Kyrie Eleison

The Exorcist’s hand pressed upon the glass, her fingers curling slightly as she passed through the rhythm of the Song. There were voices upon the air, and their words brought a story of reclamation with the breath of the wind. The woman’s mind was open, and the Force played through her like a gentle breeze, causing a whisper of fluttering leaves within the trees. The Exorcist let herself fall into the flow of the living Force, letting her silvered eyes fall closed as her mind struggled A breath. A thought not her own It binds us together, all living things, past, present and future. The Song fills each in their turn, and overflows in the abandonment of self. This woman is passing into the light after so many years in the darkness, be the helping hand she needs… A breath. Her own voice in her head She spilled blood, innocent blood. She deserves to meet the light in judgement, not as a friend with an embrace! She is SITH! A breath. An answer Darkness lies behind every lightbeam, and some fall into it as an answer to their own abandonment, to solve their problems. Or because it was far easier a path. Would you judge this woman, who gives herself to the light so willingly, to turn from her depravity to our calling… One who has lost her own daughter? A breath. Indignation I lost EVERYTHING! I lost EVERYONE! I was violated and tortured, and still I embraced the just path. This woman fell, and has done unspeakable evil. She led the attack on Gala beside that Wyrm. I resisted evil. I fought for my life against people like HER! Her type SCARRED ME they... Raped me. They took my sister. Why should she regain the light, she doesn’t DESERVE its embrace! A shuddering breath. A single tear Deserve? She has passed through evil and come to the light on her own. She doesn’t deserve your scorn, she deserves an embrace in love. Her path has taken her from the table of the light, to the bed of evil, to the enslavement from the hands of her own deeds, and now she returns to us in humility. Judge not, for once she was dead, now she is alive. The eyes of the Exorcist opened, and a small smile strained against the scars that lined her face. She reached out through the force, not to invade and tear information from the woman, but with comfort and mutual sorrow for what had been lost. On one side the loss of a child, the other the loss of a family. The glowing symbols faded into nothingness, leaving a whisper within the song of release. ...My name is Kyrie Eleison, Exorcist of the Imperial Knights. Rest and heal, if you desire we can speak when you are ready. I wish to learn what I can of this cult, so we can destroy it. You can leave when you desire, I will not keep you here outside your will.

The Exorcist traced a small pattern into the condensation that clung to the bacta tank, feeling the cool droplets upon her gloves. She began to draw the symbols of the Force that Il-Andon had passed to her during her time on Gala, the ones she had used to summon the ancient spirits to help in her battle against the Barabel Lockjaw. Her emerald eyes flashed, and a pair of stormtroopers stepped into the room, casually keeping the floating girl within their range of fire. She spoke to both the commander, and to the darksider, her voice probing and excited. It would be revealed to the woman she spoke to the nature of her service to the Empire “Remove the Ysalamiri. Let us both feel the sanctuary of the Song.” As the droids brought the creatures securely into the hall, the bubble within which the force could not be felt began to recede. As it passed over her, the fires within The Exorcist were kindled anew, and the emeralds were replaced with the glow of silvered flame. The Song about her was excited and she turned her mind towards the Darksider, as the symbols began to glow. “Let us find a target and we can fight the darkness of this cult together…” --- To the deploying Wild Bunch, would appear a hulking gate, half broken and rusting. It was twenty meters across, and upon distant approach, three XM-432 battle droids could be seen on standardized patrols. The deployment of the dropships would place them within a treeline around two-hundred meters away as darkness fell. Through the gate, could be seen a maze of slums with various amounts of movement in each alley. ((OOC: Let's see a tactical takedown and entry))

The Exorcist passed through the door of the cellblock’s medical bay and into the embrace of the Ysalamiri’s repulsion. The burning fire that filled every heartbeat flickered and turned itself to cold embers, and the girl shivered as she was detached from her flames. It felt as though she had been thrown into a pool of iced water, the Force which for so long had wrapped her in its strength was gone. She closed her eyes behind her HUD, taking a faltering breath as she focused on each footstep, her armoured leather boots making little sound as they moved on the shining tiles. Her emerald eyes passed up from the tiles, and onto the woman, floating in the rosewater of bacta. Even without the comfort of the Song, the Exorcist could read her grief in her emotions and the way she held herself within the immersion-bath. Behind the mask of her Imperial Commando’s helmet, Kyrie’s eyes studied her features, attempting to place the woman within her memories even as she brought up the medical chart provided by the medical staff. Her blood volume was raised, as were prolactin and parathyroid hormone levels. Her voice was oddly warm as she spoke through the synthesizer of her helmet. “I can answer that for you… She is still showing signs of pregnancy, without the…” Kyrie trailed off her sentence, allowing the impact of the implication to drop about them like the leaves of a Olang Tree in fall. She passed by the interrogator, the speed of her footsteps causing her kama to swirl about her armoured legs as she moved. She placed a gloved hand against the tank’s transparsteel, feeling the warmth of the liquid behind it. With one hand she slipped the helmet from her head, letting her braids fall about her scarred face as she gazed upon the woman within. She had remembered. Her eyes narrowed in a tight glare of stony emerald, intertwined with pity. “All is not lost, Darksider... Awake, Arise, or be forever Fallen. Help us destroy this cult, with unconquerable will and courage, look to the light and help us." Her words were harsh, but held a questioning tone, as if to give the woman a reason to disprove her accusation. Her own memories were replaying the scenes of crumbling stone and a perishing master, as she herself had protected a temple under siege.

IC-426 was a small human man, of Corellian decent, with a personality and personal strength that far surpassed his physical form. His hair was dark, and upon inspection, one could see that his left eye was replaced by a prosthetic, that served a double purpose as an HUD. In his hands he inspected the past simulations that Kala and the so-called Wild Bunch had accomplished. He turned to Kala, his armour glittering dark in the platform lights. “Jedi, I’ve been reviewing your performances in the scenarios, you are progressing admirably. By my calculations you’re beginning to experience the form of Battle Meditation that our General does. Connecting the minds of your men and woman beneath your own is important, but dangerous for a woman who still hasn’t conquered her past.” He brought up a holoscreen that displayed a tottering series of slums, made from sheet-metal and discarded chunks of concrete. It was a maze of varying buildings and hot-fire zones. Some of the hulking structures were up to five stories high. He had his doubts that a Jedi could do so well outside of the holodeck sims. He had served mostly alongside the Sith during Deton's Empire, and had always admired their ability to get the job done, no matter the costs. “This is a mockup of your typical backworlder slum, albeit without the indigenous population to make it smell.” He paused, realizing that perhaps not all would carry his political views “You and the Wild Bunch will be airdropped by cover of night at the western entrance, this dilapidated city gate here,” He indicated it on the map with an emerald laser pointer “You have thirty city blocks of slums to clear out, in order to find your hostage, the Imperial Delegate Tanner Brea, who has been taken captive by the indigs to make a political statement.” The face of a middle aged woman with a regal complexion came onscreen “There are innocents and aggressors here. Do what must be done, remember this though” He passed the datapad to Kala with a grim expression on his face “We do not negotiate with terrorists.” ((OOC: This should take you 3ish posts, I’ll play the opposition. Let’s see some great squad tactics and emotions. This should be tough, and will grow your character emotionally.))

The young Jedi General looked down her armoured arm to the attached datapad, where a message popped up from the Empress, detailing the ongoing investigation of a captured Sith. She slowly rose from where she sat on her bunk, and dropped the inactive holocron onto the tightly fitted sheets, made from black microfibers. The silver form of the crystal-work lattice reflected a pattern onto the wall beside her, taking the light of the fluorescent glowlamps, and twisting it into a rainbow of shifting light. The pattern was a repeating line of symbols, similar in form to the Aurebesh she still had difficulty reading. She stood and let the symbols reflect onto the chestpiece of her armour, reaching out with the Force to trace them in silvered flame. She tried to feel the songs of the holocron, but there was no answer to her own voice. She let out a small sigh, and slipped out of her chambers, strapping an E-11 to her leg and letting the cloak fall from her shoulders. The moment she was outside of the comfort of her room, the voice of Il-Andon loomed large in her mind ...It’s often best for an enemy to underestimate you, it was a tactic of our Order to walk unseen amongst the ranks of our troops, only breaking form when the Mandalorians finally were in the thick of battle… The Exorcist passed out her voice in the Force, letting it fall into the minds of her apprentices. “Aidan, Kala, I have been called to the Seraphim in orbit above the planet, in order to assist in the interrogation of a captured Sith. When you are ready, report to training platform Alpha-96, and to IC-426, also known as Draven Barker. He’ll set up your training run.” With a squad of stormtroopers at her back, Kyrie marched into the orbital shuttle, which brought them swiftly to the docking bay of the Golan III platform known as Seraphim. As she stepped onto the decking, and breathed her first breath of recycled air, Kyrie was connected to the mainframe of the platform by Imperial command. She led her squad to the prison-array, a section deep within the platform, and assembled them around the hallways. They joined the existing defensive force, taking up defensive postions on either side of the hallway. To each of them, Kyrie connected with a tendril of silver fire, like the web of an Arachnid. They added to her consciousness, and she could feel their simple emotions. Any extraneous thoughts or spikes in emotion were consumed by her fire, to keep them all calm and driven towards their objective. She connected her comlink to the Imperial Interrogator, staying just outside of the bubble of the Ysalamiri. She slipped the helmet of a Stormtrooper over her braided head, letting her eyes adjust to the HUD. She slipped her consciousness into the song, and tamped down her own aura, letting herself be filled with her righteous fire. For now, the only difference that distinguished her from her troopers was the dark green patterns, and the Kama and pauldron she wore, that made her appearance similar to that of an ARC trooper from the Clone Wars. “She has remained silent… Ask her about the Jedi Tzem Itae, which was detailed in the Bounty Hunter’s report. We must find out if this story of their battle holds water.”

The young Exorcist’s eyes shone with pride as she watched her apprentice Kala’s bonding with her troops. She was showing them she was one of them, breaking down the mystical barrier of the ‘Jedi’ that kept them beyond the reach of those they were sworn to protect. Once the girl was ready, she would lead her squads to flesh out the basic tactics of breech and entry. With emerald eyes she regarded her other apprentice Aidan where he stood in the back of the briefing chambers. “Aidan, go to barracks A-349 on the Eastern Wing of this facility. There you are to hand pick from the ranks of new recruits your two squads. You are both looking to put together complementary teams of commandos, which you will lead until you leave The Empire. You are rookies, and so are they.” She stood slowly, her bone-white armour reflecting the fluorescent lighting, causing her emerald eyes to glitter. Her scarred face showed a content smile. “When you both are done, you both will be engaging in conditioning with your troops before a live-fire exercise of a hostage rescue. Good luck… Imperial Knights.” ((OOC: These two squads are yours forever. Flesh each member out and get to know them. Eat with them, train with them, get a handle on how they operate. Their personalities and backgrounds are fully in your control. They will accompany you on every mission. Put them in your character sheets as Tactical NPCs.)) --- While her apprentices picked their men, Kyrie uploaded a series of dossiers to her private datapad of the newest recruits to the Empire. She needed to gather commandos herself, and she would join her apprentices in their training. With a fast pace, the Jedi General made her way to her private chambers, where the holocron of Il-Andon Rorik awaited to be studied.

A trickle of unbound fire spread about the young apprentice Aidan, of pure white and took on the form of a small girl, her stature small and shy. When she spoke, it was with the voice of his master It is hard to trust in the Force, Aidan, when you blame it for all the wrongs in this world. For those that have killed in the name of one side or the other until it all blends into a mess of death, do not blame The Force. She reached out with a small hand, showing streaks of crimson forming scars upon silvered flame. A man may wield the Force, to use it to heal, or to destroy... To become a king, a beast, a warrior, and to some a God. The Force can be a tool… The crimson disappeared in the clenching of a tiny fist Or it can be the salvation of the lost. I too have lost everything to those that wielded it in darkness. Take your time, we fight for a greater power. The bright eyes glittered emerald and then darkened as the figure dissipated into ashes about the young man. --- The Exorcist’s eyes fluttered open as she regarded Kala with a kind smile, listening to the girl’s hard conviction and righteous piety. Kyrie motioned to the apprentice with a gloved hand, her fingers calling her long handled blade to eager fingers. She stood slowly, and beckoned the apprentice to do the same. The Exorcist could feel the fatigue seizing at her muscles with a grasping weight, almost as though her joints were formed of lead. “Words of strength, worthy of a warrior.” Two squads of stormtroopers entered, armed with stunblasters. Their armour was padded and the typical colour of sunbleached bone. “These are your men and women. The training arena will help you and Aidan sharpen your skills. Each of you will command two squads against the best the Empire has to offer, led by the Empress herself… Let’s show her that The Imperial Knights is a program worthy of her investment.”

Kyrie walked into the training rooms, which were filled with meditation mats and training equipment. The room smelled of sour sweat and mold, which turned her stomach away from the thoughts of the day's meal. She reached out in the force to those in her care, feeling the stubbornness and animosity of the one, and the naive sweetness of the other. She smiled to them both, reaching to touch them with a mix of kindness and strength. "Kala, you have faught by my side, while Aiden has yet to prove himself to the Empire. Worry not, there are many battles to come... We focus upon warfare, but our foundations must be built strong. An untempered blade is quick to fail." The young exorcist knelt, her forest-green robes highlighting the ivory of her stormtrooper armour. She placed her lightsaber before her in the air, where it hovered upright before her, it's meter-long handle glinting in the florescent lighting. It acted as a totem for Kyrie's power, wreathed with silver fire. "Reach into yourselves, find your locus of control. What is it that connects you to the force?" She reached out a half-gloved hand, and the fire sprung like lightning to envelop her hand where it spread across her fingertips "Reach with it into the flame, find what it is that drives your very core. That emotion, or the lack of it, is what connects some of us to the living song of the Force."

The Exorcist smiled at the man’s harsh and sarcastic response. It wasn’t an abnormal reaction citizens of the galaxy had to seeing Jedi, the Order had been inactive in the galactic sense for far too long, allowing all manner of scum to run roughshod over the innocents from the Outer Rim to the very galactic core. She indicated her hanging blade with a scarred hand and let his tone of sarcasm fade into the song. “I understand why you would have strong feelings against Jedi, or the Order itself, and strictly I don't…” Her eyes narrowed for a second, the gleam of jade illuminated by her inner fire “Care.” She leaned against his bunk, her cloak flowing around her armour-clad form, revealing the familiar plates of stormtrooper armour. “I study war, I’m no pansy-fisted lilly-livered Master from Tython. I fight the Sith first and foremost, and I don’t care what the ineffective and blind Jedi Council might have to say about my actions.” She indicated the holoscreen on the wall of the barracks which was showing a recap of the battle for the Sith Temple. It showed for a moment the Exorcist cleaving through the ranks of the Sith alongside Stormtroopers. “Welcome to the Empire, we aren’t Jedi. We’re warriors. I’ll train you to use your potential to its maximum, Darkfire, but I’m not going to appeal to some grand sense of virtue that may lie inherent in your heart. The Empire stands against the evil, instead of letting it work unabated like the Council, and that’s your offer. Combat training in thirty.”

“One day, Empress, we will become legion enough to oppose heretics and Sith alike.” With a gentle nod highlighted by the bouncing of her dark braids, the young Exorcist bowed and made her leave of the Imperial Head of State. She headed to her private chambers adjacent to the Stormcommando barracks. She passed groups of marching Stormtroopers, adorned in their bone-white armour, helmets like skulls. She gave each group a smart salute, before she slipped into her own room. It was larger than any apartment she had lived in before and of spartan design, sacrificing niceties for utility. On the black-adorned bunk lay a set of reinforced stormtrooper armour, the chestpiece marked in forest green with the symbol of the Empire. Kyrie quickly changed into the more comfortable set of armour, admiring its flexibility compared to her older durasteel battle-armour. She slipped the armour over her tunic, letting her own cloak fall about it. She was now dressed in the fashion familiar to the Clone Wars, of the Jedi Generals of the Old Republic, great warriors and leaders of men. She set the holocron of Il-Andon upon the center of the training mat, and adjusted her weaponry. She forsook her bow, selecting a simple E-11 blaster rifle to accompany her long-handled lightsaber. Satisfied with her appearance, Kyrie set out to find her apprentice, and to check out the newest recruit, a boy named Aiden. Into the Song of the Force, she passed her own voice, letting it settle into the background rhythms, sending out tendrils of feeling to her apprentice. A feeling of comfort and joy at their mutual survival against the evils of the Sith. She sent her voice uninterrupted to Kala, to speak to her mind ...Find me at the training chambers, I will bring another, and there we will study the Force… The Jedi General slipped into the barracks, her emerald eyes dancing across the forms of relaxing men and women. One trooper caught her eyes and snapped to attention, but she waved him off with a pass of her hand. Finding the numbering scheme written in Aurebesh, Kyrie counted the bunks off until she found the one she desired. Upon it relaxed a man several years her elder, hair of jet black with eyes as green as her own. From the length of his body, she judged them to be of equal heights. His song was feint, hidden by the swirling of the mind, but she recognized several reflections within it. With her bare knuckles, the Exorcist rapped on the side of the bunk to raise his attention “You must be Aiden…” She reached out with the Force with the feeling of happiness and greetings, in hopes to offput any feelings he might find from her scarred appearance. Her voice faltered slightly “M-my name is Knight Eleison, Exorcist of the Jedi Order, and General of the Imperial Remnant.”

A comlink message arrives for the Grandmaster

...Master why would the shadow-spinner know your name? The Imperial Knight walked down the thoroughfare, flanked on all sides by the surviving squads of Stormtroopers. With each step, a few droplets stained the cracked alabaster tiling crimson. Her armour was scarred and pitted, the deep blue painting upon the chestpiece worn away to the gleaming metal underneath. Her ebony braids were singed, and she reeked of war; of blood, of scorched flesh, of ozone and death. ...What is said in the darkness is heard by all who dwell in it. Eleison, there was a time when I embraced the dark for the greater good… The young exorcist banished the voice from her head, setting Il-Andon aside until her head was in the right place for such conversation. The master’s holocron, in its crystalline matrix, hung from her belt alongside her long-handled lightsaber. She matched her mind to the cadence of the marching Stormtroopers, their ivory armor stained black from the ashes of the razed Sith Temple. A familiar song arose from the nearby medical facility, a whimper of weariness and injury from her apprentice. The Exorcist parted from her troopers as they made their way to the cafeteria and medblocks to check on their wounded. She passed ahead of them, her stride widening as she made her approach to the office of Raven. The Empire had been struck by war, but had prevailed. Without knocking, Kyrie entered, not bothering to clean herself from the stenches of war. To Raven, she bowed, her ebony braids concealing her eyes as she stuttered. She hated her tongue “Emp-press… The S-sith have f-fallen. We sl-laughtered those t-that gave f-fight. It is… Cleansed of what evil r-remains…”

A wave of thermal energy washed over the exorcist, singing heat to melt flesh from bone. A gout of flame followed, winding itself into the silver-formed flesh of the girl as the rhythm of the song spoke of the starfighter’s attacks. She felt herself entranced in a beat not of her own making, a counterpoint to the beast before her. Its dark words passed into her mind, beginning to burrow through her memories. At once she was awash upon the tides of the traumas of her past, the wraiths of her past screaming and taunting. The first was her little sister, chestnut hair stained ruby-red with blood “You could have fought them, saved me from them.” Angry tears burned in Kyrie’s eyes, stinging with ash and soot. Her own voice seemed faint as if carried across a vast distance. Her words smoldered in her throat, choked by smoke “I did EVERYTHING to fight them. Please Hay-” The girl’s form began to change, her alabaster skin turning ashen, freckles fading into darkened veins that spread like a spiderweb across her corrupted face. Her hazel eyes shone like liquid sulphur, and her fading lips turned to a cruel smile “You could have DIED FOR ME! Now madness has taken me. All because of you.” The smile curled to rage and untempered wrath “YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO PROTECT ME!” Kyrie’s own voice was overtaken by a strangling cry of grief, and she channeled all of herself, her song, and the growing fear that turned her blood to ice, into the crucible within her. “Me… Your little sister. ME!” The visage of her sister cracked like glass and shattered into shrieking silver flame. ...Our torments in time become our strengths… A great flash of white blossomed from the heart of the Sith Temple illuminating the twilight like the starlight from a supernova. Its light was blinding, dwarfing the fires of the temple and the lancing blasterbolts from the fighters. The Wyrm reeled back from its touch, as if daybreak had come to cast away a child’s nightmares. In the heart of the light walked the Exorcist, lightsaber held like a torch. “Your horror will grow gentle, your darkness into light… You have my judgement…” The light twisted as the Wyrm made its strike for her heart, fangs dripping with shadows, into a speartip. The Wyrm lurched back, its flesh beginning to burn and crumble into ash. A venomous shriek shook the skies, and under the combined attack of the Exorcist’s fiery touch, and the airborn attacks of the Imperial Navy, it fell to the shattered permacrete, disintegrating into cinders that were carried into the western wind like a field of stars.

The song of shadows broke its symphony as dust rained down from the shattering permacrete. Into the song a deep malice began to unwind, bestial in its fury and as unabashed in its strength as the former demon had been in its stealth. The Exorcist wound the silvered tendrils of her fire about her and her padawan, drawing herself into the Force, and away from the senses of the Sith creation. It’s song echoed about her with the reverberation of a thousand groundquakes. Into the mind of her apprentice she passed the warmth of a touch, to raise and quiet her amongst the drumbeats of evil. ...Pass from here, return to the Empress… I shall follow you once this Child of Abeloth lies in ash…. The young Exorcist ignited her blade, allowing the flow of silvered light to drive back the darkness. The bestial fury was replaced by a dark sentience, with the grasping tendrils of the Dark Side like the weaving heads of the Scylla. Great eyes rose from the clouds of dust, made from liquid flame of swirling reds crowned in soot. Kyrie spoke forth a challenge into the storm of sparks and ash You have engorged yourself upon the roots of this world, where upon blood you feasted from the time of Nadd… The voice that returned to her was a twist on her own, a visage of corrupted Sithspawn. She had sallow, blood orange skin in her reflection, with eyes marked of sulphuric yellow. The words that poured from the lips were intertwined with cinders, as if she was burning from the core I shattered the bonds of the Force… My venom turns blood to smoke… Who are you to face me, a child of the Old Gods? Her reflection was replaced with a twisting reptilian tongue, dripping with fire. Kyrie angled back and away from her padawan, drawing the massive beast to follow I am an Exorcist A breath cast about her, as hot as a furnace, reeking of the souls cast into its creation No… You have a name never spoken… The heat was replaced by the crackling of ozone, and Kyrie leapt into the light, lighting crashing about her in a wave. You appear to me in a field lacking colour, as a fox to stain it crimson… The next wave of lightning she parried with the blade of her lightsaber, drawing the excess power from its powercell into the veil of the Force, letting it feed her own flame as she wove it about her in the dance of death. Into the minds of the pilots she passed a message as she pirouetted across the crumbling cobblestone ...Imperial Pilots, strike to its flanks, draw it with me from the husk of the temple where we can lay it bare. Drive it before you and I shall guide it back into Hades...

The young Exorcist’s face distorted in a grim frown at the appearance of yet another Sith. She widened her stance, letting her pattern of steel divide into two paths to encompass the possible attacks of the interloper. The Sith’s words rose from about her like smoke carried upon the winds, harsh and haunting. “I present to you Jedi, Il-Andon Rorik, you may find this useful.” The mention of her master’s name caused a chill to form upon her flesh. The rosary’s weight became noticeable, its ebony form answering the call of its namesake. The shining sapphire of the Sith’s gift was stained with tendrils of crimson enveloped the beacon as it was guided by invisible hands towards her. It’s song echoed a harmony of deep history, desecrated by the talons of evil. She enveloped it in silver-lined tendrils, it’s call echoing in the song, drawing her to it. To her, a voice rose within her consciousness, deeply familiar but distant, as if spoken through a locked door ...Elesion, daughter of The Fallen, You call Me Teacher, and you say well, for so I am... The young exorcist grasped the beacon within her palm, letting its silvered form caress her flesh with its coolness. It felt foreign and corrupt, but its sensation was addictive. Within the Force, her own harmony changed, reflecting a moment upon the past Il-Andon had touched with his words. The faint song bore a child’s reflection, desecrated in innocence, clinging desperately to years long past. Her scars bore witness to her horrors, reflected into The Force as a shield, forged in the flames of the exorcist ..I was just a kid placed before a firing line, I was just a child when my momma died, and my daddy wouldn't ever make it home… Kyrie placed the relic on her belt, keeping it woven in her flames to destroy any darkness that would desire to strike her from it. Her words came forth with power as the temple rolled beneath her feet, its song changing once more. “Daimōn… Shadow Spinner...” Her words paused as another distant rumble rose beneath them. Her pattern burned on in silvered flame about her, its intensity feeding upon the darkness that moved about them. The sins it consumed upon the bloodstained cobbles, were like straw and wood upon it, feeding into the Holy Fire she bore within her “Leave my apprentice unharmed… If it your wickedness desires release, fight me instead… If we are not to do battle, what do you desire?”

The bestial rage of the Togorian burned into the song with a cadence of death, marked with a flaming echo that reverberated through the Temple’s aura. It was a strong message within the Force, but within the young Exorcist’s mind it saddened her. The beast’s rage was powerful, but its strength lay upon a foundation of wretchedness. It was the music of the damned and the hopeless, consumed by the anger and iniquity of a soul looking upon the Phlegethon. Kyrie twisted away from another rushing attack, a mix of dual strikes born from the perversion of Jar’Kai. The warmth from the crimson blades washed past her as she stepped away from his pass, leaving a bright trail of silver flame in her path. Each bootprint blazed in silver flame, eating away the corruption left behind by the Sith, as she traced her pattern. Within the twilight constructed from glowrods and holy flame, she could see the heaving muscles from the beast’s panting breaths, frothing drool marking each exhalation. She answered his call with a bitter smile, her blade still unlit, the scars marking her face playing from pale to red, catching the dim light. “I would not choose your d-dea-” Her voice caught faltering on her lips. A great surge of darkness passed through the song, a melody of unbridled power striking towards the sky with strength she had never seen matched, even in her dreamwalks upon Gala. The tide of darkness did not find its origin within the web she had woven about her opponent. The crashing of boulders pulled from the crumbling ceiling descended about her duel. A chorus of anguish greeted her in wave, each death marked by terror and a cacophony of sound. Kyrie hailed each death in the song with cold realization, dismissing them before they could overwhelm the defenses of her mind. Into her flames she passed her grief, and the rising tide of frustration and anger. From the brink of death may you pass… The young Exorcist stepped around a falling pillar towards her opponent for the first time. Her footsteps were heavy and determined, passing towards the beast who was for the moment distracted. It would not do to have this beastial dstraction while a bigger threat made its attack. Into her left hand she doubly slipped a broad-headed arrow from her quiver, its tip glittering as it was bound in the song. As a harsh blanket of dust and crumbled permacrete descended upon them, the Exorcist struck. To Purgatory’s fire you have come at last… With her unlit lightsaber, she swept the feet of the beast, catching its hamstring with the hooked handle. The handle was a meter’s length and made of unyielding ebony, which drove the beast’s legs from beneath it. With a flick of her wrist, Kyrie drove the steely points of the quarrels through the deep muscles of the clavicular heads of the pectoralis majors on both sides of the beast’s broad chest. The arrow’s bites were deep, severing tendon from bone, driving into the radial nerve and arteries beneath. The beast roared in deep agony, before it was replaced by the silence of fear. Into the Song she could feel the pain from Commander Prosdocimi as he was slain. His pain was harsh, with edge only a blade could bring. Echoing with it came a call from Kala within their bond, a cry of primal fear. She passed her voice through the Force into the Togorian’s mind as he lay cowering Upon you comes a choice… Continue to fight, exsanguinate then die in hellfire… Or surrender and await evacuation… About them, the pattern from her footsteps glowed through the darkened storm of dust. The five stormtroopers that had survived retained their positions. Towards the struggle of death Kyrie turned, observing with smoldering eyes of silver flame the new opponent who had trapped her apprentice. Ten meters separated them, and highlighted by downcast glowrods was the form of an armored man, with long ashen hair that was interminable amongst his dark cloaks. She passed the rest of her quiver about her in a storm of steel, each coated in Exorcist’s fire. Kyrie’s voice echoed into the song through gritted teeth, highlighted with the wrath of the righteous. She held her lightsaber unlit in the form of Ochs. The onyx beads of her rosary reflected the pale light about them as it hung from her scarred wrist. “The cowardice of striking an apprentice is unbecoming a Sith…”

Into the veil of the Force, Kyrie’s song slowed in its rhythm, steadying its pace to gather its strength, as an arachnid weaves a web before dropping onto a glimwing. The fire in her heart was a furnace, consuming pain and errant emotions, sharpening her mind like a sword on a whetstone. Each pass on the blade honed her mind, concentrating the song into the bond of master to apprentice. The Exorcist stepped towards the Togorian, passing her hand before her in the fashion of a musician strumming the lyre. Silver flame passed in strands about them, and the web was spun in the Song. The squads of Stormtroopers took up covering positions, equally covering the Sith Master and the rest of the room, their HUD’s scanning for any perceptible movement. Their minds were set in battle, instinct through training ruling over their base emotions, waves of stun set to rise from blaster-rifles like a chorus of paralysis, to wreak havoc on the neurological systems of any that moved. Kyrie twisted her head slightly, eliciting a crack from her neck. She could feel the eyes of the Togorian settle upon her, his jaw dripping with the desire to devour her, to strip her of her dignity, and consume her soul. His song was as monstrous as his form, malevolent in its words as it flowed from his beastial mind. I’ll bring you up... Look into your eyes... As you beg for your life… Kyrie placed her longbow on her back, letting the long handle of her lightsaber find its strength in her grip. Vom Tag started in a low guard, to deal with vicious and careless attackers. Into their bond, the young Exorcist bid Kala to prepare for an assault. Her fire began to spread, each step of her blackened boots leaving a trail of light, eating away the darkness like acid dripped onto flesh. Her voice was soft as she replied to the Sith who considered her prey, the words marked with distaste “Speaker of the voice, beacon of this temple… Perverted Lord, I bid you to leave…” The words soured her lips, and her tongue bid her not continue “We have not slaughtered your people… They lay in sleep unwakeable, but with the hands of careful healers.” The Togorian’s fangs dripped with malice, his spiked tongue running across them as if he could already savour her rent flesh in his maw “You have this chance to leave, to retreat to Korriban with your wounded, to never return. If you do not, I w-” The Togorian made his attack, launching from his haunches in a spring of fury at the mention of retreat. A slight movement of Kyrie’s face betrayed her disappointment. ...They never choose to save themselves, Kala, never expect surrender to be from them… Genuine… They choose hate, and thus death... The duelly ignited crimson blades of the Sith crashed past her as she stepped to the side, utilizing the beast's own inertia to avoid his first attack, meant to catch her by surprise. The Stormtroopers held their fire, allowing their Knight the honor of single combat, ready to strike anything that came to interrupt. Kyrie danced away from the beast, circling him out of reach, letting the Song’s flow guide her. She reached into the beast’s darkness, finding his connections to the rage that he embodied and passed her Song into them. He struck at her with vicious passes of his dual blades, driving at her in unpredictable ferocity ...Death, it awaits both gods and men… Death, to all men, coming home again… The Togorian roared, brownish drool dripping from his maw, to make their fall onto the stone cobbles. The beast's power was like a tree in autumn, its leaves slowly stripping away by the march into winter. His back was to the darker greater hall and before him was the entrance, lined with stormtroopers behind cover with overlapping fields of fire. The tiled cobbles showed the tracing pattern of Kyrie’s dance in silvered flame “Fight me blade to blade, pitiful Jeedai… I AM THE DARKNESS!”

Kyrie’s face alight with a proud smile, watching the hand of her apprentice scorch the darkness from the flesh of the madclaw, taking with it its life. The smile turned to concern as she watched Kala’s shoulders tighten with the pain of her wounds, but her momentary concern was cut off by the dying screams of one of the Sith troopers, his back shattered by a concussive grenade. His scream was wrenchingly human, marked with fear and the sharp pains of splintered bone. WIth a flash of the Rodian Sith’s crimson blade, a sizzling pain echoed through the Song and the man’s agony was cut short. Beside the Rodian, the remaining two Sith raised their blades in defiance to the approaching stormtroopers, their ivory armor reflecting in deep carmine. The two Sith Lords, a Bothan, whose chestnut coat was stained in the running of his blackened blood from a gaping wound to his chest, and a female human, raised their voices in a roar and charged towards the advancing squads of Stormtroopers. In the vanguard, Kyrie dove, withdrawing her longbow from its place on her back, beneath a hail of stunbolts from her squad, their sapphire flame arcing like lightning through the darkened room. The Sith female dropped to her knees, her body overcome by seizures. She cried out in pain, and was silenced as two Stormtroopers added half a dozen bolts into her chest, sprawling across the tiled floor in convulsions. Kyrie rose from her tumble, bringing her knee into the chest of the Bothan, feeling the searing pain as the Sith’s lightsaber skittered across her armored chest, adding a deep furrow to the pale flesh of her abdomen. She hooked the stave of the bow into the leg of the Bothan and tossed him to the floor, where a Stormtrooper put several stun rounds into his feline face. The young Exorcist notched an arrow, its silvered broadhead picking up the glimmering light of the Rodian’s Darkside attack. As the lightning arced into her, Kyrie loosed the arrow through the oncoming storm. As the flesh on her left arm blistered from the lightning, the arrow passed through the elongated lips of the Sith Master, driving the broadhead through his jawline and into the roof of his mouth. Passing through the soft palate, the steel broadhead forced its way through the fatty tissues of the Rodian Brain, bisecting the mesencephalon, where it blinded and paralyzed him, before exiting the back of his skull in a grisly rain of viridescent blood, bone and scalp. The Rodian was tossed back into the crumbling permacrete, where he hung like a mobile over the crib of an infant, a coursing river of jade dripping from his worn boots. Kyrie motioned the medic to treat Kala’s wounds as they inspected the fallen bodies of unconscious or slain Sith. She applied a thick coating of bacta to her injuries before a simple bandage. She deflected the pain into her fire, letting the pain ebb away, leached by the burning flame within her. The young exorcist motioned to Kala, “You’ve surpassed your own ability with the help of the light. It gifts us at time with incredible strength… But it is fleeting. The voices of evil remain, and grow stronger. The Songs have changed almost imperceptibly...” She trailed off, notching another arrow into her bowstring. The fletching was course on her fingertips, and it brought back memories of the hunts on Tython in which she brought down the avians from which she had made them. She stepped assuredly into the darkness of the next chamber, the light of the glowrods illuminating the crumbling stones. It appeared as a throneroom and banqueting hall, its formally grand ceiling fallen in many places. From the throne, the voice spoke, hollow and deadly “Aừvien… I am Lord of this Sanctuary… I might as well be Dark Lord…” The glowrods revealed a Togorian, massive in form, his dark coat rippling with muscles. He rose to standing, his bare chest painted crimson in the symbols of the Sith. In each hand, he bore a dark handled lightsaber, wicked and fang-like in form.

Kyrie placed a partially gloved hand on the crumbling entranceway, using the cool physical touch of permacrete interrupt the darkness trying to invade her mind, letting the mental interruption invigorate her. Reaching into their bond, she could hear Kala’s own song defining itself within the Force. The words were hauntingly beautiful, clear and refreshing in the voice of the young woman. The refrains touched upon the Kuati’s past and her eventual future. It gave the Exorcist hope to see another touch The Song within the Force, even Xae had been unwilling to dive into the rhythms of the night. A vision of a woman with hair of silver rose into their bond, seemingly unbidden by Kala, as a small tremor of shock followed the apparition’s rise. Kyrie reached a hand back to the girl to steady her physically “Who is that woman, Kala? Her pendant is famil-” ...Snap-hiss... A crimson light overpowered the darkness, protruding through the chest of the stormtrooper on the far right flank. His gurgling cry was cut short as the attacker cut the blade free from the man’s chest. As the armored form fell, the light from the Sith’s lightsaber revealed its form. It was a muscular Nautolan with black tattoos etched into his scarlet flesh. A shout of warning echoed through the Stormtrooper’s helmet comlinks, and a hail of blue fire overwhelmed the Sith in a shower from the weapons of the remaining stormtroopers. Kyrie’s voice echoed through the chamber, reflecting off the stoned walls and tiled floor. She had not sensed his approach, and it frightened her “Weapons active, put down all resistance with extreme prejudice!” Within her chest she could feel the songs of war beginning to rise, much as they had on Gala. Into the Force she passed assurance and strength. From her lips, silver fire wreathed its way about herself and her padawan, a breath of living flame. The room alight with the silver reflection, revealing a dozen shadowed figures. In response to the rising power of the light, the Sith ignited their lightsabers, or raised their weapons. There was six Sith Troopers, armed with blasters and swords, and amongst them stood the lightsaber wielding Sith, who no longer bothered to conceal their presence within The Force. At their head stood a Duros clothed in robes of darkness. His lightsaber was held low in his left hand, while his other hand held a growing storm of lightning. Beside him stood a Twi’lek female who’s double bladed lightsaber showed a lithe form with scant clothing ...Krath and Assassins… Kyrie raised her hand, directing her troops upon the Sith Troopers, and passing a suggestion to Kala. She illuminated a red-haired Wookiee, who held a lightsaber in a low guard, his fangs dripping with frothing drool “Destroy the mad-claw… I’ll handle the Masters.” The young Exorcist stepped forward as a hail of blasterfire whirled about them in a storm. She pivoted on one foot, sweeping her body under a hail of flechette rounds, keeping her long-handled lightsaber within her right hand, but unlit. The heat of the Twi’lek’s saber-slash passed a few centimeters from her nose, scorching one of her braids in a flash of fire. The stench of ozone mixed with burning hair filled her nostrils as she rolled beneath the follow-up by the Twi’lek. She rolled into the knees of the Twi’lek, slamming her flaming palm into the girl’s unclothed chest. The pure light of Exorcist’s fire leapt between her fingers as she touched the Twi’lek’s chest at her sternum, the silver light burrowing deep into The Sith’s flesh. Exorcist’s fire was meant to purge corruption, and with its touch, the Sith’s body began to convulse as the burning hole in her chest began to spread, the skin and ribcage dissolving away into ash, revealing the corrupted organs beneath, before they too were consumed by the wildfire. Kyrie stood as the body fell before her, her normally emerald eyes alight with a mix of silvers and yellows. Lightning descended like an electric cage about Kyrie, pain roaring through her mind like a banshee on the winds of Hades. She kept her footing and channeled the lightning into usable energy for her muscles, sending her into an uncontrolled leap towards the Duros from whom the lightning emerged. Her forehead met the thin leather of the nasal bridge and eye sockets of the Duros, fracturing the delicate bone and cartilage structure. His shocked gasp was cut short as she hooked her lightsaber’s handle about his thin neck and shoulder, tossing him sprawling, to be cut down by a bout of blaster fire from his own men. She smiled as she looked to the remaining Sith who began to move to attack her, feeling a slow drip of blood from her forehead. She reached out through the Force to her apprentice, encouraging her in her own combat with the Sith mad-claw. The Sith Voice within the Song was unchanged, and continued its taunting Song ...Ava Báèģan Kủrsk Exorcists…

Kyrie reached out into the Force, grasping the strands of the connection she was forging with Kala and illuminated them in the physical realm. They appeared as silver strands, not unlike the silken tendrils woven by the arachnids she had seen flitting about and hunting in her cell on Ord Mantell. As they walked she wrapped the strands about them, and the song sprang to life. To Kala a distant verse began to rise into her mind, as if a million voices of yore were filtering through the strands about them. All our visions of sweet tomorrow Is cracking and fading away, hopes of glory are drowned in sorrow, this dissension expels us to yesterday… Kyrie spoke softly as they walked, her peripheral vision picking up the Stormtrooper’s reactions to the rising Song and the appearance of the bond. Her voice wavered, her strength flowing into her lesson instead of into strengthening her tongue “I speak through our b-bond. It is w-weak a-as w-we do not yet f-fully kn-now each other. It is b-based on our u-understanding of each other… I-It is like a s-shared h-heartbeat, a s-song…” The yawning entrance of the Sith Temple formed in the fading Cardian twilight. Its once grand superstructure was crumbling, exposed rebar showing through fractured permacrete like the bones of a Bantha, half-picked clean of flesh by scavengers. The squad leaders reached into their packs and cracked glowrods, illuminating the fractured doorway with pale yellow light. Kyrie’s voice became a horse whisper, but was strengthened and carried by the Force “Switch to nightvision, disable glowrods. If we come into contact and we are forced to fight, have light compensation active. If we make contact, light them up. Weapons to stun, harder to block with a lightsaber.., Let’s not make ourselves targets.” Kyrie centered herself, focusing on the songs that began to play about her within the Force. There was eerie silence interrupted by the distant hum of the Stormtrooper’s nightvision HUDs activating. She picked through the songs in the Force, recognizing chills of fear and apprehension coming from her squads, she amplified her apprentice’s reassurance before eliminating the song from her mind. She needed to feel it if any enemies made an approach. With a strong hand, she guided her apprentice behind her as the stepped through the door. She forsook auditory speech, and spoke through The Force instead, adding only silence. “Focus on your heartbeat, find your center and take control of it. Your body is your sacred ground. From that center, expand your circle of control out beyond your physical. Feel my presence in the Force, and find your way in the darkness. Just as Kuati hawkbats fly by night using only their reflexive radar, so shall we.” Kyrie could hear the same distant voice through The Force she had heard in orbit but much more unmistakable. It was singular in voice, darkly veiled into the background of The Force, dripping with a malice she had not felt since Gala. ...Kûsk… Asha… Qyâsik… The voice centered on her as she stepped deeper into the entranceway. It was as if an all seeing eye had turned into her soul. She felt completely exposed within the darkness. It was clinging to her with a thousand hands, tearing at her flesh, treading the paths that the Sith Lord had made upon her flesh and her innocence. A slow hiss escaped her lips as she focused on the eternal flame of the Force, letting it burn away her fear. Into their bond, Kyrie passed a warning of danger to Kala. The Force roiled in her mind, boiling like a hotspring in tarsands. From the darkness about them a deep laugh rolled about them like thunder ...Rhak-skuri Exorcists… Esvkerd-shuni...

Kyrie reached out with a gloved hand, placing it on the girl’s shoulder as they walked, letting her fire pass into her, to assuage the rising fear within her. As the Sith Temple came into view, she could feel a rising fear from behind her, even in the ranks of the battle-hardened stormtroopers who now stood at her command. She turned to Kala using the Force to speak into her mind once more “The Order of Exorcists was formed during the first invasion of the Galaxy by Sith Forces before the days of the Republic. Our purpose is to meet the forces of darkness with that of the light, and establish Harmony. We fight the demons and the evil the Sith create head on.” She conjured forth her own memories, fighting the Sith Lord Lockjaw on the steps of Gala’s Praxeum and passed the vision to her apprentice. Her triumph over evil, even in the face of the death of hundreds of hopefuls and Jedi around her. She still bore the scars from the evil she had fought. “We will fight against evil, Kala. Our path is not one of safety like the council on Tython, hiding on a hidden world. We fight to save others from the tangible evil which strikes from the shadows, to prevent others from having to suffer our fate…” The stench of death rose about them as they walked, the smell of the battlescarred Sith temple beginning to work its way into their nostrils. The two squads of stormtroopers fanned out around them, rifles at the ready. It had been some time since their initial attack, but Evil seldom died easily. Kyrie placed her hand around the long hilt of her saber-staff, reaching into the Force to calm and steady herself and her apprentice. “Be ready Kala…”

Kyrie’s scarred face was marked with a warm smile at the young woman’s humility. The girl, Kala, stood with the air of nobility, and the Force swirled about her with flashes of her past. The attempt at humility marked her apart from the nobles that Kyrie had interacted with during her time on Ord Mantell, as a slave fighting for their entertainment. Into the young Kuati’s mind the Exorcist projected her voice, beckoning Kala to follow as she walked down the tiled hallway, her boots making small clicks as she stepped. “Your humility is appreciated from one of such noble birth… My birthright, by the Will of the Force, was into slavery and violence under the Sith. The Force has called us into this fight together.” Two squads of stormtroopers, their bleached armor and skull-like helmets sending a shiver up her spine, fell into step behind the two Jedi. “Our first meeting would have been more serene in the Praxeums, but instead you are called with me to warfare. We are to cleanse the Sith blight from Cardia… It was from here they launched the invasion of Gala, in which my own master was gravely injured in its defense...” Kyrie smiled again at the girl beside her, indicating her vibrosword and blaster. A white fire began to writhe about Kyrie’s hand, its flames almost serpentine in motion “The darkness does not fade away easily. Tell me, Kala, from where do you feel The Force?”

“I heard the Temple through the Force. It’s song can be heard throughout the entire Perlemian Trade Route…” The Young Exorcist could feel the pulse of electronics through the woman’s glove as they shook hands. This new Empire was striving to rid the galaxy of evil, and she would be in the Vanguard. Kyrie bowed her head low, one of her black bangs obscuring her vision for a moment before she passes it behind her ear once more with a brush of her gloved fingers. She straightened her cowl, its deep blue colour highlighted by her black tunic. Her battleworn chestpiece of similar blue concealed her racing heartbeat, as she took a step back from the table. Her voice was approving, with undertones of excitement, reinforced by The Force “My apprentice and I will cleanse it. Good hunting against Black Sun, and may the light scatter them to the winds!” With her blackened combat boots making quite clicks on the white tileway, she stepped from the room, through the yawning blastdoor, and into the waiting room beyond. Within it sat a girl not two years younger than herself, her blonde hair kept in the fashion of Kuati Nobility. The girl was lost in thought, so Kyrie dropped to a knee beside her, observing her vibrosword and blaster. Into the girl’s mind, the warrior pushed a gentle greeting, accompanied by feelings of kind happiness. “You must be Kala. I am Exorcist Eleison. Welcome to the fight…”

Kyrie’s emerald eyes caught the marching lines of approaching stormtroopers, their helmets like bleached skulls, scattered across an ancient battlefield, long picked clean by carrion. At the front of the squad marched an officer, her jet-black uniform neatly pressed, adorned with the olive-green service medal of Dubrillion and the glittering cylinders customary her rank of caption. The Exorcist bowed low, her cowl parting to expose the long handle of her lightsaber, several handbreadths longer than customary. The Officer’s step paused, and did the ranks of skulls. She could feel the officer’s eyes gliding over her battle-scarred form, and so she spoke to break the silence “I fought S-sith t-to gain these s-scars. I b-bear them p-p-proudly.” The officer’s face softened at her stutter, and she bowed back, her voice carrying the air of diplomacy “Our Lady Raven awaits you. Please follow us.” With that, the column turned on its heel as one, and began to march down a long corridor. She followed at a brisk pace, her long strides bringing her to the officer’s side. A chirrup from Kyrie’s comlink drew her attention, from a mysterious Kala. With nimble fingers she typed out a response, sending the landing pad coordinates and instructions to turn the cultist over to the Imperials for processing. She would have an apprentice. Slipping her comlink into her robes, Kyrie stepped through the opening blast door as its durasteel plating yawned open. Through it she could see a girl, perhaps half a decade older than herself. Her hair was a deep black, the same colour as the armor she wore, emphasizing the violet eyes the woman hid behind bangs of onyx. Her voice was stern and questioning "Greetings Jedi Knight, I do not believe we have had a chance to meet before, what calls you to the Imperial Remnant?” The young Exorcist bowed her head, before returning the violet stare with shining jade. With a half-gloved hand gestured towards the desk at which the woman sat. She spoke into the woman’s mind, not trusting her voice to carry her words, or that their words might be recorded. “Empress, I have heard of your rejection of the Sith… I have fought the Sith for my entire lifetime. My order has failed this galaxy, and I believe your… Empire may be the only hope we have to stand against the rising darkness.” Into the physical realm, Kyrie bound her fire, alighting the room with flame of pure white wreathing about her outstretched hand. It flowed like lightning between her fingers, alighting her armored body. The ebony rosary about her thin wrist glowed, outlined in silver. “I am an Exorcist, one of the last of my Order. I stand before you as once Revan stood before the Republic, abandoning the weakness of the Jedi Order, offering my service to you. I will create at your will a new order... I wish to be your Imperial Knight.”

The young Jedi Knight flipped the small freighter’s autolanding sequence to engage as she made her approach through the atmosphere of Cardia. Landing Pad A131 was visible on the horizon, and the autopilot locked onto its transponder, smoothing out the approach with nimble calculations by the ship’s electronic brain. As the freighter made its approach, Kyrie jumped from the pilot’s seat, running to the refresher to straighten up for whatever landing party decided to greet her. She gazed for a moment into the mirror, studying herself, it had been some time since she had taken the time to focus on her personal appearance. Her black tunic was rumpled, its seams frayed from training. A yellowed stain had worked its way into the fabric from her constant sweating, something that never left it no matter how often the sonic-cleaner was applied. Her scars, one lining her jaw, another marring her forehead and cheek were less noticeable thanks to Roene, but gave her a battle-scarred air, which the Empire might expect from a warrior. Her black tousle of braids were similarly a mess, oily and almost dreaded. With half-gloved hand she triggered the refresher’s sonic shower, and stripped slowly from her filthy garments. As she slipped from her tunic, she studied the scars on her back, the countless lashes of the Sith Torturer rippling her skin with raised furrows of scar tissue. Claw marks from beasts that she had fought in the arenas on Ord Mantell ran along her ribcage and hips. Her stomach bore several puncture scars from daggers, and the name of her former Sith Master was clearly etched into the flesh and bone beneath her right breast. He had signed his name with a dull vibroblade, and the scar from his signature traced its way down her stomach, the way a Hutt would sign a creditchit with a violent flourish, passing down between her legs. The Young Exorcist closed her eyes, shutting her brain from the oncoming wave of nausea and fear. Her body shuddered, but she gritted her teeth, setting her jaw against her gag reflex, stepping into the sonic shower. The pulsing waves of energy, sound at a decibel too low for her ears to decipher, washed over her, vibrating the grime and sweat from her naked, pale flesh. As her body was washed, Kyrie focused on unknotting her hair, untying the braids, letting the black locks wind down her back in cascading rivulets. The sonic washed them of their grease, and she braided the raven locks into a single long Tarisian Braid, brushing her bangs behind her ears. From her travel bag, she pulled a sable tunic, slipping into the comfortable fabric, which caressed her skin with the feeling of soft leather-bound fabric. She afixed an armored chestpiece of pitted durasteel about herself, the colour of the Calamari Sea, and attached a similarly coloured cowl to her shoulders. She attached her long-handled lightsaber to her belt, covering it slightly with the cowl. Into the Force, she pulsed out a greeting to the other Force signatures she could feel through the Song, before she stepped quickly down the lowering ramp to the awaiting parties on the landing pad.