Jhoren Zeur

”œForce powers do not determine the alignment of the user,”

The Star was soon amidst the great blue tunnel that was hyperspace. Jhoren was sitting at her helm, thumbing through a datapad but paying no mind to it. He eyed the scanner on the control interface. Gala was less than six minutes away. Relaxing comfortably in his seat, he settled back against the headrest, but not before slipping out of his robe. In a few minutes' time, they would arrive at their destination...

Once the Star was set to autopilot, Jhoren rubbed the bridge of his nose. He was shaken. Hurt, too - the burns covering his hands stung. Biting his tongue, he averted a tendril of his power into his reddened palms, managing to null some of the pain. Saerin was in far worse shape; that much was obvious as he approached her form in the corridor. She lay there, and for a second, he was scared that she'd slipped into a comatose. However, a feather-light touch with his mind told him that she was merely unconscious. 'Hang in there, Saerin,' he thought to her, his presence as gentle as a caress. 'You'll be better soon.' He scooped up her body in a graceful, gentle motion. Taking care as to not afflict her fractured ribs, he moved her from the corridor into the medical bay. There, he lay her down on the bed and set about removing her clothes. Out of consideration and respect for her, he didn't remove her underclothes. With a jar of bacta patches at the ready, he applied one to each visible burn mark. Each patch was wet and cool to the touch, no doubt a wonderful sensation on her scorched skin. Once the last one was laid down, Jhoren brought the back of the medical cot up so that it put Saerin in a sitting position. He grabbed a roll of gauze bandages and cautiously wrapped them around her chest, making sure to avoid her more sensitive of injuries. One rib jutted out furthest from the rest, so he took his time with securing the last strip in place. The bruise would subside in a few days' time, and another bacta patch was all that was needed for the wound on the woman's neck. Nearly two standard hours had passed since the Knight began this lengthy procedure. He was fairly well-equipped to handle just about any kind of injury, but nonetheless, he planned on keeping a close eye on his companion's status. He was no medic, nor was he a Healer. But, Jhoren knew standard first aid skills, and of course, the Force brought his attention to the more serious of Saerin's injuries. He decided against putting her tunic and dress back on - the less moving around she did for the next couple of hours, the better -, so he turned about-face and left the room in non-ceremonious silence. = = = The Argent Star reemerged in the all too-familiar starry void. Tapping a series of commands into his nav-computer, Jhoren settled back in the pilot's chair. Within seconds, they entered the spectacular destitute of hyperspace once again...

”œYes, I know,”

((OOC: No problem. Hope you're doing well!)) ”

Jhoren's grip on his saber lessened. Kirana spoke to him through the Force, no doubt having sensed the spike in his anger and frustration. She was right; the angrier he became, the less of a chance Saerin had for survival. He forced himself to retain control. He opened himself to the Force again, concentrating hard to relinquish his feelings of anger and frustration. It was difficult; with Saerin still in Faust's clutches - quite literally, too -, getting her away from him and on board the Star seemed like a lost cause. Suddenly, without forewarning, Faust threw her at him. He was ready for him this time. Reacting quickly, he stepped forward and attained a soft, placid hold around the young woman. Pulling her to him, he motioned for her to board his ship, which was once again up in the air with its ramp lowered. Keeping it low and steady, his R2 unit could be seen through the cockpit's view screen. The faintest hint of a smile flickered across his face, but it was gone as quickly as it'd appeared. This wasn't over yet. He turned his attention back onto Faust, but to his surprise, he was no longer there. There he was, up on the roof of the building behind the starport. A large lump formed in the pit of his stomach. He had, without a doubt, another trick up his sleeve that he was about to throw into play. Rather than waiting for Saerin to climb aboard the Star, Jhoren grabbed her by the wrist and made the small hop onto the ramp. He pulled her along with him before she could protest, and it wasn't until they scurried to the top when the lip of the ramp swooped past Kirana. He had a bad feeling about this, and going by his instinct, decided that it would be best to get the hell out of there. ”œGet on!”

((Delete. >_<))

Delete.

The second crate, already airborne, tumbled to the ground. The first one was a barren attempt at throwing Faust's focus off, but seeing as how he now had Saerin in his actual grasp, another ranged assault would be too dangerous. The bastard was using her as a human shield! She had taken the blow of the first crate, which, luckily, wasn't any bigger than it was. He cursed himself for making such a bold move and stepped forward, quickly forgetting that his master was right behind him. To Hell with the Jedi Code. ”œLet her go, Faust!”

By now, Nar Shaddaa's streets were flooding with commotion. There was an uproarious rumble as hundreds, if not thousands of people poured out of buildings and alleyways. For blocks on end, every citizen of this inglorious city were pushing and shoving their way through the thick of the crowd. Utter chaos would have been an understatement. Words did not describe the terror he saw in their eyes. They knew Faust was a killer. A psychopath. He deserved nothing but to be put to rest, and cast into the eternal embers of Hell. That was a service that Jhoren knew he couldn't do himself. He couldn't allow himself to lose control. As hard as it was not to unleash every ounce of his power on that animal, he had to remember control. There is no emotion; there is peace. Peace? He would not be showing Faust ”˜peace'. He would be showing him the emerald edge of his lightsaber, which he intended to drive through the man's skull when he was given that opportunity. To hell with letting him live; he was too dangerous to keep alive! Jhoren saw that now. Saw the destruction and death he'd inflicted upon all of those Nar Shaddaaians so far. He easily avoided the blasts coming from Faust's ship. The Sith was still up there, but there was nothing Jhoren could do to stop it. He had to get to Saerin. To make sure she was all right. There is no ignorance; there is knowledge. He shoved his way through the crowd, careful to avoid the men, women and children who stood in his way. Their shouts of anger and fear followed him. There is no passion; there is serenity. Minutes later, he arrived at the spaceport. To his horror, there stood Saerin, taking a couple of sharp projectiles to her person. Projectiles from Faust's weapon. 'You bastard!' His own mental blast at the former Dark Lord rang like a speaker throughout an empty mess hall. He was intent on turning his attention away from Saerin. Time was off the essence now; Faust's ship could still be in range. He was sure of it. He could almost feel it growing closer. Faust had Saerin in a telekinetic hold. He was dragging her closer to a wall of fuel-induced flames, and at any moment, she watch catch fire and burn. He'd be damned if he gave Faust that pleasure. A stack of metal crates were pushed against one wall. Jhoren had perhaps seconds before Saerin became engulfed in the fire. He made a split second decision. Grabbing one of the top-most crates, he hurled it at Faust, intent on both injuring him and throwing his focus off Saerin. If it worked, and his mental hold on her vanished, he would do everything in his power to ensure her entry onto his ship. His R2 unit - the one that had come with his ship - was already two steps ahead of everybody else. It fired up the Star, and the second it lifted off the ground, it brought the flaming fuel lines with it. Using a tendril of his power, Jhoren closed shut the fuel cap. Doing so snapped the fuel lines. Now, with no fuel source for the flames to thrive on, they were extinguished seconds before the lines hit the ground. The ship stayed low enough for Saerin to climb aboard. Lightsaber still ignited, Jhoren flung another crate at Faust. They were heavy, but he was able to pick them up and throw them with little effort. 'Get onto the Star,' he relayed to her. 'Hurry!' There is no death; there is the Force. There is no death. He gritted his teeth. There is no death. 'Hurry, Kira.' He distanced himself from Faust. He'd seen what he was capable of. The bloodshed had to stop. This had to end, and soon...

Jhoren stepped into the bar, and was immediately met with a downpour of cold water. The fire sprinklers were still running, changing the grungy cantina into a dingy urbanized jungle. The remnants of the service droids were strewn across the floor, and a quarter of the bartender lay slumped over the counter. He peeled his eyes away from the disastrous sight, and instead, focused on Faust, whom he now stood no less than several meters from. He watched as he raised his lightsaber, pointing the blade at Kirana. Armored or not, there was no telling what Faust was going to do to if he didn't intervene. Unaware of his saber's dual capabilities, Jhoren stepped forward. Sonic blaster or not, she was at point blank range of Faust's blade. He threw out his hand and used the Force to push Kirana into the wall. A rather hasty move, but one that couldn't be helped. There would be time for apologizing to her later. Going out on a limb, he averted his power onto Faust and harnessed a telekinetic hold on him. With his focus narrowed on the Sith, Jhoren flung him across the room - or what was left of it. Slamming him into the wall at full force, Jhoren released him and switched his gaze onto one of the ceiling support beams. With a harsh telekinetic pull, he ripped it from the floor. He had no intentions of actually throwing it at Faust; instead, he chose to leave that to the ceiling of the Smuggler's Rest. Already quite perforated and charred from the abuse it had suffered earlier, the ceiling collapsed, burying the Sith Lord under a number of support beams and, of course, the ceiling itself. The walls wobbled and weaved, threatening to add to the ugly pile. Instead, to his surprise, they didn't fall. They were broken beyond repair now, yet they still remained intact. He stayed on high alert. He'd seen a ceiling give way and fall on top of Vladimir Faust. Surely, not even the former Dark Lord of the Sith could survive that. Little did he know just how wrong he was. He approached Kirana, thumbing the ignition switch of his lightsaber. The blade disappeared with a snap-hiss, sinking back into the hilt. ”œI'm sorry,”

Jhoren couldn't disregard Kira's warning. She was right. If he lost his temper now and gave in to his anger, the chances of him doing something foolish and ill-thought was more expedient. Taking what little time he had to soothe his constitution, he indulged himself in the Force, keeping every sense open and alert. Knowing Faust and the crimes he'd committed in the past, Jhoren had no intentions of letting his guard down until that boor was either dead or gone from the planet. Lord knew what he was capable of. If the rumors were true and he was indeed the Dark Lord of the Sith at one time... he didn't want to think about it. There were only two things on his mind at that moment: getting Saerin to safety, and contributing to the affray against Faust. Through his peripheral vision, the Knight caught sight of something small and apace careening dangerously close to the ground. From its plane of trajectory, it seemed to be coming from the direction of Faust's retreating ship. The projectile was a missile, no doubt fired from the craft in order to even the odds of the fight. His intentions were simple; he meant to kill Jhoren and Saerin. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to find cover, so he did without so much as a second look at the missile. Never ignore the Force or its cautioning, he reminded himself. He'd discovered long ago that self-reassurance went a long way. The explosion from Faust's missile seemed to rock the entire moon. The ground rumbled under his feet and his ears popped. A wall of fire and debris spread across a radius of several blocks, slowed only by the other structures and air vehicles in its way. The blast, covering a full five hundred meters was far enough away to give Jhoren enough time to grab Saerin by the hand and pull her behind the cantina with him. Before she could utter a single word of protest, he pulled her into the alley with him. Then, he cast a weak shield above the overhead gap between the cantina and the adjacent structure to deflect the hail of splintered glass and metal. From where they were, the wall of flames wouldn't reach them. It couldn't. He was confident that Faust's intentions weren't to kill himself in the blast; however, if they were, then all four of them were dead anyway. Sure enough, by the time the flames reached their street, they were weakened to the point where they couldn't cause any more harmful damage. Sooner rather than later, they would die out all together. Jhoren brought himself to his feet and coughed. Blinking through the cloud of dust and ash, he picked his saber off the ground and reignited the blade. ”œGet to my ship,”

Even before the garbed figure spoke, Jhoren knew that Kirana had arrived. She brushed his presence reassuringly, the way a mother would greet her son. In return, he opened himself more fully to the Force and mentally embraced her. Her being here was a mighty reassurance for him. He'd been able to hold his own against Faust thus far, but having his master on his side, the tables were bound to be turned. Be careful, Kirana. "I was hoping to see you, after I mailed your padawan back to you, piece by piece. I can carve up the both of you together.”

Jhoren's lightsaber was already up and at the ready. At any moment now, their blades would strike and the Sith would be without his - To his surprise, it missed his raised saber by mere inches. It changed course in midair, spinning at an alarming rate all the while. The saber decapitated both the bartender and his service droid. The former's life presence winked out the moment the blade severed his spinal cord. Blood was spilt, accompanied by spurts and sparks and electric current. The droid's arms flailed around for a moment or two, but it too stopped moving and joined its employer on the floor. A storm of flames and broken glass surrounded him. He spun on his heel and knocked Faust's saber away, knocking it off course. The stench of burnt hair and cloth invaded his nostrils. Before the hazardous vortex could swallow him whole, Jhoren called upon the Force to leap out of the fiery, unnatural enclosure, and landed on the roof of the cantina. He had little time to retaliate. Holding out his hands again, the Knight sent another wave in the direction of his enemy. He wasn't aiming for Faust this time, but instead, the wall of debris that he had conjured. If he met his target, the wall would shift drastically and the Sith would be torn to pieces...

Vladimir Faust. The name echoed within his mind like a bad dream. All of those people this monster had slain... and for what? Just so he could get ahead in the galaxy? Scum. He nulled what he could of the pain. The table knocked him a full thirteen feet backwards. No sooner had he landed when his saber - and his robe - went up in flames. He forced himself not to panic, using what little time he had to disignite - and reignite - his weapon. Doing so snuffed out the flames. To his relief, those on his robe went out by themselves; the wine, while it contained a fair amount of alcohol, wasn't as flammable as he'd originally thought it'd be. It wasn't the Sith's head-strong attack that concerned him, though. The second he got to his feet, Faust's lightsaber came careening his way. Stooping low to avoid it, he spun in a complete three hundred sixty degree turn. His sword snagged and tore away the hem of his robe. Thank the Force it had passed over his skin. He caught expressions of awe and fear in the faces of those who were watching the fight. Nobody stepped forward to help; they were all too frightened to even run away from it. Jhoren couldn't blame them; Faust was an incredibly powerful and fearsome being. He pivoted on his foot again to avoid another one of his swings. Once he completed his arc, Jhoren harnessed the opportunity. His hands shot out in front of him, and he unleashed a strong, invisible wave. The attack threw Faust well enough away from him, but he didn't dare press on the offensive. Instead he hung back, opening himself up more fully to the Force. The heat of the battle had taken a toll on his anxiety, so he used this moment to rid himself of his nerves. Focus, he thought. Have to focus. Oddly enough, his words of self-encouragment seemed to work. He felt calmer. More at ease, in spite of the situation. If anything, he would need to assess better control over himself and his actions if he wanted to survive. He gritted his teeth. Faust would, no doubt, have little trouble recovering from his Force attack. When he did, though, Jhoren would be ready for him. He hoped.

”œThere is no excuse for the countless number of slain innocents, Valoria. Planet by planet, the Sith seek control. They wish to dominate and destroy, and from that broken foundation construct a larger, more expansive empire. ”œIf you believe that those Kath Hounds aren't to blame, then you truly are lost.”

”œJedi Masters may make mistakes, but the Sith are the ones who wreak mindless havoc on the galaxy's innocents. We are the ones trying to put an end to it. Even if we may not succeed, I would still wish to remain a ”˜flawed' Jedi, rather than become a ruthless monster. I do not follow the Order blindly,”

”œSacrificed?”

Jhoren drew in a sharp intake of air at the suddenness of the mental projection. It yelled - shrieked - at the young Jedi Knight, urging him to tell Valoria about Kel Meran. He drew his robes aside and leapt to his feet, toppling his chair over in the process. Doing this shattered what little silence had fallen over the room. He squeezed his eyes shut and fought Valoria's probe away, blinded by the streak of blazing intensity that followed the ”˜Jedi Master's' mental thwack. He swallowed back his anger. Losing his self-control now would only result in his immediate downfall. Serentiy and passion, he reminded himself. Mustn't lose that now. ”

Jhoren tensed, stating to regret having come here. He glanced towards the bar at Saerin, wishing that she hadn't chosen to follow him into the cantina. If things got out of hand, he doubted that he'd be able to hold his own and protect his potential apprentice all at once. He settled with his hands on his lap, and his right a bit higher up on his thigh. His saber suddenly felt heavy, as if an extra three pounds had been added onto it. He didn't like where this conversation was going. This time when he touched upon Valoria's mind, he felt the same neutrality as before. ”œI'm here for leisure,”

”œWe're in the midst of a war, Master Valoria. I understand that. If Starlisk thought it wise to use Black Ops, he would recruit them himself. Unless you are working under direcrt orders of Armiena Darkfire or the Grand Admiral, then you have no reason not to tell me why you are here.”

((Bye, Sae!)) ”œI'm Jhoren Zeur,”

Kerian Valoria... the name didn't ring a bell. Of course, there was no way for Jhoren to list - let alone know - every Jedi of the Order. The man wanted to talk to him, or so he claimed. He knew little about the Council, but much about the Order itself. I'll be there. The Smuggler's Rest. A cantina, he presumed. ”œI'm going to the Smuggler's Rest,”

The image of a man shrouded in Jedi robes appeared in Jhoren's mind. Following it was a Force-relayed message that only he could hear. As he walked, the Knight turned down another street, letting the ”˜Force channel' between himself and this stranger guide him. Yes, I am a Jedi. He kept his head high and his strides great, though his mind was flourishing with questions. He nearly colided with somebody on the street, which caused the Force-wrought blip to flicker. ”œWatch it!”

”œWell, I probably won't drink any. A clouded mind is a vulnerable mind, or so I've been told.”