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As the eternal echoes of the force reverberated into silence, slowly, Leena opened her eyes. She felt the outpouring of force energy from her body. She had been but a conduit for the energy of the cosmos, for life, and while it invigorated her, her every nerve tingling with purity, she felt the raw drain of energy such a display had carried with it. Caught up in the torrent of the never ending oceans that made up the galaxy , Leena had to strain to not allow herself to be lost in the break as eternal met the present, washing the darkness away in a riptide of purifying light. From her crouched position, Leena slowly stood, stretching out her hands, arms and legs as she willed feeling back into the extremities. She surveyed the world about her. The chaos of the dark side boiled in the distance, an agitated swamp, even more lethal as it churned and was purged; a necessary event nonetheless. The Jedi would have to ensure that the people of Falleen, their people and culture, were not destroyed in the process. Around Leena; however, there was a stillness as the ash of a thousand fallen dark side wraiths were blown on the breeze, their tormented souls free to finally journey into the great beyond, to find peace now that their nightmare was over. The Mon Cal brushed a tear away from a bulbous eye, grief at the loss of life, even as the cancer of the dark side was culled. Sacrifices necessitated by the perversion of the darkness. The Jedi Master inhaled deeply, steeling herself as she remembered that these lives lost were not by their doing, but by the machinations of the disturbed and deranged, perverse acolytes of sin and evil. And yet, it was not wrong to morn the senseless losses the enemy had inflicted. Staring out at the gently wafting ash, Leena closed her eyes, bowing her head in a moment of solemn silence for the memories of those long since destroyed by the darkness, finally able to rest. As she did, the blinding barriers of light that separated the ash and the Jedi began to fade to a shimmer before dissipating on the breeze. The immediate threat of pressing evil over, the world beyond still cried out for salvation from the darkness. In the distance, like a beacon of twisted blackness, Leena could feel it; their work was not yet done. As @Keenava Dira loped toward her, Leena offered up a half-hearted smile; a smile, nevertheless, that shone in her pained watery eyes. She was proud of how the newly uninitiated Jedi had handled herself. Surrounded by darkness, Leena could only imagine how easy the temptation would be to revert back to past knowledges and old habits, even in the name of rightness. “Well done,” she offered as a sign of her approval accompanied by a knowing nod, “but our work is not yet done. The darkness still holds firm to this world. Even as the light seeks to extinguish it, I fear that the shadows of darkness will take root amongst the forces of liberation and good. We must guard ourselves, watch out for others, and extinguish the unnatural flame of shadows. Reach out, feel the darkness my friend. We must go to it and stop whatever profanities they are even now pouring upon the soul of this world.” Leena nodded toward the city in the distance, spiraling towers even now cloaked in unnatural shadowy clouds that seemed to crackle with dark energy. Somewhere within lay the font of darkness that even now corrupted the world around them. Looming to the others she pointed, “The force will be with us and guide our steps.” And with that, they set off, back toward the city and the temple of darkness within.

The world seemed to slow as Darth Mavanger closed the distance with the Wookie. His first two strikes fell upon a stalwart defense, a testament to the Wookie's abilities, albeit only a temporary one as his knee drove into the Jedi's ribs and his pommel cracked across Kirlocca's face. It was in this brief moment of bliss, as his blades tasted their first drops of blood since Nar Shaddaa, that he saw the Wookie's play, a foot driving towards his shin. The very move he had used against the Imperial Knight over Kuat, the move that had almost claimed victory. He leapt, shifting his momentum into a spin, intending to drive two cuts into the Wookie's body, but as his own turned midair and he met the Wookie's eyes, he realized his mistake. The blow didn't pierce his armor- It was a solid Sith alloy, designed to stop everything short of a blow by power armor. Unfortunately, it didn't need to break the armor to be effective as he was caught midair by the force-powered punch. Pain reverberated across his chest as he was pushed back through the air, interrupting his plans for attack as he hit the ground and rolled, driving his blades into the ground to slow his movement. Had he tried to brace himself, the blow would likely have caved in his chest through his armor. It had taken him by surprise- He'd never fought an opponent that could match his strength, his power, blow for blow like this. He would have to be careful to not allow another blow like that. He stood, correcting his chance as he took the briefest moment to catch his breath from the Jedi's blow. He charged again, channeling his emotions and sensations. The pain from the Wookie's blow sharpened his mind, opened his senses to incoming attacks and malicious deceptions. The frustration at his attacks being interrupted drove power into his strikes, merging with his rage and his lust for vindication. The Jedi had rebuffed his offer of kinship, the opportunity to avenge his grief. Darth Mavanger's sorrow had burned entire planets, slain entire populations. He'd slain a monarch to right the wrong done unto him, and yet still he felt it so succinctly. And yet, the Jedi claimed his own grief as greater as though one history of loss negated another. He declared the Sith Warmaster's grief as lesser, as less deserving of empathy because because his list was not known, all the while refusing to bring the perpetrator of such personal sorrow to justice. These things drove him forward, a hardened hammer of darkness to fall upon the brittle shield of light. His empirical truth against the shallow protections of false comforts and self deceptions. A crushing miasma of loss and despair to swallow hope, happiness, and peace wherever it went. His life was a testament of the weakness of the light. How many times had they the opportunity to kill him, to stop his rampage, his crusade? Kuat, Trulalis, Naboo, Nar Shadaa, and now Falleen. All testaments to his wrath, his hatred. All carried with them scars of his passing. He let out a cry that was as much for battle as it was for loss, grief, and sorrow. A harbinger of rage, fury, and hatred. Of guilt and regret, of bloodlust and violence. He feigned the same opening, a false blow to shield his intentions, his true target of the Wookie's outstretched palm, extended past the easy defense of a lightsaber. He stepped to the Jedi's left, bringing down Imeall Sceimhle towards Kirlocca's bicep, intending to either disable it, or sever the arm entirely. The second blow came from Imeall Dólás, a horizontal slash powered by his momentum and his rage towards the Wookie's midsection in an attempt to bisect him, a cruel cut that if it connected would likely debilitate the Wookie if it didn't outright kill him. Another vicious attack followed as Darth Mavanger attempted to get behind the Wookie, a diagonal cut from should to hip from Imeall Sceimhle, followed by one more combined swing by both blades, a crushing blow from above as he looked to demolish any defenses the Wookie could muster. Speed and power were his allies, his weapons, his tools. His trade was battle. His art was war, and he was a master. A potential prodigal son long lost to the dark. ((2))

Only after the beam of plasma finished its arc, did Keenava see. The roadway sat motionless in her mind. The feather-light touch of the force tickled at her nose and spread throughout her body, mingling with fragments of her torrid past, manifesting in a technique that she didn’t understand. She let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding, and one of her knees fell to the cold road. Soil and gravel bit up at her through her jumpsuit. The planet felt cold. Death was no stranger here. The leader fell, and her head fell beside her. But the glimpse held in her blue eyes as the moment drew on was almost relief. The frail form of the woman as she crumpled to the ground was not the demon she was a scant second or two ago. In death, though corrupted, it was as if she’d had one breath of clean air—a breath of clean air in a coal mine. Before the final act carried her to her grave. A somber silence masked the next few moments as Keenava held that pose. The beam of verdant green still fizzled and spat as the healing mist continued to shroud her. Dust was all that remained. Dust is all that persisted as the thralls of darkness continued to fall around her. Even the cult leader had been banished to this macabre ashfall. In her somber state, Keenava saw the particles hanging in the air, falling gently as the light cleansed them: mothers, fathers, sisters, and brothers. Their deaths were justified, but now that Keenava could think, now that her conscious soul had been purified from its inky black, she could feel the weight of them. If she had the choice, she would do it again to protect the future, the balance, and her friends. But it felt different. Something about Keenava was happier that she could feel this sad. If the choice to end a life was effortless, what meaning was there in life to begin with? If you don’t value life enough to stay your blade, what kind of life do you lead? "May the force be with you." Keenava breathed as she bowed her head and extinguished her blade. The Twi’lek felt rumbles and concussions as powerful figures clashed on the paths ahead. She could feel the chaos of the world around her as the somber moment passed. And as she let the shroud of mist fall from her shoulders, she could feel her master in the distance, effort pooling in the force as she struggled. Keenava did what she could to send good thoughts to her master and bolster Sandy in her fight, but now was not the time for hesitation. Stretching her quads for good measure, she ran back to Leena and Kadi to regroup.

After so much waiting, filled with pacing and occasional groaning, Solus began to get fed up. “What in the Force’s name is taking them so long?” Solus griped as he turned around for the 100th time to pace the room further. “My message was perfect, was it not? It was succinct, it spoke of desperation, and it had the perfect lure!” In his slow rantings to himself, his grip over his Madness loosened, and several eyes began to form in the crevices of the walls. Somewhere, an gurgle came from the shadows. “Oh no, I made sure everyone could hear it…” Solus replied to the gurgle, as if he understood. “From what I know, the Jedi are always rushing into the rescue. And the Imperials will want a stable government so they don’t have to commit forces here long term! So why is nobody here!” Solus glanced at the equipment that was used to send the recording. “Perhaps I need to resend another message to…” A blaster shot interrupted Solus’ thought. From the ground, a Falleen soldier had just recovered from his wounds, and overhearing the Shard’s plot, sought to prevent the plan from succeeding. Unable to hit the Shard, he did the next best thing and destroyed the control panel. Three shots rang out before Solus even registered what was happening. “You stupid kriffing idiot!” Solus shouted as he reached out with the Force and pulled the blaster out of the Falleen’s hand. “You are the dumbest piece of rusted scrap to ever walk the planet! Why you little…” Solus walked over and placed a metal foot on the Falleen’s chest. Unable to talk much, the Falleen only spat out some spit and blood at the Shard. Solus didn’t outwardly react, only gripping his hands into fists as he stared the Falleen down. “Well, at least you are providing something useful to me…” Solus sighed. Holding up his hand, he revealed the Scomp-link in his finger. “Maybe you have some info on your compatriots, hmmm? Nah, I doubt that. But at the very least I’ll get to enjoy your pain…” From inside the control room for the communications array, screaming could be heard. ______ Shortly afterwards, Solus was rushing towards the central palace. In the time since he had sent out the first message, the Linnorms had completed their goals of going underground and committing to guerilla warfare. The evidence of dead bodies, scorched buildings and destroyed utilities certainly were proof of that. Standing before the palace, Solus saw smoke coming from several of its towers. The Falleen forces had begun their own attacks inside in preparation for the Imperial forces, and the palace was still the icon of the people. From the looks of it, Falleen forces were already inside and dealing with the Linnorms. “Hmmm…it is so tempting to hunt everyone…” Solus thought out loud. “To commit death on a scale to please the Fanged one himself. But…I have a different mission. Killing is not the main goal. Stealth first, then…we shall see, yes?” The Madness gurgled at the Shard’s reasoning. With that acceptance, Solus charged forward. Utilizing abilities of the Force and his own training, Solus became a blur of a droid. While using the ability of Force speed was a given, so too did the Shard have to utilize the shadows, sensor blindspots and Force Flash for areas with no blindspots, acrobatics, distractions via moving objects and creating noises, and even playing dead once as a group of Falleen militia. Much to his pleasure, his efforts were rewarded with no one noticing the Shard. Neither Linnorm nor Falleen took notice of the blurry droid with a cape and music instrument. But all the while, Solus had to deal with the Madness. “Yes, yes, soon soon…” Solus told himself as he ran down a set of stairs towards the basement where the records were kept. “I promise I will kill someone after I… The Madness growled into Solus’ ear, a hint of maliciousness aimed at the Shard. Solus threw his arms up. “Gah! Of course, I’ll drive someone towards insanity, my apologies oh vile one. Just…let me…” Solus stopped halfway down the stairs as he gripped his head where his Shard form laid. The Madness inside was growing restless with the Shard, and was eager to spread and expand. Solus needed to appease it soon, or its images would plague him without mercy. Even with his training, he could not restrain the Madness forever. “There!” Solus heard a cry. At the bottom of the stairs, a Linnorm appeared. Dressed in raggety cultist robes and clutching a bleeding wound at his side, the Linnorm had seen better days. “Thank the Fanged one you’re here…” the Linnorm gasped as he made his way upwards towards Solus. “Our numbers are unable to maintain the Palace for long. But perhaps with you…” Solus didn’t hear anything the Linnorm said. He was too focused on the Madness inside. “Atlach-Nacha '' Solus said out loud as he raised a hand towards the Linnorm. The Linnorm stopped and looked at the shard in confusion. “My lord?” “Em ni esoht hsinab ot dna etubirt ni eno siht tae. gneL ni rellewd , Atlach-Nacha. This be my ritual…” Solus continued. The Force around him shivered slightly as the Impossible Geometries opened up. The vile dark shapes that plagued Solus’ form in the Geometries slid out on ethereal winds. With focus, Solus pushed the Madness towards the Linnorm. The Linnorm’s eyes widened as he witnessed Madness take shape. Before him, a new thing had formed. Numerous hairy, jointed legs stretched across the stairs propping the massive carapace in the air. From its twin abdomens protruded large stingers that dripped ethereal poison to the ground. On its front was a humanoid large face, looking strangely baby-like, save its numerous eyes and maw of teeth. The Linnorm screamed as the thing descended on him. Solus kept his sensors focused on the poor soul, knowing that if he broke vision, the ritual of the Wyyrlok would be broken as well. He had given life to a hallucination, and now that the Linnorm, weak minded as he was, believed it, everything the hallucination did was real to him. Solus finally broke his concentration and stepped over the twitching body. Blood dribbled from its nose and eyes, and its mouth opened and closed noiselessly. The Madness had infected this soul, and in time, would kill him. “Not bad…not bad…” Solus chimed to himself as he left the body behind, the Madness returning to him in full. The gurgling was less vicious now, and more constrained. It would not hunger for a while now. At least, long enough for Solus to find the data room and erase everything inside. “Pity that my master couldn’t have seen that. Or that it had to be one of my own. Oh well. Now, time for those plans…”

There was no response, as Lumare moved slowly and low, just as she would when hunting her prey. Well, wasn't this just the same, the thrill of a hunt that could fight back? She would wait, patience was the third lesson, knowing when the best time to strike was. Just one more beat. The first Kukri slammed into the skull of the first unfortunate, a satisfied hiss as Lumare took first blood. The second blade came into the chest of the second, far too close to raise their blaster, moving quickly out of her spot letting the first drop slain and moving the other into the hall as a decoy. Shots snapped past but she was already gone, moving to get around the pirates whilst they gathered their senses. Her knowledge of the ship gave her an advantage, even if only a slight one, hitting by surprise would only work for so long and with two of their number dead it was highly likely the Pirates were now alert. Slow and steady she moved position, taking cover as something moved quickly towards her in the darkness. It ran on all fours but was no beast, at least nothing she knew perhaps a mutant or some monster of the pirates. That was how Lumare swung out from cover and by the will of the force struck the sheathed blade.

Being grabbed and forced to do something suddenly was an experience Fate decided was not pleasant. It was a sudden relinquishment of control of what was happening with your very body. In all of her years of training at Jedi Temples, losing control of a situation was not something she did very well. Meditating was difficult of course, and early combat training brought out the worst in her, but Fate fought every step of the way to maintain control over herself and her actions. So when Fate was grabbed by ‘Bird’, she at first tried to flail as a reaction, trying to regain control. However, ‘Bird’ had several talons to use, and made sure her flailing wouldn’t be a problem. You kriffing son of porg! Fate tried to swear. Still, she couldn’t help but then feel a rush of exhilaration as she took to the air. Looking down and seeing her feet leave the ground and not rapidly return was a new experience. In another time, it would’ve been enjoyable. Only younglings who’s parents would hoist them into the air felt this way. “Hey, that thing tripped us!” One of the heads bemoaned. “That little twat!” Another head cursed. The large robotic being struggled to pick itself up. Its design with four legs was never intended to fall over easily, so its makers had never included programming methods to get back up. Still, it tried to find a way, as it pushed against the floor to tip itself upwards. Fate crashed into the floor with more grace then Hugglepup did. Because of that, she picked herself up quicker than he did and glanced back towards the three headed droid. It was already up, and charging after the group. Acid rain fell on it, sizzling holes into its chassis, but it ignored them. Or at least, one of the heads ignored them. “See? This is why we should have had an oil bath!” “Don’t care, I’m gonna crush that horned one’s head!” “That does sound better then shooting him. Feet or arms?” “Shut up! Feet of course!” Fate’s mind was working in overdrive. Like with the cultists, she would have gone off instinct. However, unlike the cultists, she was having to protect her comrade, who was in mortal danger of the charging colossus of metal. Before she was fighting for herself. Inside the train station, she was unsure if Bird would be able to get hugglepup out of the way of danger in time. Here, she was fighting to protect someone else. In spite of this, or maybe because of this, Fate felt her next actions more influenced by the Force than any other time. Her next actions felt so in tune with the Force that she actually felt one with it. She ran towards the charging bot, hand reaching for her makeshift hook. With sudden deftness, she dived and slid beneath the droid’s four monstrous legs, one of them stomping right next to where her head was a split second ago. Once on the other side, she threw the hook up and pulled on the Force to guide its throw. The hook flew and wrapped itself around the neck of the central head. As her last action while still completely in tune with the Force, Fate pulled, forcing the droid to stop and nearly fall over backwards. Hugglepuff! Get up! Fate tried to shout. She got to her feet and pulled the hook tighter . Hopefully the droid would again fall over backwards and without the stairs, be unable to get back up.