the woman a reassuring hand on the shoulder before stepping inside.

Taking in the surroundings he was relieved that the atmosphere in here was far more subdued than the thick crowds outside. While the cantina was busy, it seemed like most folks were minding their own business. That excluded of course two groups of thuggish looking men and women sitting in opposite corners that were practically staring one another down. They both wore ragged clothing with symbols, one Elru recognized as the emblem for Kanjiklub and the other he knew to be the image for the Guavian Death Gang. Both notorious bad news.

Making a point to avoid their tables Elru steered himself and Rasana toward one of the gaming tables toward the back. It was sparsely filled and one man who looked the part of a ship captain seemed to be cleaning house despite growing steadily more drunk. Hopefully he would be easier than most to manipulate into losing a ship to them.

Rasana was remarkably less perceptive than the Jedi, who had learned the art of expanding his senses to become aware of everything occurring around him. Rasana, on the other hand, had been trained in the opposite skill. She knew how to dissolve her awareness until she and the world around her dissolved, disappearing behind a single-minded focus on the mission she received from her Master. Although she no longer served this Master, nor was she anymore occupied by his will, this training did not disappear. Her attention was directed entirely on the goal, and she did not pick up on any of the details that Elru was already making note of. She did not even notice the lecherous look that the drunken spaceship captain gave her as she sat down at the table next to Elru.

She did notice, however, as the captain grinned toothily at them, spreading his arms wide. "Hahaharr, fresh meat! You have come to try your luck against me too? More travelers with overly heavy wallets! You are very welcome at this table." His words were slurred, reflecting the mind-numbing substances working in his system. Rasana remained silent, turning her head to Elru to see his response.

Plastering a fake smile on as he was 'welcomed' to the table Elru appeared, to most to lounge in a relaxed manner. Only those trained in fighting for most of their life, like himself and Rasana would recognize he was very ready for violence should it come to it.

"Well, my lovely companion and I were just out trying to enjoy the nightlife here on Nar Shaddaa if you know what I mean." Elru said with a boisterous laugh fake as it was. "Thordo Zun, by the way, and this is my wife Teera. You are?" Elru asked as he pulled some credits from the bag he had taken from the corpse of the Starseer's captain back on Coruscant when he had tried to stab Elru in the back.

"Rendon Seak, at your service. Especially you my dear. How one as gorgeous as yourself as you ended up with him fills me with curiosity. First though, lets get some drinks in you and start rolling some dice. I find conversation rolls right along with them!" The Corellian laughed as he tried to subtly eye the swollen bag of credits 'Thordo' had on him.

Elru had to fight back an actual smile as he saw the man start to take the bait. However he had to work to keep the façade as Rendon spoke rather intently toward Rasana. He disliked how the man eyed her for some reason.

Rasana was impressed by her companion's acting skills, noticing that though he presented himself as relaxed and friendly, the Sephi was fully prepared for a fight. She managed not to react as the Jedi introduced her as his wife to the assembled gamblers. Her attention was taken away from her “husband” as the captain spoke up again. Rasana lifted an eyebrow as he lay flattery on her, noting that he used some of the same adjectives Elru had employed to describe her earlier. Rasana had been completely bewildered by Elru’s compliments, but now she noted that this man as well seemed to have an opinion on her appearance. Rasana had never been hit on before, having spent her life either in the tightly-knit Sun Guard cult or the horrific conditions of Palpatine’s Shadow Guard barracks. To get so much attention from the opposite sex in such a short time was remarkable to her, but she was beginning to realize it was not all pleasant. In fact, although the drunken criminal and the Sephi Jedi had used many of the same words, she felt quite different about what each of them had to say. Elru’s comments had made her feel bashful, thrilled even, giving her pleasant butterflies. The words of Rendon made her feel tense, as if he were threatening her.

Rasana knew she couldn’t blow their cover, but also knew she could not invent a new personality as quickly as Elru was able to. Instead, she decided to play a part she knew well: the distant, cold shadow. Purging all emotion from her face save a vague distaste, the woman crossed one leg over her lap and laid a hand on Elru’s forearm, giving the other gambler a passing look before she spoke in a bored voice, responding to the captain’s taunt.

“I’m sure you wouldn’t understand, Captain Seak.”

The captain’s cocky grin faded only slightly as he appraised the woman. “Please, dear, call me Rendon. And I may not understand what you see in this little boy, but I’m sure I can make you understand what I have to offer.” He winked suggestively at Rasana, countering her cold demeanor with more vulgar flirtation.

Elru's grin widened as Rasana slid into her part and he couldn't stop the small chuckle that escaped as she played her part well. He glanced her way with a more honest smile before turning back to the man before them.

'Rasa's a natural at this!' He thought before his thoughts turned decidedly darker with the man's response.

"Well I'm sure you could offer plenty to someone else Captain, but I think perhaps you should watch your words. You never can quite tell what kind of person those sitting before you really are." Elru tried to lessen the tension while also giving the older man a clear boundary to not pass.

"Ha! I should be telling you as much kid. Well tell you what Thormon-"
"It's Thordo."
"Yes, Yes Thorvil, anyway let's roll some dice. Care to blow on them first honey?" Rendon asked obnoxiously as he leaned forward to practically shove the dice in Rasana's face.

Rasana felt the bare twinges of a smirk begin to pull at the corner of her mouth as Elru took a slightly threatening tone to the obnoxious captain. She was a little surprised at herself that it pleased her so to see her friend become defensive of her, even if he was only playing a role. But something also told her that it may not all be acting.

However this satisfaction changed into disdain as the captain leaned over the table, hanging his sweaty hand in her space. Her grip on Elru’s arm tightened, her fingers unconsciously digging into his skin as she tried to hold back a rising temper. Rasana doubted she had as much patience as her Jedi friend, and was already barely restraining herself from breaking the man’s arm. She had been taught to deal with these problems with violence, and her whole body was burning to do just this, but she knew she had to follow Elru’s plan.

Managing to calm herself, she wrinkled her nose at the man’s body odor when he drew near. Glaring directly into his eyes, she responded sharply. “I don’t think so.”

"Well, the lady has spoke old man." Elru said with a smile, though it seemed more that his teeth were gritted and even those that were less perceptive could tell he was restraining himself greatly. "No roll the dice or leave the table." He spoke in a lower tone causing the gathered patrons nearby to raise eyebrows at the man's change in behavior.

"Old man! Bah, no respect from you brats these days." Rendon groaned as he plopped himself back into his chair. Elru meanwhile rolled his eyes thinking that all things considered he had been too respectful to the scum before him.

As the game got underway things continued as they had. Rendon, continued to seemingly undress 'Teera' with his eyes meanwhile shooting glares and al but outright mocking 'Thordo'. At least he wasn't only belligerent to the two of them, if that counted for anything. The poor Twi'lek waitress, who seemed just a bit too thin to be healthy, suffered from both Rendon's roving eyes and hands every time she came to refill their drinks and orders. That merely added to Erlu's growing disdain for the man.

After another set saw 'Thordo' win the pot for the third time in a row, surprisingly not by any active attempt to cheat on Elru's part, Rendon began to grow, increasingly hostile with him and vocal with Rasana.

"You know boy, I sure hope you aren't cheating to try an impress the girl on your arm." He said, alcohol wafting over and causing Elru to grind his teeth both at how close the man had begun to lean toward Rasana and the overall accusation. Not that he was above cheating, he had intended to to ensure they won, he just hadn't yet.

Rasana was genuinely surprised to see how angry Elru seemed to be, now almost certain that he was not simply acting as a defensive husband but genuinely upset. Not wanting him to get too fired up on her behalf, she tried to give his arm a subtle but comforting squeeze so he would know she was okay. Even as she tried to calm Elru, the man aggravated her again, his eyes roving over her body in a hungry gaze. The vibroswords felt like they were burning on her back at this point, waiting to be unsheathed.

When Rasana got more angry, she tended to get less vocal. Her body stiffened with tension, her eyes locking forward like a starfighter's targeting computer. She said nothing as the game continued, feeling like she would burst at the captain's disgusting behavior. The only way she remained cool was by following Elru's lead, relying on his presence to stay confident in their plan and focused on the goal.

The captain began to throw accusations of cheating at the pair, leaning uncomfortably close to Rasana as he did so. Scowling at the captain, Rasana replied before Elru could speak up. "Seems like someone just can't handle losing, huh captain?" She put a nasty emphasis on this last word, as if the man didn't deserve any such title. "What, are you worried you will run out of credits soon?" She let out an uncharacteristic taunt, lifting one hand to press hard enough on the captain's chest to set him squarely back in his chair.

Angry spread across Rendon's drunk features, and he slammed a fist down on the table. "Oh, I don't think so, girly!" Turning to Elru, he sneered. "I've got a deal for you, kid. Let's raise the stakes: a higher bet. I'll bet my-" He paused to belch grossly. "my ship, the Winged Acklay, and you..." He paused again to lean over at Rasana with an open-mouthed leer, drool dribbling down his chin. "You wager this pretty little wife of yours for a night with Ol' Cap'n Seak."

Elru practically growled through his teeth at the old man as he pushed his luck. Honestly it was Rasana squeezing his arm that kept him from telling the bastard off, reminding him that he couldn't risk blowing whatever cover they had. Still, he wasn't about to let that pass.

"I should break your nose for such an offer." Elru hissed between his teeth with his face stuck in a false smile. "Instead I have a counter offer, our ship against yours. She really is a nice craft, refitted Nu-class shuttle, armed and everything, and it's yours, if you win." Rendon hesitated, though the pissed look on his face from Elru's comment about breaking his nose was apparent. Just as he opened his mouth to deny the counter offer another man, clearly a spacer like Rendon, leaned in and whispered into his ear.

"Hmm, I'll tell you what, we throw in our ship and it's droid and cargo and you throw in your ship, your creds, and a weekend with the lovely Teera. For my whole crew of course." Rendon said with a smirk.

Elru hesitated before turning to look Rasana in the eye. He didn't think he needed to ask verbally if she was fine with this. A slight nod from her and he sighed heavily in acceptance.

"Well Thorin what'll it be boy?" Rendon asked with a disgusting grin.

"Fine let's roll."

The dice clattered across the table, and for a moment Elru felt practically all the sound of the room drain away. He watched as they stopped bouncing and slowly came to a stop before a broad smile slid across his face.

"Well, gentlemen it's been fun." Elru said as he began dragging his winnings including the pass key for the Winged Ackley into his bag. Just as he finished pulling the winnings in he felt the change in the other gambler's demeanor. Rolling back on his feet he narrowly avoids the swipe from Rendon's fist as the older man and his apparent crew stand with foul sneers on their faces.

"I dunno how boy but you are a cheating shit, and I'm going to be taking my winnings now. Including the girl." He growled.

Rather than answer Elru swung out a fist toward the man's face, having grown tired of his mouth throughout the evening, only to miss as the table kept their distance from one another and Rendon was more agile than his appearance first suggested.

Rasana felt sick to her stomach at the space captain's deal. She did not react, simply sitting still and watching the men as Elru made a counter-offer. When this was declined, followed by another counter from the captain that once again involving Rasana being traded (though this time it was to an entire crew, a fate more disgusting than she could imagine), she felt Elru turn to look at her. Catching his gaze, Rasana took only a second to consider this. She was fairly confident that, even if they lost, Elru would not simply surrender her to a crew of pirates or smugglers to do with as they pleased. Besides, despite the incredibly demeaning nature of this conversation, the woman knew that it was all for the sake of the mission. And she would accept anything for the mission. She nodded minutely to Elru, swallowing her disgust and giving him her consent to make the deal.

When the dice came up in their favor, she felt a wave of relief wash over her body. She began to stand with Elru, ready to get out of that bar as quickly as she could, when the captain lurched forward and took a broad swipe at the Jedi with his closed fist. As Elru responded with his own strike, Rendon's crew began to draw weapons and spread out around the pair. The captain reached for his blaster, but before he could open his mouth for another insult Rasana stepped forward, her single golden eye boring into him with a calm intensity. "Enough."

With that, the woman planted her foot solidly on the poker table and kicked forward. She sent the furniture piece flying forward, toppling end over end from the ferocity of her strength, crashing into the drunk captain and knocking him hard onto the floor. Only momentarily shocked, the crew began to roar in anger and rushed at the pair of undercover fugitives. Rasana's eye lit up as she dropped into a fighting stance, dodging under a man swinging a club at her face and catching his arm to send him flipping hard onto the ground. "Ah, good, this will be fun."

Watching the table topple the captain Elru nearly laughed, and when he heard Rasana speak he couldn't stop the cackle that left him. He may be a jedi but Elru had always been one to love a good fight. Just usually in a more tournament style setting. A bar brawl would do in a pinch though. Jumping right into the fray Elru cracked the man who had whispered into Rendon's ear earlier hard in the face sending the man stumbling back before the jedi hooked his leg behind the stunned spacer's and twisted, surely shattering the knee and sending him spinning into a nearby table.

Quickly rising, Elru was on the slowly recovering captain in a heartbeat and brought a series of fists right into the man's unguarded nose bloodying it and sending him backward, now unconscious onto another table. Spinning, Elru nearly went for his saber, a natural reaction in the heat of the moment but resisted the urge and instead picking up a broken chair attempted to bring it down on the head of another of Rendon's crewmen. Before he could though, whether through luck or skill the man managed to slip past the attack and the chair instead smashed into a different patron who's glass shot out and smashed into the back of one of the nearby Kanjiklub members. Turning to see who had seemingly thrown a glass at him, and somehow ignoring the growling fight nearby the man could only hone in on the laughing Guavian Death Gangers laughing at his ruined jacket. Without missing a beat the thug threw himself over two tables taking three of the opposing gang members down in a flying tackle.

Chaos soon erupted across the whole bar as people beat, stabbed, slashed, and even shot one another. Things were quickly growing out of hand and Elru was beginning to grow worried that they would gain the wrong kind of attention here. Though he thought on that problem while repeatedly bashing some poor Bothan repeatedly into the bar head first.

Rasana felt happy to hear Elru's laugh break out in the midst of the chaos. She noticed that as he flew into combat, the Jedi immediately targeted the two spacers who had been most conspicuous in her harassment. But she had her own problems on her hands as three more crew members closed in on her with blunt weapons and vibroblades. She deflected a stab from one of them, driving the palm of her hand hard into his gust and then knocking him out with a clean elbow to the temple before the other two could even react. As they closed in on her, the woman leapt backwards onto a table, sending the drinks and food atop it flying onto other patron's lap. Drawing her vibroswords, she flipped forward past blades seeking her flesh, and landed behind the two thugs, driving her swords simultaneously into their turned backs. She took a moment to look around the bar, excitement rising in her chest as the whole place quickly erupted into a violent melee that spread like wildfire. Looking over at Elru, Rasana saw he was still fighting empty handed.

"Elru- I mean, Thordo! Catch!" She yelled, tossing one of her weapons through the air at him from across the room before spinning on her heel and deftly cutting down another group of assailants. Rasana's eye gleamed with deadly intensity, her face lit up with adrenaline as she transitioned into the mindless killing mode she had been raised for. Blood flew around her, splattering across her face and clothes as she cleaved through enemies like wind through the leaves of a tree. Men fell left and right, most cut open or impaled by her sword, but others dropped by lightning-fast kicks or destructively brutal elbow-strikes. She even grappled a few of them, smashing their skulls hard onto walls or tables. The power of the Dark Side rippled up unconstrained in the woman as she entered a near-frenzy state. It was truly a sight to behold, one of the Emperor's Shadow Guards in action.

Jerking slightly at Rasana's slip Elru reacted well enough to snap the blade from the air before pivoting in an elegant style and taking a similarly armed spacer's hand off at the wrist. As the man fell to his knees screaming at his loss, Elru leapt over his head and brought the blade down on the face of a woman armed with a blaster pistol trying to get a bead on Rasana. Landing behind the now dead woman he kicked out and knocked the knee of a hapless Zabrak backward. Causing him to howl, before his voice turned to a gurgle on the blade.

"Teera, try and get to the bar." He called out as he dodged acrobatically around a pair of thugs grappling with one another. He wanted to ensure they were close enough to cover each other in the fight. Not that he worried this rabble could do much against someone of his or Rasana's skill, but the mix of numbers and chaos made things unpredictable and dangerous.

Flipping over another table as it was pushed off of a set of three groaning spacers Elru landed beside the bar and slashed the throat of one of Rendon's surviving crewmen.

---

The shady bar with its low lights and an ever-present faint haze in the air was a source of comforting familiarity for the gang of Bounty Hunters. It was their place in the galaxy, Xez mused. An uptight, moralistic Jedi would be uncomfortable here, just as any of their group would be out of place in the serenity of a Temple. Not that any of the hunters would visit a temple- as far as Xez knew, none of them were religious. Of course, he didn't actually know his fellow hunters that well. Not as people, at least. But the camaraderie between them had grown after Brighthome, and again after Odessen. They'd fought together, flown together, drank together, and now they mourned together. Xez had spent some time staring into the swirl of his drink, an exotic mix with a sharp flavor that he couldn't quite pronounce the name of. He still didn't have his helmet back. Mandalorian gear wasn't cheap, and the people with the skills to repair it charged accordingly. A Mando's helm was his face, and facial reconstruction was a delicate, time-consuming process. Only his distorted reflection in his glass served to remind Xez that his face was visible. The blue skin, white hair, and pointed ears all seemed like they didn't really belong to him, like he was looking at another person. The feeling was surreal.

Kroawbaesa and Meikai sat in stone silence. The Gen'dai was as unreadable as ever, but the Wookiee looked rough. Kroawbaesa's thick fur still had visible singes left, and he had several bandages tied on, covering up whatever nasty wounds he'd received while taking on two Jedi at once. Xez didn't think he'd look any better himself. He had amassed enough scars, bruises, and aches for three people. Normally, it'd be a welcome sensation, the good kind of hurt, as if he'd just finished a long bout of exercise. But this wasn't a celebration.

The empty seat beside Kroawbaesa was a haunting thing, a weight upon all the Hunters' shoulders. They should have been splitting the reward three ways, not four. But cruel fate had chosen to take one of their number during the Odessen raid. Even the Brighthome Hunters' legendary luck couldn't last forever. Xez had his own plans on how to spend their new vast sums of credits, but it would wait. Trecort would've hated being mourned, he figured. Mourning was something reserved for weak organics. But Trecort wasn't exactly around to give his opinion. The silence continued between the hunters, weighing down harder and harder until Xez raised his gaze, and with almost herculean effort, he spoke.
"Kroaw, you knew Trecort the longest. Do you want to say a few words?"

"I didn't know it was Mandalorian tradition to eulogize the living," Trecort says, limping into view from a back room and basically falling into the booth.

His metal exterior was warped from the intense heat and drag of his encounter with the atmosphere of Odessen. Parts of his chassis were stained a dull green from the hole in his back, mixed with a healthy array of scorch marks.

"Found him on sale from some two-bit scrap dealer," Meikai said, looking from Trecort to the rest of the crew, "Thought I'd do him a favor."

"You're all welcome for me getting rid of the ship, by the way," Trecort says, sounding as tired as his vocalizer would allow.

"You're all welcome for finishing the fight on Odessen, then, if we're counting favors," Meikai stated, a jest as much as it was a blunt fact. Had Meikai not been there, the battle may have turned out in a starkly different fashion. Of course, Meikai recognized the accomplishments of his comrades, but his own confidence had been significantly augmented by the victory. He could kill Jedi, many of them, and he had none of their silly magic to help him do so.

Kroawbaesa was busy staring into his drink when Xez asked him to say a few words. The Wookiee was becoming displeased with his species' traits, specifically their high alcohol tolerance. He'd drunk just enough to not hear Xez's question. Kroawbaesa knew it was probably stupid for him to miss a man he barely knew. But hunting for 100 years got lonely. Kroaw never used to think about it because he was focused solely on his 'honor' and the thrill from the hunt.

After 127 years of his work, he had started doubting his own honor. He'd killed many worthy targets that surely brought him more than enough honor to make up for breaking the code. Yet he still felt hollow. Kroawbaesa had met Trecort after 130 years of flying solo. One year of hunting as a pair, then, they met Xez and Meikai. The Wookiee didn't want to admit to his group just yet, but, he had enjoyed their hunts together.

The old hunter was taken out of his deep intoxicated thoughts by a conversation. Kroawbaesa stared long and hard at the figure that Meikai was talking too. It was a Junker. It sounded and looked like Trecort. It talked of his accomplishments. But Trecort had died.

Kroawbaesa leaned over to Xez. "Who's the Junker?" He slurred.

"Trecort." Xez murmured in reply to Kroawbaesa. "Meikai found him. Apparently it takes more than hyperspace to kill him." Xez would have gone on longer, but a game of chance erupted into a fight, and soon nearly the entire bar was in chaos. "Time we left. We've got more important things to do than getting into fistfights."

"No," Meikai commanded, his eyes flowing up to the center of the fight. The flurry of strikes and brutal maneuvers from one of the combatants had caught his attention. He pointed a finger to the fighter, looking to the rest of the group.

"Teras Kasi."

"...." Xez sighed, the sound clearer when it wasn't filtered through his helmet. He drew his vibroblade from its sheathe, the metal blade beginning to hum subtly.

"Fine, we'll do this your way. Welcome back to the group, Trecort."

Kroawbaesa looked at Trecort for a few more seconds. A drunken smile appeared on his face when he realized his partners were right. It was Trecort.

"It's good to have you back Trecort. Don't die again." The Wookiee grumbled. He saw Meikai point at a fight that erupted at the other side of the bar. Kroaw's smile went wide as his companions started getting ready to enter the fight themselves. A good bar fight with the reunited group was just what the Wookiee wanted.

The Gen'Dai moved through the crowd as a rock breaks the flow of a river. Most individuals wanted nothing to do with the towering suit of armor, and thus gave him a wide berth even as they were tied up in their respective combat. Those few that tried to challenge him were swiftly dealt with, either by a thundering strike or a swift twisting of their joint to produce a sickening snap.

Slowly, he gained on the other Teras Kasi user. He spoke no words, simply standing in front of the man before cocking his fist back and firing it forward.

Surprised by the size of the hulking beast in armor before him Elru leaned out of the way of the fist fired directly for his face. He retaliated with a swing of his own fist toward the beast's own face plate pistoning a fist forward as fast as he could.

Meikai saw the counterpunch coming, and replied by shifting his hip forward, unbalancing the other combatant enough that his punch fell limp. He stepped back, maintaining a guard but allowing Elru to make the next move.

"What is your name?" Meikai asked, more of a command than a courteous question.

"Can't we just shoot them?" Trecort asks, slowly hauling himself up and diverting power for combat. Systems were...not good, but serviceable.

“Let Meikai have his fun.” Xez answered. He stuck close to Trecort, guarding the Junker against errant attacks. They’d just gotten Trecort back, and his chassis was still damaged- it’d be a shame to get it damaged again.

Sizing the new opponent up Elru knew things had become suddenly more dangerous. This one wasn't like the other rabble in here. He knew how to fight, and his armor was nothing to scoff at. Still it was nice to have a somewhat honorable opponent if he was offering for introductions.

With a kick to try and break his adversary's stance Elru introduced himself.

"Elru Tess, you are?" He asked with a grunt.

Rasana was pulled from the exciting rush of combat by Elru's yell. Letting loose a growl of frustration, the Thyrsian woman gracefully twirled through the mess of combatants, cutting down more. She felt the burning of rage in here, and wanted nothing more than to completely lose herself in the blood and death of her surroundings. But the only thing that had been drilled more concretely into Rasana's psyche than her unthinking bloodlust was her unthinking obedience, and she paused to accept the Jedi's suggestions.

"Fine." She snapped, launching into a flip that carried her over the heads of the brawling criminals. Landing on a table, she leapt from surface to surface until she reached the bartop. Looking over, she noticed that Elru was now facing down a hulking armored warrior. Her face broke into a snarl, her eye narrowing in defensive rage. Dropping into a crouch on the surface of the bar, Rasana whipped out the blaster pistol from its place on her hip and fired off a series of shots at the back of the warrior's head. "Get. Away. From. Him." Her voice was low and angry, each word punctuated by a shot from her blaster.

"Meikai," The Gen'Dai replied, raising his leg to kill the momentum of Elru's kick before replying with a kick of his own, connecting solidly under his enemy's chin.

A blaster bolt threw him off balance, scuffing the pauldron of his armor as it forced him against the bar. Meikai grunted with annoyance, grabbing a particularly heavy metal bottle from the counter and whirling it at the woman.

"Interrupting!" He shouted, then looking at Xez and pointing a finger at the new combatant. It was words enough for the Mandalorian.

"You fight with Teras Kasi?" He asked, now turning back to his original opponent.

Elru seeing Rasana get involved in the fight at first felt emboldened but as this Meikai slung a metal bottle at her he felt a sudden urge to act. Launching himself at his briefly distracted opponent Elru took the behemoth down in a flying tackle mounting him ready to hit him with a flurry of punches.

"No doubt, same for you?" Elru grunted out as he grappled with the bigger man.

"Mm," was the only reply that Elru received as Meikai bucked his hips and threw the smaller fighter, unbalancing him. In a lightning fast move, he wrestled his legs from under Elru, then turning and rolling. He slammed Elru's arm to the ground, slipping his own underneath and bending the arm at a strange angle, but the grip was loose. Meikai could feel it slipping, not inflicting nearly as much pain as he intended.

Elru grunted in pain as the larger fighter rolled the pair of them over and forced him into a submissive position. Attempting to break free and smash the armored thug with his elbow. Sadly rather than breaking free he furthered the hold making it harder to escape.

"You have the agility for Teras Kasi," Meikai said, as Elru wriggled out of his submission grip. The two raced to be the first to stand, with Elru just barely beating Meikai.

"But do you have the strength?" He asked, now taking a striking stance.

Managing to make his feet first Elru launched a punch into Meikai's face but a combination of armor and being too impatient to properly turn his body his hand popped against the mask of his opponent and did nothing.

"Huh, that's new." Elru said in a bit of shock.

"I believe that answers my question," Meikai said, his own arm snaking out and slamming a closed fist into Elru's neck.

The surprise from Meikai taking the hit with no reaction left Elru's reaction too slow causing causing his attempt at blocking the beast's punch to his throat to slide off the swinging arm. Attempting to roll with the hit while choking on the sudden impact to his neck Elru simultaneously swung his foot up into the groin of his foe.

"Yeah, probably." Elru coughed out as he regained his balance.

Meikai let his foe regain balance, then firing a jab with the intent to start a brutal - yet effective - punching chain. It was swiftly blocked, fast enough that Meikai was surprised.

Elru blocking Meikai's strike grasped his opponents shoulders to bring their heads together. Something he immediately regretted as his head popped back from the impact and he grimaced from the pain.

"Should have remembered the punch earlier."

Another jab came flying at Elru, again only to be immediately swatted away.

"You defend well, but don't know your opponent," Meikai growled, circling and waiting for the man to make his next move, "Half of Teras Kasi is knowledge."

"Fair point, but that doesn't help much in our first meeting." Elru lashed out with a kick as he spoke trying to take Meikai's legs from under him.

"I mean, beyond your name who even are you?"

"An interesting question, but one you don't need answered," Meikai said, blocking the kick and circling. He threw a half-hearted feint that was caught relatively easily.

"I know you though. You're near-human. Your easily accessible weak points are your neck and the joints in your arm. Your heart beats at exactly 160 beats per minute when you're agitated, like right now. And you take a sharp breath inwards every time you strike."

"Well aren't you a repository for knowledge, I wonder though just what are you exactly. I have an inkling big man, but no certainty." ELru said as he shot a hard jabe toward Meikai's chest only to have it batted away easily causing him to grimace.

"Then you weren't paying enough attention," came the snapped reply from Meikai. He counterpunched Elru, sending him stumbling with a quick jab. Yet the man persisted, moving forward. Meikai obliged, ducking low and delivering a thundering blow to his ribcage.

"I was wondering what would break first....your spirit..." Meikai said, slamming another blow into the ribs. A crack signaled to the Gen'dai he had successfully fractured the bones.

"Or your body!" Shouted the Gen'Dai, rising with an uppercut as he did. It slammed against Elru's chin with horrifying force, sending the man reeling backwards into the bar. But Meikai made no move to pursue. He simply stood there, arms crossed. The fight, in his mind, was over.

Elru looked up at the larger man as he slowly rose back to his feet, aching with hurt pride and body. He kept his eyes trained on the armored visage of his foe unsure of what would happen next.

"You know, that hurt quite a lot. Why exactly were you wanting to fight me again. Not sure if I ever knew or if I forgot around the time I tried to headbutt that helmet of yours. Not my greatest moment by the way." Elru said as he made enough space between them should he need to react if the fight continued.

---

"I see her, I see her." Xez grumbled as Meikai pointed out the interfering woman. He began to push his way through the crowd, letting his fists and his vibrosword take care of anyone in his way. He fired his jetpack briefly, landing on top of the bar in front of her. Xez raised one fist toward her, and with a sudden whoosh, a plume of fire burst from his vambrace.

Rasana's angry expression broke with confusion as the large figure seemed to almost simply brush off the blaster bolts she fired. Before she could continue her attack, the hulking man whipped around, slinging a large and heavy bottle at her. She was surprised by his speed, just managing to duck backwards under the bottle before it struck her right in the face. Instead, the bottle soared past her and smashed into pieces on the wall behind the bar, clipping her ear as it went. Rising to her feet, she saw him motion at her, communicating with someone across the room. As she looked over at the new contender, she immediately recognized the age-old armor of a Mandalorian warrior. Her former people, the Thyrsian Sun Guards, had been ancestral enemies of the Mandalorians.

She rolled her shoulders, casually cutting down a Rodian mercenary as he jumped up onto the table. As she turned back to the Mando, he landed on the counter across from her, smoke pluming from his jetpack. She watched as his arm raised, tensing her muscles in preparation for whatever he was about to unleash. As a stream of fire shot from his wrist, the former Shadow Guard launched herself gracefully into the air, avoiding the flames. Swinging her vibrosword overhead, she cut down at his face.

Xez didn’t raise his sword as the mystery woman’s swing came down at him- instead raising his left arm and taking the blow against his beskar vambrace. He shoved her sword back, putting space between the two of them. She wasn’t fighting like a random swordswoman, or like a Bounty Hunter that had some CQC training. This was formal martial arts, refined through extensive training.

He put his vibroblade through a lazy twirl, sizing his new opponent up now that he had a clear look at her. Her stance was Echani, but her skin tone and eye color said she was Thyrsian.
“You swing a sword well. Need to work on your sense of honor, though. You can never tell when someone’s going to pull something dirty.” With his last word, Xez pulled something dirty. With a flick of his wrist, a barrage of 5 micro missiles spread out, letting out a distinctive whistling tone as they swirled out, around, and in toward Rasana.

The skin around the long wound running across Rasana's face twitched as she felt frustration, watching her sword slide uselessly off the Mandalorian's gauntlet. The warrior was strong, and his push forced her to step back. She watched his movements closely, slipping naturally into the silent language of Echani combat. Every motion of his body revealed a truth to her, and she entered this world of physical exchange, body and mind uniting into one weapon. Xez's words barely registered to her as she tracked his movements, readying herself for another attack.

As he finished speaking, the Mando made a slight movement of his arm. Rasana was surprised, but her expert training kicked in. She planted her feet in a steady pose, lifting her blade and letting her body act as one with her thought. The blade sung through the air, intercepting each of the projectiles in succession, all 5 darts cut aside in a fraction of a second. Moving forward with the momentum of her blade, Rasana advanced on the Mando. She was silent and focused, feinting low at his leg before gracefully bringing her blade around and delivering a cut at the man's opposite side.

Xez dropped his guard low to defend against Rasana's slash, and realized his mistake only when her blade slipped past his armor and left a deep cut in his side. Blood was spilling now, darkening the bodyglove he wore beneath his plates. Xez grit his teeth together. He was better than this, he knew. He'd taken a Jedi face to face and nearly won. He'd robbed Brighthome, right under the Empire's nose. He'd outflown the self-proclaimed 'best pilot in the galaxy', and all without any of his teammates losing their lives.

The Mandalorian beat down on Rasana's sword arm with his elbow, shifting his vibrosword into a reversed grip and whirling backward, sending a vicious stab at her. The Thyrsian's blade clashed against his own, and his thrust hit only durasteel and air.

Rasana felt her balance shift as the Mandolorian moved in reaction to the cut she scored, slicing satisfyingly into the chinks of his armor. Moving backwards fluidly, the woman danced into a new position as her opponent retaliated. Lifting her blade, she redirected his stab away from her and cut upwards at an opening in his guard.

Xez brought his sword up and met Rasana's, sparks flying briefly as the two weapons clashed against each other. They exchanged a short series of blows, and then Xez made the mistake of trying something dirty again. He loosed a spray of flames, but his opponent simply flipped gracefully up and over his head, avoiding the fire completely.

Rasana’s face was a perfect image of determination, her body moving like water, coursing back and forth across the bar tabletop with swift and well-placed movements. Eventually she bounty hunter drew back again, and as she stepped out with her blade raised, his wrist shot forward, flames blasting out towards her. Simply pushing harder off the ground with her step, Rasana jumped far into the air and flipped over the armored man. Landing gracefully behind his back, she lunged forward with a thrust aimed at the small of his back.

Xez blocked the thrust, bring his vibrosword behind his back to intercept it. With both arms raised, he set the last of his Whistling Birds loose. The tiny, glowing darts spiralled outward, zipping past Rasana as she weaved through them- but one found its mark, tracking Rasana through her dodge and impacting into the Shadow Guard's ribs.
"So, you Thyrsians can bleed after all. Must be a humbling experience, to not effortlessly win every fight you get yourself into."

Rasana did not visibly react to the impact of the dart cutting into her ribs, nor did she deign to respond to her enemy’s taunts. His words tired her much more than the pure authenticity of combat ever would, and she had no intention to waste time with them. Although Elru may have brought her out of the complete mindless silence of a Shadow Guard, when in combat, cloaked in the intensity of her Dark Side training, she fell back into blank silence. The only thing that existed now was the rhythm of battle, the only place where things made sense. Even if she was hurt here, it was okay. She made no delay in her attack, continuing to press in on the Mando with a swinging sword.

The continued clanging of steel rang out in a steady rhythm, a kind of music that brought Xez back to his training on Concordia. There, he had learned how the Mandalorians were the greatest warriors in the galaxy. Even when suffering defeat after defeat, when the whole galaxy was against them, they kept fighting. Kept getting up after being knocked down. The beskar on the outside was tough, but it was the warrior on the inside that made it invincible. The Thyrsians prided themselves on being great, on being the best- compared to the Offshoots, they were by far the greater creations of the Arkanians. Xez felt a raw, fiery hatred for the so-called purebloods, and it extended to every creation of theirs that was put above his own kind. The Thyrsian, as far as Xez cared, had been born lucky. Xez had been lucky to be born. Before becoming Mandalorian, he had been nothing. Now, he would be something.

Xez darted inward, taking a stab against his chestplate that slid off the beskar, scraping paint off. He darted in with his blade, and it found its mark. "Not everyone was handed expertise from birth, Thyrsian. Some people have to earn their way to it," Xez growled as he shoved Rasana back, pulling his blood-coated vibrosword back. "And it makes our kind stronger in the end."

Rasana’s single golden eye widened as she gasped, pain shooting through her as the blade of her enemy slid smoothly into her flesh. She felt the warmth of her own blood running down her abdomen, wetting the cloth of her flightsuit and making it stick to her skin. The Thyrsian woman lifted one hand to the open wound, letting the red liquid seep over her fingers. She stared at the Mandolorian as he spoke, looking into his eyes. His words were beginning to make their way into her mind, but she still cared little for them. The Mandalorian’s bitterness seemed foolish to her, unnecessary. Gathering her strength, the former Shadow Guard stepped inward towards the Mandolorian and unleashed another onslaught of attacks, trying to power through her pain.

"You fight like a droid. No heart." The Mandalorian taunted again, only to raise his guard late and take another blade across the side for his troubles. He grunted, dodged backward, and took to the air, drawing his DL-18 and firing down as he did. The woman evaded all but the most grazing shots, and when she returned fire, Xez ate it hard. His beskar wasn't tough enough, it seemed. The Mandalorian plummeted, and landed hard, gasping hard for air that didn't seem to want to reach him. He tasted the iron of his own blood, and spat it out before pushing himself up to his feet. He had never felt more alive. Xez's eyes were crazed and his hair was coming loose from its bun. He raised his vibroblade, leveling the point towards Rasana.

"Olaror bat, kyr bic!" He yelled, in Mando'a, as a real warrior should. Come on, end it.

Rasana felt an undeniable rush of rage at the Mandolorian’s words.

No heart!? She thought, burning with anger. The fight is my heart.

The silent woman managed to cut into his defenses, landing a minor blow on her opponent. Before she could cut at him again, the Mandolorian blasted off from the top of the bar. Rasana was blinded for a second by the smoke, but went on the move just in time to avoid getting riddled full of blaster bolts. She dived off the bar and rolled across the floor, narrowly dodging each blast and only feeling the slight burn of one grazing hit over her back. Coming to a stop in a kneel, Rasana drew her own gun and returned fire, locking dead into her target. Her hail of bullets did not miss once, peppering the floating warrior with blaster fire. As he crashed to the ground, Rasana rose and approached him, sword raised. Still silent and glowering with unsuppressed wrath, the dark-skinned woman prepared to grant her enemy his wish.

Noticing the fighting throughout the bar had largely stopped. Patrons either having fled, been broken, or killed, Elru looked to check on his companion. Nearby he saw Rasana. Roughed up but clearly the victor in her own battle. As she rose her blade to finish the man that had been clearly following Meikai's command earlier Elru attempted to call out to her and stop her before the fight was renewed.

"Rasana, Stop!" He called, but She was on the other side of Meikai from him and too far to stop himself.

Meikai had heard the Mando'a from his compatriot and turned. By the time that Elru had shouted at his companion, Meikai was moving across the bar. Rasana found her killing blow stopped by an iron grip, inches from Xez's neck.

"Yes, Rasana. Stop," Meikai growled, maintaining his hold on the woman's hands, "The worst thing you can do is inflate a Mandalorian's ego by killing them."

Slowly, he reached one hand up to pop the faceplate off of his helmet, revealing his face to those still in the bar. This was, actually, the first time any of his comrades had even seen his face.

"You've both earned my respect, at the least. Perhaps we could discuss future...collaborations...over a drink?"

Xez looked slowly from Rasana to Meikai as her sword was stopped. Finally, the Thyrsian had a name. He'd remember it. At Meikai's words, he only paused to spit out a mouthful of blood at his would-be killer.

"She couldn't have done it," He replied, purely to get more of a rise out of Rasana. Xez had no idea if he would've been able to win the fight, but he believed he could've. Even with his helmet missing and one vambrace not working, he'd managed to hold out.

"Nar dralshy'a, dala." Xez said, addressed directly to Rasana this time. With the final comment, he lowered his vibroblades, accepting Meikai's truce, for as long as it would last.

A grunt of confused frustration broke free from Rasana’s throat as her blade was suddenly stopped in its tracks, mere inches from the Mandolorian’s throat. She blinked a few times, trying to clear her head of the blind rage of combat as she heard Elru’s voice. It sounded distant, taking time to penetrate the perfect silence of the martial language of her race. Exhaling sharply through her nose, Rasana forced herself to readjust to the psychological plain of spoken language.

Looking up at the man who held her hands in a clasp that felt stronger than the metal chains that Elru had first used to restrain her, Rasana recognized him as the hulking figure who had absorbed her blaster fire earlier. The one who had been fighting Elru. Looking from her companion to the large being who held her still, she realized they seemed to now be on the same side. Can’t stop making friends, even in the middle of a fight to the death She thought, annoyed that she had been denied her kill. However, she noticed that Elru himself looked like he had taken quite a beating, sporting multiple new cuts and bruises.

Taking in this new observation, she relaxed her muscles slightly, beginning to accept the truce. She looked back up at the large armored man who gripped her hands. As he removed his mask, she blinked a few times, surprised by his appearance. It was quite a fearsome sight, and she did not recognize his species. Before she could fully take in all of these changes, the Mando was speaking.

A thick wad of blood and spit splattered across Rasana’s face, and her eye widened with disgust and anger. Having been raised in a mercenary corps that prided themselves as being the only ones capable of matching the Mandolorians, she knew some of their language, and recognized his words. “Oh, I will.” She replied in a deathly cool voice, her eye not leaving his face as she pulled again at her sword, though it did not budge from Meikai’s grasp.

Elru jumped around Meikai's large frame and hooked and arm around Rasana's waist and hauling her back before she could find a way around the now confirmed Gen'dai to finish off the man on the ground. He pulled her tightly against him as he began making his way away from the two bounty hunters, all while trying to calm her down and wiping the blood off her face.

"Calm down Rasa, ignore him, he's not worth it. Trust me." He said.

Xez only smiled at Rasana’s reply, as she tried again to break through Meikai’s inhuman strength. One day, someone would have to realize that Meikai couldn’t be beaten by strength and brute force. None of the Jedi on Odessen had realized it, and the couple in the bar- Rasana, and the Teras Kasi-using Sephi- had not yet learned it either.

He felt the fire within him begin to flare up as the Sephi declared him to be ‘not worth it’. Perhaps the Sephi was the one holding Rasana back. Perhaps he knew more about the Offshoots than most in the galaxy. But Xez looked up into Meikai’s demonic visage, and was reminded that this fight was declared over. So rather than offering further retort, he searched the crowd for Kroawbaesa. The Wookiee’s towering height made him easy to spot.

“Don’t suppose you have any stimpaks on you, Kroaw?”

---

A fight begun, and a fight ended. The Hunters find themselves with new allies- or, new enemies. Rasana and Elru, meanwhile, have greater concerns on their minds....

[Tethrys]

Elru and Rasana
Nar Shaddaa
Co-Writers:
Tethrys
Castriarta

Even as Elru’s arm wrapped around her waist, pulling the angry woman gradually but firmly backwards across the bar room floor, Rasana did not break her angry glare at the Mandalorian warrior. She tensed against Elru’s insistent guidance, her body nearly shaking with the energy of her anger. The words and actions of the pale-blue man infuriated her. The Thyrsian language of physical combat was based around three tiers, or psycho-physiological foundations upon which their whole culture was built. The first of these tiers was the principle of honor, and an important element of honor is the truth of defeat. Your body reveals who you are just as much when you are struck down as when you strike down. To insult one’s opponent, even as you are being beaten, is seen as a bold-faced lie, and a disgrace against the foundational honor that, in the minds of the Thyrsians, makes civilized society and sentient life possible. This Mandalorian’s behavior was, to Rasana, a perfect emblem of barbarism. The natural order of the universe, she believed, was that the word followed and obeyed the flesh. It was the flesh that created order and life, and when the flesh revealed itself but was denied by the word or the mind, this was a denial of the natural order.

In Rasana’s eyes, their flesh had spoken and revealed the truth through combat: she had bested him. Her blade had spilled more blood; his body carried more wounds; his armor was covered in the marks of her weapon and her clothes were comparably less damaged. It was the Mandalorian’s duty now, as a warrior with honor, to accept the loss revealed to him by the flesh. But he rejected this revelation. Instead, his words and his mind rebelled against his body, and he toppled the pillar of honor that would have allowed him to access truth through combat.

Straining against the Sephi Jedi holding her back, she heard his voice in her ear, telling her to calm and focus. Rasana snarled, conflict stirring in her soul. The wrath of the Dark Side had been awoken in her, and she wanted blood. The rage that Palpatine had trained her to channel was flowing in her spirit, but the strict obedience that her Master enforced was not in effect. She had power, but no authority to direct it, no Lord to serve. She wanted to lash out, throwing caution and restraint to the wind. The former Shadow Guard was becoming more unhinged, unable to control the hate Palpatine had fed her now that he no longer also caged her in fear. The balance of ferocity and submission that had defined her being was overthrown.

Breathing heavily, Rasana tried to control herself, easing her muscles and allowing the Jedi to pull her close to himself. Feeling his chest against her back and his arms around her, she was able to calm down to a more reasonable level. The Jedi guided her away from the taunting Arkanian, gently reaching up to rub the wad of saliva off her face after it had landed across the bottom of her right cheek, sticking to the long scar that carved down half her face. This gesture reminded Rasana of Elru’s kindness, and their mission together. Finally looking away from her opponent and up at Elru, Rasana spoke quietly, in a voice that only he could hear.

“I want to kill him.” Her tone was almost desperate, the expression on her face pained as her angry golden eye searched Elru’s green ones. She looked like a wild animal that had been suddenly restrained from a prey they had just cornered. Rasana was not eloquent, and would be incapable of describing to the Jedi the terrible temptation of someone immersed in the Dark Side of the Force, but she hoped he could feel her struggle nonetheless. Clenching her jaw, she exhaled sharply through her nose.

“Fine,” she acquiesced, lowering her weapon. “I am sorry.” Her eye was hard on his face, scanning the wounds he had accumulated. Reaching out, she gently touched a new welt that rose over his cheek. “Looks like you need more patching up,” She said, ignoring the Mandalorian’s dart that was buried in her rib cage, jabbing into her like a thorn every time she breathed, or the thin line of torn skin across her side where Xez had cut her with his sword. Turning her head to glance back at the Bounty Hunters, she remained silent to the hulking alien’s offer, expecting Elru to do the negotiating.

Fishing a pair of stimpaks from his bag and gently removing the dart that the Mandalorian had shot Rasana with Elru shot her his typical smile.

"I don't think I'm the only one." He said as he pressed the injector into her hand before injecting himself with his own.

Taking Rasana's empty hand in his own he began leading her away from the group they had just been fighting. He knew they should leave before another fight could spark between their groups. With as well as things had gone in the fight, being they weren't dead and Rasana was a second away from finishing her own opponent, they were outnumbered and the group appeared like regular bruisers unlike Rendon's crew.

"Until we meet again Meikai, perhaps next time we meet we can have a rematch." Elru called out as he and Rasana beat a hasty retreat from the now ruined bar. "Let's go find our new ship, what do you say Rasa?"

Rasana winced slightly as the metal dart was plucked from her ribs with little warning. She accepted the stimpack from Elru, scowling a little at the object in her hand. Refusing to take to healing herself while still in the presence of her enemy, the woman set it in one of her pockets. She glowered at the ground, adrenaline and anger still pumping through her blood. When Elru took her hand and began to pull her along she raised an eyebrow at the Sephi, but begrudgingly trudged after him.

She mumbled a grumpy reply to Elru as he brought up the new ship, sheathing the vibrosword back over her back. Her hands still hung in clenched fists at her side, and she cast a dark glance at the bar behind them. “Need to get our stuff from the old ship, Jedi. Should have killed those thugs.” She spoke without looking at Elru.

Elru chuckled faintly at the grumpy look on Rasana's face and her over all attitude. He found it fit her far too well. He had to look away once again to hide his sudden growing blush at the path his thoughts were going down.

"Perhaps, but the big one was a Gen'dai and they are notoriously hard to put down, the same could be said for the Wookie that was with them. Not to mention they had us outnumbered and short of pulling our sabers, outgunned. You're right, lets go get our things and leave this place behind. Nar Shaddaa is filthy." He spoke quietly for the first part before returning to a normal voice for the rest.

He wanted off this planet as quickly as possible. No-doubt another fight would break out at the bar should the Hutt security arrive and the bounty hunters or themselves still be there. He wasn't fond of the idea of fighting.

Rasana looked over at the Sephi as he chuckled. Scanning over his face, she saw the bright and bubbly personality of the Jedi she had come to know streaming through a worn, beaten, and dirty face. Dark bruises and deep scratches crisscrossed his face like craters across an orbital moon. Rasana felt a pang of attachment, a feeling of possession over the kind-hearted Jedi. He is too good for all of this. She thought with a shock of distress. Then, with a deeper-hitting stab of sorrow: He is too good for me. I am a killer and he is a healer. Rasana could not stand to see this young Jedi, the purest soul she had ever met, sullied and broken by the filth of her life. She knew that if he were to stay with her, he would end up in places far worse than a cantina on Nar Shaddaa.

Rasana suddenly acted out on instinct, reaching out and grabbing Elru by the arm, stopping dead in her tracks. Her face was creased with what seemed to be a mix of worry and anger, and her lips pressed tightly together. “Elru, you could have died back there. And for what? To help a murderer, an assassin?”

She looked down at the ground, trying to find words. “Elru, did you see me back there? I... I don’t fight like you. I don’t fight with my mind. I cannot control myself. I am nothing but a killer.”

The woman felt sick to her stomach, like there was a serpent in her gut that was twisting and thrashing around. There was something working in her mind, making it hard to think, obscuring her reason, and provoking anger.

“This needs to be the end of the line, Jedi. I can’t...” She paused as the swirling morass of darkness grew in her mind, and pressed a hand to her temple. “I can’t take any more.”

Elru was shocked by Rasana's words. He was touched to know she cared but she worried him with the subject matter. Her pain and guilt stunned him and he pulled her closer to him to try and get her to calm down. To try and speak his reason to her.

"Rasa, you're wrong. You're far more than a killer. That's not you. You think I haven't taken a life? I killed more than my share both during the war and after. That doesn't define me and it doesn't define you." He tried as he looked her squarely in the eye. He disliked how unfair the young woman was to herself. None of her dark deeds had been her choice. He knew that. The Emperor, damn him, was the one responsible for warping and twisting her into a tool but that wasn't Rasana.

Rasana shook her head madly as Elru pulled her close to him, bringing her other hand up to her head. She dug her fingers into her skull, pulling at her hair as it was caught in her clutching hands. The Jedi was upsetting her, continually offering these empty promises. Rasana knew that no matter where she went the only reality that would exist to her was slavery to the Dark Side. She felt a ringing grow in her ears, and tried to squeeze her eye shut.

Suddenly pressing both hands into Elru’s chest and pushing hard, Rasana looked up at him with a wild eye.

“You don’t understand!” Her voice was raised now, frantic, and people around them were starting to stop and stair at the pair. “I showed you the terror and you still don’t understand! You have to run, Elru! There is no beating him! Run before he does to you what he has done to me!” She stepped forward as she spoke, jabbing a finger into the Jedi’s chest and glaring up at him, her head tilted back so the much shorter woman could stare into his face.

Elru was further taken aback by Rasa's reaction. Something was wrong. Clearly. However his first instinct remained to try and console her. Rage at the woman's condition, rage at the Emperor for what he had done to her filled his being but he tamped it down and tried once more to pull her in close in an embrace. Others in the area had stopped an were staring at them but the pair of them were close to the ship now, so Elru pulled her along toward their ship.

"I am a jedi Rasa." Elru said with a sigh. "He will hunt me no matter what. We are better off together, come with me. I'll show you a way to try and calm your emotions and clear your mind. You have trusted me this far. Please keep putting your trust in me and I promise we will be fine if we work together." He led her into the ship and into the main quarters. Hoping that some joint meditation would help his friend.

Rasana felt trapped as Elru’s took hold of her once again, trapped in a way more terrible than any physical prison. She was trapped between the life she wanted to have and the tortured nonexistence she was condemned to, the future she could imagine for herself with Elru and the past that swallowed every ounce of her being. She was trapped because even in the protective embrace of Elru’s arms, the former Shadow Guard could not pull the Emperor from her head. Even with this man who promised her freedom, she could not find a self to free. She was empty, empty, nothingness. Rasana walked along robotically as Elru directed her, her mind flying around in mayhem.

She shook her head numbly at Elru’s offer as they boarded the ship. Her voice was quieter now as she paced the cabin of the shuttle. “Why didn’t you just kill me when I told you to, Jedi? Why didn’t you just listen to me? Why are you torturing me?” With the last line, Rasana lashed out with a punch into the wall of the starship, hitting it hard enough to leave a knuckle-shaped dent in the durasteel.

Turning back to Elru, she pointed at him angrily. “You are so sickeningly stupid, Jedi. You don’t trust my words. That is why I show you my killing, my fighting. That is why I was sent to kill you. Only violence reveals the truth of terror, the truth of his power! Only violence can release me! Don’t give me your lies of peace, we don’t have time for it! I want death, I want escape! If you will not give it to me, I will return to the Emperor. He will show me the pain I need to feel, he will claim my soul for violence or release me into it.”

He felt hurt as she lashed out at him. A sense of aching in his chest as she resolutely wished for him to have killed her. Accused his actions toward her as torture. He felt the hot flicker of anger at her words flaring up inside before he turned away from her and sucked in a set of steady breaths. Repeating to himself over and over again that it was simply her own pain that caused her to lash out as she did.

When she rounded on him jabbing her finger at him like a knife demeaning his actions toward her and claiming her intent to return to the emperor he reached out quickly to grasp her pushing her up against the wall nearby to try and bring her back from the rant she had begun. He held her close to him and forced her to look into his eye as he spoke evenly.

"That's enough. You're wrong. You're wrong about so much I hardly know where to begin. So listen to me. Really listen to me and understand." He said keeping his eyes locked on hers.

"There is no emotion, there is peace." He began taking even breaths and coaxing her to repeat after him.

"There is no ignorance, there is knowledge."

Rasana flinched in surprise as the Jedi suddenly lashed out, grabbing her and pushing her backwards into the wall of the shuttle. Gasping with surprise more than anger, Rasana tried to push him back and squirm away, but the Jedi held her with surprising strength. Her chest rose and fell rapidly as she struggled against the unmovable Jedi. Finding herself pinned, Rasana stared up at Elru as he held her chin, forced to meet his gaze while he held their bodies close. Looking into his eyes, Rasana felt her resolve breaking down into a chaotic swirl of emotions. She saw much in his eyes: pain, confusion, betrayal. All caused by her. All brought forth by her. Rasana had seen this look before, the look of someone who didn't know why she was hurting them. But there was something else, too, in his eyes: an unbroken power of determination. A commitment, a resolve. Rasana knew, just by looking into his eyes, that this determination was for her. It was how he felt about her, that the Jedi would not be pushed down by her anger.

Being so normally easy-going and nonconfrontational, it shook her to see Elru when pushed to this point. His voice was deadly serious, allowing no argument or objection. Rasana softened slightly, cowed by the Jedi's dominant assertion of strength, caring and unthreatening as it was. Rasana had only seen Elru get this scary once before, when he was fighting the pirates who had made it their mission to demean her at the bar. It was the same protective sternness that Rasana saw in him now, but this time it was different. There was no violence in the Jedi, no desire to hurt.

Rasana let the fight out of her, accepting Elru. She let him hold her, wanted to be held by him. Not sure what the Jedi was doing, Rasana nevertheless followed his lead, responding in a hushed whisper.

"There is no emotion, there is peace." The words did not feel real to her, aching with the betrayal of her unpeaceful life. "There is no ignorance, there is knowledge."
But Rasana did feel ignorant, very ignorant. She felt so blind, so cut off from the poetry of the lines. All she knew was ignorance, so clouded in the Dark Side that she did not even have knowledge of herself. But even as she felt this distance from the words, they began to stir in her, creating a longing, a hope. As much as they felt impossible, Rasana began wishing that they could be true. She began to feel the tug of hope that Elru promised, she began wanting to listen to him and learn from him.

Having gained control of his breathing fully by the third line Elru continued to keep eye contact with Rasana as he spoke.

"There is no passion, there is serenity." The Jedi slid into the decades of meditation practice and repetitive chanting of the code as he felt himself gain full control over his emotions once more. Hopefully pushing Rasana to achieve the same.

"There is no chaos, there is harmony." His tone became more soothing and soft, as if caught between a trance and a memory.

"There is no death, there is the force." He nodded to her before he began repeating the code once more, and then a third time.

"Rasa, you aren't that guard anymore. You're just you. Just as I'm not really a Jedi anymore. I'm just me but that doesn't mean the things we learn can't help us anymore. Your past makes you strong just as mine does just in different ways." He gently guided her down to sit beside one another on the floor allt he while still holding on to her hands and maintaining their connection both to the force and one another.

Rasana felt helpless as she was held by Elru, looking into his peaceful eyes. It was like she were a being made purely of fire who was shown a great sea of water that she must swim across: their fundamental substances could not coexist. The liberation offered by the words of the Code contrasted impossibly with the slavery that had become her life. But this helpless impossibility was not like the one Palpatine had showed her. Elru was not condemning her to her own pitifulness forever, he was offering a way forward. Whereas the Sith had shown her visions of the transcendent power of the Force merely to crush her spirits and subdue her mind, the Sephi was doing it to lift her spirits and open her mind. In Elru Rasana saw all the light that she could possess, not all the darkness that would possess her. That was the difference, Rasana realized, between Light and Dark: to follow Elru, she was required to find and face herself, and to follow the Emperor, she was required to destroy and forget herself.

The helpless surrender that Rasana felt as she heard Elru recite the Code was one of hope, not condemnation. It was an opening to the love and joy that lay beyond her, so that the life of the world may enter her as well and make her one. Rasana realized that to be helpless in the way Elru was showing her meant to trust in him, not to be defeated by him. Rasana wanted to know that trust, to surrender to the love that Elru possessed.

As they finished the second recitation of the Code, Rasana closed her eye and let her head fall forward. She rested against Elru's chest, able to hear the thump of his heart and feel the movement of his lungs as he began to repeat the words one more time. Rasana repeated his words on an almost inaudible level, following the paths of the Force that the former Jedi was opening to her. As a Thyrsian, Rasana knew how to read a person's being through the language of their body. As she joined Elru in the meditative practice, Rasana felt something similar to this occur. It was like she could read the language of Elru's spiritual presence, a bond forming between them that opened his being to her fully. In the Force, Rasana was suddenly able to feel the ebb and flow of his whole life essence. She could sense the motion of his feelings, the patterns of his thoughts, as well as if they were sensations on her skin. Having lost herself in this bond that opened between them, Rasana lifted her head slowly when Elru began to speak again, normal words this time, not the Code. She was slightly disappointed, immediately missing the wonderful union that she had experienced only a moment before, something that was so far beyond anything she had known of the Force before that moment. It was still there, but just not as powerful.

She met into Elru's eyes with a needful look as they sat, clinging to his hands. Rasana wanted him to show her the meaning of all these words, to help her understand them. "How can the past make me strong when it is what kills the future before it arrives?" Rasana asked dejectedly. "Elru, the first line you spoke of talks of peace. My past does not give me peace. There is no emotion? Then what is the fear that calls me back to the Emperor's will? What is the hate that clouds my mind? Those are emotions, and they come to me as a result of the past."

The jedi was silent for a moment as he held Rasana's gaze. He could feel their bond through the force. The strength that they could draw from one another swirling around them as it their connection itself lived. As the connection faded to the peripherals of his sense he thought back to his own questions in regards to the code over the last several years. It had taken time, perhaps too long of a time, for him to come to his own conclusions about the code. Now Rasana was bringing up many of the same questions he had. Many of the same points that had led him down his own path of the jedi.

"I understand your confusion Rasa. Really I do. So many times I have questioned the code myself, and even now I have come to a conclusion that many of my former comrades would have seen me censured for holding. That being said I believe in my heart I know the meaning behind the code, or at least it's intentions." He glanced away from her briefly into the empty space nearby recalling the days following his master's death in the Geonosian Arena.

"The code says there is no emotion, because it truly wants no emotion to cloud your judgment, not an absence entirely. There is peace, because without emotion clouding judgement there is peace of mind, and we can make decisions clearly and safely. That is my belief. It says there is no ignorance there is knowledge, but again I think that only means one should strive to lessen their ignorance by gaining knowledge. The code is to help guide us, my order forgot that and it was destroyed. It is not to stop us from being ourselves. The order predates the code by a long span of time." As he spoke his mind swirled with the many failures of his order, the grief that it brought to him to think of the apathy they had begun to gaze upon the galaxy with. Had it not been for that apathy, that complacency with the evils of the galaxy around them perhaps the massacre and destruction of the Jedi would never have happened at all.

Rasana lowered her head and a shadow fell over her face. The woman’s expression was hidden, the worried lines of her troubled emotion obscured. The only things that remained visible were her scar and her eye: a burning line of raw flesh and a strained but glowing golden light juxtaposed side by side. She felt overwhelmed as she struggled to accept Elru’s words. Rasana knew there was truth in what he said, but she feared it was not a truth she could embrace.

“You would be a good teacher,” Rasana said, “I wish I could be the one to learn from you.” Her voice caught on these words, and she closed her eye. Her lip began to tremble slightly, but Rasana bit it. After taking a moment, she looked up at Elru sadly.

“But I can’t. Because if I do, my sickness will destroy us both. Elru,” she squeezed his hand. “I can’t watch another person I care about destroyed by my sickness.”

“There is no death, there is only the Force — I feel this when we bond, Elru. I feel the Life that exceeds any end when we are close. Did you know this? You show me the Light.” She was barely holding back the emotion in her words now, tears brimming in her eye, dimming its warm light. “But I cannot let this — I cannot let you fall into this. I need you, Elru! So... so let me leave! Because if I stay, I will lose you too.”

Her hands were trembling in his. “I will lose you just like I lost my father. I found his body in the aftermath of war, broken by the blades of one of your Jedi’s lightsabers, and held it until the next day’s sun had risen. I will lose you like I lost my mother, helpless to save her from the evil of the Sith. I will lose you like I lost my brother, just like that. I was the one who killed him. I murdered the last bit of love in my life, looked into his scared eyes and drove my blade through his heart for Palpatine. I tasted his fear and gave it to my Master, letting the humanity that you seek to rebirth in me fade with his life.”
“Do not let me lose you, Elru. I can’t lose you too, I can’t hurt you too. Don’t do this to me — just send me away, just let me escape to my fate.”

Again, Elru was silent a moment as he took time to digest everything that Rasana had told him. Like earlier his body heated up with the rage at the Emperor, and to an extent the war for harming this woman as it had. He could see the truth of her hidden behind the mask the darkness had enshrouded her in. Rasana was a kind, loving soul, and it had been her love that the dark side and it's current master had preyed upon. Tapping slightly into his emotions to give his words more power Elru angled his head to peer once more directly into her eye.

"The dark side has harmed you more than can ever spoken of Rasa. I won't let that stop me though. The code, and the whole order I spent my entire life serving were made to help people troubled by their past find a better future for themselves and those they care for. You just have to give me a chance to prove it to you, and give yourself a chance to fully experience it." He said, before placing both hands on either side of Rasana's shoulders and leaning in closely.

"You have been hurt so badly Rasa that you can't see a reasonable way out. I know that you think there is nowhere to turn, but just have faith and I know you will find a life to live, one where you can be happy and free for the first time in years!" His voice was climbing with his passion, his anger at the Emperor, at his closest bond's troubles, at the entire situation of the galaxy fueling his convictions rather than dimming them.

Rasana unconsciously mirrored Elru’s motion as he leaned in closer to her. The pair knelt there on the floor of the shuttle, eyes locked in an intense moment. The woman’s voice lowered, but remained insistent, as she tried to plead with Elru with her eye.

“A better life for people I care for?” She sounded exasperated, desperate. “Why don’t you get it, Elru? You are the person I care for. It’s you. And if I don’t leave you and turn myself in to him, you won’t have a life. We can’t resist him.”

Their faces were mere inches apart, the air of the cabin hot with tension as the runaway Shadow Guard made her confession the former Jedi Knight. “It’s not about me, Elru. It’s not about my life. I’m doing this because for you, because I... I have feelings for you.”

The jedi, no former jedi, couldn't help the swelling of emotion in his chest at Rasana's words. Her confirmation of his own thoughts gave his mind clarity to his bond with her. For a time he had known they were close. It had happened so suddenly and so quickly that he was unsure what their connection truly was. Now though, with a single sentence he found his answer. It was something that went against almost everything he had been taught growing up within the jedi order. It was something he couldn't help but embrace.

"I told you earlier, about how you were no longer the Emperor's Guard, but now I see something more clearly than I could have without you." His voice had dropped an octave and he seemed to be battling something in his mind. He swallowed deeply before continuing. "A jedi cannot form attachments, the order forbade such things, for fear of it eventually leading to the dark side. But, just like I told you that you are no longer that guard, I am no longer simply a Jedi, I'm just me so..." He stopped for a moment, hesitating only briefly before he drew her in closer.

His kiss was imperfect though full of passion. Clear was his inexperience in such things, but he made up for his failings there in the effort he put to express himself solely through his actions.

Rasana watched Elru with apprehension after making her confession. Her heart wavered as he spoke of the Order’s forbiddance of attachments, and she began to prepare for a crushing blow. However, as the Jedi continued, and paused, Rasana’s eye widened, beginning to sense what was coming.

A small, surprised moan escaped her as Elru pulled her close, taking her mouth with his. This surprise lasted for only the briefest of seconds before she kissed him back, wrapping her arms around him and returning his passion. A wave of emotions rushed over the woman as they expressed themselves through their bodies, every cell of her being feeling as if it were coming alive with passion. Finally, after a long moment, she broke the kiss and threw herself onto Elru. Her arms squeezed him desperate, pressing her face onto his shoulder as she held him. Her mind was running a million miles a minute, and she latched onto the Sephi as if he were her lifeline.

For several moments the two kissed, until finally they were forced to part and come up for air, both gasping slightly from the suddenly heated exchange they had performed. Elru stared at Rasana for a time simply drinking in her appearance as he caught his breath. A large smile spreading across his face as joy erupted within him.

"I've never done anything like this before, but I would think you are very erm talented with that. Yeah." He stammered out awkwardly, blushing as he failed in his attempt to remain collected. "How do you feel?" he asked with a bit of hesitation, worried she would rebuke him now.

Rasana released her hug of Elru and finally opened her eye, looking up at the taller elf-like man with a bit of uncharacteristic bashfulness at his words. A soft, happy look rested on her features at the Jedi’s question. She felt at peace, suddenly assured in the knowledge of what she had to do, despite the irreplaceable loss it would bring her. Their kiss, and the feelings it had revealed to her, had made up her mind: Elru was too important to her. She wouldn’t let his foolish dedication get him killed, not for someone as futureless and doomed as her.

“I feel better.” She answered, semi-honestly. Her expression barely hid the growing pain she felt at the action she knew she must take. She managed the distant hint of a near-smile, the closest to one she had gotten during her time with Elru.

She spoke again, quietly. If she were to strike, she knew it would need to be now, with her mind resolved and the Jedi distracted. Otherwise he would never let her go. “This is for you Elru. I’m sorry. Forgive me, but don’t come after me.”

With that, she reached out suddenly, sending a powerful blast rippling out in the Force. Her telekinetic wave hit the kneeling Jedi hard, and he flew backwards through the shuttle cabin before smacking into the wall with a thud and dropping to the floor. Rasana’s face was stricken with anguish at what she had just done, and the woman shakily got to her feet and crossed over to him. Kneeling, she assured herself that he was mostly unharmed. Rasana hesitated for a final moment, brushing her hair through the Sephi’s soft blond hair and gazing at his face with affection. But she knew she had little time. With that, the attractive young woman stood and marched out of the pirate’s ship.

Only a few moments later, Rasana was seated at the pilot’s chair of the Nu-class military shuttle as it rose into the atmosphere above Nar Shaddaa. The woman was horrifically numb, anguish at her betrayal of Elru emptying her mind and body of the joy and warmth he had brought to her, the first promises of peace she had been offered in her life. But the girl knew such promises were empty. She was doing the only thing she could, returning to the Master who owned her soul and would do so until her death. There could be no other choice, no other release, than to let that monster finish the life he had corrupted.

[Castriarta]

Jedi Knight Ra Ada Vian Aenir
Forests of Odessen

The jungle was full of obscenity. Nature here confronted Ra Ada as it always did: base and vile in a sublimely turbulent and tempestuous motion. The Jedi did not see anything of sentimental love here, in these living walls of death. He saw fornication and asphyxiation and choking and fighting for survival and growth and then just rotting away. The smothering weight of the misery of life ate at the mind of the Anzati, as it always did: it was the same misery that surrounded every being at all times. The trees here are in misery, and the birds are in misery. They do not sing, they just screech in pain. The Jedi’s thoughts flowed through him as the raucous cries of wild beasts tore through the ranks of ancient vegetation. But the close-looking mind of the Jedi could discern a purified harmony in the sweltering jungle around him: it was the harmony of overwhelming and collective murder. The harmony of the jungle was the harmony of life, the harmony of the Hunt, the ancient tradition of his people. Ra Ada observed all this as he stepped through the hot forest floor, over trundling insects and the stinking carcass of a small animal. He did not feel any of this with anything but admiration for the jungle, admiration for life. It was not that the Anzati hated life: he loved it, but he loved it against his better judgment.

A frog-like creature stared at him through bulging eyes as it clung to the trunk of a tree, its skin dripping with moisture. This planet felt like an unfinished land. It felt prehistoric, like the Force was still being born along with the life that bore it. In some ways it was like a curse weighing on the entire landscape, and Ra Ada felt that whoever dared to go too deep into the mysteries of this life must bear his share of that curse. So every Jedi was cursed with what they were doing here, in this Galaxy. Ra Ada felt that this curse was something the Jedi naturally shared with the Anzati, and any being that could feel the Force. The whole land thrummed with life, and life itself here felt like God, if any existed, had created it in anger. Here in this forest, Ra could truly feel that life was an unfinished project.

As his mind expanded to journey over this raw land, Ra saw the turbulence of unfinished creation that stretched over the planet: semi-darkness through threatening black thunderclouds; immense, bare, over-hanging cliffs shutting out the view by their over-lacing; rushing, foaming masses of water; complete desert; the wail of wind sweeping through ravines. All that happened in the light of this terror was mapped out by the mind of the Jedi Knight. The Anzati could feel many humans descending onto the planet. He could sense each being, full of desire and want, standing before a natural landscape and feel the hostility of life rage through their bodies.

The beauty of life here felt like a violent tearing, such that the overall movement of each individual became one of assimilation and not correspondence. The free exaltation of the Jedi’s senses which encircled the experience of life was thus only possible thanks to a conflict being “won” by his consciousness. An untrained and undisciplined mind would experience the hostility of the Force as something that conquered his mind and enslaved him to the lusts of his own life. This was the weakness of the Sith. Yet instead, the strength of the Jedi was that they did not buckle at the hostility of the infinite power which loomed over the individual person. A Jedi would remain unshaken and unconcerned, rooted in the very harmony of the Force’s destructive network of chaos.

Paradoxically, the power of a Jedi was not an expression of individual might, but a mode of being reduced to a vanishing into nothingness. Similarly, when an Anzati drank the mind Soup of another being, it fed them not by growing their own being but by diminishing it, dissolving more of them into the thirst and hunger and Hunt for Soup. Against the Sith-like tendency to privilege the Force-user over the Force, Ra Ada’s experience of nature on Odessen was a testament to the power of being lost in the Force. Losing himself in abandoned landscapes, parched deserts, dense forests, and stormy seas, he simultaneously found himself redeemed the union of a force greater than himself. That Force was nothing less than the ghost of his own nothingness, which surfaced with his encounter with the sublime landscape of the planet. In this state, Ra Ada felt himself as an individual, as a living body, as a transient phenomena of the universal Force, like a drop in the ocean, dwindling and dissolving into nothing.

He followed this path of nothingness, as it revealed to him the past of least resistance. He put himself where the Clones would find him. He played dead -- his wounds made it believable, as did his biology. Anzati were already accustomed to death, or perhaps just the absence of life, as they had no internal body temperature, nor any pulse or traceable circulatory or respiratory systems, nor any other natural biorhythms. With only minor suggestion from his telepathic influence, the Clones did as he expected and carried his “corpse” back to the ship. That was where the fun began.

In Anzati culture, perfection belonged to the killers. Now in the grasp of an Anzati, and the Clones came face to face with this harsh reality of the Force. Ra Ada slew them in alignment with his wishes for the best of all living beings, and in harmony with the balance of the universe. Their screams were horrid but short. Their resistance was futile and brief. Standing over the torn corpses of his enemies, Ra Ada closed his eyes and drank in the turmoil of the Hunt. He touched each being with his mind, feeling the “Soup” that contained their past, present and future.

“Oh, by the Force. I love you, I love you, I love you all. I am sorry you did not understand. It is a painful Galaxy.” Ra Ada said a quiet prayer for his would-be killers, and now victims. He felt no guilt for their passing: in nature there are predators, and the common denominator of the universe that provided it harmony was its chaos, hostility, and death. Ra Ada had felt the ignorance and delusion of the soldiers in their last moments. Even as he took their lives, the men did not understand their killer. What they took as rage was nothing but the desperation of the Light as it flickered against encroaching darkness. Their destruction was nothing but a restoration of balance. The men had continued to resist death with a strange persistence, not understanding that the universe had demanded their demise and sent them a predator. This foolish persistence against the power of fate was not befitting of a Jedi, who went only where the Force took him. A Jedi never attempted to escape death.

Ra Ada knew that the men would be haunted by the unhesitating wrath of the Force. He knew that as he cut them down, their instinctual lust for survival forced them to search his face for kinship, and understanding, and mercy. And he felt their hopeless fear as they found none, only the overwhelming indifference of nature. There was no secret world of redemption for these men, and the blank stare of their killer matched the half-bored interest of a predator in his food. Ra Ada cared not for their personalities, but the will of the Force demanded they be released. To him, he was not a friend to the ones he killed, but a savior.

After dispatching the Clones, Ra Ada had commandeered the ship and attempted to make an exit. He flew low over the planet, attempting to reach the other side before departing. He made it pretty far before Imperials started him and pursuit began. Ra’s ship was struck, his body was burned and scarred by debris. The Anzati barely managed to punch in hyperspace coordinates as he pulled out of the planet’s atmosphere, but his escape was ultimately a success. However, his body was mortally injured, and the ship was even worse out. As he came out of hyperspace, the engines gave out, leaving him stranded in the empty cosmos.

[Okayanos]

Imperial Aftermath

Three Months After Order 66

Dramatis Personae

Galactic Empire
Barriss Offee, the First Sister
Ruhr Draay, the Second Brother
Kedoa Nissah, the Third Sister
CC-6264 "Brutus"
Admiral Jeamarl Karnu
Darth Vader
The Emperor

Jedi Order & Allies
Martius Shan, Human Jedi Master
Afon Ekker, Human Jedi Knight
Rhys Aatahl, Miraluka Padawan
Vrudun Tumara, Zabrak Jedi Knight
Beli, Arkanian Pilot

---

Odessen Temple

As her starfighter rose away from the Temple, the First Sister felt nothing inside her but regret and failure. She had come here to prove herself worthy of being called an Inquisitor, to be counted among the greatest under the Grand Inquisitor. To make the Empire proud. Instead, she left torn, exhausted and wounded. Torn from within, as the light within her, which had been buried so deep during her training, had resurfaced if only for a moment. She had nothing left for her to do. She needed to confront him....

Across the assembly area of the clone expeditionary force, troops were mustering, preparing to advance into the Temple, most likely commanded to by the Dark Lord himself. As her starfighter slowly lowered down, there he stood, his helmet fixed on the Temple she'd just came from. Her cockpit opened as the ship touched down a few dozen feet away from Vader's left side. She climbed out of the interceptor and made the slow walk to Lord Vader.

"My Lord, I...." Her mouth stopped working. It stopped producing words and Barriss felt small, weak, brittle, standing in the shadow of a Great.

"My Lord....the Jedi were too powerful...we....we didn't have enough support, the other Inquisitors, they..." She was making a fool of herself, and she knew he would not tolerate it much more.

Vader's hand rises, forming into a stiff grasping like form, the First Sister cowering beneath him beginning to cough and hack. Slowly she rose from the ground, her hands clawing at her neck for air. She could feel her airway closing tighter and tighter and panic began to set in as she whimpered and groaned.

"I do not care for your excuses. You have failed me, Inquisitor. I will do this myself." The Dark Lord said, the mechanical tone taking a slightly darker and lower pitch, slinging his arm out, resulting in the First Sister being thrown away from him like garbage, smashing into the side of her starfighter. With not a word said after, he began to make his way to the Temple.

He did not feel anger, only deep disappointment. He had hoped that the Inquisitors would be the force to completely exterminate the Jedi from the face of the Galaxy; a legion of force users dedicated to the cause of the Sith. But alas, the whole project now seemed like a waste of resources and time to Vader.

“Commander Buck.” Vader said in an overly calm tone. “I will lead the strike team inside the temple. The rest of the Battalion will remain outside. Ensure that no one escapes. I will not accept your failure."

“Yes, sir...” Buck replied, his face ashen white and quivering in fear. He had heard rumors of Vader casually disposing himself of officers who had failed him. It seemed as if no imperial officer was too valuable or too high-ranking to escape such gruesome punishment at the hands of this most mysterious and most brutal man. 'Those are just stupid rumors,' he thought, trying to reassure himself. 'I do not believe he would casually murder imperial officers. That is unthinkable. I hope it is. I hope it is...' Then he saw what he had done to the Inquisitor.

The 176 clones of the strike team prepared for the assault; 170 of them took position behind Vader, marching in rows of ten men. The remaining six clones were marching ahead of Vader, a precaution. All of them had their rifles at hands, aiming forward. They marched to the temple, their footsteps echoing loudly. It reminded Vader of his attack on the Jedi Temple. Just like then, a bloodshed was bound to occur.

---

As Barriss deactivated her lightsaber blade, Martius deactivated his in turn and followed the Inquisitor as she backed up towards the engines; maintaining his distance so as not to worry her of a possible attack. When she reached the Vigil’s edge, he looked at her and without even needing to reach out through the Force, could see the sadness in her eyes. As she dropped the veil of the Dark Side around her, Martius no longer sensed a foe standing before him, but a Jedi; the Jedi she was and the Jedi he hoped she may become again. For a moment, it seemed even the yellow of her eyes gave way to their original blue, but that moment was sadly not to last.

As she stated it was too late for her and jumped off the ship and out of the hanger, Martius dashed to the ship’s edge, ready to reach out with the Force and break her fall if possible, only to see her rise back up before him atop her starfighter. As she reentered the cockpit and gave him one last glance, he replied simply: “It’s never too late Barriss” before her Dark veil returned and she flew away. Martius looked down for a moment and let out a heavy sigh; he wished there was more he could do to return the former Padawan back to the Light, but for now he knew the Empire would soon be back and that he must keep his focus on getting the rest of his fellow Jedi out alive.

Activating his commlink, he opened a channel to allow those allies still in the base and stated: “The hanger’s clear for now but it isn’t likely to stay that way for long. If Master Nard is stable enough to be moved, now would be the time to get him to the ship…”

---

Ruhr Draay searched a nearby room for anything that could still be useful. He doubted that any Medpacs he found would be useful. He found an old suit of armor on a rusting stand, but it was too rusty to be of any use. He placed his Lightsaber back on his belt and attempted to unlock the footlocker, but the combination lock failed to operate. Enraged, Ruhr Draay kicked the footlocker, the lock giving with one hit. He looked inside and found a training remote. "I will be lucky if this thing stays airborne for more than a few seconds, but it will make a good distraction.." Ruhr said to himself as he headed out of the room with the training remote in his hand.

Only a door was standing between Vader and the Temple. The Kaleesh Inquisitor had already cut a hole through the door, but Vader wasn’t going to crawl through a hole. He marched ahead of his troops and, standing before the door, he stretched his arm at its direction. The door suddenly shattered to pieces with a loud sound, as if an invincible wave had crushed upon it with the force of a hurricane. Pieces of the door were flying left and right, all over the place.

Vader marched through the ruins of the door, followed behind by the clone troops, marching in perfect formation, as if they were marching in a parade. Vader always imposed iron discipline upon his men. As they marched inside, Vader could sense a strong presence. It was… Ruhr Draay. ‘Failure,’ were the only thoughts in Vader’s mind. So much potential… only to end up as a failure. It was a shame. Vader knew very well that the Emperor would hold him responsible for the failure; this failure that was caused by those incompetent Inquisitors. Vader was a cold, calculating individual, but even he felt his blood boil in rage thinking about this.

Vader and his men entered the main hallway of the Temple. There, upon passing through a door, they saw Ruhr about to leave, holding a training remote in his hands. Vader waved his arm, using the Force to bring Ruhr towards him. The Inquisitor found himself unwillingly floating towards the Dark Lord, who at once grabbed him by the throat.

"Why have you not completed your mission, Inquisitor?" Vader said as the Dark Lord's grip around the inquisitor’s throat tightened. “I warned you not to fail me.”

"My opponent... limped into the jungle... after our duel. The Temple.. was the only place... where he could... receive medical attention. I was planning... to face him... in combat... and... deliver unto you... his head and Lightsaber, Lord Vader. Even when battered and bloody... an Inquisitor does not give up the hunt. Either the Jedi is slain... or the Jedi slays them. To... abandon the hunt... is failure." Ruhr Draay said to Lord Vader between gasps as he dropped the training remote, knowing that the Dark Lord desired answers from him.

"Your inability to defeat one Jedi leads you to a Temple where more reside. Incompetence is unbecoming of an Inquisitor." Vader then threw him, slamming his body against a wall.

“Excuses do not interest me. What matters is that you failed.” Before Ruhr could get up, Vader used the Force to grab his body and slam him against another wall, with ferocious force. He then walked towards Ruhr, who was lying on the ground. “I will deal with your failure later. Now I have to clean up your mess.”

Leaving the inquisitor on the ground, Vader turned around. He and the clones would march towards the hangar of the Temple, hopefully reaching it before the Jedi could escape from the Temple.

As they marched further inside the Temple, Vader ordered his troops to split in squads of eight men each. That would allow them to cover more ground at a quicker pace. Eight elite clone troopers, Vader thought, would be more than enough to contain a Jedi.

With rifle at hand, the squads spread out. One of them rushed through a door to secure the Science Lab. The troopers were extremely careful, their fingers at the trigger of their guns, ready to fire at the slightest of sounds. “No one’s here!” the leader of the group announced. “Next room!”

Ruhr Draay attempted to stand up, the pain forcing him back on his knees. Ruhr used the Force to retrieve his walking stick and got up, beginning to extend his arm to retrieve the ancient Training Remote, only to stop himself. "You are a Draay. If you are accepted into the Jedi Order, you will not need tricks or fancy acrobatics or an additional blade to conquer your foes, only your Lightsaber and your ability to think on your feet." Those were the words that echoed in his mind, the last words Lepidus, Ruhr's late father, said to him before heading to the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. Ruhr Draay left the Training Remote where it lay as he headed to the Infirmary, feeling shame that he would stoop low enough to consider using trickery against a Jedi in a duel when he could simple release himself into the Force, becoming more random, more unpredictable.

---

As the remaining Jedi entered into the Hangar, Vrudun led the way as Afon and Rhys carried the Wookiee master behind him. Standing close to the zabrak Jedi was the Kaleesh Inquisitor. He witnessed Master Shan, Tuka Tisrygian, and Jace Tholme. All of them appeared worn down from battles of their own.

"It would appear we were successful in fighting off the Empire for now. It won't be long before-" Vrudun's statement was interrupted by the sound of bending and ripping metal coming from near the main entrance of the Temple. He knew it was a matter of time before the rest of the Empire would respond to the failure of the Inquisition and he could sense a powerful presence enter, a presence that was stronger than any there, including Master Shan. Including Master Nard.

The Vigil's ramp lowered as Beli came down, looking over to Vrudun. A look of utter happiness washed over her face, though she restrained herself, unwilling to expose the romance they had developed between them in the three months since their arrival. Vrudun gave a small smile in return, but it quickly wiped away.

He turned back to Rhys and Afon. "Get Master Nard loaded, quickly." He walked over to Master Shan with the Inquisitor in tow.

"What should be done with this one?"

Afon and Rhys carefully went about carrying the still-comatose Wookiee up the ramp, the latter being half-focused on also lugging along the rucksack that was packed full of the remainder of their artifacts and holocrons that he managed to snatch up during the evacuation. A large amount of the temple's knowledge and relics had been saved, but much more would have to be left behind. He would take inventory of them later. The padawan allowed Afon to bring Nard to the top of the ramp, before letting him take the reigns loading the Master into the ship. Rhys turned back, feeling the dark presence that he had felt inching closer to its quarry. Sweat dripped from his brow.

But he could not scurry aboard the Vigil just yet. He ran back into the hangar, rushing up to his fellow padawan, who he could feel was in terrible pain...

"Tuka. Tuka!" Rhys shouted, desperately trying to help him to the ship. He could tend to him once they were safe...

As Tuka felt himself being helped along towards the ship, he allowed himself a moment of respite and attached his lightsabers back onto his robe belt just as the adrenaline from the fight faded, causing him to grit his teeth as the full pain of his sustained wounds became feelable. Although he had no idea how bad he was wounded, he felt that it was most likely horrible. In his mind, the voice of the wraith began speaking again, as if fueled by Tuka's pain and unbalance.

"Good, you have finally set out on the path destined for you, Jedi Padawan, continue to use your feelings, your rage, and i shall show you the power that the darkness can wield."

Tuka could do naught but listen as the voice of the Sith-King influenced him. Then, he found himself drifting in and out of conciusness, most likely due to the amount of energy he expended on the fight. As his eyes blinked again and again, he found himself almost collapse onto Rhys as they neared the vessel. The more he moved, the more his wounds seemed to hurt and the more the wraith continued spouting words into his subconscience. Then just as he was nearing the loading ramp, he collapsed into unconscience, being sent back into the dark abyss of his nightmares as eldritch chanting and a language of old filled his mind.

Jace hurried over to help Afon with Master Nard. Picking up an end of his stretcher each, they struggled briefly before managing to hoist it up and bring it aboard the ship. Setting it down in the hold of the ship, Jace ran up to the ship's cockpit. He began prepping the ship for a quick takeoff. Someone has to make sure the ship is ready, he thought to himself. He frowned when the ship failed to start. Worry crept in the back of his mind as he tried again. Nothing. Jace's mind began racing, before he realized he had forgotten one major thing is his rush. Looking around, he saw the ship was already started. Jace couldn't help but laugh at himself as he turned around and began to walk back towards the ship's hold. Crisis averted, no thanks to me, he thought.

"Impossible. There's no way they could take it all on their ship in the short amount of time between detecting the Deliverance and the start of the evacuation." Ruhr Draay thought to himself as he searched the Infirmary, finding nothing but empty Medpacs. "Damn you, Grand Inquisitor. Your arrogant and stupidity has cost us this operation. If we had a Healer on this mission, I would have claimed heads and Lightsabers for the Inquisition by now. Instead, the only way I can avoid disgrace is to die in battle." Ruhr said to himself as he headed to the Hangar, sensing a Dark Side presence coming from the Hangar, one older and more powerful than Vader.

As the last of the Jedi entered the hanger, Martius could sense a new presence in the base as a powerful chill ran down his spine; the telltale signs of fear, anger, and hate in great abundance suggested they were soon to be faced by none other than a Sith Lord. Such a foe would be extremely dangerous in the best of conditions, but after everything they’d been through today, Martius knew neither he nor any of his fellow Jedi would have a chance. As the Vigil’s ramp lowered, Martius jumped down from on top of the ship and stood beside it, waiting to help the others if they should need it.

When Vrudun arrived with his prisoner in tow and asked what they should do with him, Martius replied: “Best get him on the ship, he certainly isn’t going to want to stay around here.” As the HK units approached the ship, Martius continued: “You two keep an eye on him; best to be on the safe side for now at least.” After Master Nard was loaded, Martius moved to Rhys and helped him bring Tuka aboard just as the Padawan lost consciousness. Once the last of the Base’s occupants had safely clambered aboard, Martius looked to Beli and stated: “Alright, that’s everyone; let’s get moving!”

Rhys used all his strength to lug Tuka on board, practically dragging him to the nearest passenger seat of the Vigil before sitting him down. The padawan took a moment to catch his breath as he examined the grievous injuries he had sustained - saber wounds, and marred burns scattered all over his face and body. It was a wonder how he persevered through such pain.

However, as he cleared his mind, tuning out the activity of his fellow Jedi moving about the ship, he felt something unnatural stirring beneath the surface. Reaching out to his suffering comrade, he heard a faint voice seeping into his own mind. A low whisper, hissing sweet nothings into his ear - leeching off of Tuka's anguish and frustration with each passing moment.

It did not strike the worried Miraluka with much surprise. For some time, he had felt something "off" whenever he looked upon him - that tinge of anger and frustration not very distinct from that which plagued their peers. It saddened him somewhat, to have seen Tuka hide it for so long. Why did he never say anything...?

No. He would not let his suffering continue. Placing one hand gently upon Tuka's forehead, and the other over the burning saber gash on his side, Rhys allowed even more of his already waning energy to pour itself into mending his wounds...

Vrudun nodded to Beli as the last of the Jedi boarded. Both her and the zabrak raced towards the cockpit, climbing into the ship, sealing the ramp as the main maneuvering thrusters came to life, slowly pulling the Vigil off of the ground and beginning it's slow pull backwards out of the hangar.

"Easy, keep that stick steady....ease into it." Said Vrudun to Beli, watching her movements, the tension of the situation most likely getting to her. Vrudun switched on the ship's intercom system.

"Everyone grab a seat. It might get a bit bumpy from here on." The Jedi said as the ship began it's rotation, turning the cockpit towards the blazing forest.

"Master Shan, I'm circling around to the Last Resort! Having us all aboard one ship wouldn't be the best idea for us at this point." He said.

---

The wildfire was burning fiercely. The flames were large, destroying the forest that had once lived. Amidst it all was Commander Brutus and a squad of Purge Troopers from the 411th Regiment. Lying on the ground unconscious was Jedi Knight Dan Brovil. Once the order was given to take him alive, the troopers had shocked him repeatedly, hitting the Jedi with enough electricity to knock out a Hutt. Brutus stood over Dan, thinking over what had happened.

He let Dan live. Brutus knew Dan was the better fighter, but the trooper had won it. He'd broken the Jedi's spirit. He'd made the Jedi go against what he was taught. To Brutus, that meant he had killed the Jedi.

"This is Commander Brutus, I have a Jedi captive for the Inquistors," Brutus said over comms to any superior that cared to listen. He had a preference for who heard his message, but, he didn't care enough to try and contact them directly. "We're going back to the gunships," Brutus ordered his men. With a salute, they picked Dan up and started marching back to the landing zone.

Before Brutus left, he clipped his helmet to his waist. The process was awkward with only one hand. The Commander found himself looking down at ZZ's helmet. The great brother he once had came to his thoughts. Brutus kneeled down and picked up the helmet with his remaining arm. ZZ should've survived, he should have killed the Devaronian. Well, he did kill him, Brutus thought. ZZ had completed his mission. He did today what Brutus couldn't- kill a Jedi. No matter what loopholes Brutus jumped through for his own sake, he knew ZZ had proven to be the better trooper. Brutus stood up and carried the only tangible remnant of his Captain. He swore to live up to the man he'd once known.

The wildfire was burning wildly. The flames were large, destroying the forest that once lived. Amidst it all was Commander Brutus and the remains of one of the Empire's finest.

---

Vader strolled down the corridor leading to the hangar, as clone troopers marched by his side. The sound of their footstep was a warning to all of the imminent danger. Reaching the hangar, they saw the Jedi vessel preparing for an escape. Its engines were roaring and it was about to take off.

The clone troopers sprinted towards it. They aimed their rifles at the ship and began firing rapid shots, aiming to damage it before it could fly away. A few of the clones began placing on the ground and assembling heavy repeating blasters, which could do a lot more damage than the rifles.

Vader marched ahead of the troopers and stretched both arms. He concentrated. Suddenly, the Jedi vessel began vibrating and moving towards Vader, slowly but steadily. “There is no escape.”

"Taking small arms fir-" Beli's response to the clone assault on the Vigil's aft section was interrupted by a strong yank to everyone in the ship. Multiple alarms rang out through the cockpit as the YT-1760's systems were overloading from exceedingly high thruster output that was leading them no-where. The Vigil was, despite Beli and Vrudun's work on upgrading the ship, still a beater and was no match for whatever was dragging them down.

"Beli, increase power." He said solemnly as he began to re-route non-critical power and shutting down unnecessary drags on the power systems, including lighting in most other sections of the ship. On the outside, the Vigil's engine burned a brighter blue, the ship shaking more violently. At this point, Vrudun worried that the ship's systems would overload, that it would then avalanche down into complete failure. At that point, there would be nothing they could do but be dragged back into the hangar, to meet their certain deaths.

"Not good..." Vrudun whispered, wanting not to worry Beli as she maintained constant speed against the darkness that was dragging them back. As the two forces seemed to be deadlocked, there seemed to be only one way for them to break free.

"Engaging weapon systems." The Zabrak said as the double-barreled laser cannon mounted to the top of the ship powered on, further increasing drag on the ship. It wouldn't take much more.

The turret spun around to face the inside of the hangar. The view of what was dragging them down was blocked by the engines. Instead, the turret aimed up, right at the support beams and lighting systems. With a flurry of bright red streaks, the turret opened fire on the supports, blowing through them with bright explosions that sent pieces of lighting units, thick heavy beams and rock above down onto the Dark Lord as well as the clone forces behind him.

Bam!

A deafening explosion rocked the supports above them, sending large pieces of debris down on them. Vader was forced to let go of the Jedi ship and focus on surviving. Quickly, he used the Force to hold up the pieces of debris from falling down on them, keeping them floating in mid-air. He was trembling and his stretched arms were shaking uncontrollably. He couldn’t hold them all up. Some of the pieces fell down, crushing a number of clones who screamed in agony.

Vader roared as he pushed away the falling pieces, sending them flying at the opposite side of the room. They slammed with a loud pang! sound at the walls. Vader stood still for a few seconds, calming down. He was a Master of the Force, but even he couldn’t perform such tasks without feeling weak and tired afterwards. ‘The Emperor…’ he thought. What would the Emperor say of his failure?

Vader was suddenly reminded of Admiral Karnu. He opened up a comn channel to him. “Admiral!” he shouted before the man could even say a word. “Deploy all fighters. Do not let the Jedi ship escape. If you do, you will have to personally answer to the Emperor for your failure!”

Admiral Karnu hearing Vader's voice over the comns began to order every pilot on the Deliverance to go after the Jedi.

"Send every ARC-170 and V-Wing we have on this ship! We can't let the Jedi escape!" Admiral Karnu ordered over the ship's intercoms.

"All turrets if our fighters fail to shoot the Jedi down. I want you all to lock on to them!"

The officers on the bridge all shouted 'yes sir' and started preparing the turrets to lock onto the Jedi ship. While this was happening, ARC-170s and V-Wings started to fly out of the hanger and began to fly towards the Jedi ship.

The ship yanked forward as the Dark Lord behind them released his grip, the ship's already blazing engines sent the ship skyrocketing forward, nearly falling down into the valley.

"Pull up, pull up!" Yelled Vrudun as both pilots yanked back on the stick, the ship's undercarriage brushing against the fiery layer of the tree tops before rising up into the sky.

"Alright, circling around to the Last Resort!" Said Vrudun as the Vigil pulled a hard right, the ship rattling as the sheer weight of the turn began to overload the inertial dampeners. The Temple came back into view, though they kept their distance as the fire began to kiss the outer perimeters of the Temple.

"We've got six...scratch that...we've got...." Beli looked up from the ship's radar systems.

"We've got everything coming at us.." She said nervously. Vrudun nodded and continued on his course to the Last Resort. Continuing at the same high rate of speed, they were quickly coming up on the site.

"Master Shan, we're coming up on your ship. We've got fighters inbound so there's gonna be no landing. I'll get as low and slow as I can, but it's gonna be a hot drop." He said, pressing the button to lower the ramp.

---

”Flight Leader Fade of Violet Wing, 411th Regiment. We have your back, Deliverance.” A formation of V-wings painted with purple combat markings broke free of the Triumph’s hangar bay, filling the aether with the cry of Ion engines. The comms channels erupted into a chaotic blend of noise, as Violet Wing and every other fighter squad began to sound off. The agile fighters began to bear down on the Jedi’s freighters like a flock of Aiwhas harassing a Titavian. It didn’t take long for the void to be filled with the blasts of laser cannons and the streaks of proton torpedos.

”Thriller, break off with Baker and Scant. The Commander’s gunships will need an escort.” Fade ordered. In perfect synchronization, three V-wings broke away from the attack pattern, soaring down toward the planet, moving to surround and escort the slow-rising group of gunships. The LAATs were slow, but they carried the 411th’s commander as well as a valuable prisoner.

Captain Hernwick watched anxiously from the Triumph’s bridge as the V-wings swarmed toward the Jedi’s ships. There was no reason for him to be apprehensive about the mission. A flight of V-Wings was more than a match for a few old freighters. He wondered if his anxiety was born from a selfish desire to be flying out in a fighter himself.
”Aldolin, you’re an old man now. Going out in a V-Wing and blowing up a few clunkers is a waste of your experience,” he reassured himself. Nonetheless, Hernwick brought up the live cockpit feed from Sergeant Fade’s ship, the closest he could come to flying himself.

“Loosen up that formation, Violet Wing. Don’t give them a shooting gallery.”

Karnu sighed in relief hearing that his starfighters were getting back up from Violet Wing. Hopefully with this combined attack they will be able to destroy the Jedi ship before it escapes. Though Karnu is confused on how the Jedi even escaped in the first place, he thought the Inquisitors were the best of the best in the Empire and yet they didn't kill the Jedi?

It would seem these Inquisitors are useless... We should've orbital bombard the entire temple. The Admiral thought to himself as he waited for a confirmed kill from the starfighters.

---

When Vrudun informed him that they were circling around to the Last Resort so the remaining Jedi wouldn’t all be on one ship, Martius replied: “Agreed;” after everything they’d been through so far they certainly wouldn’t want to lose all their remaining Jedi to one well placed shot on the Vigil. As they tried to exit the hanger however, they were suddenly stopped as Martius sensed the Sith Lord enter the hanger. Grabbing the detonator for the bombs he planted earlier from his pocket, Martius prepared to use it if necessary; their odds of surviving the blast while still in the hanger were low, but still better than their odds against a Sith Lord with an army of Clones at his back.

Fortunately, Vrudun was able to use a controlled blast from the ship’s turret against a single support beam to force their foe to shift his attention away from their ship and towards survival, and as the ship rocketed forward out of the hanger upon being released, Martius hit the detonator setting off bombs throughout the Base to destroy all remaining signs of their presence and anything the Empire might’ve used to find them, and bringing large sections of the now weakened roof down atop the heads of those still inside.

As the Vigil made for the Last Resort’s location, Vrudun informed Martius that they’d have to make a hot drop, to which Martius replied: “Acknowledged” and looking to the nearby Jedi stated: “Jace, Afon, Rhys: you’re with me!” before heading back towards the ship’s ramp and starting the process of opening it; ensuring they’d all be able to make the jump the second they reached his ship…

As Tuka was laying unconscious, he could lightly feel his wounds somehow healing themselves, as the lightsaber burns on his side shrunk into nothing-ness and as the various small lightning burns on his torso were removed by Rhys' healing. The scar from the lightning arc on his face the toughest as it almost seemed to resist the healing, though that too shrunk, but not enough to remove it completely, leaving only a visible scar stretching from his nose to just over his eye. The dark voice in Tuka's mind slowed to a whisper as he seemed to slowly gain consciousness again.

Ruhr Draay heard the explosions and saw the ceiling collapse in front of him. "It appears that the Jedi have fled from us and destroyed everything we could use to track them. I could head back to my Delta-7B and pursue... no, allowing Lord Vader to die when he could be saved would earn me a one-way trip to a court martial where I would be sentence to death for dereliction of duty, a far greater disgrace than whatever Vader had planned for me." Ruhr thought as he reached out with the Force to find Vader, but couldn't sense him. He used Force Push to move some of the rubble before pulling out his comm and activating it. "Deliverance, this is Ruhr Draay. The Jedi have collapsed most of the Temple and Vader is trapped in the Hangar." Ruhr said to Karnu, knowing that unlike Brutus, the Admiral treated the chain of command with due respect.

"Yes, Master!" Afon Ekkers replied, making sure that Nardrashtasch was properly strapped in to avoid further injury should the fight get rough for the Vigil. "Come on, Master. We need you." He said to him, resting his hand on his shoulder before moving out of the room. "On my way." He said, moving from Passenger Berthing back to the rear drop ramp. He looked over to Rhys Aatahl, who still stood by the other Padawan. "Come on, Padawan. Duty calls!" Afon said in an uplifting tone, trying to keep things light for the Miraluka.

The padawan had barely managed to mend Tuka back to relative stability, forcing himself to tune out the chaos that was unfolding around him. A satisfied smirk began to form on Rhys' face, as it seemed that his fellow Jedi was not only healing, but even regaining consciousness. When Master Shan's call finally roused him from his mental trance, however, the Miraluka snapped his gaze to listen to the order that had so suddenly been dropped upon him. He was going back down there.

A knot formed in his throat, his mind calling him back to Mygeeto. Outside of his training, he had only drawn his saber once against a foe that sought to kill him and his peers. The first and only life he had taken by his own hand - justified in defense of his own, but a memory that continued to haunt him for some time. He still remembered how it felt; to watch even that lowly clone's life be snuffed out. And now, it seemed war would never be something he could escape...

Rhys looked from Afon to the stirring padawan he was tending to, his and Master Nard's dried blood still spattered upon his hands. A morbid part of him wished Tuka needed more immediate attention - an excuse to remain behind. But should they find themselves hurt with none to come to their aid... No. Afon was right. He had a duty. He then looked back to the elder Knight, and hesitantly bid him a nod.

The sage slowly rose to his feet, and marched silently to the ramp alongside them.

"Deliverance, are you there? Karnu's superior officer could be dying under a pile of rubble. Damn, No response." Ruhr Draay said as he turned off the commlink before heading out of the Temple as fast as his legs and his walking stick could carry him. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." Ruhr said to himself as the temple continued to collapse around him.

---

Third Sister laid silent, face down and half-buried in loose, uprooted foliage at the epicenter of a sizable crater that her violent landing carved into the landscape of the forest. The edge of the wildfire raged close by, the crackling flames serving as little more than a melodic lullaby to the Inquisitor sprawled out on the dirt.

The heat of the fire, however, waited for no one. With a start, the black-clad Zabrak jerked herself awake, and pushed herself up from the ground..

"BAH- GHGK--!"

Her yelp of pain was silenced by a sickening gurgle that left blood dripping from the corner of her mouth. Even to the Third Sister, the sharp pain that exploded from her chest to every inch of her body was almost paralyzing, so much so that she nearly collapsed back into the dirt. As she brought her saber-burned hand down to feel at her midriff, a coarse, hair-raising wheeze escaped her lips. She had felt this pain before, stabbing into her lung with each blasted breath of smoke-filled air.

But the agony that hemorrhaged from her battered and beaten body was nothing compared to the fury that burned within her hearts. Even as she forced herself to stand up amidst such grievous injuries, one thing rested on her mind: Vengeance.

Vengeance, vengeance, vengeance... Oh, the thrill it would be to bathe herself in that insufferable little Jedi's blood...

Third Sister slowly heaved herself onto her feet, ignoring the wildfire that continued to inch closer and closer. She looked up to the sky, and could only watch, through bloodshot eyes and the dangling locks of frazzled and frayed black hair, as the Jedis' shuttle began to take flight. The sting of defeat cut deeper than the snapped rib that only continued to remind her of her failure.

She wanted to shriek, but could only muster a strained, labored growl...

---

Jace snapped into action at Master Shan's order. "Right away, Master!" he called out, rushing from the hold of the ship to the ramp as it began to lower.

The whole temple was shaking, as if an earthquake had rocked it. The ceiling was collapsing and pieces of debris were falling down, crushing clones and causing the floor to fracture. Vader had to act fast. There was no time for cautiousness. He rushed forward, jumping down from the temple.

He landed down in the valley, without having suffered the slightest inconvenience. At once, he opened a communication channel to the admiral.

“Admiral Karnu,” Vader said, “I need a shuttle to pick me up in these coordinates.”

"At once Lord Vader." The Admiral responded.

Admiral Karnu went ahead to contact Commander Buck and ordered him to regroup with any remaining survivors of the 112th. The Commander was also ordered to pick up Vader at the right coordinates.

"Do not keep Vader waiting Commander..." Karnu warned.

"Yes sir!" Buck replied over the comns.

Buck ordered any surviving member of the 112th to report back to the LAAT Gunships. It wasn't long before members of the 112th started getting on the other LAAT gunships and flying away leaving only Buck and his LAAT left on the planet. Buck and the rest of his squad went inside the LAAT gunship.

"Pilot take us to Lord Vader." The Commander ordered.

With a nod the pilot started the gunship up and started flying towards Vader's location. A few seconds later Buck's LAAT arrived at Vader's location with it landing on the ground with the door already opened.

As the Vigil rattled in towards the Last Resort, the systems console registered the ramp opening, sending out a small incessant beep as an alarm. Beli quickly silenced it as both she and the Zabrak engaged reverse maneuvering thrusters and shut off engines, coming in at a fast glide, dropping both speed and altitude.

"Alright, easy, easy." He said to Beli Galan as they grew closer to the treetops covering the hidden location of the ship.

"Coming in hot, Master." He said over the intercom to the Jedi who were preparing to drop.

"We got bogeys closing in fast, Vru. Fifteen kilometers and closing." Reported Beli, keeping her eyes on the ship's radar system while assisting Vrudun bring the ship down, the bottom of the ship scraping across the tree tops.

"Almost....almost." He said, the ship continuing to dump speed and drop altitude fast. Alarms klaxoned around him as proximity sensors attached to the bottom were getting battered. "Shut it...shut it." He said in a whisper. They had reached the drop zone.

"Now! Jump now!" Yelled Vrudun. As the Jedi began their jump, Vrudun re-ignited the engines at maximum speed as Beli disengaged the thrusters and closed the ramp. The Zabrak Knight pulled hard to the right, sending the ship darting to the right just as the engines re-engaged, sending the Vigil zooming out of the area.

"Enemies still closing!"

"We're okay....we can do this. Power up shields, divert all non-critical power to the turret." Said Vrudun.

When Vrudun gave them the signal to jump, Martius leapt first and slowed his descent as he neared the ground with a Force push before tucking into a roll and coming to a stop near his ship. Running up the ramp, he opened the door and motioned for the others to get inside while stating: “Jace and I will get the systems powered on! Afon, you take the helm, Rhys you man the turret!”

Following Martius, Afon took a deep breath and made the jump, following similar suit to Master Shan, padding his fall with a small push to the ground that kicked up some dirt and grass as he rolled through the impact. Afon boarded the ship first, listening closely to the Master's order. Without a word and with a small nod, Afon Ekkers rushed through the ship, passing through the lounges and passenger seating, jumping right into the Pilot's chair, flipping on non-critical power throughout the ship to get lighting on for the others.

V-Wings and ARC-170s moved in swiftly on the Jedi’s ships, Violet Wing taking point in their formation.

“Violet Wing, get on their tails! Blood Wing, break right! Steel Wing, left! We’re going to catch them in the middle.” Fade ordered, watching as the mass of fighters began to split. Like a massive predator opening its jaws, they began to spread and close in around the vulnerable freighters.

The jaws soon revealed their teeth, as laser fire came at the Vigil and the Last Resort from all sides.

---

On the ground, the evacuation was finally coming to a close. Clone troopers, both Purge and standard, were boarding gunships and leaving the planet Odessen behind.

”Third Sister, last gunships are leaving in less than a minute! Can you make it to the landing zone?” A voice called over Kedoa’s comms. It belonged to one of the 411th’s soldiers, one of the troopers on the ground. As one would expect from clones, it was impossible to discern a specific identity.

One of the 411th's LAATs began drifting in sometime after she had landed, touching down a ways across that section of the hangar. The ship was scuffed with minor scorch marks across its hull, like due to the wildfire that had burned out of control upon Odessen's surface. As the doors slid open, she saw the familiar sight of the Third Sister practically wobbling on the passengers' platform next to a small squad of purge troopers.

To say that the now unhelmeted Zabrak woman was in bad shape was a colossal understatement. Her previously elegant, form-fitting uniform lay in tatters. It and any of her exposed red-black flesh was spattered in a disgusting combination of dirt, blood, and burns. Her face was frozen in a look not of defeat and worry of punishment, but of pure, unbridled rage. She clutched at much of her midriff with her good arm, making a conscious effort to keep her back upright even as she attempted to step off the gunship without any assistance.

She was practically seething with fury, and the pain of her broken ribs only served as fuel to her anger, giving her just enough energy and will to power into the next step of her boots.

---

“Admiral Karnu!” Another voice, non-clone, this time on the bridge of the Deliverance. It belonged a young human male, one with a pronounced Core World accent, currently sat at the ship's communications terminal. “Priority communication for Lord Vader coming in! It’s from Coruscant, sir!”

A priority communication from Coruscant? Karnu thought to himself wondering who would be trying to contact Vader at this time.

"Put the communication through the holo room I will see who is contacting Lord Vader. In the meantime have all turrets ready just in case the Jedi try to escape." The Admiral ordered as he walked off the bridge and into the holo room to see the priority communication.

---

Ruhr Draay continued limping towards the landing zone, not wanting to be left behind. What should have been a quick in-and-out had turned into a quagmire of epic proportions: it would take months for the Empire to retrieve anything of value from the ruins, the Inquisition had been forced to retreat without killing a single Jedi, and if Karnu played his cards right, the Jedi would be killed before they could jump to hyperspace. The Inquisitors would be punished for this failure and in the case of Ruhr, there were only two possible outcomes: a disgraceful death or being transferred to the Inquisition's Undercover Division.

Brutus reached the remaining gunships, flanked by a squad of his men. An unconscious Dan was dropped to the floor of the LAAT, with DC-15A's and electrostaffs waiting to put the Jedi down if he tried anything brave. Brutus' facial wounds were beginning to make him aware of their presence once more. Breathing became excruciating, and talking became an impossibility. His orders were given only through his eyes, and the ability of his second-in-command to lead the 411th effectively.

Once aboard the Triumph, the squad of troopers surrounding Dan took him to the detention level. The Commander himself went to the bridge. His wounds could wait. He had a job to do.

As the Vigil sped off from the Last Resort, the inbound Imperial fighters were now right on their tail, and splitting up. Within a matter of seconds, bolts of energy whizzed past the cockpit like a blowing rain in a hurricane, the sound of the bolts striking the Vigil's outer hull rocking the ship violently as Vrudun attempted to return fire with the ship's turret, it's own spray of red bolts, fluttering between the starfighters and a few impacting with the engine of an unlucky ARC-170, though it only veered off, not going down hard like the Jedi wanted.

"Hang on!" Yelled Vrudun to Beli as he initiated a barrel roll and flying down towards the tree line of the blazing forests.

"Shields holding!" Yelled Beli as the Vigil began wide sweeps left and right, keeping the cannon firing at the closest fighters. Vrudun could feel the ship of his shake violently as it reached near maximum speed, which was far slower than what these interceptors could achieve. The only thing keeping them alive was the turret and keeping the target moving.

"Last Resort, we can't keep this up much longer. Gonna need to speed things up!" Said Vrudun over the communicator as the Vigil cut left, pulling a U-turn and heading back the way they came, another flurry of bolts slamming into the ship as alarms blared.

"Shields are almost gone." Reported Beli.

With that, Vrudun slammed on the controls, cutting the engine and throwing the nose of the ship up, forcing it to dramatically reduce speed, the fighters behind them turning sharply to avoid hitting the Corellian light freighter. As the nose came back down and Vrudun slammed on the engines once more, the turret let loose another flurry of fire, this time successfully taking down a single V-Wing. There was little time for celebration as the ship rocked violently, power systems fluctuating as the Vigil cut left, an ARC-170 flying right over.

"Shields are gone and we just lost our turret!"

Vrudun snarled as the shields were now gone and their only form of offensive capability was now gone.

"I can't hold here any longer, Master!" We've got to get out of here!"

The past minute seemed to pass by as a blur. Even as the padawan leapt alongside his fellow Jedi from Vrudun's starship, using a steady push from the Force to flutter gracefully to the ground before rushing aboard the Last Resort, he now found himself almost involuntarily clambering into a gunner's seat to man a turret. As he was suddenly graced with the perplexing consoles, switches and levers that all began to flicker to life at once, Rhys stared for a moment in stark bewilderment. Master Shan wanted him to do what?

He had seconds to think, as the starfighters that roared overheard gave way to a barrage of laser fire that left the entire area rumbling beneath his feet. He could feel their ship creak and groan as one grazed its outer plating. With desperation, the Miraluka locked his tensed gaze with one of the incoming fighters, and...

"Oh-- oh no no no...how do I...?" He fiddled about with one of the levers until he could see the turret swiveling around. Rhys took a deep breath, and began to, as some of the more sarcastic of his peers may call it, 'press buttons until something happened.'

Finally, he pressed down on a particular dial that prompted the turret to unleash a volley of deadly blaster fire. The ARC-170 in its sights attempted to veer off to the side, but it was in vain. The lasers smashed dead-on into the cockpit of the fighter, causing the entire mid-section of the ship to explode in a fiery inferno, sending its sets of wings spiraling helplessly into the forest.

Suddenly, the padawan took his hands off the stick, and stared into the open sky in surprise. Had he just done that? Even more were coming...

"Oh dear..."

As the Last Resort begun it's ascent from it's shroud of broken tree limbs and shrubbery, the ship registered cannon fire and a successful hit on the radar. Rhys was getting to work. He hated the fact that Master Shan placed the Padawan in such a curious and dangerous position, but perhaps he had some motive behind it? Perhaps a lesson to be learned the hard way? Regardless, Afon got onto the comm and congratulated the young apprentice, though informed him to keep his head on a swivel, for this was not over yet.

"Last Resort, we can't keep this up much longer. Gonna need to speed things up!" He had heard over the communicator from the Vigil as Master Shan's ship rose over the tree line, limbs falling away to expose the beautiful GX-Class Transport, it's "wings" locking into the horizontal position as it's engines fired up and accelerated it forward, albeit slowly.

Afon didn't respond to Vrudun, too busy attempting to understand the control setup he was having to work with. Basically when it came to acceleration and steering, every ship was entirely similar. For everything else, such as shields, hyperdrive generator, and system power diversion switches, things were quite different.

"We've got more coming, Padawan!" Yelled Afon over the ship-wide comm. As the ship gained power and speed, Afon lifted up the ramp and gained altitude.

"I can't hold here any longer, Master! We've got to get out of here!" Vrudun said once more over the inter-ship communications. At that moment, the Imperial squadrons flew over the Last Resort like a plague, a shroud of red bolts thundering across the freighter, wiping out shields in a matter of seconds and damaging the hull near Engineering. With little left to keep them here, Afon jerked the controls up, sending the ship racing into the sky.

"I hear you, Vigil. Get out of there. Ascend!" Said Afon back as the Last Resort thundered through the clouds, the same Imperials still on his tail.

---

The gunship was deathly silent as Darth Vader waited for it to arrive at its destination. The only sound echoing through the cabin was his rasping breaths, the clones around him shifting about nervously, shuffling their feet and avoiding looks in Vader's general direction. The Sith Lord felt anger bubble inside of him as he recounted the day's events to himself. It was a simple task he had ordered the Inquisitors to perform: put the Jedi to the sword. And yet they failed spectacularly.

The audacity they had, to fail him.

"You are afraid, Commander," Vader stated, casting his gaze down at Buck, "That I blame you for the failure of the mission on the ground."

"N-no, sir, I just..." Buck started his reply, still avoiding more than a brief look into Vader's eyes, "I know it didn't go as well as you had hoped."

"Do not worry, Commander. Admiral Karnu may yet remedy the failures of both your force and the Inquisitors," Vader said, feeling the shuttle shift as it landed on the Deliverance. With a snap-hiss, the doors of the gunship opened. He watched as Buck's shoulders sagged in relief, knowing that perhaps it wasn't entirely his fault that the ground team failed. But when Vader didn't get off the shuttle, and instead continued to stare at the clone, he once again seized up, his muscles tightening as the sheer weight of Vader's gaze pressed down upon him.

"There is a price for ineptitude, Commander," Vader said, "And today, everyone will pay."

With that, Vader stepped off the shuttle, leaving the clone to ruminate on what sort of punishment he would receive. Moving with his signature gait, Vader strode through the hangar. His first stop, he decided, would be the bridge. Then, he would ensure the success of the Deliverance in its pursuit of the Jedi ships.

And he would do it personally.

---

As the Last Resort took to the skies, Martius took the co-pilot seat and focused on distributing power between the different ship systems as needed while informing Afon: “Try to stick to areas of dense cloud cover as much as you can; we’ll all be firing blind but that will put Rhys at an advantage!”

After Vrudun’s message came in and Afon responded, Martius followed up: “Try to stay sub-orbital until you’re out of range of those capital ships’ turbolasers if possible, then make the jump to lightspeed as soon as possible! We’ll draw off as many fighters as we can!”

As both Afon and Martius made their voices known over the comm, Vrudun sent the Vigil up and throttled the engines, blaster bolts still continuing to whizz past, though none hitting their target. Vrudun continued with the evasive maneuvers as both the Vigil and Last Resort kept their distance though stayed relatively within radar detection range.

Afon nodded to the Master's advice and kept within the densest portions of the clouds. "Master, we need to know where we are jumping to. What's our heading?" Afon said.

“E-er, Lord Vader...” The same young comms officer from before spoke up, as the towering Sith Lord strode onto the bridge of the Deliverance. “A holocall is waiting for you, sir. From, er, Coruscant. Shall I put it through...?” The man felt that so much as breathing without Vader’s permission would cost him his life. At this point, the Inquisitors were preferable. At least they were pre-occupied by squabbling amongst each other.

"I will receive it on the bridge," Vader stated, barely even affording the man a second look as they approached and subsequently walked away. The hallways of the Deliverance were familiar to him, considering the amount of time he had spent on a Venator in the Clone Wars. Without so much as a step wasted, not even pausing to return the acknowledgements of his inferiors, he made it to the bridge of the ship.

"Admiral Karnu," Vader said, his eyes locking on the smaller man as he mentioned the name, "I assume your pursuit of the Jedi is going well."

The Admiral turned around nervously towards Vader as he looked up at him.

"Lord Vader... The pursuit of the Jedi is going well. It won't be long until their ship is destroyed." The Admiral said.

"I can pardon failure, to a certain extent," Vader said, his hand clenching into a fist. Cups and various small objects around the room began to seemingly crush themselves out of thin air. Vader was enraged, but he was no fool. It would serve little benefit to throw a Force-enhanced tirade on the bridge of an active Venator. And so, he settled to crush trays, cups, and the weaponry around the bridge.

"But lying, Admiral, is an inexcusable offense."(edited)

Karnu began to sweat nervously as he saw the small objects on the bridge all get crushed. Karnu let out a small gulp as he tries to speak again.

"I assure you Lord Vader, we will have the Jedi ship destroyed. I will not fail you." Karnu said as his voice shook in fear.

---

The Triumph
“Commander, it’s good to have you... back...” Hernwick’s voice trailed off as his eyes travelled down to the bandaged stump where Brutus’ hand had once been. The commander was in awful shape. Hernwick had half a mind to try and order Brutus to the medical bay immediately.

“...Violet Wing is engaging the Jedi’s ships, sir. We’ll have them yet.”

---

Fade put his V-Wing through an evasive spin, darting past the plasma bolts spraying from the freighter’s turrets. The Jedi were smart enough to avoid being drawn into a dogfight, instead heading up through the clouds.

“All Wings, make ready to break atmosphere. Deliverance, Triumph, Jedi ships are en route to your positions. Fighters still in pursuit,” He reported.

[Okayanos]

Afon didn't hear Rhys. In fact, he couldn't hear anyone at the moment. He had no choice but to place all of his focus into evading the Venator-Class Star Destroyer directly in front. The Last Resort weaved around as it came to bear directly on the top decks of the ship, hugging the hull of the ship.

"Activating rear maneuvering thrusters." Said Afon as he flipped a switch labeled "AFT MT". They weren't very powerful, but they would help some. Afon gritted his teeth as green bolts rushed past, narrowly missing the short hauler. As it neared the aft sections of the ship, Afon yanked backward on the control, sending the ship's nose up quickly, passing right in front of the command bridge of the Venator. With the Vigil right behind, Afon Ekkers switched on the Hyperdrive, a low hum echoing out across the ship.

"Punching it!" Yelled Afon as he slammed down the Hyperdrive lever. Nothing. What could have gone wrong? The low hum grew quieter and quieter. Then he remembered. The hit to Engineering must have shook something loose.

"Vigil, we're having difficulties with our Hyperdrive. You've got the coordinates, you need to jump."

"No, Afon. We aren't leaving you!" Said Vrudun back over the comm, pulling off from behind the Last Resort to draw some of the fighters away.

"Vrudun, don't argue this! You've got Master Nard and Tuka. Get them to safety! We will be alright now go!" The line grew quiet for a few moments as Afon, now clear of the turbolasers for now, dove down and began making erratic moves, hoping to buy themselves a little more time.

"Force be with you, Afon." Vrudun replied.

"And you." With that, the Vigil disappeared jumping successfully into Hyperspace, the rest of the fighters breaking off and preparing to intercept the Last Resort.

Afon grabbed the lever once more, sliding back up again. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Please..." He slammed the lever down and this time was enveloped in magnificent blue light and was slung forward into Hyperspace.

---

The Jedi make a daring escape- and the Inquisitors have much to answer for... find out next in Part 2!

[Okayanos]

Imperial Aftermath, Part 2

The Deliverance

Dramatis Personae

Barriss Offee, the First Sister
Ruhr Draay, the Second Brother
Kedoa Nissah, the Third Sister
CC-6264 "Brutus"
Admiral Jeamarl Karnu
Darth Vader
The Emperor

---

Darth Vader watched as the Jedi slipped out of range of the Deliverance's turbolasers, into hyperspace, and out of his grasp. For a long moment, he was silent and unmoving; a towering juggernaut of ebony armor and machinery. His hands clenched in his leather gauntlets, over and over, causing a telltale crackling that signified the levels of his rage. Finally, he stopped all motion.

The first man to choke was Karnu, then the rest of the bridge felt the effects of Vader's wrath. All of them grasped for air, clawing at their throat as they struggled to breath. He held the choke for a long time, and some of the men and women on the bridge went limp, dead from asphyxiation. But when Vader saw that Karnu was reaching his limit, he stopped, dropping the man and letting him breathe once more.

"This is..." He began, speaking to Karnu as the life returned to the officer, the mechanical tinge to his voice doing little to mask his anger, "...unacceptable. You will order the entire 411th and 112th, as well as every Inquisitor that was on the ground, to the Deliverance's hangar. Take what remains of your crew and proceed there as well. I am commandeering the bridge."

After seeing the Jedi escape, Karnu felt true fear as he began shaking nervously. Before the Admiral could even speak to Vader, Karnu along with the officers on the bridge all began to get choked by the Dark Lord. As Karnu was being choked tears began to form in his eyes as he struggled to breath thinking he would die not getting a chance to say goodbye to his family. However, Vader soon let go of Karnu making the aged Admiral to breath heavily as he tried to get some oxygen back. After regaining his breathing, Karnu nodded at Vader's orders and got on the comns.

"Attention all Inquisitors, 411th, and 112th troopers. You are to come down to the hanger bay." Karnu said his voice shaking.

After speaking on the intercoms, Karnu ordered any surviving officers on the bridge to follow him to the hanger. Without thinking twice officers began to follow their Admiral in a rush trying to stay away from Vader.

The ride back to the Deliverance was lonely, quiet, solemn. The Eta-2 Actis slowed it's acceleration as the Venator's long hangar opened, revealing the many smaller hangars on both sides. The black and red interceptor chose the closest to the doors that led to the ship's turbolifts. As the starfighter lowered to the deck, Barriss's spine chilled as her breathing went shallow. She could feel Him, his anger, his fury. She let out a raspy sigh as her hands began to shake. Her eyes darted back and forth in a panic as the astromech droid assisted in finishing the landing sequence. For a moment, she had felt as if she wanted to bring the starfighter back up and fly out, resorting to just making her way by herself rather than face the Dark Lord once more. She shook her head, pushing away those thoughts and opened the cockpit of her interceptor, prepared to deal with whatever came next.

Ruhr Draay landed his modified Delta-7B in the hangar and exited the Starfighter, knowing that Vader was expecting him to be in the Hangar. He stood at attention, enduring the pain caused by his wounds. He glanced at Barriss before returning his attention to the repulsorlift, knwoing that Vader could be coming down there any minute.

One of the 411th's LAATs began drifting in sometime after she had landed, touching down a ways across that section of the hangar. The ship was scuffed with minor scorch marks across its hull, like due to the wildfire that had burned out of control upon Odessen's surface. As the doors slid open, she saw the familiar sight of the Third Sister practically wobbling on the passengers' platform next to a small squad of purge troopers.

To say that the now unhelmeted Zabrak woman was in bad shape was a colossal understatement. Her previously elegant, form-fitting uniform lay in tatters. It and any of her exposed red-black flesh was spattered in a disgusting combination of dirt, blood, and burns. Her face was frozen in a look not of defeat and worry of punishment, but of pure, unbridled rage. She clutched at much of her midriff with her good arm, making a conscious effort to keep her back upright even as she attempted to step off the gunship without any assistance.

She was practically seething with fury, and the pain of her broken ribs only served as fuel to her anger, giving her just enough energy and will to power into the next step of her boots.

Barriss' eyes panned across the hangar as more Inquisitors from before were returning, each looking bruised, bloodied, torn from the battle. She saw Second Brother, Third Sister, but....

"Where is Third Brother?" She asked to either of the other Inquisitors that were present.

"Went through the front door..." Third Sister replied without so much as looking at her. In stark contrast to her previously sophisticated tone, her voice was raspy and hoarse, like each syllable sent a ripple of nerve-wracking pain shooting up her spine.

"Fool probably got himself killed..."

First Sister gave her no reply, simply nodding in return. She walked over to Third Sister, who was visibly in a monumental amount of pain.

"Sister, you need to get to the Infirmary. You look terrible." She said.

"And have me disregard Lord Vader's orders...?" she almost interrupted her, another trickle of blood trailing down her lip. "If my ribs do not kill me, he will."

Her breathing had turned to little more than a steady wheeze as she limped, like some sort of walking corpse trying desperately to seem alive. Third Sister left Barriss be, and marched for the hangar bay...

Barriss watched as the Third Sister walked away from her after correcting her concern. The First Sister looked down and shook her head, following after Third Sister.

"Botched mission or not, Lord Vader is expecting us to be in the hangar when he arrives. We can get medical attention afterwards, provided that we are still alive." Ruhr said to Barriss as he followed the Third Sister, not wanting to keep Darth vader waiting for him.

As the last of the officers filtered out of the bridge, Vader was left alone. Alone with his anger- and with his fear. To many, it would be impossible to believe that the unstoppable, inhuman monster that was Vader would even be capable of fear. But, a monster can be leashed. A monster can be controlled. A monster can be owned. And it would fear its owner.

Vader was not alone for long. The Deliverance’s holo-projector began to flicker, powering up as if it had a will of its own. Or, perhaps, as if someone else’s will had seized hold of it. The holo-projector began to faintly hum, emitting a clear blue light, as holo-projectors are wont to do. The blue light slowly began to take form, and the form they took was that of a monster’s owner. Of Vader’s owner.

The hologram at first was a chair of simple, yet refined design. A piece of furniture that would be chosen by one of affluent tastes, yet not extravagant. One with sharp eyes and sharper memory might have recognized it as the chair positioned behind the desk of the former Supreme Chancellor. But there no Chancellor sat in it. The person that sat, rendered in holographic blue, was less of a person and more of a shadow. A ghost, the remnant of something long past that now haunted freely.

The shadow’s face was concealed wholly by the hood of its black robes. The shadows cast upon it, even in holo-form, were unnaturally dark. The dark of space without stars. The shadow’s form moved, as it steepled its wizened, wrinkled hands, folding them together in front of the black pit where it’s face may have been. From within the depths of the hood, two pinpricks of light- the shadow’s eyes- gleamed, as it observed the monster of metal and flesh that it had given life to.

”Your anger has grown, Vader.” The shadow spoke in a crackling voice, and though the voice was not deep, it carried a rumble with it all the same, one that seemed to shake the Deliverance itself.

The rumble shuddered down the length of the colossa vessel, sending shivers through the bones of every living creature aboard. If Vader’s presence was a volcano, violent and fiery, this new darkness was the chill of winter, sapping away life and light by its very nature. The shadows on the Deliverance seemed to lengthening, as though they hungered for the light, to consume it.

”It has made you strong.” The shadow in the Chancellor’s seat continued, leaning its hooded head forward slightly. ”And yet I sense failure. Explain this to me.”

"My lord," Darth Vader began, dropping to a knee and bowing his head. It was less a sign of respect, of admiration, and more a sign of submission. Palpatine had chained Vader to his hatred and his fear, had made him into the monster he was today. Was he stronger for it? Potentially. But the mask hid the snarl that Vader held as he stared into the withered form of his master. He was certain Palpatine could sense his anger, but with such strong emotions, anger at what specifically was hard to discern.

"The Inquisitors failed their assignment on Odessen," Vader said, still not meeting Palpatine's gaze, "And have let a number of Jedi escape our grasp."

"And who trained them, Lord Vader? Who led them in this attack?" The shadow- Palpatine- retorted. The Emperor of all the galaxy rose from his seat, and the Deliverance creaked as his power took hold of it further. "Excuses are unbecoming of a Sith. And yet my apprentice shifts blame to underlings. This will not do." Palpatine's hologram stepped towards the kneeling form of Vader, looming over him like a spectre. It stayed there, still as a statue for some time before speaking again, sending another rumble through the Deliverance.

"The failure of this mission rests on your shoulders." The words carried a chill with them, a sense of dread that billowed over the bridge like a stormcloud. "Perhaps I must remind you of what I have done for you." Palpatine's hologram moved its hand ever-so-slightly, and the Dark Side bent to the Emperor's will. Like a choking cloud, it came forth, threatening to rip air from the lungs of all it touched. The Dark Side wormed its way into the complex mechanisms of Vader's suit, the systems that breathed for Vader, that fed him nutrients, that gave him life. The Dark Side denied the machinery its purpose, robbing it of power, leaving the life-giving armor nothing more than a coffin, with a broken corpse trapped inside.

"It is by my will that you continue to survive, Vader. I have done this for you, sacrificed my own efforts to preserve your life, and you have rewarded me with failure and lies."

"The failure...will be remedied...I will...ensure it personally," Vader struggled to get the words out as the systems inside his suit failed, their function reduced to nothing simply by the Emperor willing it to happen. More than anything, though, it fueled Vader. His anger at the crippled existence he led, his hatred for his master and his cruel methods, the pain wrought by simply living without the artificial breath that his armor gave him. The shuddering of the Deliverance grew louder and more potent as Vader's mind reacted, almost unconsciously, to the suffering. Metal began to creak and tear, walls peeled back and folded, as the combined power of two masters of the Dark Side pressed outwards and into the matter surrounding them.

Soon enough, Vader found the functionality returned to his suit. He took a long breath inwards, savoring the oxygen, however stale and unfulfilling it was usually. For the first time, he looked up at Palpatine, his helmet masking the baleful glare he cast onto the Emperor.

"The Jedi will not escape us twice."

"Good, good," The Emperor's hologram replied, almost certainly smiling with amusement at his apprentice's suffering. "Your infinite potential comes ever closer to being realized. But I see now that you are wasted in this endeavor. Address your Inquisitors and your soldiers, place the mission in their hands. You will punish them as though your failure was theirs, and in doing so, you shall make it theirs. And then you will return to my side. There are many matters that demand my personal attention, and it is there that I shall find better use for you, my apprentice." The hologram returned to its chair, sitting with feigned weakness, as though something as pitiful as age could compare to the power of the Dark Side.

"Inform the Admiral that he is authorized to proceed with an orbital bombardment of the temple," The shadow commanded, as if such destruction was routine. "I foresee Odessen becoming a suitable training ground for our force-adept servants. The ruins of a Jedi monument will serve to remind them of the Dark Side's power." There was a pause as the Shadow gazed into the blackness of space.

"Do not allow yourself to hesitate in destroying your Inquisitors the next time they cause you failure." And the hologram vanished. The Deliverance, the air, the very fabric of the world itself seemed to breath a sigh of relief as it did.

Brutus turned and stared at Hernwick. His eyes conveyed his annoyance towards his superiors, even if he couldn't voice it. He had to board a shuttle and go over to another ship, with all of his men, for a stern talking-to. His respect for Vader was dwindling, first the 411th had been given an objectively terrible attack plan, and now they were being forced to transfer to a whole other ship.

The Commander looked to Hernwick to give the order. All men were sent back to the hangar, most not even having a chance to scrape the mud off of their boots. Brutus quickly walked down into the hanger, but his pace was slowed by his wounds. He felt as if he was going to pass out. "Lost too much blood." Brutus thought to himself. Even with a basic rebreather over his face, his head felt light.

As quickly as they could, the 411th Purge Regiment boarded the Deliverance with an angry Commander. Once landed, they quickly got into position, forming ranks with the 112th. Brutus stood at the front, and Hernwick at his side.

Down in the hanger bay, Admiral Karnu along with the remaining bridge officers were standing in the hanger waiting for Vader to come down. As time continued many of the bridge officers were filled with fear after seeing Vader's outburst on the bridge, even Karnu still had fear in him as he remembered that moment he was about to die. Karnu had never been that scared in his entire life while serving for both the Republic and Imperial navy. Karnu at that moment was scared he would never get to see his wife and daughter again... The fact that he could've been killed right on that spot terrified him. While they continued to wait Karnu could feel the ship shake which caused Karnu to shiver in fear.

Whatever is going on that bridge... I'm glad I am away from Vader. Karnu thought to himself as he continued waiting.

"Permission to speak sir?" A young officer asked.

"Granted what's on your mind?" The Admiral asked looking down at the Officer.

Karnu didn't know this officer very well the only thing he knew was that he recently graduated from the naval academy and sent to the Deliverance as a comns officer.

"Are you disappointed in us sir?" The young man asked.

This question caught the Admiral completely off guard, never in his life as an Admiral was he ever disappointed in his men.

"Why do you ask?" Karnu replied.

"W-ell sir... We didn't even destroy the Jedi and with Vader angry at us... I-I just thought you were disappointed in us and blamed us for the mission failing." The young Officer said his voice nervously shaking trying to speak.

"I will never be disappointed in you..." Karnu answered.

"You are not to blame for the failure of this mission. Had we had careful planning this mission could've been a success. There is no need to be ashamed of yourself, no matter what Vader says. I will always be proud of you all."

A small smile appeared on the officers face as he heard Karnu's words of comfort.(edited)

"Thank you sir." The Officer said.

"No problem, now remained at attention we still need to wait for Vader." Karnu ordered.

And with that the officer stood back at attention.

As the Inquisitors also lined up at the forefront of the formation alongside the 411th's and 112th's commanders and the Admiral's entourage of officers, Third Sister fought with every ounce of her energy to stand at attention beside her brother and sister. The steady wheeze and buzz of her breathing could be heard clear and wide amidst the silence of those who stood close by , despite the woman's desperate attempts to hide it. The wounds be damned. It was the weakness that pained her. She wanted so dearly to continue the fight... To deliver unto her master the heads and lightsabers of the meddlesome Jedi that continued to be a thorn in Palpatine's side. Would that the strength of her frail body matched that of her fiery will that had the misfortune of being trapped within it...

And now, here she stood, blessed with the power of the Dark Side, but still left little more than a heaving, hacking weakling. There was not even a semblance of silver lining to the failure of their mission. An entire fleet, four Inquisitors, hundreds of troopers to dispatch these Jedi... and what did they have to show for it all but the blood and smouldering corpses of their own? There was no scapegoat for which to divert the blame of this failure, as all of them had failed - not only themselves, but the Emperor...

And now, they would all pay the price.

Third Sister finally willed herself to go quiet as they waited for Lord Vader's arrival, even if it meant holding her breath to keep her broken and battered body still and at attention. With death seeming almost a certainty for her kind in the face of such colossal failures, all that remained was to face it with dignity...

They heard him coming before they saw him.

His footsteps echoed through the long hallway and out into the hangar, the weight in his stride gave inclination of his hulking form; the steady - but rapid - pace suggested anger, authority, and potency. The dull clang of metal on metal aggressively reverberated around the silent ship as his robotic legs propelled him down the walkway. No other footsteps were heard, only those that belong to the one they feared the most. The next sound was his breathing. The fear-inducing wheezing of a monster. If the sound belonged to anyone else, they would get ridiculed. But precious few have ridiculed Darth Vader, fewer still lived to share their story with others.

Finally, he appeared. A towering beast of black metal and leather, standing clear over most every other human. He stared straight ahead as he walked down the hallway, fixing his gaze - unfortunately - on the line of Inquisitors that had served as the strike team on Odessen. Even looking at them stirred rage inside of him. They were the source of the defeat on Odessen. They let the Jedi slip through their hands. They caused him to receive yet another humiliation at Palpatine's hands. He would make them pay for their ineptitude.

Darth Vader took a long moment to simply sweep his gaze over the hundreds of men and women in the hangar bay. Most avoided looking him in the eyes, focusing as hard as they could on whatever object caught their attention straight ahead. Some met his gaze, mustering either the courage or the foolishness to look at the Emperor's Right Hand. His stare settled first on Karnu, then on the Commanders of the 411th and the 112th, then on the Inquisitors.

"You have all failed the Emperor. Failed me. Failed yourselves," Vader began, measuring his words carefully, despite his anger. In stark contrast to the calmer demeanor his voice promoted, the various fighter-craft and gunships around the hangar began to quiver.

"We, the Inquisition, underestimated the Jedi, Lord Vader. Drunk with the success of taking down easy prey, we allowed our arrogance to cloud our judgement on the battlefield." Ruhr Draay said to Vader, knowing that lying to the Dark Lord was a bad idea.

Two quick flashes of a red blade were all it took to send Ruhr Draay tumbling to the floor, his chest sizzling. While most of the hangar was still blinking and processing what happened, Vader was tucking his lightsaber back onto his hip and staring down at the pitiful Inquisitor.

"He will wallow in his pain," Vader said, now looking back up at the rest of the individuals in the hangar, "And if he mewls, you will execute him."

Vader pointed a finger at Kedoa, tasking her with the duty, then crossed his arms.

"Would anyone else care to interrupt?"

Third Sister did not dare move a muscle, even as the Inquisitor mere feet away from her was violently struck to the floor by Lord Vader's lightsaber. As her gaze was fixated not on her superior, but straight ahead, her fiery eyes twitched under the excruciating pain of her wounds that only continued to grow worse by the second. Even holding her breath was beginning to make her lightheaded, but still she remained at attention.

The Admiral's heart sank in fear as Vader finally arrived in the hanger as the Dark Lord began to look at everyone in the hanger bay. Every nerve in Karnu's body wanted to look away from Vader, but Karnu didn't want to risk get choked by Vader again and decided to remain at attention as Vader began to speak about their failure on Odessen. Before Vader continued to speak, Karnu heard Ruhr interrupt him and it wasn't long before the Admiral looked over to see Ruhr on the ground. Karnu seeing this put even more fear in him and knew it would be best to stay silent while Vader was speaking. Despite the fear, Karnu was quite happy to see Ruhr get punished by Vader.

"Ineptitude and foolhardiness are unbecoming of the premier servants of the Emperor, whether they be Inquisitor, soldier, or naval officer. Commander Buck, Sixth Brother, and Captain Yutu, step forward," Vader ordered. Those mentioned did as he commanded. The Inquisitor was resolute and stalwart, but Vader could sense his terror. Commander Buck showed his dejection on his face, twisted in an ugly frown that was somewhere between sadness and a look of abject terror. Captain Yutu watched Vader, his mouth agape and his eyes glazed over. It was almost as if the man was already dead.

"Let these three serve as a permanent reminder of what failure earns in the Empire,"

The telltale sign of a lightsaber igniting, one fell swoop across the neck, and three heads hit the floor with a dull thump. Their bodies soon followed.

Karnu looked on in horror as the Sixth Brother, Commander Buck, and Captain Yutu had all of their necks cut off in an instant. Karnu's joy of seeing Ruhr get punished by Vader was washed away with fear once again and he was also heartbroken as well. The Admiral was quite fond of Commander Buck due to his heroic actions during the Clone Wars and the fact that he died like a dog on a ship instead of the field of battle was disappointing. Karnu was also heartbroken to see Captain Yutu die as well, he was supposed to retire from the Imperial Navy and spend time with his family back on Naboo.

Buck and Yutu weren't supposed to die like this.... Karnu thought to himself as he continued to look at their bodies in sorrow.

Brutus was watching Vader with a hateful stare during the Dark Lord's speech. He had to be careful to not put too much hate in his stare that he normally does as the rebreather over his mouth didn't leave enough room in his helmet. The Commander's stare softened when Ruhr was cut down, the brat was getting what he deserved, unfortunately Brutus wasn't lucky enough for Ruhr to die.

The Commander figured it wouldn't be best to speak up about the captured Jedi. Brutus decided he won't bring it up now, or ever. He disobeyed two orders for this mission. Brutus knew his failure to follow the attack plan and failure to kill a Jedi would surely get him killed just like the three bodies in front of him.

Barriss remained painfully still, staring ahead, past Lord Vader, past Ruhr writhing in pain, past the three bodies that lay lifeless in front of her. She clenched her fists not out of anger, but to keep her hands from shaking visibly from the fear that she was going through. As Vader continued his lesson that was to be learned by all aboard the Deliverance, she made no words, though her eyes betrayed her, slowly moving to look at Vader, his red blade still ignited.

"First Sister," Vader turned to address Barriss, as if he had sensed her gaze. As he switched off his lightsaber, he stalked forward, standing over the relatively-diminutive woman and nearly forcing her to lean back to avoid physical contact. She was clenching her fists so hard he assumed her knuckles were white under her gloves, but he cared little. It was time to remedy mistakes of the past.

"You will address the shortcomings of the Inquisition. I do not care how, but if this Order fails me again, I will personally see to it that you will follow the fate of the Sixth Brother."

With that, he stepped away, leaving Barriss to consider what he had said. Taking a beeline to Brutus, he once again stood over the man. The clone was in horrible shape, but that was its own justice for his shortcomings in and of itself. Still, further changes needed to be made.

"The 411th will absorb the remaining elements of the 112th, but unfortunately, Captain Brutus, I will be placing your comrade Steppenwolf in charge."

Vader began to move away, then hanging a step. He didn't turn his body, only looking back at Brutus. His fist clenched, and Brutus felt as if his entire body seized up. Then, his throat simply closed itself off. This was no Inquisitorius Force Choke. This was the will of a Dark Lord. It was a giant's hand around Brutus' neck, not the child's play he had been subjected to before. It was torment.

"And if I ever hear that you disobeyed my direct orders again, you will find your career as a Captain to be much shorter than your career as Commander."

As unbecoming as it was of an Inquisitor, Barriss couldn't help herself. She felt as if her body began to shake, utter fear grasping around her tightly. She dared not look away from Vader's emotionless mask, she could feel her lip begin to tremble and she took a deep breath in after Vader charged her with ensuring that the Inquisitorius would not fail again. She brought herself back down as much as she could, at least to utter out a reply to the Dark Lord.

"Y-yes, Lord Vader." She said meekly, feeling the weight of embarrassment at stuttering her words. As Darth Vader moved on to Brutus, she gulped and released a sigh in relief.

Karnu watched as the Dark Lord began to hand out punishments. The Admiral didn't care that the Inquisitors were getting punished for their failure, in fact he quite enjoyed it. Once Vader began talking to Brutus, Karnu was surprised that he was getting demoted to Captain.

Its a shame.... He's getting demoted. Brutus looked like a good commander one who cares deeply about his men. The Admiral thought to himself.

Brutus fell to a knee after Vader choked all the air out of him. Breathing was already hard, but after Vader, it was almost impossible. The Captain stood himself up and stared at Steppenwolf as he took Brutus' old place in formation. He wasn't a bad choice for a Commander, he will do what he was told.

CT-6264 hatefully stared at Vader, not caring to hide what he was feeling towards the Dark Lord. He was glad Steppenwolf got the promotion, yet he felt hate towards him. He is stopping Brutus from doing his job, killing the traitors and anyone else in the Empire's way. Vader put Brutus on a leash.

"Admiral Karnu, you represent the largest failure here," Vader spat, now moving to the naval officer, "You allowed Jedi cruisers, who were in range of your destroyer's weapons, to escape nearly unharmed. Your entire bridge crew is being split up and re-assigned, primarily to gunship duty. Your gunners, however, will now serve as trash detail aboard my personal ship."

Vader knew that this was the worst sentencing of all. To be a gunship pilot in the Empire was a death sentence for many, and bore life-ruining injuries for others. Not to mention, many star destroyers kept strange and horrible creatures in their trash chutes that tended to prefer flesh over waste. Once he was finished doling out punishments, Vader moved back to the front of the hangar, surveying the massed forces in the hangar. He had felt his rage wane over the course of the scolding, but felt no reduction in his cold hatred for the inadequacy shown by Imperial forces on Odessen.

"The Inquisitors will return to Nur to lick their wounds. I will be notifying the Grand Inquisitor personally of your shortcomings, I am certain he will have methods to...reinforce your dedication to your mission. The 411th will track down these missing Jedi, along with the Inquisitor that is fleeing among them. Once you have located them, you and your Inquisitor comrades will have another chance to prove yourself. Fail me again, and I will not be as kind as I was today. And Admiral Karnu, have my shuttle prepared, I am leaving this den of ineptitude."

With that, Vader turned on a heel, and strode out of the hangar, leaving them all to swallow their pride and move forward to success.

Finally, he left the hangar in absolute silence, the Imperials abandoned to go about their business and brood over their "scolding." Though few said anything for a long while after Vader left, tensions were clearly running high. Some still stared in shock at the three corpses that were simply left lifeless upon the floor. Third Sister continued to stand in place, completely rigid even after they had been left alone. The pained look on her face had faded into a seemingly listless gaze, staring straight forward. She stood as stiff as a board, almost giving off the impression that she had been frozen in fear.

But in reality, nothing was going through her head - not even the repressed rage that was the only thing keeping her conscious through her pain. With a quiet mewl that devolved into another hoarse wheeze from her lips, the Zabrak woman's eyes rolled back into her skull.

Suddenly, the Inquisitor's knees buckled, and the Third Sister found herself collapsing face-first into the cold metal floor of the hangar bay. Her lungs deflated, giving way to a sickening gurgle as her mouth flopped open, a frothing mix of spit and blood trickling from the corner of her mouth before beginning to pool on the floor.

As a twisted smirk formed on the Third Sister's pained face, it was hard to tell if her subsequent breathing pattern was a whimper... or a perverse, almost masochistic giggle.

After Vader gave out punishments to his remaining bridge crew. Many of the officers had a worried expression on their face once they learned of their new assignments.

"Very well Lord Vader, I shall have a shuttle ready for you." The Admiral said before turning around to face his now former bridge crew.

"As for the rest of you, I want you all at your new assignments immediately."

And with that many of the officers began to start leaving the hanger while a clone pilot was preparing Vader's shuttle. As Karnu began to leave the hanger he saw the young comns officer and went over to go talk to him.

"Once you get on the bridge, inform Admiral Tanwitt that Captain Harmenix is welcomed to come aboard the Deliverance." The Admiral ordered.

"Yes sir!" The comns officer said as he started rushing towards the bridge to contact Admiral Tanwitt.

Brutus gave only a glance at the Third Sister. She just proved his point that Inquisitors are weak. The Captain quickly went after Admiral Karnu, now that the 411th and 112th merged, he will need to talk to the Admiral more.

"Sir, I have something important to tell you," Brutus gargled through his mask, then in a more hushed tone so Vader wouldn't hear, "I was able to capture a Jedi alive, permission to take him to Nur for torture and interrogation?"

"You were able to capture a Jedi?" The Admiral asked lowering his voice as well.

"I'm not sure if I have the authority to do that Captain."

Brutus gave understanding nod. He was staying in line like a good officer. Brutus fought the urge to let it go and kill Dan, "Then I'll do it myself." The Captain turned and walked away towards the shuttle back to his- no Commander Steppenwolf's ship. His trust and love for the Empire was failing yet he couldn't hate it. Brutus felt forced to love it.

An Imperial shuttle soon came out of hyperspace heading towards the Deliverance. Inside the shuttle was Captain Aliella Harmenix, she had just left Tanwitt's fleet a few hours ago and now she is being transferred over to the Deliverance to serve under Admiral Karnu as his newest second in command. The young captain still didn't understand why Karnu of all people wanted her to be his second in command according to Tanwitt, Karnu was impressed with her skills during the Clone Wars. There were other captains who shared the same skills as her and out of all of those captains Karnu picked her. Aliella was of course willing to act as Karnu's second in command, but at the same time she was confused on why she was picked.

After a few minutes had gone by the pilot of the shuttle was granted permission to land in the hanger of the Deliverance. Inside the hanger a lone officer stood as he watched the shuttle land on the ground the ramps soon started to open, and it wasn't long before Aliella stepped out of the shuttle with her arms behind her back as she stepped towards the officer. The officer soon stood at attention and saluted Aliella.

"At ease officer." Aliella ordered as she return the salute before putting her arms behind her back.

"Where is Admiral Karnu?"

"He's on the bridge ma'am, just follow me and I'll take you to him." The officer said.

Aliella nodded and soon started to follow the officer to the bridge as they walked across the hanger bay, Aliella would notice some of the 112th Clones and some of the human officers were giving her looks. Aliella simply ignored this and continued to follow the officer until they came to the bridge.

Bridge

Admiral Karnu looked down at Odesson with anger and disgust never in his life as he ever failed the Republic nor the Empire until this mission came and ruined everything. The Admiral now hated the Inquisitors even more due to their failure of killing the Jedi, they were the reason good men like Buck and Yutu died by the hands of Vader. Karnu will make sure his men did not die in vain because of this failure.

"Have all weapons locked onto the temple.... I want it all gone." The Admiral ordered.

The Officers on the bridge soon started to get to work on locking the Deliverance's weapons onto the temple and within a few minutes the weapons began bombing the temple on Odesson, destroying everything in a hail of blue laser fire. While this wouldn't wipe away the failures of the mission, Karnu couldn't help but smile as he watched the bombing happen knowing that temple is now reduced to ash. The weapons soon stopped firing on the temple as a satisfied sigh escaped the Admiral's mouth.

"Good work everyone." Karnu said as he turned around to see the bridge's doors open.

Stepping onto the bridge was an officer and Aliella, who automatically stood at attention and gave Karnu a salute.

"At ease Captain." Karnu ordered as he return the salute.

"I personally like to welcome you aboard the Deliverance. I hope you find the ship to your liking?"

"It's going to take a while for me to get used to being on a different Venator, but I'm sure I will get use to it." Aliella said.

"Good to hear." The Admiral said as he turned to face the officers on the bridge.

"Attention everyone.... Due to Captain Yutu's early retirement. I would like to introduce you all to Captain Aliella Harmenix, she will be my new second in command. While I am not on the bridge, I expect you all to give her the same amount of respect that you have shown me." Karnu said as he looked at all the officers.

"Is that understood?"

"Yes sir!" The Officers all shouted.

"Good, now captain would you like to say a few words to the crew?" Karnu asked.

Aliella nodded as she stepped forward and started to clear her throat before speaking to the bridge crew.

"It is a pleasure to meet you all, I hope during my time as Captain on this ship I will get a chance to know you all. I know you have high expectations for me, and I assure all of you that I will serve to the best of my ability. For the glory of the Empire and the Emperor himself." Aliella said as she looked at the officers on the bridge.

As she looked around the officers seem to approve of their new captain while others were unsure with her. It was going to take a while for her to adjust to this new crew, but in time she will hopefully get to know all of them.

---

With losses on both sides, the Battle of Odessen finally comes to a conclusion! The Jedi may have escaped for now, but with the overwhelming power of the Empire against them, escape may have only delayed the inevitable...

[Aeritai]

Above Odessen
Venator Star Destroyer Deliverance

After introducing the bridge crew to Aliella, Admiral Karnu motion for the captain to follow him into the holo room. Aliella followed the Admiral into the holo room curious on what he wanted. As soon as the two entered the room, the officers in the room soon stood at attention and gave a quick salute to the both of them.

"At ease officers." Karnu ordered as he gave a salute back with Aliella also returning the salute as well.

"I ask that you all leave this room for a bit, I wish to speak to the Captain in private."

All of the officers in the room nodded and began walking out of the holo room leaving the two alone. Aliella was confused on why the Admiral wanted to talk with her in the first place, but whatever he wanted it must be important if he wants this talk to be private. After making sure all of the officers left the room, the Admiral turned to face Aliella and began to speak.

"It will be a while until we receive new orders, so I thought this would be the perfect opportunity to get a chance to know you better Captain. I have already read your battle reports and I have to say I am impressed." Karnu said.

"You have potential and I'm going to make sure you reach that potential."

"Is that why you picked me to replace Captain Yutu?" Aliella asked.

"You are correct." Karnu said as he put his hands behind his back keeping his eyes on Aliella.

"While I am glad you picked me to be your second in command sir.... I'm not special, I just want to serve the Emperor to the best of my ability." Aliella replied.

"We have the same thing in common then." Karnu said.

"But tell me why you join the Imperial Navy? When your family is a powerful mining corporation back on Coruscant... Why leave that life behind to join the ranks of the Imperial Navy?"

Aliella let out a small sigh as the Admiral mentioned her family, it had been years since she last talked to them after she told them she would join the Naval Academy and hasn't talked to them since. She still remembers that day when her parents disowned for wanting to follow the military life instead of following the lifestyle of high-class officials back on Coruscant.

"I just wanted to do more in life Admiral, going to business meetings and going to parties wasn't a lifestyle I wanted. So, I joined the Naval Academy to serve both the Republic and Empire, joining the military gave me another purpose in life."

Karnu listened carefully to Aliella's reasoning on why she joined the navy and for a moment a smile formed on the Admiral's face. While his family wasn't a rich family, he had the same reason as Aliella for joing the Navy as well which was to have a higher purpose in this galaxy.

"Well you made the right choice in joining the Navy, Captain Harmenix." Karnu said.

"While serving under me, I will make sure you reach your full potential. With my help you might one day become an Admiral and command your own fleet."

"Thank you, sir I look forward to working with you." Aliella said with a smile.

Karnu returned the smile before speaking again.

"It seems we still don't have any new orders yet from high command... In the meantime, I shall be heading to my quarters. I will need you to watch over the bridge crew while I am gone if we receive new orders from high command inform me at once." Karnu explained.

"Yes sir." Aliella said.

With their conversation over Karnu walked out of the holo room heading towards his quarters while Aliella went to the bridge to watch over the crew until new orders arrive.

[The Imperial Republic]

Power, Uncompromising
A Jedi's Fall

---

Third Sister

The Deliverance - The Following Morning

Surely this had to be some sort of sick practical joke?

The young Ensign Kelleast Thodam marched steadily along the dimly lit corridors of the Deliverance with a face frozen in anxiety and a peculiar rigidity in his form as he walked. The mere thought of having to deliver their report to any Inquisitor was nerve-wracking in and of itself...but to the Third Sister? He had heard more than enough horror stories passed along from the troopers to the crew. Not one, but two lightsaber blades? Anger issues? Lightning?! He was a gunnery officer, for goodness' sake! So much as talking to superiors was hectic enough, but this business was lightyears above his paygrade!

He outright ignored much of the bustling crew members around him as he marched, desperately trying to formulate a proper delivery of his report to maximize his chances of leaving her quarters in one piece. He had hoped such an opportunity would last forever, but as fate would have it, the Inquisitors' crew quarters were but a single turn from the bridge elevators. When he reached the indicated doorway of the Third Sister's chambers, his mind raced as he pieced together the information in his head.

'Just be short and to the point,' they had reminded him. 'Short, and to the point.'

"S-short and to the point..." Thodam repeated to himself. He sucked in a lungful of air, and breathed out. He stepped up to the door, and allowed it to slide open with a depressurizing hiss...
The chamber he entered did not seem like a quarters at all. While the officers' and Inquisitors' chambers were certainly better than those blasted pods the clones slept within, he certainly would have preferred one of those to what he entered here. There was no bunk, nor any furnishings to accomodate...well, anyone! It was an empty echo chamber, and nothing but a small, circular platform was all that was furnished within the wide open room.

Upon it sat the Inquisitor in question, cross-legged with her back to the door so as to gaze aimlessly out of the single narrow window on the outer wall, giving her a view of naught but the vast emptiness of space.

The tattooed woman was wrapped from the waist up in the form-fitting trappings of her wound dressing, dotted with bacta patches of varying sizes applied by the cylindrical, FX-series Medical Droid that stood at her side. It poked and prodded at the meditating Inquisitor's still-festering wounds with its collection of tiny arms, their syringes occasionally pricking her with various substances that, to the officer's unsettlement, prompted no external reaction from the Third Sister. He had almost forgotten that the aforementioned attack on Odessen had left her gravely wounded. Not only that, but he had heard more than his fair share of disturbing stories of these so-called "dark siders," and their almost masochistic use of pain and anger to sustain themselves. Even when they dragged this one to the infirmary, she had allegedly threatened to skin the doctors alive when they insisted she spend a day or two in a bacta tank! Ever since then, she had confined herself to her quarters with little more than that medical droid to care for her.

He dreaded the sight of needles himself, and seeing the Inquisitor completely lucid under such physically taxing medical procedures was utterly baffling. A chill ran down his spine...

And judging by the sudden feeling of pressure upon him that followed, the Inquisitor was certainly not pleased... nor about him even being here. The woman at the end of the room gazed up, staring directly forward into the window, but saying nothing. Thodam took another deep breath. Short and to the point...

"Inquisitor--"

"What you have to say had better be good, else your replacement may very well be scraping your innards off the floor."

That first response was enough to absolutely shatter any semblance of confidence the Ensign had carried with him into her chambers. It made the previously collected officer suddenly break out into a cold sweat. Was his career truly destined to end this way? No turning back now, he figured. Straight and to the point, he repeated yet again in his mind...

"Ah...erm," he stammered, but swiftly collected himself. "The Inquisitorius brings more orders, regarding the recent... i-incident..."

Though the Third Sister remained silent, the Ensign could swear he felt the atmosphere of the very room shift at that very moment she bowed her head. The medical droid that worked tirelessly upon the woman's injuries was slowly wheeled away from her with an almost unnatural movement. Did it know something he did not? The seconds of silence that followed felt like hours, and the lack of a response from the Inquisitor prompted him to continue speaking. Best not to relay their orders verbatim...
"As such, the Grand Inquisitor is...extending your reassignment to the Headquarters on Nur until further--"

The officer flinched as, with a screech of grinding steel, snapping components and hair-raising squeals of its voice modulator, the medical droid at the Inquisitor's side was suddenly crushed - like an empty metal can being squeezed to a pulp by a large, invisible hand. Thodam jerked his head to the side, averting his gaze amidst such an abrupt, violent reaction. Even as the droid's "head" was ripped from its body, showering just about the entire room in a deluge of tiny sparks, the junior officer could only stand at attention.

Even the Inquisitor herself did not move a muscle amidst this wanton destruction. Instead, the crumpled body of the droid hovered in place for but a moment, before that same invisible hand hurled it into a nearby wall. It soared through the open air with such speed and force that it practically shattered upon reaching its destination. The Ensign's eyes snapped shut as tiny bits of metal and electrical fixings were scattered all over the entire room, some bouncing off his uniform and boots before clattering helplessly to the floor.

What followed was yet another long, drawn-out silence from the Third Sister. The Ensign could not even be helped to conceal his terror anymore, and stood quite literally quivering in his boots. This was it, he thought. He was next, doomed to die here at the hands of this...this psychopath! Damn the Inquisitors, for even getting us into this mess with their failure! Damn Lord Vader, for not relaying this himself! And damn Admiral Karnu! That slimy, craven bastard! This was his ploy all along...to send him to the slaughterhouse in his stead!
But after what felt like a bloody eternity, Third Sister spoke again. Her tone of voice seemed no longer impatient, but in a soft hiss - polite, but filled with deadly venom.

"Will that be all?"

Thodam blinked in surprise, and swallowed hard. A shaky, gloved hand reached up to tug at the high collar of his uniform, before he mustered the courage to open his mouth once more. Straight to the point...

"I-It...It is because th-they are having difficulties! With a...a-a captive Jedi, they say-- AAH--!"

Just then, with two swift motions of the Inquisitor's unwrapped hand, the door of her quarters slid open just enough for that invisible hand to shove the trembling officer right back into the corridor. The door then slammed shut, gracing her with silence once more. Third Sister looked back up to stare back out the window.

In her reflection, a twisted grin formed on her face...

Fortress Inquisitorius
Nur
Some time later

Dan Brovil, former Jedi, currently something he didn't know what to call, was currently three days into what had to be the worst week of his life. At least, he assumed it was three days. Day and night had become twisted together as he lay there, restrained against the interrogation chair. His arms and legs were clamped down against the metal surface, and he could feel stiffness starting to come over them. His mouth and throat were dry constantly. They give him water at sparse intervals, but it was never enough. He could turn his head just enough to see the injector arms looming over him. If no one came in to try and fry him soon, those would move down. The time Dan spent not being tortured was spent in a tranquilized haze that left him too tired to use the Force, but not enough to fall asleep. Stars, sleep seemed like such a comfort now. He was certain he'd kill for the chance to have even that small luxury back. A cold breeze swept over Dan as the Fortress' air systems switched on. It was a periodic occurrence that he'd grown quite used to. It was also another factor adding to the constant discomfort he felt just from being here, because the Inquisitors had apparently decided that leaving him nothing but his trousers to wear was good enough. Dan couldn't look down enough to even see his own bared torso, but he could imagine the mess of scars and burns that would be there if he did.
And yet, the Force was still with him. It was faint, like a sound heard from far away, but it had not left him. Not fully. It had been there when he had suffered at the Inquisitor's hands, when he had been feverishly repeating Master Khir's litany against fear in his mind . The Force had extended what meager power it could to Dan, had given him resolve. Kept him from breaking. When red-hot metal had seared his flesh, when lightning had wracked him with agony, the Force had allowed him to endure. Or perhaps it had simply reminded him that he possessed the strength to endure. Dan didn’t think it made a difference.

He continued to endure and survive, as he always had. He was alone, and weak, and in pain, but he would let the suffering come as it would, and end as it would. Such was Dan Brovil’s way. He always fought, and even when he didn’t win, he didn’t allow himself to lose. Didn’t allow himself to fall. Ah, but you did, A traitorous voice in his mind told him. He had fallen, had chosen the quicker, easier route of the Dark Side. It was an eternal temptation now, to give into it further. But he continued to resist, even as his resistance grew weak. Master Faolinn Zsal, when overseeing Initiate classes, had said that a Jedi did not shy away from adversity. Through adversity, one carves away their own weaknesses and becomes stronger as a result. A Jedi would never seek out suffering, but if it came to them, they would not shy away from it.
Dan thought on that idea for a long time, but his thinking was interrupted by the cold whoosh of his chamber’s door opening. His tongue had not the strength for words, so he merely watched, as a different Inquisitor than the last ones strode in.

And from the dark void that had become of that dreaded door, a woman spoke, its true voice masked by a vocoder. It was not hostile, but...impressed?

"Well, well, well."

Out of the shadows came another of the same black-clad, helmeted figures that he had become so accustomed to seeing. A cloak was draped comfortably over the sleek, form-fitting Imperial uniform she wore underneath it. She looked the same as all the others, but carried with her a peculiar aura to the Jedi. While the Dark Side was certainly strong in all of the Inquisitors, the clouded mind of the woman that entered his chamber bore with it a tinge of...chaos.

Without skipping a beat, the figure gave a dismissive wave of her hand, causing the entire fixture of injector arms to float off to the side. She spoke again, every syllable enunciated in an almost taunting manner.

"General Dan Brovil..."

Dan looked toward the shadowy figure, and soon averted his eyes. Her presence was poisonous, to say the least. Invisible tendrils of the Dark Side coiled out from her and wrapped around his very soul, leaving a cold, empty feeling in his chest as what little warmth he had left seemed to disappear. It took him an agonizing few seconds to get a sound other than a whispery rasp out of his lips.

"Not a General anymore," He answered. Dan didn't enjoy the sound of his own voice, not when it came out so haggard. Dan spared another glance towards his soon-to-be tormenter, and wished he hadn't. His eyes averted once more.

"You're new."

"Indeed," the figure replied. She marched around Dan's interrogation chair at a slow but steady pace, the clack of her boots upon the metal floor casting an echo that rippled off the high ceiling of this cramped little room. "The reports of your capture and resilience were so remarkably thorough," she explained bluntly as she walked. "I could not help sailing to this deplorable little pool of a moon to see this Jedi for myself."

The Inquisitor went on, coming to an eventual stop in front of him, staring aimlessly into the wall on his right. "Lord Vader's orders to take no prisoners from your Jedi Enclave were clear. You could be rotting under the mountain of rubble that became of your Order's pathetic little hovel on Odessen. But yet here you are, still alive to tell the tale."

She craned her neck, letting the glowing orange visor of her helmet bore into his tired eyes.

"Why do you think that is?"

Dan dragged his gaze back towards the Inquisitor's visor. He blinked, and he was back on Odessen again, flames roaring around him, staring up from the ground at Brutus' scarred face. The clone commander had pointed a blaster right at his head, Dan remembered. But Brutus hadn't shot him. At the time, Dan had assumed that Brutus' injuries had been the reason for his life being spared. In his time in the interrogation chamber, he had been able to think about it more.

He could simply say 'it was the will of the Force'. That would be a typical Jedi answer, Dan figured. "This one's no Jedi," Brutus said in his memories. Dan felt the sting of the words still, but he let it pass over him and through him. Only I will remain, he thought, completing Nuvani's litany against fear almost reflexively. A Jedi answer would only agitate his captor.

"Your troops took me alive," He said. Dan held back any mention of his history with Brutus, lest he bring more suffering down upon the Clone Commander's head after cutting his hand off and leaving him with permanent respiratory damage.

"Our troops took you alive!" the Inquisitor repeated, almost interrupting him. Her entire demeanor shifted on a dime, practically laughing in his face as she said that. The woman marched up to the nearby table that was decorated with the colorful tools of torture the Inquisitorius had a knack for employing. She peeled off her leather gloves, and cracked the knuckles of her red-black tattooed hands. All the while, her chuckling went on for a disturbingly long amount of time.

"You..." she looked back at the Jedi, shaking her head as she spat in an outright mocking spirit. "You truly have not yet grown a brain, have you? My word... And after all those years..."

Surprisingly enough, she left the table without so much as retrieving anything.

"What would your precious Master Khir say, I wonder...?"

The mention of Nuvani was enough to make his blood run cold. He hated the sensation of chills running down his spine. He hated the shivering that overtook him. And, in some small part of himself, he hated the Inquisitor for how she mocked him. For how she mocked Nuvani.

"Master Khir-" Dan spoke, once he was sure he could stop himself from calling her Nuvani. "-Is dead. What she would say is irrelevant." He lied through his teeth, putting on a facade of indifference. Anything to keep away the emotions from when he'd sensed Nuvani's death. Anything to keep from breaking so easily at the mere mention of her. Only I will remain.

Instead, he focused on the mysterious Inquisitor before him. Red hands, tattooed. Possibly a Zabrak? Horns would fit under that helmet comfortably, he figured. And the way she spoke was refined, albeit arrogant. Force-users weren't exactly common- his torturer could very well have been a fallen Jedi. The cold, empty feeling in his chest slithered into his mind, bringing with it unbidden thoughts of Nuvani, righteous fury that this twisted monster even spoke her name. Dan pushed them away.

"How do you know her?" He would push his despair, rage, and every other feeling down, and only think of cold, unchanging facts. That was how he had lead the Allst Prime campaign for so long, how he kept fighting through war without letting it break him.

Regardless, however, the Inquisitor seemed to know how such words cut deep into his heart. The woman stood up straight, no longer glaring daggers into the bound Jedi.

"Ah, struck a nerve, have I? Where are my manners?" she replied, a somewhat dismissive air to her words. She reached up and behind the edges where the mask met her helmet. With a soft snap-hiss, it opened up, allowing the Inquisitor to gently pull it from her head - confirming the Jedi's suspicions regarding the woman's species. The markings upon her face and stubby horns protruding from her jet black hair were unmistakable.

"Master Kin did have some...colorful words to say about her, yes," the Zabrak carried on with a smug grin, ignoring any weight such a reveal may have held.

"It was always like him to be up front with voicing his opinions..."

Master Kin, the Togruta... the Zabrak padawan he'd duelled and lost to, and been left humiliated by. That gave an answer to his interrogator's identity, at least. Dan bristled at the mention of Kin's opinions. He and Nuvani had worked in the Outer Rim so much because she didn't care to hear the opinions of other Jedi.

"I don't care-" Dan found anger coloring his words, even as he attempted to reign it back in. "-what you or Kin had to say about my master." He lied once more. 'Master' didn't properly convey just how much Nuvani had meant to him. How much it had hurt to feel her life end through their Force Bond. Dan wished the Inquisitor would have targeted something else- his disappointing performance as an Inquisitor, his failure to stop Brutus, his inability to fully banish the darkness that had settled inside him. Any one of them, he could withstand. But those were all failures of Dan. He was used to living with them. He didn't need the people he'd cared for- the one he'd cared about most- brought down to his level.

"Of course you don't," Kedoa placed her helmet upon the table. "Neither did I, to be utterly honest. Never considering the feelings of others. All grudge, no forgiveness - a bloated head, always full of steam. All of that. Not that it changed anything. Ultimately, our Masters shared the same fate."

She chuckled again beneath her breath, her voice retaining that disturbing level of morbid frivolity. "Oh, how he cursed my name as I cast him from that spire..."

The Inquisitor banished the thought before she let it lead her off-track. Like a hungry buzzard, she began to slowly circle Dan's chair again. Suddenly, however, her tone soured.

"You needn't lie to me, Dan," she hissed, with emphasis on the Jedi's first name. "I can feel the anger bleeding out of you as we speak. All those long years of humiliation and torment - like a simmering pot ready to boil over - from that meagre little duel of ours that left you floored in front of half the Order, to the boneheaded trooper that snuffed out your beloved Master without a second thought..."

When she stopped in front of Dan again, she jutted a finger towards the wall. "Your Jedi friends aren't coming to save you. To them, you are already lost! Just as they left me to rot upon Geonosis, you are but another number to be counted among the fallen. And look at you... Left as nothing more than a footnote in their memory, and yet you STILL cling to this vain hope that your...teachings, or this so-called 'will of the Force' will guide you by some miracle to your destiny!"

Kedoa paced up to him, her face inches from his own. The former Jedi-turned-Inquisitor's face was no longer awash with scorn, but of...sympathy - the look of one who had also experienced her fair share of trauma and tragedy at the hands of such a brutal upbringing. And through the woman's fiery red eyes, tinged with the empowerment of the Dark Side, the shared pain shined forth.

"You crave vengeance for it all, do you not?"

Dan recoiled as the Inquisitor approached him, his head making a dull thunk against the metal chair. He’d been starved of contact for what felt like an eternity. He didn’t need the first living being to come close to him after all that time to be this subtle, shadowy presence, so subtle, so manipulative, and so right.

Because she was right, and that stung him. Her tirade about the Jedi, about how they couldn’t- wouldn’t- even make the attempt to save him. How the ‘will of the Force’ always seemed to have more important things to do. How ‘destiny’ was a concept that only applied to others. It was as though all of his self-loathing was suddenly validated.

Dan looked into her red-black, too-close face, lured by temptuous words and enticing promises. He saw the Jarvashqiine Shaman, all crazed eyes and tribal tattoos, grinning with bloodied teeth as he slowly put a blade against Dan. He saw Kota, a stone-carved visage lit by the green and yellow of their crossed blades, palpable disappointment evident on his face. And he saw Nuvani, just as she’d been on Mimban, with that sad smile like a setting sun that came out whenever they thought about a future.

The faces kept flickering past. Jarvashqiine. Kota. Nuvani. Jarvashqiine. Kota. Nuvani. Jarvashqiine. Kota. Nuvani.

Kedoa.

Kedoa, sympathetic, understanding, offering him a way out. Dan could’ve even called her seductive- do not, he commanded his own mind, start thinking that way. Resist as he would, it didn’t change the fact that Kedoa was right, and that she seemed to be the only being in the galaxy offering him a solution.

’It’s not the Jedi way,’ he could’ve said, but the words turned to ash in his throat as they died.

“I don’t know,” Dan finally answered, feeling utterly pathetic as he did. Perhaps it wasn’t vengeance he craved as much as understanding.

“Maybe,” he admitted. He wished that she’d just hurt him.

But Kedoa merely doubled down. "You let the weight your suffering tear you apart from the inside-out, when it is but a tool. It is a token of your power within, practically begging for release!"

"Believe you me, to let it go? To set free all that anger and emotion, shackled and forgotten by the Order just like the man strapped to this chair?"

With a jovial laugh, she bid him an almost carefree shrug. "Would that I could relive that unforgettable feeling, to unleash it all upon my own captors - easily the greatest moment of my life. That first breath is always the sweetest..."

"But don't you worry," The Inquisitor bid him a sultry look. Dan felt a hand tracing gently up his neck, stopping just below his chin to keep the Jedi from averting his gaze. "You'll come to realize it soon enough."

Her voice descended into a soft whisper.

"We have all the time in the world..."

She made it sound so appealing, to let everything out like that. That was the nature of the Dark Side, to reduce every person that used it down to their base instincts. It made one primal and impulsive, and it would always leave them hungering for more.

And yet, there was something sympathetic left in the Inquisitor, behind the seduction and the rage. She had been broken in the same way she threatened to break Dan now. Perhaps all of the Inquisitors had been. Perhaps they might be saved one day.

Dan tensed as her tattooed hand ran up his neck. The pulse of his blood would be a tangible thing under her touch, no doubt. He summoned all of the resolve that he could, not to resist the Inquisitor, but to make a promise to himself. He’d let himself join these Inquisitors, taste the Dark Side- and then he’d undermine them, once the ideal moment arose. Turn them back to the light or strike them down, whatever it took.

He met the Inquisitor’s eyes, unable to look away. Under other circumstances, he might have thought she was beautiful. (’Don’t think like that, Dan’, he reminded himself.) At present, he found her pitiable.

“....Tell me more,” He said, and the whisper his voice descended down into made him doubt all the resolve he’d built up.

“Please.”

Hearing himself say that made Dan wonder if the intoxicating, dark presence of the Inquisitor was influencing him more than he’d believed.

A pause set in, which saw the woman's red eyes glaring ahead, seemingly no longer into Dan's own, but something else; a presence that sent a peculiar chill through his body. It was looking for something...

Before the sensation disappeared almost as swiftly as it came.

"Oh, you would like that, wouldn't you?" Kedoa hissed into his face. Her twisted smile faded, and her brow arched in genuine curiosity. "Do you think me an animal, Dan? Blinded, and driven mad by the Emperor's gifts of power?"

Those words carried with them a weight as heavy as ever.

"Or perhaps..." Her alluring gaze rather suddenly darkened, and the soft touch upon his neck turned to the stinging pain of fingernails digging into his skin. "You take me for a fool?"

Dan winced as the Inquisitor’s nails broke his skin, spilling warm blood down his neck. The pain was like cold water thrown in his face, sending a shock through his body, but sharpening all of his senses. ’Finally,’ he thought.

“...I think,” He said, carefully, as each word could be his last. “That you’re right about some things, Kedoa. And wrong about others.” And she definitely didn’t enjoy being pitied.

“But not a fool.” Another needle of pain shot through him as he tried to move his neck under her grip. “Definitely not a fool.”

The hand upon his throat was unmoving, much like the Inquisitor's stone-cold stare. He could almost feel the fire burning beneath those eyes. Kedoa asked outright.

"Why shouldn't I just hurl your corpse into the ocean?"

“Because the Inquisitorius is bleeding members.” Dan found himself meeting Kedoa’s stare, the resolve he’d built up earlier coming back through. “Because I want the Jedi to see how their teachings failed me. How they failed me.”

Dan didn’t know what inner well of hatred he was drawing from, but he knew he was speaking truth. The Jedi had failed him, and had failed Kedoa all the same. The Inquisitorius was a reaction to that failure, albeit one heavily corrupted by the Dark Side.

“And,” Dan continued. “If you killed me, you’d be admitting that you weren’t powerful enough to break me. You’re stronger than that, you know it. I know it.”

Kedoa raised her chin up, gazing down upon the Jedi with that tell-tale look of disdain as he spoke. The flame of her previous anger seemed to recede. It was hardly surprising, though. There was little point in denying what she knew was true in her mind. If there were any underlying feelings, however, the Inquisitor did not show them.

But as if those words did not give her enough pause, his last point nearly left her absolutely floored. Her hand was still clasped firmly around his throat. Did...Did he actually just...?

She blinked, and suddenly, a single brow arched, and her face contorted into that of what seemed like...sickened amusement. No, her thoughts mused as she stifled a chuckle. There was no way. She wanted to hear him beg for it.

"...what are you playing at?"

“Not playing at anything.” Dan replied, finally feeling something close to confidence. He had her listening to him now. Of course, there was a high chance he’d end up on the receiving end of Sith Lightning, but at least he wouldn’t die. Probably. ’What do I have to lose?’ He thought.

“You asked what reason you’d have not to-“ Dan paused, taking in a weak breath as Kedoa’s hand remained around his neck. “-not to kill me. I answered.”

Dan knew he was gambling. Playing with fire. Running into a thunderstorm with a 10-foot metal pole tied to his back. He was staring into the sun and daring it not to blind him.

He wanted to speak more, to continue talk the Inquisitor out of killing him, but the courage he’d found was dwindling. So he kept silent, and awaited Kedoa’s next move.

The Inquisitor staring down at him said nothing for a time, eventually opting to simply shake her head. She wanted to laugh at him again, but had honestly found it rather pitiful.

"You know," Kedoa piped up again. "Jedi, Inquisitors, Imperials... I've met more than my fair share of simpletons in my life. But you...?"

On second thought, she did let out somewhat of a chortle, nonchalantly relinquishing her grip on his neck as she paced off to Dan's right. "You're as dense as this wall!" she quipped, knocking her still-bloodied hand against the sleek, reflective surface of pitch black metal and leaving some of the dark, crimson fluid behind.

"You just do NOT seem to quite get it, don't you?" Kedoa sauntered back up to his chair, leaning forward in a belittling, almost doting manner - like a parent to their naive little runt of a child.

"I've come not to kill you, Dan. I've come with an offer..."

Her face darkened again, prompting a peculiar chill to wash over the entire chamber. In slow succession, the audible breeze of the Fortress' air system, and then the soft clicks and beeps of the consoles dotting the walls began to grow quiet. As it all grew dead silent, he could almost hear his own heartbeat below the sound of their own breathing.

Finally, Kedoa spoke once more, a smirk complimenting the bold glint in her eyes. To the Jedi, the twisted, chaotic aura she carried into the chamber seemed to simply...fall. Like a mask, peeled away to reveal yet another mask behind it.

"The Emperor is a fool."

It was Dan's turn to be left absolutely floored. He thought he had prepared himself for every possibility that could've happened once Kedoa walked through that door. But this, he never could have predicted. Never could have foreseen, even if the Force had granted him a vision of the future.

He wanted to think she was lying, deceiving him. But the way her twisted aura retreated as she dispelled all sound from the chamber... it seemed sincere. And Dan was a trusting fool. A simpleton, as Kedoa had put it. Dense as the wall.

"You're plotting something against him." Dan stated. It was obvious, from the way she acted. But if he'd phrased it as a question, he would've had to endure more belittling from what was apparently the closest thing to an ally he could find here. "What, exactly, are you offering me?"

"Me? Plotting? Hah, no... No! I'm a good little girl..."

Kedoa flashed him a pure, childlike grin. The sarcasm was clear enough in that statement, though the casual manner in which she said it likely dashed any of Dan's hopes of an actual plot to the wind. "I am merely stating the obvious."

"His Empire could have very well eradicated every single Force-sensitive soul it came across. He could have centralized everything for himself and none else, relying solely upon his own magnificent power and that rampaging cyborg pet of his that he's so fond of."

"But instead, look around you! It's another Jedi Order under a rebranding and change of doctrine. They're pulling in every man, woman, and Lucien Draay descendant with enough midi-chlorians and lack of purpose, and giving them a sweet taste of what it means to wield true, immense power! And all the while, moulding them into obedient little servants..." she nodded her head, jutting a finger between herself and Dan. "...like us!"

She stood back up straight, finally dropping the banter for once.

"Jokes aside, my point is simple: The Emperor is sharing his own power, bestowing it upon his rebellious underlings at the cost of his own. Though I scarcely believe he's so idiotic that he does not realize the long-term issues, that much is irrelevant," Kedoa went on, gesturing to nothing in particular. "Less than three months in, and this entire system is already set to begin rotting from the inside out..."

Even as she seemingly trashed upon everything he assumed they stood for, Kedoa did not appear to care at all. In hindsight, it was like an aspiring Sith to hate their master, as well as everyone that shared in the master's power. Suddenly, the reasons they had been virtually extinct for so long started to make sense...

"Me?" she shrugged. "I am merely playing the long game. He offered me a choice: death, or power. And now, that choice is being granted unto you as well."

Dan found the presented decision less obvious than he likely should have. Death was a hard thing to willingly choose, and yet, it might have proven to be the better of the two here. The kind of life offered by the Dark Side hardly sounded like one worth living. He would be constantly on edge, always having to suspect that everyone he fought beside, his supposed ‘allies’, would stab him in the back for their own gain. That was no life.

But, there was reason to experience it nonetheless. The Jedi way forbade knowledge of the Dark Side, believing that such knowledge would corrupt any who learned it. That belief may have been true, and yet Dan wondered. He wondered how Kedoa, a padawan who had been nothing short of a prodigy, could have fallen so far as the cackling madwoman who now held Dan’s life in her hands. The Dark Side’s way of life was suffering, but it had to have some kind of appeal for her. That was a puzzle Dan wished to solve, to understand why this kept happening. Dooku, Sora Bulq, and countless other Jedi throughout the order’s history had fallen to darkness after a lifetime spent learning how horrible it was to fall. They knew, and did it all the same. If Dan were to understand why so many kept falling, he’d first have to understand the Dark Side.

The Jedi pulled himself forward as much as he could with the restraints binding him. He was so, so tired of being strapped down, held back, unable to move. Dan wanted to be free again, more than anything else. He wanted his shackles undone, both the physical ones and, he realized, the mental ones left by Jedi instruction. Jedi teachings would not be enough to get him through a post-Jedi galaxy. Adherence to a single ideal would not be enough. He needed to understand it all.
Or, maybe, he was delirious. Maybe Kedoa had shattered his mind, broken him with her sheer chaotic presence. Dan did not dare to speak more than a few words, lest he once again provoke his captor into another unpredictable mood swing. He could easily end up like her, if his barely-consistent plan failed. Dan steeled his resolve one last time.

“I choose power.”

There was a certain method to her madness, however. A jumble of emotions and thoughts, stirring wildly beneath those eyes. If he stared hard enough, it was almost as if he could see them change as the Inquisitor's pendulum of a psyche swung back and forth, its pattern somehow both predictable and unpredictable at the same time.

"I thought you'd see my way," Kedoa said, a surprising warmth to her voice that contrasted the chill swirling around them. "There is something about you, Dan Brovil; a hoard of questions and plots of your own, brewing deep in that brain of yours. I could excise it all from your mind myself - turn you into some sort of faceless, mindless pet - but where is the fun in that? Honestly, some sick part of me wants to watch as the answers you seek tear you to ribbons..."

The same hand that touched him before reached up to tenderly caress the fallen Jedi's face, leaving a thin streak of his blood dashed across his cheek.

"I'll play along with your little game," she whispered to him. "Make things a little more...convincing. Should you survive, I sense the two of us will get along just fine..."

The Inquisitor relented, and stepped away from his chair. She closed her eyes, and in an instant, the bitter cold began to dissipate from the room around them. When they opened, he could feel that previous fire roar back to life within. It seemed to relieve the woman, to again don the veil she had never previously dared to drop. Not quite Kedoa...

But also not quite Third Sister either.

"Worry not, Jedi," her icy voice returned. A hand reached out to him. "You will get your precious power soon enough..."

What came next was not another gentle touch, but a storm of lightning.

Dan could have responded to her threat to turn him into a mindless pet. But what point was there? He’d mustered all of the resolve he could, and she’d still broken him. He’d thought he had been clever, but had been left stupid. He’d thought he was strong, but had been left weak.

Another Jedi could’ve escaped. Master Pongo would have read the Inquisitor like an open book, had her turned to the light before the lightning ever came out. Master Zsal would have taken everything that was thrown at him, and would’ve fought his way out. Master Khir would have a hundred different plans to escape by the time the restraints came down.

He could’ve tried to endure the lightning. He could’ve used his Tutaminis to absorb it, even turn it back at the Inquisitor. He could’ve done any number of things, if he were anyone other than Dan. When the lightning sent sparks of agony through every nerve ending in his body, Dan couldn’t do anything except scream.

She could have very well resorted immediately to such violence upon walking through that door, rather than trading words with him. Frankly, considering how much the Inquisitor was clearly enjoying herself, it must have taken quite the willpower to hold back. Even as she gleefully chuckled beneath the crackling chorus of violet lightning and Dan's cries of pain, the woman's skill in wielding such raw elemental power was put on full display.

"Yes... Yes!" the Inquisitor shouted, ignoring the fact that he probably couldn't even hear it. "Go ahead! Call out to your beloved Master - your Jedi friends! I want them to hear you SCREAM!"

Dan obliged Kedoa’s request. Between each surge of lightning, his screams varied in both content and pitch. From vile threats to inarticulate attempts to plead for his life, a truly vast spectrum of repressed emotion to express. He never did call for any friends, nor for his master. The former were beyond response and the latter was dead.

Dan thought he saw Nuvani, standing in the corner of the interrogation room, between the shocks. The sight didn’t bring him any kind of peace. His master’s eyes were absent of the warm gold he’d been accustomed to seeing, and her neck was split by a gory gash that seemed to bleed endlessly. The spectre’s sad, apologetic expression was the last thing Dan saw before everything turned black, and his body went limp against the restraints. Unconsciousness was a welcome escape.

It didn't take long for Kress, walking down the hallways of Fortress Nur, to hear the inhuman screams coming from one of the torture chambers. He remembered his time in there, the horrors he was subjected to at the mercy of the Inquisitorius. Whoever was inside, he didn't envy their fate. In fact, he was half tempted to inspect the process. Soon enough, as he passed the doors to the chamber he heard the screams from, he gave in to his urge. A few button presses later, and he was inside, the telltale snap-hiss of the doors signifying his arrival. Lightning was still arcing from the metal pieces of the room, and Third Sister stood above a recently unconscious human male.

"Kedoa," Kress said, announcing himself.

In an instant, the arcs then came to an abrupt stop. The Inquisitor wielding them, however, did not budge. Her hand remained outstretched, almost ready to resume blasting the fallen Jedi with lightning again despite being unconscious. She slowly turned her head to their visitor, the now frazzled black hair still concealing much of the Third Sister's face.

"Mm?"

"I figured you were...working," Kress said, walking around the room at a snail's pace. He took in every detail. The sweat on the human's face, the slow twitching of his muscles as the lightning worked its way through his body, and the casual cold malice emanating from the Third Sister.

"Nothing seems to get you quite as excited as breaking in new candidates."

"I must say, I'm quite disappointed in the tolerance of this one," she mused aloud, the disappointment evident in her tone and expression. "He dropped like a rock."

She reached up to push a stray lock of hair from her face, switching hands upon realizing one was still stained in blood.

"Why do you trouble me today?"

"Checking in," Kress flatly stated, shrugging as he locked his gaze on the man in the chair, "You know how I am. After Odessen, I had to be certain our resident sadist hadn't been lost."

Kress took a long moment to stare at the man. He was no older than Kress, or he estimated, but he looked much younger. Kress' massive form and the Chiss' natural maturity cycle lent itself to giving him a look of more advanced age. This one, however, only betrayed the stress of recent months on all force-users through the worn bags under his eyes. The soft frown on his face that persisted even in his unconscious state was...almost peaceful. This place, of course, was anything but.

"What's this one's story?"

Third Sister glanced between the Chiss and the Jedi, remaining silent for a time before beginning to wipe her fingers clean. She clearly decided not to respond to that first bit.

"Just a lowly little insect from Odessen the Purge Troopers somehow took captive with all his organs intact," she explained, deciding to omit her and the Jedi's previous...parley. "Demoralized, conflicted, you know the pattern... He already seemed broken when I arrived. He merely needed...a little push."

"Like we all were," Kress said, hanging on his last word. He had always felt...uneasy around Kedoa. She was hungry for a blood in a way that most other Inquisitors weren't. She seemed to always care little for the mission, or the cause, only the kill. The pain. Not that Kress was any different, but he felt as though he wanted more than murder. He wanted a hunt. A challenge. Kedoa always seemed to want easy prey. Perhaps...she was like him. Twisted, more violent. But the same: they cared little for the institution, only for the fight.

"I heard about Vader's disciplining," He said. It was a test. Kedoa's response may give him a clue as to her allegiances.

Though she did not react physically to his conversational prodding, he could tell that something flared at the mere mention of that event. After a moment however, she stifled a laugh, keeping her gaze fixated on the unconscious Dan as she worked her gloves back on.

"To say that entire operation was a complete and utter catastrophe would be an understatement," Third Sister scoffed at nothing in particular. "The Admiral, Inquisitorius, and the clones all collectively embarrassed themselves in such spectacular fashion, I'd almost suspect it was all part of the plan..."

"Mmm," Kress said, feigning belief almost comically poorly. He raised an eyebrow at Kedoa's physical reaction, wondering which part harmed her so. Still, he was going to press forward. There was something there, wriggling beneath the fanatical exterior that the Third Sister purported.

"They promised you blood," Kress said, almost empathetically, "But more of our own was spilled that day than theirs."

Another prod. Who was "us"? Kress thought he knew, until Ilum.

Kedoa nearly interrupted him.

"Why are you here, Kress?" she asked bluntly. In the middle of the Chiss' attempt to break the ice, Kedoa outright shattered it in one fell swoop. As he attempted to steadily press forward, he soon found her pushing right back. "What do you want?"

Kress laughed in response. Kedoa was terrifying to the average Imperial officer, and perhaps made clones shiver in their boots, but he was no ordinary man. None of the Inquisitors were ordinary, nor were the Jedi. Her bluntness seemed to almost be expected by the Chiss, and he smiled underneath his respirator. Was he uneasy? Of course. The entire damned fortress made him uneasy. He suspected this was its intention.

"What any of us wants, sister," He said, sarcasm dripping from his last word, "To serve our 'masters' as best as we can."

He reached out for Dan, lightly slapping the man until his eyes fluttered.

"Question is, who are those wise masters?" He said, staring at Dan but addressing Kedoa, "Try not to kill him, hm? Seems your numbers are growing shorter."

It was a slip. Kress regretted it almost immediately, and he was certain Kedoa had caught it. His mind - nearly unconsciously - began to think of ways to kill her before she could fill the entire room with lightning. But he stifled the desire to lash out. If she attacked, he would respond, in equal or greater force.

Kedoa's face seemingly cycled through a dozen different emotions as she received what could easily be a shining recipient of "the galaxy's most unclear answer to a question" award. After a momentary blink, her expression finally settled on one of amusement. In fact, it seemed to take a considerable effort to not laugh in his face.

"Okay, first off," she held up a finger. "You really should have rehearsed that. Second, you ought to be mindful of what comes out of that mouth of yours behind these walls."

"Perhaps," Kress said, staring down at the woman, "But the fact that you haven't tried to savage me immediately makes me wonder."

He then cast his gaze upwards and around the room, looking at the jagged walls and fixtures. The interrogation rooms, for whatever reason, lacked surveillance technology. He couldn't come up with a rational explanation as to why, other than that Fortress Nur's idea of security was entirely focused on threats that came from the outside. And to think how simply he had walked into the front door with Voornan as his "prisoner".

"And yet, the torture chambers have no surveillance system. Relatively soundproof walls, in the back corner of the fortress, rarely visited by the Purge mutts. If there was anywhere to discuss business outside of prying ears, this would be the place."

Kress decided to gamble. If she attacked, he was confident he could - at the very least - weather her storm until she was within lightsaber range. He noticed, with a glance downwards, that she was lacking her own weapon. If she was irredeemable, perhaps she would finally quiet down in death. If she was anything more than a wild monster, he would try to plant the seeds of insurrection.

"You asked me to be blunt, fine," He said, turning from Dan to her, "The Empire treats us like mad dogs on leashes. We both know we're more than that. Remove the leash, remove the inhibition, find out just how much more powerful you can become."

When he was finished, he made his way towards the door. Slowly, deliberately, one hand remaining by his side to draw his blade should anything turn on its head. He stole one last glance at the human before offering a nod to the Zabrak.

"Something to think about. And have fun with this one."

Dan wondered, idly, if he was hearing things he shouldn’t have been hearing. The presence of the other Inquisitor didn’t bode well for him, but it may not have boded well for Kedoa either. The massive Chiss spoke freely of rebelling against the Emperor, the same one Kedoa had openly called a fool earlier. And if his interrogation had taught him one thing, it was that agreeing with Kedoa was just as dangerous as dissenting.

He let his head hang once more and closed his eyes. Without lightning coursing through him, he could finally think, even if it would only last a moment.

Meanwhile, Kedoa had stood rigid as the Chiss paced for the door, choosing silence and patience instead of testing any waters. Did her previous words to that Jedi fall on outside ears that swiftly? Perhaps that big lunk was coaxing her into a trap with such talk? Though even had Kress attempted to hide his body language, she could practically feel the uneasiness hemorrhaging off of him. But that too could have very well been a trick to let her guard down. To let one's guard down was weakness. And show weakness, and everyone around you would exploit it. The conversation as a whole just left a foul taste in her mouth, and even more conflicting thoughts within her mind. Still, though, the boldness of that Chiss was quite intriguing.

Something to think about, indeed...

Even as the door slid closed, gracing the two with privacy once again, the woman stared ahead for quite a long time.

"What a way to kill the mood..." Kedoa grumbled beneath her breath. She did not even seem angry anymore. Simply baffled. "Would it have killed him to wait?"

Finally, her cold gaze drifted back to Dan, who had begun stirring again.

'And what to do with you, I wonder...'

[Aeritai]

Streets of Coruscant
One Hour After Order 66

A hooded man could be seen moving through the crowded streets of Coruscant trying his best to keep his head down. This man was a Jedi who had just escaped the temple after it was attacked by the Clones and with the temple still being under siege the city was on lockdown, which meant that no civilian ship was allowed to leave Coruscant. The lone Jedi man had to find somewhere to hide, he was defenseless out here given the fact that he lost his lightsaber while escaping the Jedi Temple and it wouldn't be long before the Clones and local law enforcement would track him down. As the lone Jedi continued walk through the crowds, he quickly looked up to see a checkpoint full of Clones up ahead, checking everyone's IDs and making sure there was no escaped Jedi. The Jedi cursed under his breath seeing the checkpoint and decided it would be best if he turned around and try to find someplace else to hide until the lockdown in the city was over. As the Jedi turned around, he accidently bumped into a woman.

"Oh dear! Excuse me miss... I didn't see you there." The Jedi said looking at the tall blue woman who stood before him.

The woman looked down at the 'hooded man' her red eyes coldly staring at him. A few seconds of silence passed between the two strangers, before the woman spoke.

"It's fine sir...." She simply said as she continued to walk towards the checkpoint.

The Jedi sighed in relief and soon started to hurry trying to get away from the checkpoint, before one of the Clone Guards could stop him. After walking through the crowd, the lone Jedi found an alleyway he could hide in until the Clones stopped searching for him. Wasting no time, he quickly went into the alleyway and kept going through it until he reached a dead end. The man let out another sigh of relief as he began to sit down and relax, but before he could do any of that a blue blot of light hit him in the shoulder and then two blue blots two his legs knocking the Jedi on the ground. Groaning in pain, the man looked up to see who shot him and to his shock he saw the blue woman with red eyes walked towards him with a DC-17 in her hand that was aimed at him.

"Wait! No! Why are you doing this?!" The Jedi asked as he started to panic with each step the woman took her DC-17 still aimed at him.

"Look.... Do you need credits?! I can give you-Ugh!" The Jedi groaned in pain as the woman stepped on his chest to shut him up.

"I don't care about credits traitor...." The woman said as she got on her comns and started to contact one of the guards in the area.

"This is Agent Bimi, I found one of the traitors trying to escape sending you my location now."

"Roger that we're on our way." A Clone voice said over her comns.

After contacting one of the Clone Guards, Bimi lifted her foot off of the injured Jedi while putting her DC-17 away. She then began to walk away before stopped as soon as she heard the Jedi speak again.

"Yo-u can't leave me here! Please ha-ve a heart! I did nothing wrong..." The Jedi begged not wanting to be killed by the Clones once they get here.

However, his begging would all be in vain as Bimi would ignore the Jedi's plea for help and continue to walk out of the alleyway until she met up with four Clone Guards.

"He's down there, I decided to soften him up for you." Bimi said as she started to away from the Clones as they entered the alleyway to finish the Jedi off.

Ilum
Three Months After Order 66

A Nu-1 Shuttle slowly touched down on the ground near the destroyed remains of Ruby Base, on the ground clone troopers were already searching the area and securing it as they wait for someone to come by and investigate. The shuttle ramp soon opened up with Bimi slowly walking down it as the freezing winds of Ilum breeze through her hair as she looked at the remains of Ruby Base. According to Imperial Intelligences, Ruby Base hasn't been reporting in for a while in which a squad of clone troopers and Agent Bimi were sent to investigate on why the base hasn't been responding. Now that they were here it would seem the base was attacked by an unknown force, after staring at the base for a few minutes she began walking towards it with one of the Clones walking up to greet her.

"Captain Frost at your service Agent Bimi." The Clone named Frost said.

"What have you found so far Captain?" Bimi asked as she proceeded into the area where Ruby Base once stood on.

"Nothing at all ma'am... Just remains from the base. We haven't found any bodies yet." Frost explained as he walked alongside the Chiss Agent.

"The bodies most likely all got vaporized by whatever destroyed the base." Bimi said as she kept looking around.

"From the looks of it... This base might've been attacked by an organized army. It would be impossible for one person to take out an entire base let alone one Jedi. Captain I want you and your men to search the entire planet and see if there are any non-Imperial forces on this planet, I shall stay here and continue to investigate the remains."

"Yes ma'am!" Frost said as he began ordering his men to spread out and search for any potential enemies that might be on the planet hiding.

[Luxembourg-Bavaria]

Vrudun Tumara - Zabrak Jedi Knight
Beli - Arkanian Pilot
Kalixinos Sarr - Kaleesh Inquisitor
Tuka Tisrygian - Human Jedi Padawan
Rhys Aatahl - Miraluka Jedi Padawan
Martius Shan - Human Jedi Master
Jace Tholme - Human Jedi Knight

---

Aboard the Vigil

As Vrudun seemed in a trance of the shimmering blue of hyperspace. As the worry and stress of fighting Inquisitors and nearly being blown to pieces by a Venator, he took a moment, one single moment to soak in the present, the low rumbles of the ship, the quiet chirps of the cockpit's many systems displays and consoles. It was music to his ears. He closed his eyes and leaned back in the minimalist steel chair, the cloth lumbar supports nearly worn down to nothing. It didn't matter to him, it was comfortable to him as the day's hectic events came to a close and his body begged for sleep, a chance to recharge. His eyes opened quickly at the feeling of Beli's own legs rubbing against his. He jumped up slightly to see Beli atop him, sitting right in his lap, her hands moving to caress the sides of his jawline.

"Beli, they can't see us like this..." Vrudun said, his head darting to the closed cockpit door and back to her.

"I don't care..." She said, forcefully, yet full of compassion and love. She kissed him deeply, Vrudun's cautious intent washing away from him as he wrapped his arms around her waist, responding to her love with just as much. Her mouth pulled back from his as she stared into his eyes.

"I could have lost you today...." She said in a hushed tone.

He gave her no response, only a smile as he leaned in to kiss her forehead, his hands moving up to rub her pearly white cheeks. Her white hair hung over his hands as he grasped her neck with his hands, pulling her face in for another kiss of affection. It seemed to last an eternity before the two parted lips, Vrudun's head turning back to the door.

"I need to check on Master Nard and Tuka, as well as our Imperial guest. Remain here and keep an eye on our heading, okay?" He said as he motioned her to get up. As Beli returned to her seat and Vrudun opened the door leading out, he looked back and smiled. Beli returned it, mouthing "I love you" to the Jedi. Vrudun returned the same as he turned back and left
As he walked through to passenger seating, he noticed the Inquisitor first, guarded by the two HK-51 droids. Kalixinos was slumped against the wall, his head laid back so that it rested upon the metal hull, his arms rested on his scarred stomach.

His eyes flicked open as Vrudun approached, though he did not lift his head. His expression wasn't discernible underneath his mask, as his eyes were calm and devoid of emotion.

"I thought the droids unnecessary, Jedi, I can be happy alone." Kalixinos said, lifting his head up and pulling himself upright in his seat, "But if you deem them purposeful to my company, it is your ship and I will not complain."

Vrudun did not reply to the Inquisitor's opinion on his security detail. They were there to ensure he wouldn't try anything foolish, not for his comfort. But Vrudun loosened a small smile at the corner of his mouth as he walked over to the small kitchen in one of the furthest corners.

"Would you like some water? Perhaps something to eat? We don't have much, but if you enjoy military surplus rations, I believe you will enjoy your stay here." Vrudun said, undermining the fact that this prisoner was indeed a member of the Inquisitorius. He spoke to him as if he were not the enemy.

Kalixinos nodded a little, "Either would be pleasant, food is food."

The Kaleesh continued to be casual, leaning over and resting his elbows upon his knees, letting his remaining hand hang down between his legs.

"You have been a surprisingly gracious host, and such luxury. I should enjoy being your guest, much better than any previous accommodation where I have stayed." Kalixinos said.

As Vrudun prepared the Republic ration and poured a plastic cup of water for the Inquisitor, he chuckled a bit at the Kaleesh's statement.

"It isn't much, but surely it's better than where you were previously." A few quiet minutes later and Vrudun approached Kalixinos with a small plate of steaming unidentifiable substance, though if it was good enough for clone troopers, it would be fine for him. He placed both down by the Inquisitor's side and stood back. "You surrendered to me, Inquisitor. I see no reason why you should be subjected to less than hospitable conditions. I'm not here to be your enemy. Simply here to ensure the survival of my Order." He said, placing his hands behind his back.

Kalixinos tipped back his mask slightly, just enough to eat while it still covered his face; he remained leaned forward. He ate regardless of the blandness of the ration that the Jedi had given him, he had eaten worse things before to survive. With a few bites and a swallow, Kalixinos took a few sips of water, though he stopped as soon as the word 'Inquisitor' came up.

Kalixinos looked around, watching the entrances to the room, then directing his focus back at Vrudun.

"Inquisitor?" Kalixinos asked, "You must be mistaken Jedi, there are no Inquisitors here. Third Brother was weak and he died; there is only me here, surviving.

Vrudun stood there in a moment of silence, a small smile continuing to rest upon his face. "Of course." He said, nodding in agreement. "My apologies. Might I ask, what is your name? I would hate to continue calling you by a defunct title." Vrudun said, remaining still, his arms behind his back.

His calm demeanor returned, as Kalixinos drank the rest of his water, placing the cup beside himself. He pulled his mask back down, so that it rested properly upon his face, then leaned back upon the wall.

"My name is Kalixinos Sarr, former Padawan to Jedi Knight Sumar Zan." Kalixinos stated, "And you, Jedi, what is your name?"

"My name is Vrudun Tumara. A former Padawan you s-" Vrudun was cut off by a revelation from deep within his own mind. His senses raced as he began to remember the name Sumar Zan. "You...you were Sumar's apprentice? The names sound familiar. I apologize for bringing up the past but....what happened to your master?" Vrudun said, the smile now gone from his face and a look of puzzled worry replacing it.

Kalixinos closed his eyes, running back through a bad memory, "Dead. Pirates."

Vrudun lowered his head as a solemn look washed over his face. "Then it is you." He somewhat whispered as he pulled up a chair from the metal dining table by the kitchen area, setting it down closer to Kalixinos and sitting down in it. "When you said Sumar Zan, at first I couldn't remember from when or how that name was important to me. It had been so long as I'd heard it, you see. Now I remember and know why. When I had first heard of what happened to Master Zan, I was but a Padawan myself under Master Jenassa Artine, trapped at the Temple, doing menial work, practicing my form, standard boring things an Apprentice did. But I do remember now of a Jedi Knight and his Apprentice going missing. Sumar Zan and Kalixinos Sarr. The fact that you survived, it's.....it's incredible." Said Vrudun, unaware of the tribulations the former Imperial had been through.

Kalixinos's eyes cracked back open, full of rage again, like they had been at the Temple on Odessen. Kalixinos sat up straight, and any sort of comfort he felt before had gone away.

"It was not incredible, Vrudun Tumara, it was painful! My master was killed before me, and me powerless to stop it. I was weak." Kalixinos said, his words spit with bile, "After those pirates killed him, they captured me and enslaved me. I bounced around the farmers, fields, and markets across the Outer Rim for the last ten years, all in chains. And did the Jedi Order ever come to rescue me? No, it didn't; it failed Master Zan, and it failed me."

As the two were talking, Tuka began to stir from his slumber. Letting out a very audible groan, he scratched his cheek slightly before opening his eyes slowly. Standing slowly up from where he had been put by Rhys and Martius, he looked around and spotted Vrudun and Kalixinos. Rubbing his eyes, he took a step forward before quickly realizing that they had a captured Inquisitor on board, causing him to nearly trip himself and fall on the floor. His hands quickly went to touch his side and felt no pain. Tuka's eyes quickly darted down to his torso to still see the holes in his clothes, but no other burn marks on his skin under. The Padawan then proceeded to slowly reach up to his face, feeling the slightest sting from the newly formed scar that hadn't been healed by Rhys. Having assessed himself, Tuka looked back to their captive and Vrudun.

"Master Tumara, w-what's this one doing on the ship?", Tuka said caustiously while moving his hands down to his lightsabers, still slightly in shock from the encounter and battle with the Third Sister.

Kalixinos pulled back from his sudden burst of anger as Tuka entered the conversation, though from his body language, it was clear he was still deeply enraged.
Kalixinos went back to leaning over his knees and nibbling on the ration Vrudun had provided him.

"I am your prisoner, Jedi," Kalixinos said, "Your harmless prisoner."

"But you're wrong.." Vrudun said with a look of despair and doubt. "There was a search effort for both you and your master. Master Artine assisted in it. She was gone from me for a month, searching. But we found nothing. And we continued to find nothing. Then came a point when we could no longer devote Knights and Masters to finding two possibly dead Jedi. So we enlisted the aid of the Republic. That did nothing to help you. Kalixinos....I'm sorry. On behalf of my Order, I'm so sorry."

Vrudun's head shot to the right to see the newly awoken Tuka Tisrygian. He stood up from the seat and walked over to the Padawan, placing his hand on his shoulder and helping him keep standing.

"Calm yourself, Padawan. This one is no longer an Inquisitor, or so he has told me."

Vrudun's head turned back to Kalixinos as the Kaleesh told the Padawan of what he was. Vrudun nodded. "He is our guest. Do try not to harm him unless he gives reason. Even then..." Vrudun nodded his head towards the two HK-51 droids that stood over him, keeping their sensors fixed on their mission.

Tuka nodded at Vrudun, calming down as he felt his hand upon his shoulder. Releasing his hold on his lightsabers, the Padawan continued to stare at the captured Imperial with wary eyes before moving back to his seat.

"Is.. Is Master Nard safe? Is he alright?", Tuka asked as he had been too busy getting electrified and falling unconscious to see the extent of damage done to his Master.

"Master Nard is just fine. Padawan Aatahl healed him just as he healed you. He is simply resting, is all. We've all had a very trying day, but he more than others. I think he's entitled to a good sleep, don't you think?" Vrudun said in a friendly voice to the Apprentice.

Tuka nodded again as the memories of his and Jace's fight with the Inquisitor, including the moment Tuka briefly used the Dark Side. He could still feel the aftermath of it, his head still hurting slightly, but what scared him was how good it felt. How exhilarating it was to unleash such power upon one's foe. Perhaps it was the Sith-King's influence rubbing onto him, but Tuka didn't feel so resolute in the power of the Light. Master Nard had been injured, they had lost two of their own, he himself had nearly been consumed by the unlimited lightning of the Inquisitor that faced both him and Jace, and he didn't even know where Master Shan, Rhys and Afon were at the moment. Perhaps the Dark Side was stronger.

Looking down at his hands in a moment of silent, he smiled slightly to Vrudun before rising from the seat. "Is there a mirror around here somewhere?"

"Yes, down that hall." Vrudun said as he pointed to behind him, one of the corridors that led to the fresher, Vrudun's quarters, Beli's quarters and one of the Engineering sections. As the Padawan moved towards the area Vrudun instructed him to go, he felt something...curious. As Tuka turned his back, the Jedi Knight sensed a darkness. It was faint, barely even a whisper, but it could still be felt. Vrudun's eyes focused on Tuka as he walked away. He squinted slightly, both in suspicion and confusion. "What was that?" He asked himself as the presence slithered back in as quickly as it had come and Vrudun was left with not a feeling from the Padawan. It surely left a doubting echo behind in his mind, but he was in no place to confront the apprentice at this moment. Perhaps it was simply his inability as a Padawan to secure himself to the Code. Losing his home, almost losing his life and the life of his master. It was difficult for him, to be sure. He shook the thought from his head as he returned to Kalixinos.

"Your padawan is strangely vain, is he not?" Kalixinos said, as he finished the ration that had been provided to him. "But let us return to something more important to myself; once we arrive at whatever place you are travelling to, what happens to me, Vrudun?"

The Zabrak Jedi Knight sat back down in the chair facing the former Inquisitor and scratched the end of his chin. "Well..." Vrudun said as he pondered this for a moment. He would ignore Kali's words pertaining to the Padawan for not even he knew enough about Tuka to say much. He had been under Master Nard's jurisdiction and he didn't want to get in the Wookiee Master's way of teaching his apprentice.

"It may very well be up to our Grand Master, I guess you could say. Which would be Master Shan. I will advocate for your release from our custody and we will go our separate ways. Instead of fleeing the Temple, you came with us. I do not believe your masters will forgive this so your chances of returning to the Empire are, at least in my opinion, very slim. Master Shan may see my methods as soft, perhaps. But, you were one of ours, Kalixinos. The circumstances that placed you here were not of your own doing. Losing your master, going through the terrible trials you had to feel and witness. Joining the Empire. I believe that, given a chance of your own, you will make the best decision for yourself. Should it be within the Grandmaster's will and you decide to part ways from us at our destination, I'll return your lightsaber to you, give you any food I can spare and send you on your way. And that'll be the end of it." Said Vrudun, leaning back in the seat.

Kalixinos shook his head, "Mercy? It feels strange to be receiving it, after years of slave masters, and my few brief months as an Inquisitor. Darth Vader would've never spared me from punishment or execution."

The Kaleesh breathed in, reflecting on his past and his choices.

"You have been kind to me, Vrudun, and I can at least return that. I promise that I will never raise my blade against you or your Order, should I go free." Kalixinos said, "But you would be wrong to assume I would ever return to the Light. The Dark side has provided me with strength, strength and power I need more of, especially if I am to survive alone out in the galaxy, now that the Empire is my enemy. You proved that to me, that I am still too weak."

For a brief moment, Vrudun remained silent, dropping his head down to examine his hands, thinking of what to say to Kali next. With a quiet voice, he began.

"Once, in my time as a Padawan, my master explained it to me in the best way I've ever heard. I had asked her a question, one that I do not remember what was said. I asked her and she looked at me, like she was looking through me. She told me....Vrudun, the Galaxy is a pool of water. Beautiful to see, but dangerous to those that cannot swim. Every action creates waves in that pool and even the smallest pebble, dropped into this chaotic pool can birth a tidal wave that can change it all." Vrudun thought of that for a moment and remembered Jenassa.

"In these dark days, this Galaxy will be subjected to so many evils that haven't even been dreamed of yet. The Light is nearly gone. But for those of us that remain, it is our duty to carry on that light in every life we touch. Be they laborer, soldier, mother, father, admiral or even Inquisitor. To be that ripple. I still believe there is good in you, but it is not my duty to convince you of it. You will need to walk that path yourself. I will do what I can to help you, for as much as you will allow." Said Vrudun.

Kalixinos looked at Vrudun as he spoke, envious of the Jedi's confidence.

"Maybe, one day, I will return to the light, when this is all over. But the pool of water your master calls the galaxy, it is a sea, deep and chaotic. And we are all drowning, Vrudun. Your order is not meant to last anymore and I would be foolish to hang onto a sinking ship. The dark side provides me a means of survival, a lifeline. And you, Vrudun, after witness the bloodshed that is Darth Vader, I would seek a way back to shore." Kalixinos explained, his tone sorrowful, "Quickly."

The Last Resort

Since the Last Resort was slung into hyperspace after a heart-stopping delay, the Miraluka padawan in the now-wrecked gunner's station sat silent. With his blindfolded gaze fixed upon the vibrant aurora that appeared as little more than a void of endless space to him - bathing anything that came into view of the window with a bright blue glow, Rhys slumped lethargically into the seat of worn leather, unable to even bring himself to budge. Seconds turned to minutes, and minutes into... Well, he had begun to lose track.

It had all happened so fast. It only felt like minutes since he sat in the archives of Odessen, still delving into that ancient Jedi's pre-recorded lessons. He reached up to run his hands through the locks of disheveled snow-white hair hanging over his face, forgetting that they were still spattered in Nard and Tuka's dried-up blood. Finding them still shaking somewhat, he latched on to the flowing tufts of hair upon his scalp, and leaned back until his pallid face stared aimlessly into the ceiling.

Rhys sucked in a lungful of air, holding it for a long time, before exhaling it in a single drawn-out breath.

Jace drug himself over to one of the Last Resort's bunks and laid down. Mentally, he finally allowed himself to relax. The day had been long and arduous, but in the end, they had survived. As the adrenaline began to wear off, Jace realized how tired he was and began to close his eyes, longing for some much-needed rest and recovery.

But sleep did not give him rest. In his dreams, Jace was plagued by the nightmares of battlefields from long ago. The horror of battle raged through his head. He saw his brothers killed around him, and legions of battle droids marching forward, only to be replaced by his memories of Order 66 and his clones turning on him. Over and over, these images kept playing throughout his mind, until Jace woke up, looking around quickly. He found he was breathing heavily and had broken a sweat.

Jace got up slowly, still struggling with the realization of what he had just experienced, and slowly began to walk towards the ship's main hold.

After the initial hyperdrive failures left him on the edge of his seat, Martius sat back and took a deep breath once the stars in front of the cockpit finally gave way to the familiar blue of hyperspace. After complimenting everyone aboard for performing well and surviving their ordeal, Martius instructed everyone to grab any medical supplies they needed from the medbay then get some much needed rest during the journey to Mek-Sha. As the pain in his side from Barriss' lightsaber strike grew worse as his adrenaline died down, Martius decided to take his own advice and put a bacta patch over the wound before making his way to his quarters to try and get some sleep.

As the day’s events echoed through his mind however, the Jedi Master found sleep hopelessly elusive; the faces of the dead and fallen Jedi etched themselves in his mind's eye at the very attempt of getting rest, and he couldn't shake the guilt he felt for bringing everyone to Odessen in the hopes of having a place safe from the Empire only to so quickly come under attack. With a heavy sigh, he began to wonder if there was anywhere left in the Galaxy that was truly safe from the Empire, and if there wasn't, what the Jedi were to do to survive.
Knowing he wouldn’t be getting any sleep tonight, Martius decided he might as well put his time to good use and picked his satchel up off the floor where it seemed their evasive maneuvers had thrown it and placed it on his desk. Reaching in, he grabbed the holocron he’d recovered just before the Empire’s arrival and activated it, bringing forth a holographic image of his ancestor.

“Grand Master Satele?” he asked, while gazing at the holoimage. No matter how many holocrons he opened, he would never cease to be amazed at the experience of interacting with Jedi who had become one with the Force millennia ago as if they were standing right in front of him; particularly in this instance given his familial connection.

“Yes” the hologram replied “And no. I am a program with Satele’s personality imprint; have you come seeking knowledge?”

“I have, though there are so many questions it’s hard to know where to begin.”

“Perhaps if you filled me in on your current situation and reasons for activating my holocron I could better assess how to guide you.”

“Very well” Martius replied, taking a seat beside the holoimage “It started around 3 months ago…”

Jace stumbled into the hold of the ship. He saw Rhys sitting in the gunner's station nearby and called out to him. "How are you holding up, Rhys?" Jace asked. "We've had a difficult time lately I just wanted to make sure you're okay."

"I'll be fine, thank you..." his tired muttering came from the same gunner's seat that he had been sitting in since they began their journey. Rhys had sensed him walking in from the crew quarters, but made no effort to look over at the recently-awoken Knight. If anything, it was a welcome distraction from the millions of thoughts rushing through his head in a vain attempt to process the recent day. He mustered the energy to speak again.

"Are you well?"

Jace shrugged in response to Rhys's question. "Honestly, I'm not so sure. The memories from the war are starting to come back to me. Today was nothing compared to some of the stuff I saw on the front lines. And my master, I saw her again in my dreams. I can't get her death out of my head. The nightmares never seem to end."

"I would say the same thing," he said, finally craning his neck to "look" at him. "Where did you serve? If...you're comfortable with sharing, of course."

Jace nodded slowly. "My master and I fought in the battles that led to the Outer Rim Sieges. We were at Balmorra, Commenor, and both battles on Duro. Terrible battles all of them, Duro especially. The fighting was fierce, we lost many a good clone on those days. After that, we were recalled to the Temple where I was knighted and given my own mission on Saleucami. Saleucami was the best of all my assignments, but I couldn't bear being seperated from my master. I felt her call out in desperation through the Force at the same time my own clones turned on me. I suppose she was trying to warn me. Sometimes I think if I hadn't been re-assigned maybe she would still be alive. Maybe we would still be together."

Rhys let out a soft sigh as Jace spoke, hanging his head in quiet contemplation of his words. "I'm sorry for your loss, Jace," was all he could say at first.

"Most of us on Mygeeto? It had grown so terrible that, well...we could only cling to hope. In time, it seemed that hope was all we had left, besides each other," he brought himself to go on, lightly shaking his head. "Now? I-- I don't even know what to think of it all anymore."

He went back to staring aimlessly out of the station's window. "I would gladly offer you some semblance of...counsel, but..." Rhys pursed his lips as he chose his words, seemingly disappointed in himself. "I'm in the same ship, so to speak."

Jace paused a while before responding. "It seems most of us Jedi are. In any case, talking about it has made me feel a bit better. Thank you, Rhys, for being willing to listen to me."

"Of course," he grumbled, more so out of his own exhaustion. He seemed to have gotten as little sleep as any. "I'll be here, should you need anything more. You aren't wounded still, I hope...?"

"Not really. I managed to grab a bacta patch on the way out. I'm mostly healed at this point, nothing too bad. I'll see you around Rhys." Jace walked back towards his bunk. Despite what he had told Rhys about feeling better, the memories took their toll on Jace mentally. His physical wounds were all but gone, but the mental ones raged deeper than ever. He wasn't sure how much more he could take. And his heart ached even more every day he woke up without the one woman he loved. The one thing he could not speak about with his fellow Jedi. His deepest, darkest secret.

---

The Jedi have made their escape, but memories of the past threaten to haunt some of their number. Will they stay one step ahead of the Empire, or are they doomed to fall to the blade of Vader? Only time will tell.

[Okayanos]

Ovek'Ress'Tornavoth and Lotind Voornan
Somewhere in Space, Approaching Nur
19 BBY

---

It was useless.

Try as he might, Kress' vision reached the same conclusion every time. No matter what he did, which path he took, what words he spoke, it seemed as though the same unfortunate conclusion came to pass every time. He was frustrated as he roused himself from meditation, and came close to lashing out at the nearest breakable object on the shuttle that he and his travelling companion were currently occupying. However, he stifled the desire for violence, shaking off the anger. He sighed, rubbing his sword arm. The muscles were tight, sore from a day's worth of combat. Ilum had been entirely outside of his expectations, and to say Kress was inadequately prepared for how the day had progressed was the understatement of the year.

Another breath escaped his lips as his gaze traversed the deck of the shuttle. Voornan was nowhere to be seen, presumably either meditating or tending to his own needs. Kress shrugged and closed his eyes once again. Perhaps, maybe, he could try again. Slowly, his mind lolled through the void, brushing the tendrils of the Force as it traveled. Once he found the strand he was looking for, he focused intently, pulling at it and wrapping his metaphysical self in the vision, until it fully enveloped him and he tumbled once more into the dreamscape.

He was in a cave, that much he had determined through his dozen-odd treks into the vision. Despite the fact that his sight was fuzzy, and all of his other senses were blurred, he had managed to concentrate enough to clear up a few key details. There was a campfire burning, casting strange - almost humanoid - shadows across the interior walls of the rock structure. The entrance either was not visible or had been obscured. It was warm, comfortable almost. And, perhaps the most important detail, there was a woman in there with him.

She stood close to the rock wall, letting the orange glow of the fire wash over her and play with the shadows behind her. She was fair - Kress would even go so far as to say beautiful - and bore a soft smile that almost made the other details of the dream seem unimportant. Her hair fell in golden locks, and she seemed to possess a faint aura of radiance. Kress had tried to speak to her before, and she had never responded. He had tried to approach her, and had simply passed through her form. It seemed as though she was an illusion, created only to torment him. She was untouchable, inconsolable, and hardly even paid him any mind behind what seemed to be a look of pity. In his time in the dream, he had dubbed her The Maiden.

Inevitably, no matter how long he pleaded with the woman, or acted to protect her, she would wave her hand and extinguish the campfire. Only then could Kress see that they were not the only two entities in the cave. Hidden behind the shadows, now visible in the inky darkness, were eight red eyes. They moved as The Spider descended from its perch, watching The Maiden rather than Kress. In a single blink of an eye, The Spider lunged forward towards the Maiden, and extinguished her glow. The chittering, like vile laughter, was almost unbearable. Once it had finished with its prey, the Spider simply rested against the wall of the cave, setting its horrifying gaze on Kress and watching.

That was as far as Kress ever got. And this time, yet again, he had failed to protect The Maiden. Waking from the dream with a start, he shouted a curse in Cheunh and clenched his fist. The food tray next to him crumpled, seemingly of its own volition, as the ex-Inquisitor let his frustration take physical form. He shook his head, hanging it low in defeat, before standing and moving towards the back of the ship to find Voornan. It didn't take him long. The old man was a creature of habit, and mostly left the technological aspects of the ship to Kress.

"Old man," Kress said, sitting across the table from him, "Tell me more of the Je'Daii code."

Abandoning the chairs, Voornan had chosen to meditate on the elevated table. Slowly, symbols and shape had been etching themselves into it's surface as the Je'Daii had made himself at home, learning the symbols of mediation and study of his adoptive, extinct order.

"What troubles you, Arbiter?" Voornan asks, electing to sidestep the question at the moment.

"Something plagues my meditation," Kress admitted, not looking into Voornan's eyes. He idly gripped the edge of the table, tightening and loosening his grip. To the trained eye of the once-Jedi Master, it was relatively evident he was distressed. Yet Kress knew very little of why this dream bothered him. For as long as he had let The Spider take his mind, it had only been them two. This new presence unsettled him, made his consciousness feel even more crowded.

"'There is no fear; there is power,' That is the next mantra of the code," Voornan says, closing his eyes once more. "Fear is an illusion, and much more so is the notion that fear is bad. When we feel afraid, or when something tries to inspire fear, they are only bolstering a Je'Daii. Fear quickens the heart, readies the muscles, sharpens the mind. Fear is only one of the many sources from which your storm can feed."

"That isn't what troubles me...or at least I don't think it is," Kress said, storing Voornan's words for further consideration, "The Inquisitors are taught much of the same. Fear drives us, quickens our heartbeat. But..."

Kress hung on his next word. Unsure of what to say next. He would be lying if he said that he trusted the Je'Daii just yet. But perhaps the old codger could shed some light on the dream that has been causing him so much torment.

"In my dream there is a cave. I'm trapped, with this...woman. She's bright, shining. Like a light. But The Spider is also there too, ever watchful from the dark. The woman seems to...willingly let the Spider consume her, as if she's powerless to stop it. I can't do anything but watch."

"Perhaps what you see is a chance to glean your inner struggle. You see the light from whence you came, being taken by the darkness that claimed you. But, you can shed those bonds. You are never powerless."

Voornan, tapping into his own fears and emotions, summons lightning to his palms, and with a slow breath, lets it harmlessly flow over him, keeping it bound to his person as it jumps and arcs an sparks around his body.

"'I am the heart of the Force. I am the revealing fire of light. I am the mystery of darkness. In balance with chaos and harmony, Immortal in the Force.' So goes the remaining mantras. You are yet haunted by loss of what you saw as light, now it is flawed and weak in your sight. And alone, it is. But so is the darkness. So take the light for yourself! Claim the balance by force, and use it to rob the darkness of its cowardly cloak, reveal it's mysteries."

"I..." Kress realized very quickly that he didn't know what to say. Voornan's words would require much more careful consideration than simply accepting them at face value. Wise faces are often a very effective cover for nonsensical babble. And so, Kress offered a nod at Voornan's teachings, but would have to apply them in experimentation if he truly wanted to understand and believe the man.

"Let's discuss our plan for Nur," he said, shaking off the desire to wax philosophically and engaging his practical mind, "Because a head-on charge won't get us very far."

"Is there another path they would fail to protect? Also, they will surely have planetary defenses we will need to bypass. I am not a soldier, mind you, nor was I ever a militant; I simply trust in the force."

---

Interrogation Room 7
Fortress Inquisitorius, Nur

---

The screams echoed through the long and jagged hallways of the Interrogation Level. Blood-curdling, full of pain, of misery and of repentance. Carried with the shrieks of torment was the low rumbles of electricity. Within the room itself, Barriss Offee was strapped to a torture chair, various needles, prods and buzzing power nodes surrounding her, tears falling from her eyes and down her cheeks as she panted, the electricity subsiding as the Purge Trooper lowered the power setting.

"Inquisitor, we can-" the masked Trooper attempted to slow the process down. For nearly thirty minutes, the First Sister had herself strapped to this mechanical horror, choosing him out of a sea of training troopers just for this task. She knew nothing about him, nor did she care. But she did know that he would serve her purposes, serve as an instrument for her own trial of strength.

"No!" She screeched back at the Trooper, her lips raised and snarling as she spoke between heavy breaths. From the steel wrist brace, she lifted her hand, the Trooper beginning to choke as she continued to pant.

"You will not stop!" She growled to him through gashed teeth, her hand closing another inch, the chokes from the Trooper growing louder as he fell to his knee, clawing at the black undersuit between his helmet and chest armor.

"Keep going!" She screamed at him, releasing the grip on his neck and throwing her head back down in a terrified mix of anger and fear. As the Purge Trooper gasped for air, he threw his hand up onto the control panel and with an impatient flick, slung the power levels dial back to its full setting. Blue lightning danced across her body as she began to spasm, her eyes closing shut tight as a whimper in a quivering jaw gave way to a pain-induced howl as her hands clinched into fists, then opening into a shaking mess of fingers.

The Trooper looked up, the bright ensemble of electricity reflecting in his visor as he watched her body begin to cease it's shaking, beginning to merge into an unconscious state.

Fine....if that's what you want." The Trooper lowered the power levels once more and pressed another series of buttons that activated two syringes on both sides, lifting up and sticking into both of her arms, filling her with a small dose of clear liquid.

She gasped as her eyes opened wide, her body continuing to shake as she picked her head up to see the trooper moving his hand back to the other dial. She smiled. "...yes" she whispered as she lowered her head back down, the familiar current of blue electricity once again engulfing her body. She tried to hold back the screams but they came out as low groans that would always lead to screams.

---

The landing pad on Nur was an eclectic mix of fighters and shuttles, small ships like the Second Brother’s Delta-7B being overshadowed heavily by the larger landing craft used by the Purge Troopers. A single, unmarked V-Wing circled over the landing pad. The tiny starfighter was a plain, uniform gray from nose to thrusters, not even bearing the red marks used on old Republic ships. The plain V-Wing flew in a lazy pattern over the pad, finally touching down after the pilot picked a suitable spot. The lack of organization in the landing pad’s various ships was an eternal source of annoyance to her.

Not that it was easy to discern the gender of the V-Wing’s occupant. Her attire was flowing and loose hiding any physical characteristic, save one. As the Fourth Sister leapt down gracefully from her fighter’s cockpit, it became readily apparent. She towered over the blindly devoted aliens that had rushed to attend to the Inquisitor’s ship. Her height easily equaled Vader. With her armor and the unnatural stillness with which she stood, the Fourth Sister appeared as an obsidian monolith more than a person.

The glowing visor of her helm angled down toward the fortress below the waves. A quiet, but persistent sound was echoing up through the force, reverberating about in the Fourth Sister’s skull like the whine of a gnat. She left the landing pad without a word, taking the turbolift down into the heart of the Inquisitorius’ secret base.

The sound grew louder as she did. Closer. The Fourth had neither the time nor the patience to try and put up a mental shield in her own fortress. She suspected that her Second Brother was doing something stupid, as usual. Were she more talkative, she would have words to say about that one. As it was, she spoke of him little. She spoke little of anything. She had heard enough words both through her ears and her mind to last a lifetime.

The Fourth Sister threw open the door of Interrogation Room 7 with the Force, causing a loud metallic thud to echo through the facility. She was met not with the Second Brother, but the First Sister, one who had been turned long before the Fourth. A rather bewildered Purge Trooper stepped away from the controls of the torture devices, his emotions a blur of anticipation, confusion, and dread. Usually, the Fourth preferred clones. Their minds were simple and focused, and made little sound. This one was not. The Fourth glared at him behind her helmet, and quieted his thoughts through the Force, putting the Purge Trooper into an empty-minded silence. Then, she looked to her Sister.

“What-” The Fourth spoke in a whispery tone, as though her voice had rarely been used. “-are you doing?”

The crackling electricity of the chair subsided, allowing Barriss to breathe, her body still shuddering with pain. He panted as she lifted up her head to see the Fourth Sister's familiar helmet and robes. With tears running valleys of darker skin through her cheeks, she regained some of her composure as she laid her head back down.

"I'm addressing.....failure, Sister..." She said between breaths as her reddish eyes darted around across the ceiling, the effects of the adrenaline pumped into her continuing to hamper her body. She rose her head once more to see the Purge Trooper just standing there, seeming as if he were in an empty-headed trance.

"Is there something I can help you with, Sister?" She said, annoyed at the sudden halt of her self-imposed correction.

“Yes. Make your pain quieter,” The Fourth Sister’s reply came. Even through the visor that concealed her face, it was obvious that she bore a look of annoyance toward Barriss. Or at least, the waves of suffering that her fellow Inquisitor had been projecting through their fortress.

"I'm not here to make your stay more comfortable. If you want quiet, get back in your ship and hunt down another Jedi." Barriss snapped back at the Fourth Sister. She rose her hand from the straps around her wrist and opened her long-clenched fist, palms white and aching. With a sweep of her fingers, the trooper's body quaked slightly, his head looking around as he became aware again.

"The door's behind you, I'm sure you can find your way through it." The First Sister said as the trooper retook his place at the controls.

A hiss of anger filtered out through the Fourth’s helmet. She did not enjoy being made to feel angry. Whispers against her ears told her that she should crush the First Sister’s skull for insulting her. The Fourth growled under her breath, mustering up a mental shield.

”Fine.” The towering woman began to leave obediently. That was how the Grand Inquisitor had left her, after she’d been broken- too passive to fight back beyond self-defense.

“I’m going to break Draay’s sparring droids,” She added as an afterthought before ducking her head through the doorframe.

Barriss watched as the Fourth Sister left the room. She didn't enjoy angering her fellow Inquisitor by any means, but interrupting her re-education needed to be addressed in a manner that would be disliked, if only to get the point across. This was not something that needed to be stopped, needed to be disrupted. Failure could only be addressed in one way: re-education. She knew it, Lord Vader knew it. Taking responsibility for nearly abandoning yet another cause, that's what she needed to do. And do it she would.

"Continue..." She said in an almost hissing voice. The trooper nodded and turned the power back up to full, the familiar lick of electricity touched her body, her face grimacing as a growl morphed into a shriek.

---

Ruhr Draay floated in the Kolto Tank, his mind filled with nothing but anger, hate, and a desire for vengeance. Not only did Ra deny Ruhr his chance to impress Vader with the heads and Lightsabers of slain Jedi, but he had dealt him a cowardly blow that forced him to limp to the Temple and to add insult to injury, took his Lightsaber without killing him. The next duel they fought would result in either the demise of the Anzati Master or his own end.

As Ruhr floated in the Kolto Tank, he began to receive a vision. He was an old man on the bridge of a Star Destroyer, a strange vessel exploding as it was hit with a volley of concussion missiles, indicating that it was a Victory-I Class Star Destroyer. "Your orders, Lord Draay?" An Admiral asked Ruhr. "Begin the evacuation. We've lost too many men and ships trying to hold Cathar. Our best bet is to retreat to the nearest Imperial Shipyard." Ruhr said to the Admiral, only for the vents to begin spewing gas. A junior officer then pointed her blaster pistol at Ruhr and shot him in the back of the head. Ruhr Draay awakened from his vision, the look of fear slowly turning to a smile. "It appears that the Force has shown me a vision of a possible future. Good. Without the element of surprise, the traitor will fail to kill me, if that future comes to pass." Ruhr thought to himself as he continued floating in the Kolto Tank.

---

Within the freezing and blank walls of metal of the First Sister's dwelling, she sat in the middle of the damp and dark room. This room was the opposite of what her dorm had been back at the Jedi Temple. The walls, black. A single slab of hard steel served as her bed and it was devoid of anything else besides her. She had stripped her self of every comfort, even down to her Inquisitor's armor and garments. Instead, she sat cross-legged wearing a black suit resembling that of a trooper's skin-tight bodysuit. Marked upon her chest was the blood red sigil of the Empire and her headress that accompanied her armor was gone, the dark hair hanging flat against her shoulders, oily and unkept.

With a cold dead stare, Barriss's hands guided the tiny parts of her lightsaber together slowly, centimeter by centimeter. The same that was damaged by Martius Shan was now being rebuilt. Her hands surrounded the disassembled hilt as it came together once more. Never once did her face move. Had her hands not been moving, one could mistake her as dead. She had suffered more sessions in the Interrogation Room as the days passed, each time the tears flowing less and less and the screams growing quieter. She was breaking everything within her down. She wanted this, wanted to feel nothing anymore. Wanted to know nothing but hate and the mission. Hate and Mission. Nothing more. Nothing less. She was becoming an empty vessel for the Inquisitorius to fill. The mistakes on Odessen would, could never happen again. And she would rather suffer excruciating pain and torment than face Vader with failure once more. She had failed being a Jedi. She would not do the same as an Inquisitor.

The door behind her slid open, revealing a Purge Trooper, the same that had been with her these days to initiate her atonement, her repentance, her sentence. She still did not know his name. Neither of them cared. He had learned. Just as she did. Names mean nothing.

Service means all. Bearing an electrostaff in his hands, he stepped forward into the room just as the Lightsaber had fully pulled itself back together. "Get up, filth. It's time." He said as he ignited the flowing purple currents of the ends of the staff. Another of her own designs. Until her repentance had been completed, she was nothing but filth in the eyes of the Inquisitorius. To Vader. To the Empire. It was all pulled from her mind and the more she broke, the worse it became. She pulled the lightsaber into her hands and ignited it, the smooth red blade hissing as it shot from the hilt, filling the room with the familiar crimson glow that now danced in the shadows with the amethyst flickering of the staff.

"And so it is..." She said, almost lifelessly.

***

The Filth and the Trooper entered a large sparring arena, one of many at the Fortress. She chose the one furthest from the other Inquisitors. She wanted to be alone. To endure this in peace. Standing in the middle were three other Purge Troopers, each bearing electrostaffs of her own. As they walked to the center, the filth looked down at her hands, both holding the lightsabers of the First Sister. Her grip began to loosen and they soon fell from her hands, clattering to the black steel floor. With a heavy shove, the Trooper threw her to the ground. Without even a grunt or noise, she rose silently from the ground and stood within the center of the four Purge Troopers, surrounding her. One by one, the troopers ignited their electrostaffs. She kept her head on a swivel and prepared herself for a fight. She took a proper CQB stance, pulling her forearms up to cover her head and bent at the knees. She was ready for them.

One Trooper let out a guttural shriek as he moved in for a lunge right into the filth's lower back. Simultaneously, one right in front of her moved forward for a heavy strike right over her head. With quick precision, she moved out of the way of the trooper behind her and caught the other within her hands. With a strong jump, she rose from the ground and planted her feet right into the trooper's chest, sending him flying back, forcing him to relinquish control of the electrostaff. As she came back down, another trooper attempted a lunge right to her face. She struggled to get the staff up but successfully knocked the attack back just as the fourth trooper drove the staff right into her upper back, the electricity causing her body to shake and a small whimper to breach her lips as she swung around and knocked the saberstaff away, moving in to initiate an attack of her own just as the third trooper swung his electrostaff right at her back, the same spot. She turned to deflect, which was successful and returned to the fourth trooper who was preparing to bring the staff right into her stomach. It was dodged and she drove her staff right against his chest, forcing him to let out a pained grunt. She smiled as ecstasy flowed through her. Pain. She focused on him too long. The other two troopers drove their staffs right into her back and with the combined attack, caused her to shriek in pain and drop to her knees and hands, her staff falling to the ground.The trooper in front of her, the one she had made her first attack against, sent his shin colliding with the side of her head, a groan whispering from her mouth as she fell completely to her side.

She was fading in and out of consciousness from the attack to her temple. The four troopers were now circling her like sharks in the water. And they smelled blood. One after the other, they deactivated their training staffs. "Here we go boys." Said one of the troopers. "Remember, don't hit the head." Another said. One by one, they slammed their staffs down upon her body, her body shuddering from the hit as she released a whimper with each strike. Once to her arm, another to her leg, another to her ribs, one to her back as she tried to roll over to protect her ribs from the hit there. She grimaced in pain as the troopers beat her down.

"St-" Her order cut off by a smash to her back that knocked the wind out of her. "Sto-" Again a staff slammed down on her leg, pain shooting across her body. "Stop..." She finally eked out and with that order, the four troopers ceased their circling, walked back three steps and stood at attention, their staffs slamming down onto the ground as they stood deathly still. Barriss laid there, curling into a ball as her body flared with terrible pain. She failed this session. Instead of embracing the pain, enjoying it, loving it, she laid there whimpering like a child. With every bit of energy she had left, she picked her crumbled body up, her knees shaking as she struggled to breathe. She stumbled a step but brought herself back under control. Her eyelids lowered and quickly shot back up many times, almost as if she was barely here now. With a beaten and battered body, she gave the troopers their next order.

"...again..."

Suddenly, a new voice sounded from across the training chamber, giving the troopers that surrounded her a momentary pause. That sophisticated blend of both generosity and condescending arrogance gave her more than enough evidence of who it was.

"I thought I recognized those screams..."

Third Sister marched proudly out of the hallway that branched off into the interrogation rooms at the far end of the Fortress, her helmet tucked beneath her arm. The tell-tale screams of anguish that had been echoing through its corridors for nearly the past hour had finally died down. And given the state of the Zabrak's seemingly bedraggled black hair, there was little mystery as to what she had been up to. She approached the small sparring arena where Barriss lay doubled over, wallowing in her own misery. Kedoa stared blankly for a time, regarding the First Sister and her current condition with a look of amused pity as she got to her feet. She couldn't help but find it somewhat adorable.

"Would you like some assistance, dear sister?"

Through her pain, anger sweltered in her at the sight of the Third Sister. The Purge Troopers, who were preparing to move in for another assault were halted in their tracks, backing up a little to give the other Inquisitor room. "Last...." Barriss said, trying to catch her breath, one excruciating inhale at a time. "Last I checked, this facility was...." the First Sister squinting in pain. "Quite large, yet I cannot seem to escape the company of my Brothers and Sisters. No matter how hard I try." She said, regaining her strength somewhat, harnessing the Force to focus herself and try to ignore the pain.

"I require no assistance from anyone, dear sister." Barriss said, barbs dripping from every word she uttered through bloody teeth.

Truly?" Kedoa inquired with a curious tilt of her head. "And here I thought you would jump for joy at such an offer. There is no dishonor in a little honest flagellation, sister..."

She peered over her shoulder, glaring down the now quiet hallway to the interrogation chambers for a moment.

"But if blunt force trauma is your preferred method of self-torture, I suppose I can take my sorcery elsewhere."

As the Third Sister turned to walk out of the Training Dojo, Barriss, almost automatically, yelled out.

"Stop." She said, motioning for the Purge Troopers to leave, which they did so quickly and most obediently, like good little soldiers. She turned to face her Sister. "I have brought shame to the Inquisitorius, brought shame to Lord Vader. I'm doing this so that I may never be faced with failure again, never be proven weak by Jedi scum. This is my own repentance, my own weight to bear. You may have a purpose in this, after all." She wouldn't have normally accepted the aid of something that a chair could do, but it was beginning to fall flat. She needed something more. Something alive. Would the Third Sister be that something more? As the Purge Troopers passed her, nodding in respect as they passed.

The First Sister simply stared at her through pained eyes. She looked terrible.

Kedoa had stopped in her tracks at her words, and slowly craned her neck to look at the disheveled Inquisitor in the ring. For a time, the Third Sister's fiery eyes glared into her own, until a small grin formed on the Zabrak's face.

"Oh, how can I resist a look like that? Very well..." she said, plunking her helmet down outside of the sparring arena just before entering it herself. The Third Sister began to circle her just as the Purge Troopers had moments earlier, before whirling around to face Barriss with a little flourish of her cloak.

"Shall I act freely?" Kedoa asked, a hint of provocativeness in her tone. "Or would you like a safe word?"

Barriss said no words, no attempt to open her mouth as she lowered a head a little, keeping close eye contact with Kedoa. She simply raised her arms, stopping with her hands out and just about level with her hips, palms open, a small smile at the corner of her mouth.

With the momentary arching of her brow, Kedoa simply returned a smirk of her own.

"Good choice," was all Third Sister said before a single hand reached outward.

Not even needing to take a breath, violet arcs exploded from her gloved fingertips, instantly bathing that section of the dojo in a vibrant glow. She showed no attempt to control or focus her lightning into one single area, opting to let the storm of Force-fueled electricity crash upon every inch of its willing victim's body.

As the amethyst lightning danced across her body, the First Sister squealed in pain, the agony of her fellow Sister's fury was unbearable. It came upon her wave after wave and as much as she would attempt to withstand it, she simply couldn't. The power behind the current was so much worse than anything that room could have conjured. The bolts felt full of anger, of hatred, everything that made them what they are now. Her knees buckled as she fell, smashing her kneecaps into the solid ground beneath her. She cried out from the pain, not saying anything in particular as the tears that she thought she had moved on from suddenly returned. From her knees, she fell forward, only barely catching herself with her shaking hands in time.

Suddenly, it stopped.

"Resilience, sister!" Kedoa chastised her with a stern shout, now beginning to pace around her. "Resilience!"

But before Barriss could muster a breath amidst this momentary lapse of agony, Third Sister shot her second hand out, and the torment resumed in the form of a second torrent of Force lightning crashing upon her back.

---

Sparring Arena 03

---

The Sparring Droids ignited their Lightsabers as they detected an Inquisitor entering the sparring area, entering the Makashi opening stance before charging at their foe. The ones that made it to their target swung their Lightsabers at the Inquisitor, one of them using two Lightsabers instead of one.

The Fourth Sister clutched the oversized hilt of her lightsaber at waist level as the Second Brother's training droids began to circle her. Their blades were all in shades of blue and green, the colors of Jedi.

"A waste," she thought. Lightsabers were heirloom weapons, associated so heavily with force-sensitives that they were practically inseparable. The creation of a Lightsaber was a deeply personal process, and the bond between weapon and wielder was much closer than that of a soldier and his blaster. The lightsaber was a reflection of its creator, a piece of their soul given physical form. That was why the Inquisitors took the weapons of the Jedi they slayed, whenever possible. And now, as if an insult, those same weapons were clutched in the hands of soulless machines. The hilts of the droids' lightsabers were simple, plain, featureless, and identical. Factory-milled weapons, if such a thing were possible. The Fourth Sister grimaced behind her helm.

"Second Brother, you really are detestable." The towering Inquisitor let her senses flow outward into the Force, and the Force flowed back into her. Battle was the only time she found the feeling comfortable. The droids had no minds for her to invade, but she could feel the surges of power flowing through their metallic forms, see the mechanically smooth movements of their joints before they happened. The Fourth had once allowed herself to sense Draay's anger and petulance in full force, during one of the Second Brother's many, many sparring sessions against his droids. The Second Brother was a being of pride and selfish honor, who tore through groups of droids to stroke his ego and intensify his anger above all else. The Fourth Sister doubted that her brother ever allowed the machines to run at the highest possible setting.

“Droids. Difficulty to maximum.” The Fourth Sister ordered. The training droids each replied with a confirmatory series of electronic sounds. Their stances shifted and changed, movements became smoother and more like those of proper sabermasters. The droids remained in the stances of Makashi, but now they mimicked elegance and refinement. The Fourth Sister wondered if Draay had fed old holorecordings of Master Dooku or Master Zsal into the droids’ processors, such that he might fantasize about defeating the most renowned duellists. She found the idea equally likely and distasteful.

From their opening stances, the droids began to lunge forth into battle. Their executions of Makashi strikes were perfect beyond even Masters Dooku and Zsal, as the processors within calculated all possibilities at speeds faster than light. But, the droids’ perfection was also their weakness. If a duellist performed every strike with perfect form, then their every strike was predictable. And through the Force, the Fourth Sister predicted. She dipped and spun out of the reach of the droids’ blades. Their sabers passed so close to her at times that she could feel the heat emanating from them. But not once did she feel the sting of a strike. The Fourth Sister moved with all of the speed of Ataru, far quicker than a being of her size should have been expected to move. She dodged one set of strikes from the droids, then another, and finally a third series of blows from each of the machines surrounding her. The droids performed team duelling tactics well, letting some of their number surround her and attempt to barricade her with their attacks, while others circled on the outside, waiting for an opening to dart in. The Fourth Sister did not intend to allow such an opening.

As the droids concluded their third series of attacks against her, they smoothly transitioned into a fourth. Their combat processors were truly remarkable, planning out a continuation of their assault within fractions of seconds, adjusting their strategies to counter what they had observed of their opponent. The Force, however, worked faster than any combat processor. One of the droids was mid-lunge when the Fourth Sister’s foot slammed into its face. The power of her force-enhanced kick sent the droid’s head back, while it’s body continued to move forward. The opposing forces were enough to tear the machine’s internal systems in twain, leaving its head dangling by what wires remained intact. The motion of the Fourth Sister’s kick saw her lean her body outward, counter-balancing her extended leg. A training droid’s lightsaber buzzed past her helmet, missing her by less than an inch as she leaned below the blade’s path. The Fourth Sister was upright before the droid could re-calibrate its servos. She reached out and caught the droid’s metal wrist before it could begin a backswing. The toughened durasteel dented in her grip, and the droid’s actuators groaned as the Fourth Sister yanked it forward by the arm. She guided the machine’s saber into the torso of one of its identical compatriots, leaving the other lunging droid speared on the blade of glowing blue plasma. Its attack would have taken her head.

The Fourth Sister planted her foot on the torso of the caught droid and shoved it back, wrenching the machine’s arm out of its socket. She didn’t even turn to see it land, simply hurling the droid’s own lightsaber, hand and arm still attached, into its torso. By the time it had prepared to leap up, the training droid was already speared on its own blade, and the Fourth Sister had moved on to new attackers. More droids began to move in around her, to fill the gaps left by their fallen comrades. The Fourth Sister remained a constant blur of motion. The training droids were beginning to switch styles, each member of the group taking up the stance of a different Form, in order to confuse and overwhelm their foe. One began to raise its lightsaber into the opening stance of Djem So, the preferred style of their usual opponent. Unlike their usual opponent, the Fourth Sister was not one to pause mid-bout to gloat, or brag, or shuffle between stances. The Force was like a gale wind, and she flew with its currents. Her arm was cocked back in preparation before the droid even began to shift stances. The strike was let loose before it had gotten its lightsaber above waist height. Her palm slammed into the droid by the time it had widened its feet. The Fourth Sister’s blow dented the training droid’s chassis and collapsed its innards, all through the strength of the Force. Ruhr Draay had never hit them this hard. Ruhr Draay couldn’t ever hit them this hard. The Second Brother used the Force as he would a weapon, refusing to let it flow into him and empower him. The Fourth Sister believed that Draay’s pride prevented him from allowing such a thing.

Another droid closed in on her. The Fourth Sister spun rapidly, buckling the machine’s legs with a low kick and letting its incoming strike whiff harmlessly. She saw that the droid’s guard would raise again, in the re-squaring of its footing and the growing whine of its servos. Another kick, a roundhouse with her other leg, caught it in the side of its torso. Through the Force, she empowered her strength again, and the droid’s body buckled in half. The Fourth Sister shifted her still-unlit lightsaber hilt behind her back. Another was approaching her from behind, planting itself into the wide opening stance of Ataru. The approaching droid swung out a blindingly fast swing that could’ve cut her in two at the waist. It’s blade was intercepted by the Fourth Sister’s own, which finally sprung to life with a deep hum that could almost be described as booming. The crimson blade of her weapon was longer and thicker than a standard lightsaber, but she maneuvered it with ease, shoving the training droid back as she rotated around to face it head-on. As the Fourth Sister settled into a Shien guard, her foot came down on the head of a fallen training droid that had begun to rise, crushing the machine’s skull into scrap. Three of the machines were left. One of them was carrying a lightsaber in each hand. How like Ruhr Draay to believe that adding a second saber would strengthen the droid. He had always put too much stock in weapons, and none in their wielders.

The Fourth Sister advanced slowly, keeping her footwork wide and her blade upward. The droids were holding back. Being machines, they were incapable of being afraid. No, they were analyzing her now that she had drawn her saber at last. They recognized the Form V in her opening stance, in her wide-handed grip on her lightsaber’s hilt. They’d have to have seen Form IV in her hand-to-hand fighting, and the constant rotation she’d kept up against the previous droids. They were calculating how to beat her. The Fourth Sister didn’t need time to calculate. She would simply affirm her desire to beat the droids, and the Force would make it so. She leapt toward the closest, one of the single-blade droids, flipping in mid-air to deliver a devastating overhead attack. The training droid was smart enough to know that it wouldn’t survive the blow, even if it had blocked. Instead, it batted her blade aside with a Makashi parry, side-stepping as her weapon left an orange, sizzling gash on the ground. The droid let fly an overhead swing of its own as the Fourth Sister landed in a low crouch. She wouldn’t be capable of getting her heavy weapon back up to meet the blow. The Fourth Sister, seemingly also aware, rolled to one side and narrowly avoided the droid’s attack. She came out of the roll on her feet, bringing her lightsaber up around her head and almost whipping the long blade toward the droid. This time, the training droid wasn’t capable of getting its weapon up to meet the blow. It fell to the ground in pieces.

The dual-wielding droid came at her like a windmill of plasma, clearly making use of Ataru’s dual saber techniques. The Fourth Sister caught one of its blades against her own, and then the other as well. The other remaining droid charged at her from behind, while she was tied up in a bladelock. She saw the sizzling trail of its incoming attack through the eyes of the Force. The Fourth Sister kicked backward, catching the rear droid in the midst of its Juyo rush and sending it stumbling backward. She slid her lightsaber’s blade off of the dual-wielder’s with a spine-tingling squeal of plasma blade on plasma blade, spinning to one side as the droid suddenly tripped forward without any resistance to its own strength. The two remaining training droids collided with each other with a loud clang. The Fourth Sister let her momentum carry her, leveraging her heavy saber into a Shien reverse grip. She thrust backward with the blade. It was a risky move- leaving her back to the enemies and keeping her eyes away from them. But the Force was greater than eyesight. Her backward thrust found its mark, piercing through one droid, then the other, impaling the last two machines on the length of her lightsaber’s blade.

The training room was uncomfortably silent, only the growl of the Fourth Sister’s lightsaber providing any kind of sound. The tall Inquisitor was still as a statue, frozen in time with both of Draay’s training droids run through by her saber. Her head tilted, as a distant sensation echoed through her mind. More pain, still from the First Sister. Still torturing herself out of some twisted belief that it would give her strength. ”Wasteful.” The Fourth thought to herself. She extinguished her lightsaber’s blade, and the training room was completely silent. The cries of the First echoed through her head still, and they were not getting quieter. The Fourth Sister reached her hands toward the cameras in her training room- well, usually Draay’s training room, but she figured that she’d liberated it from him. If he wanted it back, he would fight her for it. The camera collapsed in on itself as she crushed it with the Force.

The Fourth Sister was left alone with the unending sound in her head. She pulled her helmet off and discarded it on the ground beside her. Twin braids of stark-white hair fell down along her shoulders. She blinked, finding it a sudden shift to no longer see everything with a crimson tint.
“...Haaaa.” The Fourth Sister let out a wordless sound, the most volume she’d ever gotten out of her voice in months. She repeated it, making herself louder, sharper. For a beautiful time, she nearly drowned out the sounds of pain in her head. The Fourth Sister inhaled and let her voice out again, this time coming in a roar that shook the room. She let the noise continue, letting the Force empower it. She would be louder than the sounds in her head, until they stopped and gave her some measure of peace. The Fourth Sister screamed again and again, until she was releasing powerful blasts of Force energy with every cry, pulverising the defeated training droids into unrecognizable piles of junk. Only when her voice finally gave up on her did she leave the training room, helmet on once more. She knew she would have to scream again, the next time her siblings decided to annoy her. But that could wait. For now, there was only blissful silence ahead.

[Aeritai]

Ilum

After Captain Frost and his squad left the area to go investigate the rest of the planet, Bimi was left alone to investigate the remains of Ruby Base by herself. All around her everything was silent except for the freezing winds of this planet blowing through the air as the Chiss Agent began to walk towards the general area where Ruby Base once stood. Trying to find a lead would be difficult in this rubble, it would seem everything was vaporized by some kind of explosion. Bimi has doubts a terrorist organization could do this kind of damage, let alone take out all the clones that were stationed at the base even if it was a terrorist attack, the clones would've called for backup if that was the case. Bimi also began to wonder if there was another traitor within Imperial Intelligence, but she also doubted that idea as well. One agent wouldn't be able to do this much damage to the base unless there were multiple traitor agents involed in this explosion.

Bimi only let out an annoyed sigh, looking through the remains of Ruby Base hasn't given her any possible leads to who could've done this. Bimi thought it would be best to go back to Coruscant and report back to Imperial Intelligences, that she couldn't find any leads while investigating the remains of Ruby Base. Just as she is about to go back to her shuttle, Bimi saw something on the ground that caught her eye. Bimi seeing this object on the ground decided to walk over to it to inspect it hoping it would give her a lead to someone. Bimi picked up the object only to discover that it was a bracelet...?

So a bracelet managed to survive the explosion...? Never thought I would expect to see this in the remains of an Imperial base. I doubt this will find me a lead. Bimi thought to herself, but upon closer inspection she realized what this bracelet was.

Holding the bracelet in her right hand, she looked towards her left hand where an identical bracelet was wrapped around it. She had finally found a lead to the person who might've been responsible for the destruction of Ruby Base. Bimi quickly stood up and shoved the bracelet in her pockets before heading towards her shuttle, while walking towards it she began to contact Captain Frost.

"Captain I think I found a lead... You and your squad are dismissed." Bimi said over the comns.

"Roger that ma'am, we'll do one last sweep of the planet just in case." Frost responded over the comns.

After contacting Frost, Bimi boarded her Nu-1 shuttle.

"Pilot take me to Nur." Bimi ordered.

"Roger that ma'am." The Clone Pilot said.

After a few minutes of preparations went by the Nu-1 shuttle began to take off and leave the planet's atmosphere. Once the shuttle left the icy planet behind it soon went into hyperspace heading towards Nur.

[Miekzhemy]

Padawan Rhys Aatahl

---

Aboard the Vigil
Mek-Sha


Of all the people... Why him?

Rhys' quarters upon the Vigil sat in pitch black darkness, the Miraluka inhabiting it having little need for any light. Master Vrudun was kind enough to allow his still rather unofficial apprentice refuge upon his and Beli's starship. Being the only elevated space in that cramped little room to do so, he carefully emptied onto his bunk the contents of both his cumbersome rucksack and the metal crate he had lugged on board with it.

His haggard appearance after the recent ordeals left the young padawan seeming less of the bright, well-groomed scholar and more of a listless, disheveled husk of his former self. Locks of his lengthy, unkempt white hair dangled in front of his now maskless visage, but prompted no attempts to push them away from the eyeless padawan's face. Every movement felt laborious.

He hadn't slept. He hadn't eaten. He hadn't even cleaned the dried blood of Tuka and Master Nard from his hands and robes.

The mere act of laying his gaze upon the objects again only succeeded in further saddening the padawan taking inventory of them. He set a small collection of carefully-wrapped holobooks off to the side - texts so ancient that they had long lost much of their energy and glow. What little they managed to interpret in the past months was written out in a language that seemed to pre-date even Old Galactic Standard. Vaulik had hypothesized that they pertained to some of the old Je'daii Order's earliest incursions to Odessen, and seemed quite pleased when he found their information still intact. No doubt he was looking forward to deciphering them completely...

Taking up a small datapad, Rhys marked them off as accounted for, and turned away to reach into the crate. With the mechanical mannerisms of a factory droid, he pulled out holocron after holocron and began to set each one upon the bed sheet. The padawan made sure to separate them based on their contents - a task already made easier by the several compartments of this container. Near the bottom of its inner body, however, lay something bigger.

He reached in with both hands as to get a good grip. With a gentle lift, he pulled another holocron out; a cubic one, larger than all the others they had come across, its outer shell engraved with elegant runes and sigils of the Jedi Order. Where most of them failed, Inera had managed to crack this particular one open. He knew little of the object's subject matter; only that Master Atala mentioned its dating back to the Great Galactic War - an interactive assortment of entries from a...peculiar Jedi of the time. As he closely examined its currently locked facets, he recalled Inera's warning not to probe into its contents until she had viewed it in entirety.

He could still feel the sting of her burns.

Finally, after taking role of it all, the padawan stepped back. He looked over the large collection of artifacts and knowledge he and his fellow Jedi had saved. He had hoped that, as he grew to know them in their shared pursuit of knowledge, he would perhaps see them as something more than mere comrades in exile. Not just as teachers or elders, but as friends...

And now, as he gazed upon their unfinished work, all that remained was a void - an emptiness, in both his mind and his heart. Part of him still struggled to accept what he already knew - what he saw unfold before him during that battle. Their work, their plans... their dreams...

All of them, cast unceremoniously to the Cosmic Force.

His nostrils suddenly flared with frustration. What was he to do with these now? While so much from Odessen had been left unfinished, even more was lost - their knowledge, preserved for millennia, gone forever. How could he decipher it all when he held but one piece of the puzzle? And of all to have been targeted by such an enormous, warmongering force, it was his fellow Jedi on Odessen that fate had allowed to be so mercilessly ripped away by this...Empire! The padawan clenched his fists. What threat did they pose? Inera? Vaulik? Dan? Why any of them? WHY?! He practically screamed within the deepest recesses of his own anguished mind, praying for a miracle - for the Force to bestow upon him its cruel, twisted reason for setting him on this path of ceaseless pain!

What he wouldn't give to be free of this dreaded curse of Force-sensitivity... to live quietly and peacefully upon his beloved Alpheridies in blissful ignorance...

Why did he even follow the call to Odessen? Even as his master's intervention saw him narrowly avoid the Service Corps, his trials made it clear enough that he was no warrior...

Yet it was he that survived where the others did not. This enclave of Jedi had sheltered him from the Imperials, from the Inquisitors... and for what? To carry on the legacy of their Order? He stood as much a chance against the Empire as a dollop of ice in the belly of a volcano. He could have very well fled on his own, disappearing into obscurity to live out his days in solitude. No. It was because he was too weak for it, even if it meant liberating him of the agony that practically hemorrhaged off of the Jedi around him. There was naught he could do. No kind words... Not even his own healing hands, the only blasted thing this padawan had in terms of worth... None of it would hope to ease the pain that ate away at them all! A year of war spent beating himself to be unflinching and unmoved by their suffering! And now, here he was, three damned months after his and his Order's entire world had come crashing down! And still, even thinking about it all was enough to make his head spin and his stomach turn. What a fitting testament to this craven weakling's unworthiness of Knighthood...

...what made him worthy to stand where they should?

The padawan soon realized how long he had been standing in silence, brooding over the mess of artifacts he had laid out. Letting out a soft breath to clear his mind, Rhys turned his solemn gaze back to the bag, checking a second time if there was anything he had missed. Part of him wanted to simply pack it all back up. Perhaps Master Shan could find a use for it all, he considered. Regardless of their contents, the memories associated with their retrieval brought him nothing but a heartache that just wouldn't go away.

Rhys rummaged through the bottom of his pack, picking out the random personal possessions he had left to his name. They were mostly tokens and trinkets from both his life back home and the few journeys he underwent with his master. For the young padawan, to feel them in his hands brought a mix of feelings: of pleasant remembrance of better, simpler times... and of bitter disillusion. The universe seemed so different now than it was a mere three months ago, and each of these tiny objects only served to prove it was no nightmare, but a reality...

But then, he felt something. With a curious tilting of his head, Rhys dug further and grasped what felt like a small, several-sided block. He plucked it from the bag, finding a diminutive object among his own belongings that could only be another holocron. The finding caught him off guard. Had he misplaced one of the Odessen temple's artifacts? He gently ran his fingers along the sharp, evenly proportioned contours of the polyhedron in the palm of his hand. No. The design was too contemporary to be of Old Republic Era. The engravings were unmistakable... Coruscant?

Half of him was suddenly overcome with worry. How long had this been sitting around collecting dust? Had he pilfered one of the Circle's holocrons by accident before his departure to Mygeeto? Perhaps he had procured one for his own studies and forgotten to return it? Even some of his Knighted superiors were not permitted ownership of such devices without express permission. And none but his... No, it couldn't be...

Finding himself momentarily reinvigorated by his curiosity, Rhys sat himself down on the floor against his bunk, crossing his legs as he fumbled about with the minuscule holocron. He reached out with the Force, and probed the device from within, immediately surprising himself when it clicked open with no difficulty whatsoever - as if the very device in his hand recognized who he was. Its crystalline facets rearranged themselves with a soft whir, and the padawan promptly placed it upon the floor in front of him just in time for a hologram to begin materializing before him.

Suddenly, the fledgling sage found himself frozen in shock and dismay.

The hologram had taken the shape of an elder Jedi; a Miraluka like himself, with flowing grey hair trailing down her back and a simple blindfold of cloth concealing her vestigial eye sockets. The padawan's face went pale, and his lips quivered in a pathetic attempt to form words.

"...Master Yan...?"

Then, in a mind-blasting revelation that sent an almost paralyzing chill down his spine, the figure spoke, relaying her pre-recorded message...

"My padawan..." she began, the sound of her soft, peaceful voice leaving the young Miraluka utterly petrified.

"I trust this message finds you well. I had intended to pass this holocron onto you in person, but circumstances have, unfortunately, thrown a proverbial wrench into the Circle's plans. Should my scheduled transfer to the front come earlier than expected, I will have left this holocron in your quarters..."

Rhys frowned, recalling that fateful day of their Order's fall. The Republic's forward operating base she spoke of was overflowing with displaced Lurmen refugees. Fearing the dangers of the front, she had ordered him to remain behind. The padawan himself had been preoccupied with the wounded clone garrison at the time, and found himself away from the sages' barracks for much of that day. He trudged through that frigid blizzard for hours, sitting in stark denial of the horrifying vision he saw of her demise at the hands of the clones - hoping, praying that she would return.

But no one came...

"My justification is plain and simple," she went on, despite his full knowledge of why. "The war here on Mygeeto has been costly in both manpower and supplies. With total victory still essentially a pipe dream, ever more of our sages have been dispatched to assist the Republic on all hemispheres of the planet."

"And some, as I have mentioned before our arrival, do not return from their expeditions. The chances are low, but not impossible, that this message may very well be my last words to you..."

The padawan slowly hung his head.

"It is for this reason, Rhys, that I leave unto you the contents of my holocron. Much of the entries are assorted lectures of the Circle's teachings, most of which are contemporary. Regrettably, I have since been unable to include entries dated just past the Ruusan Reformation, and its shortage of space leaves little room for personality imprint programs, instead relying solely upon pre-recorded messages displayed via hologram, much like the one before you now. These series of holocrons owe much of their existence to Master Allie's diligent work copying such knowledge to be used as a tool to further one's studies outside of the Temple. That being said, I dare not risk such a device falling into Separatist hands. And should my tutelage of you come to an untimely end, I pray that the knowledge within this holocron may yet take my place."

He felt an aching pain rise in his chest. And despite the figure an obvious recording rather than the holographic echo of his late Master, she seemed to return his solemn gaze with her own.

"My padawan... From the moment I set my sights upon the little youngling on Alpheridies, I watched. I watched you grow on your own in a manner unlike any of your peers. Not into a weapon of righteousness, but a beacon of peace, and a giver of life. You show restraint where the most calm and collected of Jedi would have spilled blood, and forgiveness where even the most magnanimous would turn their back. All of this, not done in mere adherence to the Jedi Code, but out of the goodness of your heart..."

Rhys was hunched over, his face now buried in his hands, unable to even bear looking upon the hologram before him. What would she say to him now, he wondered? His breath grew heavy. He wanted it to simply stop, but the soothing voice of his master only continued to speak...

"And it is these qualities in you that are, in turn, the core tenants of a true practitioner of the Light. In time, I pray that your selfless, compassionate nature will set an example for all of your brothers and sisters to follow. I cannot put into words my joy to have raised you in the way of a Jedi."

As a warm smile formed on her face, the padawan felt a pressure rise in his chest - as if a festering wound deep in his heart had been ripped open. The image of Master Yan slowly bowed her head, and placed a hand over her own chest.

"With that, I leave this vessel to you, my padawan. May its knowledge help you to grow just as it did for myself. The Force will be with you, Rhys Aatahl. Always..."

When her message finally came to a close, and the holocron emitted its familiar clicks as the Force-bound facets shifted back into its locked state, the padawan's quarters fell into darkness and silence once more. For what felt like hours, he said nothing; felt nothing... thought nothing.

Finally, in a single motion that seemed to sap him of all his remaining energy, Rhys picked it up.

Even as he retrieved the minuscule holocron from the floor, his exhausted mind could hardly bring itself to collect its own thoughts... His thoughts of her, and her thoughts of him. He cradled the tiny thing in his hands; the last remaining token of remembrance for her. A lifelong mentor, who understood him in ways even the other masters did not - empathized with him when peers would not - comforted him, when other Jedi chastised him for falling prey to his own emotions.

A mother to him in everything but name...

Clutching the small, geometric object against his chest, Rhys slowly slumped over, coming to rest on his side at the foot of his now cluttered bunk. Even his long robes provided little warmth or comfort to the young padawan that curled up on the cold hard floor. He gritted his teeth, fearfully holding at bay the building pressure that crept up his aching chest to the lump in his throat.

'No,' he pleaded with himself. He had to endure...

In an instant, that year of bloody war - the screams, the death - all seemed to come back to him, bearing down upon his body with a weight that practically pinned him to the ground. The months of exile, the suffering of his brothers and sisters...finally growing to a roaring boil within - a crumbling dam, poised to collapse under the weight of a river. No. He couldn't give in to it...

'...not a boy anymore.'

The padawan made another desperate attempt to take a deep breath, but found only a soft sniffle escaping his nose.

'Not a...'

Finally, the dam shattered. He caved in, and broke down.

Had he the eyes to do so, he would have shed tears...

[Aeritai]

Venator Star Destroyer Deliverance
Karnu's Quarters

Admiral Karnu sat at his desk looking over a datapad that he had just finished filling out, on the datapad was a report of the last mission he and his crew went on. At first Karnu was hesitant to fill out this report and send it to Imperial High Command not wanting them to know his failure to take down the Jedi ships, he would become a laughingstock to the other Admirals in the Imperial Navy. Karnu never failed the navy before until this mission.... Karnu knew that by failing this mission he brings shame to the Karnu family name. While his family wasn't very famous, they still had a great legacy that can be traced back to the days of the Old Republic his father, grandfather, and great-grandfathers were the greatest Admirals to serve in the navy. The Karnu family has always been a generation of military men who served whatever galactic government came into power and failure to serve that government was frowned upon in the family.

Karnu sighed as he leaned back into his chair only listening to the hum of the ship before putting out a small holo device and putting it on his desk pressing a few buttons on it trying to contact someone. After a few seconds had passed, a blue holographic figure of a woman popped up with a warm smile on her face the woman had steel blue eyes and her long black hair was tied up into a braid. This woman was none other than Karnu's wife Parann, seeing his wife brought a smile to his face as all of his worries and anxiety were flooded away by love. Karnu had always admired his wife ever since the day they met, Parann had always been there for him even in times of struggle she always looked out for him. His wife and daughter were the only things that comforted him in times of trouble and no matter what happened they would always support him in his time of need.

"Jeamarl it's so good to see your face again." Parann said her face still smiling.

"I was worried you wouldn't have time to contact me again."

"There is nothing to worry my love, I will always have time for you and our daughter. Just talking to you right now brightens my day up." Karnu softly spoke as he smiled back at his wife.

"By the way where is my little star flower at anyway?"

"She's currently sleeping right now, but I'll tell her you said hi once she wakes up." Parann said as her smile soon turned into a small frown as she continued to look at Karnu.

"She misses you know. Every day she asks if you'll ever come home someday. I miss you too as well... It's been hard not knowing if you will ever come back to us alive, I worry about you every day Jeamarl." Parann said her voice slightly shaking almost likes Shes about to cry.

"I understand how you feel love.... It's been hard on me as well. I would think after serving three years during the Clone Wars, I could finally come home and embrace you once again. Unfortunately, my recent assignment will have me be away for a bit longer, but I promise you once this mission is complete, I will come back home to you no matter what." Karnu said as he lifted the palm of his hand, so that Parann could place her small holographic hand on.

Parann did just that as she placed her holographic hand against Karnu's pretending that she is touching it. Tears could be seen in her eyes as she smiled softly once again looking up to Karnu.

"Then stay safe love... Me and Alesav will be waiting for you." Parann said.

"I have to go now, if you ever have time feel free to contact me again."

"Understood goodbye my love." Karnu said before the holographic call was ended leaving the Admiral alone in the quarters once again.

Karnu let out a small sigh as a single tear fell down his face, Karnu soon stood up from his desk and began walking out of his quarters now motivated in his mission to hunt down the remaining Jedi that escaped Odessen in order to return to his wife and daughter once again.