Corellia

[Stormhelm]

The Force rippled with cold currents as a voice boomed from my perifial, a form stepping into view as his tone echoed of false promises and freedom. Despite the tremble I felt in my form, the urge to run in my head, I stood firm as I glanced at him, our eyes meeting amidst the darkness barely lit by the hue to emergency power. I knew it the moment i laid eye on him what he was, what he stood for, but despite my instinct of flight for survival, I couldn't help but stand frozen at first glance.

 

"You know nothing of me..." I retorted, the shaking of my voice making apparent both my disdain and and uncertainty as I turned inward to focus on my breathing in a hopeful attempt to calm my nerves. "I have walked the darkness you offer and I know its price. I refuse to become a slave to this false freedom you offer without remorse."

 

As I spoke, I turned to fully face the towering man, the light within me beginning to grow as my mind grew calm and serene against my own emotions. Silently in my mind, I counted each breath, letting the thumping of my heart pulse within my form and feeling the blood in my veins warm me. I knew deep down that my worst enemy was myself, especially in a moment such as this. I was unguarded, open for anyone to read. And if this Sith stood like the others of Legend that I had studied, I was vulnerable.

 

"How about we forget your offer, as well as your host, and we both go our separate ways?" I questioned back with a smirk, unsure if he'd actually go for it, but turning my focus more toward my Master's plight from my own vulnerability. "Its the best offer I can present in our current situation."

[Mavanger]

Mordecai let out a booming laugh. The boy was filled with hopes and naivety. It would be a shame to kill him. Still, he wasn't finished just yet. The child was lost. Misled about the nature of the Dark Side by his ignorant masters, people who had never known its' kiss of power, nor of the true freedom it offered. perhaps this was why the Jedi tended to fall so easily throughout history. How can you defeat something you don't understand? How can you resist the temptation of the dark when you've been lied to about its nature, unable to truly shield yourself from its reach?

 

"You've made a common mistake. One that I myself when I was but an apprentice amongst the Sith. You traded your shackles of the light for the shackles of your emotions. True freedom does not come through being consumed by your emotions. It comes from embracing them. Do not be bent to the wills of your emotions. Instead, you bend them to your will. Use them to grow more powerful. But if you fully surrender to them, then yes, I suppose you're not much more than a wild animal, lashing out in fear and hatred.

 

The true false freedom is the Jedi. They preach of free knowledge and a truly free galaxy. What they don't mention is that these are only true under their definition. Free knowledge, as long as you avoid what is forbidden. Freedom, but always under the Jedi Order's watchful eyes. Tell me, does that sound like freedom? Or are they a clever tyranny? In the Sith Empire, all that it takes to obtain knowledge and power is the will to do so."

 

The boy was cocky. That could be remedied. Perhaps even harnessed. His remark did little to faze Mordecai.

 

"Unfortunately I cannot accept. After all, leaving a party so soon would be dreadfully rude, would it not be? And what would you do if you did leave? Fight through an entire ship's worth of Sith and soldiers, including myself and my own apprentice, only to arrive late to the battle above and be slain by the Dark Lord? I offer salvation. Join me, and I will teach you how to truly handle your emotions in a way that benefits you, rather than neuters your ability to feel."

[Stormhelm]

"Perhaps you are right." I spoke in return after contemplating his words. It was true that my emotions had long burdened me, fearful of what might happen if I allowed myself to be lost to them, bound and shackled by them. There was truth in his words. "But neither should I allow them to fester and grow. They are but a blight upon the ideology that I cherish wholeheartedly."

 

I could feel the coldness of this man's soul, the emotions that he himself hid so well behind his facade. I was beginning to see the truth of the darkness, the revelation of its core. I could feel it all around me, the pull of it, emotions siphoned from others to empower ones own, false power. And I wanted no part of it. While it may have been true that I only shackled myself by denying myself to feel and know emotion, to allow it to become me and to feed on it would only lead me down a path I could not return from easily. I knew this because of the fateful day i first fell to the darkness as a child and what it rought of me.

 

"You call the life of a Jedi false freedom? What of the Sith? Bound to emotions of your own and others to empower you? Incapable of finding the strength in yourself to persevere and relying on the negatives of others to prosper? There is no freedom in that. Only false hope. An endless life of torment and persecution on others for the sake of yourself, selfish and weak. There is no knowledge of the Force in such a life, only the knowledge of selfishness."

 

I shook my head and gazed at him with pity filled eyes. There was only pain and suffering in his future as long as he stayed on this path, and yet, I knew there was no talking him from it. I could feel the depth it penetrated his being, the void in the Force rippling from his soul. In truth, I felt sorry for the man, lost in his own deprivation. But the time for pleasantries had come to an end. I needed to get to Master Armiena and Ryu. With Ryu in his current condition, especially considering what the Order had done and the permutation of the Darkness that bellowed from this goliath of a ship, his madness could worsen and place her in considerable damage.

 

"I'm afraid we have come to an impasse my friend." I spoke, shifting the weight of my form and drawing my hand to the front, my saber deactivated still. "I ask that you let me pass in peace. If not, then I will have no other alternative." Deep down, I hoped that my bluff would prove successful. If not, I knew that my chances were little. "Please."

[Zendrin]

The heft of the glaive was unfamiliar to her, but welcomed; although it was neigh useless in her hands. But the weapon she held would make for excellent proof of her victory. The remaining troops gathered, and with scattering light they navigated the darkened halls. Kahla had been ordered to return to her master, and she would do so with pride. The halls felt eerily silent, not but the clunking of boots could be heard. She thought hard on her weariness, she had wandered the dark and empty halls of a derelict vessel before and felt no fear. As her mind drifted from thought to thought she noticed one thing troubling her most. The enemy she faced, he must have been force sensitive. Then why did he restrain from using such power against her? Limiting himself to patronize her? As if he thought himself so capable, he wouldn't need the aid.

 

Her pride slowly turned to anger, that he might have thought so low of her drove her mad. But she had shown him, shown him she wasn't the whelp he thought. She was strong, and growing stronger.

 

Voices down the hall, the troopers quickly hid their lights. The element of surprise was a glorious weapon. The first of the two voices became more familiar as they approached, their steps were silent as a hunter in the forest. The trooper's commander, Kahla's master, was stood in front of a much younger boy. They seemed to be at some sort of stalemate, and Kahla would watch with utmost anticipation.

[Mavanger]

Mordecai waved dismissively. There were deep misunderstandings here. Many thought of the Sith as bloodthirsty warriors and cruel monsters, but there was a culture to it. A way of life that united even the most disparaging of authority. It was glorious, and not something that the apprentice would likely understand from mere talk. Still, Mordecai would do his best to convey these feeligns.

 

"Anger, pain, fear. It's true, yes, that we rely heavily on these in combat. The anger strengthens our blows against those who would withstand them. Embracing our pain allows us to keep fighting past what others would consider natural. Fear sharpens our perception, allowing us to watch for hidden threats even amidst a duel. But these are not all that a Sith feels. It's not a life of suffering and misery to be inflicted on ourselves and others as the Jedi would tote. We throw ourselves into joy and curiosity out of battle as we do anger and fear. Imagine what you could do, Jedi, with this power. The people you could save."

 

The hint of conflict that the boy suggested was enticing to be sure, but Mordecai stayed his hand... for now. He could feel his apprentice, and as she filed into the room with the troopers he had placed under her command, he could feel her pride again. Now, finally, earned.

 

"The apprentice returns. Watch, Kahla, and think on my words. Do not intervene yet."

 

He turned back to the Jedi.

 

"Do you understand your plight now, young Jedi? Even if you kill me, there are countless others who would drown you in their own seas of darkness. I am your best hope for salvation. For survival. You are too young to throw your life away for nothing. You think anyone will remember you in a year? You are an apprentice in an order that orders their members to martyr themselves for others, and yet your masters regularly avoid conflict or harm others where it's convenient for them. Tell me, do you know what happened at Dark Sun Station? Were you there, as I was? Did you witness the atrocities committed by one of your so called Jedi Masters? And even now, our Dark Lord engages your master, where your Grandmaster has not been seen on the battlefield in my memory since before I became Sith."

[Kakuto Ryu]

"Anger Leads to..."

Ryu heard the crackle of electricity and saw flashes of light pierce through the dark. Then he felt an impact from behind, followed by the surge of electricity coursing through his body. He was knocked over by the impact, breaking his fall with his skull and sliding for several seconds on built up momentum. His thumb went limp and released the lightsaber's activator, leaving it to go inactive as the hilt fell to the end of the tether that held it to his wrist until came to rest on the floor. Ryu’s consciousness dimmed, and everything faded away.

-----

Standing atop a raised platform, Ryu found himself in a cold, dark Sith temple. Below him was a grand melee with Sith and converted Jedi padawans, each fighting for their life. They were trapped in a ring of slaves standing shoulder to shoulder, weapons drawn to form the outer boundary of the arena.

Among the six fighters one stood out as exceptional, a venomous serpent among cattle. He was a Sith Lord with long stygian black hair and intense emerald eyes. He was youthful and lithe, his skin not yet a record of warfare written in scars as most old Sith tend to become. Watching him fight, the young Lord was at once more relaxed and more ferocious than the others, well acclimated and prepared for these barbaric rituals. He displayed no fear from the others he engaged with, nor satisfaction at their suffering, only unyielding disdain.

Turning, Ryu found two other sith atop the platform with him. One was an apprentice with violet eyes and white hair. He listened intently, enthralled with Ryu and eager to serve. Closer, next to Ryu was a Sith master in a fully enclosed suit of black plate armor. He wore a horned helmet with a white faceplate. An obsidian throne rested directly behind Ryu, close enough that he might have tripped on it. Ryu faced the Armored Sith.

“Dagon…”

Ryu spoke involuntarily, his own voice seemingly coming from inside him and somewhere else.

“I trust you've spent this time forming grand designs. To aid in your conquest, take this apprentice.”

Ryu gestured toward the violet eyed apprentice next to him. His hand seemed to move of its own volition, and it felt like he was trapped in his body as it acted out the scene on its own, no longer able to control himself. A mere spectator watching the scene play out.

“Tethyn will make a powerful alchemist. And take another...”

Ryu looked down and pointed his finger at the formidable Sith Lord in the pit. The circle around their fight was breaking and the survivors of the melee were being dragged away to face new horrors.

“...he has grown much since he was first drug here in that cage…”

As Ryu gazed at the Sith Lord he stared back, his green eyes flashing with intensity and hatred. Reality began to distort and flicker, fading to black. The next words he heard came out garbled like a damaged holotransmission.



“E̸̡̨̛̮͙͎̙̫̫͙̯͓̫̙̯̬͈͌̒͆̿͋̌̎x̸̢͎͙̰̜̗͔̪͇̞͍͌̓̆́̔͂̑̄͌́̈́̓͐|̸̛͖͇͓͎́͌͐̑̀͋̈̏╚̴̨̺̯̗̜̿̒̋̄̅̾̓̚͠♦̷̧̢̰͓͓̪̼̜̜̬͍̰̫̱͍͆̏̀͗̾̅̃̄͒̓̋̕͜͜͜͠$̶̛̰̹̞͍̭̤̘͙͙̺̪͇͓̈̄͂̈́̕ͅ.̸͈̪͎̒͋̾̽̅͂̉̆̈́̌̄͛̆̃̕ “



When the world came back into view Ryu was looking up at the ceiling, his back on the ground as he stared up at the raven haired apprentice. He felt his neck being crushed, the Lord’s foot planted firmly on his windpipe. The Lord looked down at Ryu with a mixture of contempt and smug superiority, his green eyes piercing Ryu to his soul. The slaves that had formed the pit now encircled them, their weapons all pointed at Ryu. They cheered and screamed, getting louder and louder by the second, as Ryu gasped for air, until the sounds of their cries became an indecipherable drumbeat within his mind.

-----

Ryu regained consciousness with his back on the ground, hacking and coughing from the smoke. He stayed low where the smoke would be least dense as he attempted to regain his bearings, making struggling gasps of the  thick black air. His attack had failed spectacularly, and he couldn’t see well enough to anticipate his foe’s dodge, to compensate for his speed, or even evade his counterattack. Ryu frustration was boiling at being helpless to defend himself. The intense panic of being in this trap gave weigh to rage. He was angry he didn’t take the escape pod, angry he had walked into this trap, and angry at the Jedi for hopelessly assaulting this fortress. Most of all, he was angry at the man in the dark for toying with them, hiding in the shadows instead of facing him outright.

I refuse to die here!

Ryu got up slowly, looking around the sightless room. Standing a few meter away he could see the Raven Haired Sith from his nightmare, his green eyes glowing in the murky darkness. It was the only thing he could see, standing firm, his left arm lowering from the lightning attack and his right clutching his lightsaber hilt. Ryu was awake now, though not entirely lucid, and he believed the hallucination at face value.

The Sith Lord that Ryu had seen in his nightmare was indeed in reality, standing right where Ryu saw him. Though his sanity was slipping, in the depths of madness he saw through to a truth.


Ryu reached into his belt and withdrew the second flashbang grenade. He pressed the activator and threw it vaguely in the direction of his Foe, careful not to be so accurate that he exposed himself as being able to see.

“Draygo.”

Ryu reached and grabbed the last of his explosives--two fragmentation grenades--and gripped them both in his palm. He pressed the buttons to start the timer with his thumb, small audible chirps and dim red lights acting as a warning that they were armed. In the next instant, the flash bang went off, releasing a light that barely pierced through the haze and creating a pop which replaced all sound with a horrible ringing, though for Ryu it did nothing to mask the rhythmic deafening roar he now heard constantly..

I won’t let him kill me. Not now. Not here. NEVER!.

He tossed the fragmentation grenades off to his right and began another charge, veering to the left of the hidden Sith’s location, as if he were going to miss entirely.

“You haven’t won this already you skulking cur! You hear me?!”

Just as he reached the closest point of his trajectory, right before his back would become vulnerable to his foe, Ryu turned and exposed his feint, facing the Sith head on and leaping toward him.

"EXODUS!"

He shouted the name he could not understand from the nightmare, as it had unexpectedly come into focus when he reached striking distance from his foe. Ryu activated his green blade mid swing again, bringing the hilt downward for an overhand strike right on top of the Sith’s position.

((2))
_______________________

[Stormhelm]

His words had became lost upon my deafening ears, my knowledge and disdain of the darkness within myself long have steadied my mind upon staying within the light. To lose oneself within such a place, to try and justify misdeeds, there was no excuse. They were but blight upon the Force, festering and wounding. Even now, I could feel the darkness of his soul trying to snuff away what hope I held as he conversed his attempts to persuade me. And as his Apprentice arrived, it grew clear his intent.

 

"So this was your plan all along?" I questioned, my gaze shifting to this Kahla and the men that followed her before shifting back to the Sith before me. "Debate our different philosophies until your Apprentice arrives with reinforcements?"

 

I smirked. Pathetic.

 

"I wasn't at Dark Sun, but I was at Coruscant, where one of your ilk attempted to destroy the Galaxy's entire ecosystem with one swipe of a moon. It was I, my Master, and numerous other Jedi managed to veer its moon off course and delay the inevitable collision. Did the Sith not revel in joy at the suffering and misery inflicted that day? Where were the Sith then if they are but Free Jedi?"

 

"I cannot excuse some Jedi for their failings no more than you can excuse your own. But I can live up to what and I feel I should be, and my life lays with the Jedi and the Light. I have no intent to harm you or anyone here unless I am left with no other choice. That is who I am, even if i transpire because of it and am but a forgotten soul tomorrow. I care little for power and only raise my blade in defense. That is the Jedi i will be. That is my Order."

 

My gaze shifted from him back to his Apprentice and back to him as i lowered my guard and stood straight. I was done with this debate of philosophies. My Master and Ryu needed my aid, and if this Sith was going to attack, he would have to do it with my back turned. 

 

"If you'll excuse me...." I spoke, granting the two a singular proper bow as I dismissed myself, my gaze never faltering. "I am needed elsewhere."

 

With that, I went to turn and depart.

[Mavanger]

It as unfortunate he could not turn the Jedi. Despite the waves that crashed upon the apprentice's mind, he withstood. For now. Given time, he would bend, then break. There were no more words. It was clear that for now, the time for talking with over. He let out a heavy sigh. He'd hoped it wouldn't come to blows- to turn a Jedi was a precious moment, from what he was told. Still, it was a time to display to his apprentice what it meant to be a true Sith. He un-clipped his lightsabers, their weight comforting to his hand. With a press of a button they hissed to life, casting a blue hue across the room. He dipped into the well of rage that he held deep within him- rage at the jedi, at the Imperial Knights, fury at his own failures on his journey and his anger at his opponent's dismissal.

 

"If you cannot accept what I teach through words, then I shall teach it to you by the blade."

 

Mordecai charged the Jedi, waiting only long enough for his enemy to draw his weapon. With a savage battle cry he let the waves of darkness lap at his mind, drawing on it to drive his practiced blows. Some Sith honed their sorcery. Others honed their minds. His weapons were his lightsabers. He practiced dealing death with trained precision, and when there was no time to practice, he would sate his bloodlust on his foes.

 

The first blow of many was an overhead slash to his opponent's left shoulder. His second was a follow up with with his second saber, a quick cut towards the boy's abdomen. The third, and final for now, was a force pull on the Jedi's ankles intending to knock him down, a trick he'd learned courtesy of the Imperial Knight he'd fought over Kuat.

 

((Post 1a, Mordecai vs Genesis))

[Stormhelm]

"If you cannot accept what I teach through words, then I shall teach it to you by the blade."

 

As these words fell upon my ears, the thick cold air began to swirl toward the Sith's direction, a pull upon the Force echoing his actions. And it was in that moment that panic truly began to settle in, my face turning to catch his charge, my face pale against the incoming onslaught. What was I to do now? Could I truly face a Sith opponent in combat? I could feel his rage, his malice intent lingering upon the flow of the Force as the seconds concluded his distance. And by the time I was able to turn and meet him, the first blow was struck.

 

Searing pain met searing flesh as the blade filed a portion of my left shoulder as I attempted to dodge the azure blade, pain that I had never felt before in my life, sending me reeling backwards.

 

It was in this moment, a moment of pain and panic, that time seemed to almost instantly slow to a freeze, reminiscent of someone's life flashing before their eyes just seconds before death. I could feel my instincts urging for control, to take hold and fight back against the momentum of battle. I could feel my heart beat pounding to bust through my chest. And I could hear my mind screaming it's death. I didn't know how to react. I felt defenseless.

 

The second slash was much more shallow, the armor I wore protecting most of my chest against the blade its self as it slid briefly through the metallic form, my chest stinging as the heat melted the flesh beneath, the pain almost unbearable and incapacitating.

 

I could feel myself wanting to give up, wanting to surrender, but my heart and soul would not have it. I could feel the internal struggle of myself waging it's own war within me as the pain and fear only added fuel to the flame. And his gaze, the intent, the devilish stare, the coldness of it. I had never seen such darkness in one's eyes, even on this level of malicious aura. There was no remorse, no pity, only enjoyment. Was this the truth of the Darkside and those who weilded it masterfully? Was this what it meant to be Sith? My mind was settled. I would never give in. I would not become the beast that I saw before me.

 

I felt the pull at my feet, my reeling momentum only adding to the momentum of his attacks. It was almost surreal how quickly he came, how savagely he attacked with feriosity. I haven't even had a chance to gather myself as I felt the cold steel upon my back. It was then that I called upon the Force, the moment I cried for its aid, begging for its salvation. And I felt its answer.

 

My heart beat hastened, the flowing of my blood quickening as oxygen and cells pushed themselves to their limits and beyond, and I felt my muscles contract and expand throughout my youthful form. I rolled backwards against the cold steel floor, guiding myself with my hands against the pain I felt surging against my reactions, and when I felt my feet hit the flooring, I swept my foot outwards and around before lunging myself into the air and placing distance between us as the turquoise hue of my own blade ignited.

 

Despite the fear, despite the pain i felt in my shoulder and chest, despite being out of my element in all senses of the word, I knew this was my unwanted moment. I knew I had to fight one way or the other, no alternatives open for venue. I had to reach Master Armiena and Ryu no matter the cost. Focusing myself, I centered my thoughts upon my breathing, letting it's currents guide me. If this man wanting a fight, he had left me no other choice. Left foot forward, I brought my blade up to guard.

 

((Post 1b, Mordecai vs Genesis))

[Mavanger]

As Mordecai's first two blows landed, he grew overconfident quite quickly. He didn't expect the padawan Jedi to muster a counter attack, and he paid a small price for it. He'd over extended in his glee to inflict pain on his now enemy. The trip had been successful, but fortunately the Jedi was reeling too hard to follow up. He rolled to his feet, taking up his own stance, a momentary reprieve after their first clash.

 

He took this moment to address himself and his successes. He'd landed multiple blows on his opponent. Good. Unfortunately he'd done so before the Jedi could draw his own blade. Mordecai has underestimated himself, and while the speed he could now muster was surely a welcome discovery, there was no enjoyment to be had in killing an opponent who's back was turned. Luckily, the Jedi had survived, and had readied himself for the next series of attacks.

 

"I'm impressed that you still stand. We'll see if that lasts."

 

He glanced at his apprentice. Good. She was following his orders. He had taught her how to fight with a lightsaber. Now she would witness what it meant to fight with the Force. He circled his opponent, seething at the opportunity to strike. He charged once more, sinking deeper into the despair, fear, and anxiety that permeated the air around him. His apprentice's pride, which had finally been earned. The Jedi's fear, drawn out by Mordecai's own prowess on the battlefield. His own glee at inflicting pain on the boy.

 

He rushed forwards once more, drawing on the force. Where Genesis allowed for it to flow through himself, Mordecai bent it to his will, curbed into submission by his own emotions, as well as those around him. He unleashed another flurry of blows. His first was a wide cut from his left to his right with his dominant hand, crouching low and aimed for the legs. He spun with the blade, using his momentum to drive both sabers towards his opponent's right shoulder, and then swung the opposite direction towards his right shoulder with savage abandon, his movements demonstrating a savage regime of practice, both in his private time and under more practical use.

 

((2))

Edited September 7, 2020 by Mavanger

[Stormhelm]

"I'm impressed that you still stand. We'll see if that lasts."

 

Our gazes locked and our stares stern, the Force swirling around us were mixed with emotions and intent. I stood in guard, carefully studying the Sith with my eye as he moved about, my activated blade loosely gripped in my hand. I could feel my fear struggling against my will, the nervousness knotted in the pit of my stomach tightly as I readied for his inevitable next attack. I did not want to fight him in truth, but I had been left little to no choice in such a matter, the frustration apparent upon my face at this notion.

 

But what was I to do? I could vaguely feel Ryu and Master Armiena through the Force, the mixed currents that flowed nearly drowned out by the wounding grasp of the darkness that permeated within the vessel. I felt the urge to reach them, to drive forward and aid them through the veil of Ashla. But all around me, these followers of Bogan, the darkness in their hearts and their devilish intent seeping through the Force ached to foil me, to blind me and cut me off from them.

 

My brow furrowed as his second charge came to fruition, the beat of my heart hastening as the adrenaline within me shifted into overdrive at the sight. I could feel the Force flowing through my form, the permeated darkness cleansed from its currents as it passed through me, increasing my strength and speed just as Armiena had taught me, a beacon of light amidst the torrent of darkness. As he closed the gap, my gaze fell upon the path of his blades, ever attentive upon their shifts in directions in hopes of evading anymore damage.

 

The first of his second barrage, aimed low was classically avoidable, kicking my feet off the ground and pulling myself into a forward flip. But as I landed, I reacted instinctively and quickly turned to face him as the two blades came driving toward my right shoulder, the sudden flinching of my form causing the seared flesh of my left shoulder to ache and slow my momentum as I continued my spin to avoid the second attack, causing me to gasp as I called more of the Force to my aid to compensate. 

 

With a quick twist of my wrist, my saber came up to meet his own during the third and final attack, batting away his own as he attempted to swing it across my chest, one blade completely missing me and the other grazing my right shoulder in the deflect. Pain once again seared my mind as I opened the palm of my left hand and used the Force in an attempt to push him back out of range, causing me to briefly falter in its strength.

 

The pain was excruciating, each movement of my form aching in its wake. And with each attack, I could feel my anger urge to grow, the pain and fear fueling its embers. But my convictions were strong and solid, my mind reeling inward to focus against my own inner darkness. I could feel the negative energy around me, within me, within the others, but this was the moment I had trained for. I had chosen to be a Jedi, to train in their ways and walk their paths. And in that moment, I brought my blade up to the center of my chest and deactivated it, the Force flowing around me intensifying.

 

"I will last..." I finally spoke in return, the panting of my breath heavy against the moment and the pain. "Whether in life or in death."

 

((2))

Edited September 8, 2020 by Genesis
Forgot to post count

[ObliviousKnight]

So the gambit had failed and Draygo and the two Sith were exactly where they had started, with the Sith assassin neatly leaping over Ryu to avoid engaging in a melee with the veteran Jedi. All that had changed was the density of the black smoke that continued to seep into the hall and the force of the damnable chanting that continued to pound in her skull. Rather than tangling up the assassin’s legs, the hilt of her double-bladed lightsaber bounced harmlessly along the deck until it reached the extremity of its reservoir, rolling soundlessly from side to side.

 

Draygo detected a buildup of tension within the Force that suggested an imminent attack. A wisp of stinging smoke was the only visible sign of her maneuver as the veteran Jedi stepped to Ryu’s back, left hand lifted to receive whatever was coming. The sickly blue-white glare of Force Lightning illuminated the haze, for the first time making the grim smile and the lightning-scars on the veteran Jedi’s face visible. She sucked up every erg of energy that was channeled her direction, lips twitching from the delicate paroxysms of pain that accompanied the occasional tendril of Lightning that escaped her grasp.

 

And then she held onto it, even though fusillade of malice threatened to burn its way out of her fingers. Draygo held onto the energy even as she stepped over Ryu’s unconscious body, flicking her lightsaber upinto a conservative guard. She held onto it even as she ignited the turquoise blade and made a delicate vertical swipe that threatened to bisect the Sith Assassin from groin to neck--but it was at the very tip of the blade and could have been evaded by taking a single step backwards. She held onto the energy even Ryu unexpectedly rose from his stupor, growled an unheard phrase and let loose with another set of projectile’s. The first must have been another flashbang, judging from the crush of pressure in her deafened ears… but there were still two more projectile’s that the Force warned were still in motion.

 

He didn’t. To loose two fragmentation grenades into an enclosed space that he was within was so reckless that it bordered on suicidal disregard for his own life.

 

But Ryu did just loose two fragmentation grenades within an enclosed space. No cover was to be found. Ryu had to know that he was within the kill radius of his own grenades. Taking a short leap backwards to avoid any counterattack, Draygo gripped the two grenades with the Force and deployed a barrier to flatten the arc of fragmentation. The concussive wave dispersed the foul smoke and vapors that permeated the hall, as well as casting a storm of hundreds of slender steel and plastoid shards that bounced all over the walls, ceiling, and deck, shredding exposed pipes and wiring, the delicate cable that connected the two halves of her lightsaber, the few remaining glowpanels that attempted to penetrate the gloom… as well as the sleeve and muscle on Armiena’s left arm. A searing bolt of pain coursed up the arm and then was silenced, only partly by the intervention of the Force. The lack of sensation was worse than pain--she had just lost use of the arm.

 

There was no time to test what little control she had of the limb. Ryu was up and running, roaring something apparently significant--an oath or a hated name--straight past her to engage the Sith assassin with another crashing blow. Reaching out with the last erg of power that the Sith had gifted her and then some, Draygo ignited the lightsaber hilt that lay abandoned behind him. It levitated at waist-height from the deck and raced through the corridor, blazing a molten line along the wall to perfectly silhouette the Sith assassin. Its owner advanced at a steady stride to meet it, her lightsaber tracing a similar line of superheated durasteel from the other direction.

 

((2))

 

[Godfrey d'Outremer]

As the tac officers relayed and tallied casualty lists, Godfrey slumped on the railings surrounding his command chair. He took a deep breath of filtered air and sat back, vaguely taking in the long wrinkles on his pale blue uniform. He had nearly been up for thirty six hours and he could feel the crushing tiredness of it beginning to creep in on the corners of his eyes. One of the officers in a matching pale blue uniform gave him a pleasant smile that titched the corners of his heavily waxed moustache. Most everyone on the deck seemed to be smiling, which was distantly odd in its own way. 

 

Thousands, if not tens of thousands of brave men and women had died in the horrible hours of confrontation, and Gofrey did not want to know how the planetary assault had gone. LANDCOM Blue was staying silent, but the grimace on his face as he read his datapad hinted at what Godfrey feared. Had they lost the planet? Godfrey felt a slight pang of terror run through him at the thought but that faded when the redheaded imperial officer gave him a grim smile. 

 

“Land attack fought off commander. Those Mandalorians even bagged themselves a Sith Lord.” 

 

And there it was. He had gambled the Corellian system on a pair of nines and had walked away with the pot. 

 

But such a cost. Such a damn cost, the statistics were still piling up from the starfighter engagements, and though they were a positive tally, it felt like the creme of the rebellion had been cut away. So many thousands. 

 

He nodded to LANDCOM Blue, “Put the Mandalorians in for a Medal of Bravery. Marked from SACCOR.” (Supreme Allied Command, Corellia) He looked back at the datapad then back up. “So many medals for those we lost today. Get me a tally, I will pay for them myself. Understood?” 

 

She saluted and Godfrey looked to his Bothan Assistant. 

 

“Get me Caf for the love of the force, and helm!” The helmsman looked up from his station. “Bring us around for Corellia. SPACECOM triage the active ships to the repair docks, and set us up a perimeter and scanning waves. Medical frigates out for EV pilots and crew.”

[Mavanger]

Mordecai's assault was relentless. The boy had made a mistake. His force push had unbalanced Mordecai for a moment, knocking him away for a moment, but the Jedi was unbalanced now. Mordecai's furious assault had battered and beaten him, and the Sith could feel his opponent's anger. Good. Let it unbalance him. If he would reject his own emotions, then they would work against him. When Genesis deactivated his lightsaber, Mordecai didn't even hesitate to continue his vicious assault, letting his anger and bloodlust swell. He remained in control, though it was a tenuous control. The force flowed through him, bent to his will by his emotions, strengthening every blow in a never ending flurry of attacks. Not one serious attack had been made against the Darth, and now came the culmination of his attacks.

 

Blow after blow, with which he allowed the darkness that drove at his mind to fully envelope him. The anger. The fear. The pain. It fueled him. It fed him strength, and ultimately, it would lead him to his utter victory. One more across the Jedi's chest. Another seeking to gut the Jedi's abdomen. Another towards the Jedi's thigh, a growing crescendo of whirs, hums, and screeches as his wide swings danced along the durasteel floor, his attack an athletic push of body, steel, an plasma. How could one hope to stand against him? One final swing. The ideal killing blow. A single, powerful swing, seeking to behead the Jedi if he didn't react.

 

This was the culmination of his prowess. Nearly three years of being Sith, and a lifetime of training with a blade. Every battle fed him. With every victory, his prowess grew, a shining beacon of darkness for other Sith to aspire to. With every defeat, his resolve grew. He'd use the anger, the shame, the wounded pride to propel him even further. This is what it meant to be Sith. He understood now, in this frenzy of blows, this artful display of power and rage. There was a serenity to it. Where before he's been a slave to his emotions, wildly striking without strategy or regard against foes more powerful than he, now his emotions served him. The enveloped him, guiding his hand and his lightsabers, but not controlling them.

 

((3))

Edited September 9, 2020 by Mavanger

[Stormhelm]

A singular moment in time, for some, could pass in the blink of an eye while lingering eternally for others. For me, this moment was of the latter, lingering just as other moments of this duel had done before it. There is no reason or rhyme as to why, no understanding aside from the divination and growth learnt from it. There is only the moment in time, lingering for its brief but delving length, almost as if time shifts slowly for the moment to be seen clearly.

 

I could feel the Force flowing around me intensely, rigorously flowing against the grasp that tried to dominate its existence to aid me in my moments of need, the wounds of the darkness within it painfully hindering it. And through it, I could feel the dreadful intent mixed, the pain, angst, and hunger corrupting. It felt sad and thick, hauntings of the soul before me plaguing it's natural symbiosis like poison within a river's current, devious and destructive. And despite the anger I felt for the pain inflicted upon my own form, the sadness within my heart that ached for the Force was overwhelming. And in that moment, I understood what it meant to fully commit myself to the path of the Jedi.

 

Like on Coruscant and Borleias, the Sith were a blight upon the Force, leaving behind destruction and devastation, the natural order left wounded and chaotic. As a Jedi, it was my duty to stand against the darkness, to be the beacon of hope and strength for those who could not feel the wounds or see the devastation left in their wake, even in the midst of their justification. It was an easy thing to express excuses for reasons, but harder to admit one's own addition to such chaos. And I too, had added my part to it on Dantooine the day I lost my family. 

 

But now I knew better. I could see both worlds, held knowledge of darkness and light within my own heart. Where the Sith could only see their selfishness and gain, I could see the truth of it, the pain of it, the disorder. As a Jedi, I saw the cancer that was the darkness, even in my own anger, its briefest existence a blight upon my own tranquility. And I could see the lesson that Master Armiena had been so adamant in teaching me during our training. Twice I had slain before, once in anger, and once in defense. But both had left their scars, scars that would sink deeper than any wound the person before me could ever pray to inflict. And in this I found humble solace, if only for this briefest of moments.

 

As the moment progressed forward in time, I knew what I had to do despite the pain it would inflict upon my soul. It was a heavy burden to bear, to raise this blade in my hand and take the life before me. But it was a necessity forced upon me as a Guardian of Light, even if I held no will to do it. And this was the sadness I felt in the Force as his attacks came, the sadness that once had offended it nature and wounded it so deeply that it needed to be cut from its touch surgically, tears dripping down my cheek as the realization was made.

 

As the Force flowed forth feverishly, I let its embrace become guide. My turquoise blade ignited and I turned its blade to meet his own loosely in my hand with my thumb guiding its direction. Sparks and plasma collided and erupted with the first strike, opposing wills meeting for the final moments of battle, each striving for their own justifications. With a quick twist of my wrist, i met his second, using his momentum to follow through and away as I stepped aside, the moment passing in shutters of time like pictures upon the mind. But even in the slowed passage of time, I could not react quicker than my form was allotted and I felt the searing flesh of my thigh the instant his blade grazed it.

 

I had to admit that his feverishly attacks were nearly overwhelming, my the Force was on my side. He was a cancer upon its order, and with its aid, I would cut his touch upon it and cleanse its wounds. I would push myself beyond my limits, whether life or death became the outcome in order to purify his chaos. This was my duty. This was my plight, my cause, my burden. Using the momentum of my reel, i ducked my head from his final attack as I planted my feet against the durasteel floor, grasping my blade with both hands upon its curved form and drove my blade straight up toward his heart, using my feet to shove my momentum forward.

 

Whatever the outcome, no matter which of us was the strongest or quickest, only fate would be the deciding factor. Would the will of the Force be victorious? Or would the cancer spread uncontested? These were the true question to be asked in my final assault. "There is no death, there is the Force."

 

((3 - Great duel brother. Good luck.))

[Leena Kil]

MODERATOR POST:

DUEL BETWEEN GENESIS AND MORDECAI

 

NOW THIS IS PODRACING!!!! Errr . . . Star Wars!!

 

Gentlemen, this duel was so Star Wars it could have been a scene from a movie. Bravo! There was a very Qui-Gon V. Darth Maul feel to it at several points. I hope to duel with each of you in the future. You name the time and place and I’ll be there. I loved this duel.

 

I cannot go through everything line by line, but a few of the items of note in this duel are below.

 

I like to read the posts leading up to a duel to get a feel for the scene. I will admit I was worried about Genesis’ state of mind and being leading into the duel. That being said, you made it work for you throughout the duel. The emotional flux of Genesis and the sway of the force was key through the whole duel. Genesis was able to find his focus and use it.
 

Genesis exuded the ideals of the ideal Jedi. The pull of darkness, the temptation, and the committal to that which is right. Genesis is a man of peace, but willing to wade through the muck of battle for the good of others.

 

Mordecai’s skills and abilities remained true to his character sheet. He is a blade master and makes use of that, not trying a shotgun approach at anything a Sith might use. Classic movie-worthy dealing. Beautiful moves and an attitude worthy a Sith lord. Trying to convert before moving to violence was awesome. It defied the stereotype of a Sith, while you also acknowledged it.

 

I noticed a few spelling and grammatical errors in posts. Capitalizations, the use of apostrophes, and forgotten words can change sentences and make lines hard to read. They are all simple enough to correct. I know that I am guilty of these things at times too.

 

This leads into my next point, apparently Mordecai’s blade “filed” Genesis’ shoulder? Is that supposed to be filleted or something else?

 

Genesis took a large amount of brutal damage right off the bat and continued to take more as the battle wore on. Even glancing blows with a lightsaber can be horrendous. The things can melt through armor and cleave through flesh like a hot ball bearing in a tub of lard. There is a reason that in a galaxy of technology and guns, that the zealots of the galaxy carry laser swords and are feared and respected for their use. Mordecai did not take any damage. This was not because he dodged or expertly blocked, in fact; Mordecai took the one offensive move towards him in turn. This was a duel after all. The philosophical musings were great, but without force application into action or even straight action defensive or offensive, it is hard to call it a duel.

 

I was really worried when Genesis deactivated his saber mid battle. The next post had, what I think, was the highest point of the battle. When Genesis, full of the force, reactivated his saber and defended himself. That was a great chunk of writing! Driving forward in an attempted final blow was beautiful too. I wish we could have seen that sooner. That level of dedication and zeal could have turned the tides and if this duel went another three rounds I think it would be an entirely different ballgame.

 

A Sith Lord against a Jedi Apprentice and the apprentice is cut up right from the get go. Even so, the Jedi came back swinging in the final round. 
 

Considering it all, there can only be one winner in this duel as it stands. The winner is MORDECAI and the next post goes to MAVANGER. Congratulations! Don’t forget that Genesis is trying to skewer Mordecai as his final act in the duel.

 

You both did a good job and should be proud of what you created.

 

[Mavanger]

The Jedi finally struck out. He'd found his inner peace, but it had taken too long. Mordecai's fervent onslaught had reached its peak. His blow was never destined to connect. Mordecai parried the Jedi's blow, taking a glancing blow along his side. The Jedi's momentum carried him forward into Mordecai, who used it to trip him, knocking the padawan to the ground, sprawling across the cold durasteel. With a pair of hisses, his lightsabers were sheathed as he hooked them to his belt. He stepped over the limp body of the Jedi, still no doubt struggling to fight, scooping up his weapon as he allowed his emotions to simmer, for now, instead relishing in the pain of his new injury.

 

"A shame. I had hoped you would join me of your own free will. Instead, I will have to break you for you to truly be free."

 

He glanced at his apprentice, letting her take in the scene before speaking. It would do her good, both to see what she's aspiring to be, and to understand the cost of failure or betrayal. He closed his eyes, centering himself. The fight was over, he reminded himself. There was nobody left in the room save his allies. The war wasn't over yet, but his own fight was. Taking a deep breath, he motioned to his troopers. "Take him into custody. Kahla, watch him until we return to the ship. I want him alive.

 

Above, he could sense the battle taking place between the remaining Jedi and the Dark Lord of the Sith. The room shook as two explosions rattled the deck above. He could only speculate as to their origin.

 

"We return to the transport. From there, I have great plans for our ascent, Kahla."

[Zendrin]

Like the winds of a storm the Force was turbulent in the air. Kahla could feel the great conflict both physically, and internally. Her master's strength seemed almost wasted in this duel. Was this the power her preached? Picking on lesser foes? Perhaps not. She thought back to her own training, only very recently did she undergo a very similar show. It was hard for her to forget the taste of Korriban's soil. She could feel Mordicai's emotions leveling out as he sheathed his sabers. As the duel had gone on, her own had mellowed out, and for a brief time there was a calm in the combat. Watching the Sith Lord continue to pummel away at the Jedi without mercy, without retort.

 

She nodded to the troopers. "Get him in cuffs and ready for transport." Two of them made their way over, and with shackles placed, the Jedi was under Kahla's custody. She could sense his struggle, the fight he still had in him.

 

The battle still raged on however, though no one in this room would participate. The elegance of the light clashing with the fury of the darkness, victory was not yet secured. Kahla would have the chance to see the outcome of the battle, as she gathered the remaining troops and followed her master proudly. Remaining mostly silent, she knew he could feel her pride both in her victory and his. There was no doubt left in her mind, he would be the one to lead her to the power she yearned for.

[Exodus]

2
 RULE

Force Vision / Mind Games
Force Sense / Fear Scent

Blade Corruption
Niman / Body

Boom

 

Inside the kill radius.

 

As the electric cannon punched into the pair with an extremely acute thrashing of raw energy, the Jedi measured her blade against the heavy-handed impact, while the former Sith blunderously ate the unnatural ionic heave skin-first, chaining the phenomena between the two by proximity. The traitor reeled into a collapse and Exodus moved his feet forward to crush what was left of his spine, if he indeed still had one. Dathomiri witches spoke of death and the finer things, and were convinced that wearing your enemy's bones as fashion, would forever ward one from duplicitous creatures. Testing the truth of this had never been more tempting. As the Dark King stepped into play, tantalizingly slow and as measured as a looming predator over prey, blind courage interrupted the reunion. The woman that Ryu had arrived with, juggled a show of resilience and balanced the foreign weight of the force against her physical body, before stepping over the downed corpse in conservative guard while defiantly slashing ahead of her territory. "Aaaah, like one of their own. This was not love, was it?" The thought gnawed at him, striking a curiosity that bothered him more than the absence of an answer to why they were here in the first place. 

 

Exodus delayed the opportunity to kill and retreated in step, not with a single, but rather a gathered leap in the opposite direction. She protected him as if he was her own, and if she had leaned into her aggressive nature without restraint, the blow might've scored her a slice of flesh. "Still, unlikely," he thought dismissively. The assassin landed quite some feet away, composed into footwork of form VI as a practiced discipline, anticipating their angles of attack while eyeing the two with a sight that rendered night into day. Kakuto was slow to rise, distracted in his advances, distracted in how foolishly he had entered into the fray, was his mind truly lost to madness? Had the Jedi deceitfully led him to slaughter, and turned him into a doltish marionette for their games? He wished for Kakuto Ryu to hear these whispers, in fact he willed it. Urgently, as if it were the stone walkways inside the Gala Temple on their first raid, Exodus began to kindle a telepathic language to access the Trinity bond that the Warrior and the Assassin had once shared; the sentient breath or connection that echoed louder since the beginning of this war over Corellia. Exodus knew his brother could feel them too, hearing the echoes just as they were for him, just as they were when they had conquered entire worlds. The drums of the Goliath only made it worse, the battle revelry, the roars of ecstasy that war-drunk creatures stampeded with would do well to remind the once Warrior-King. To bathe his tormented mind into surrendering to the memories that seemed suppressed. 

 

Kakuto Ryu had returned to his feet, and loosely let out a name familiar to books of record. "Draygo." 

 

 

Exodus approached the elevation of battle with his chin raised and his eyes fixed on the middle distance now. His opponents were without chemistry; their coordination was threadbare, muddied by a lack of visibility and inexperience, which was endorsed by the aimless brutality of the warrior. A fighter starved of his physique and his wits. They had breached the most valuable warship in this forward fleet, but came alone and without preparation. It began to show as the seams came undone, and their impaired gambles hinted at a true lack of purpose. Swelling ignorance to think that a few would wander into a lair of wolves as nothing more than flesh, and hope to part as whole. It was the incessant ignorance of Jedi, a plague upon the force.

 

A second flash-bang detonated in short proximity, detrimental to the unaided in such confines but dissipating harmlessly once more against the photosensors and proofing of his full helm that hid his true identity. Exodus' face beneath remained cold and far removed of emotion, as though daring the congregation to look his way and feel the chill. His dark hair trailed behind him artfully, and his features remained a sharp caricature of totemic wolf-breeds carved upon black-steel, a fanged nightmare to his foes. He bore all the hallmarks; imposing, inhumanly perfect features built on a grander scale than those of the mortal creature– but his unblinking eyes were dark with secrets. It was as though, in him, the dream of the Dark Council from past eras were a failure as they overlooked the serpentine apprentice beneath their watch, passing him off as a mere dog of war to be tamed by the enchanting Master Alora. None of them respected her in same manner that the young Malacoda Syn did, understanding that her power was nested in the shadows, shadows that those warmongers could never see nor read. Her discretion and her power over their flesh was far more commanding than those that boastfully killed for murder count. And it was Lady Alora, and only she, that had the patience to evoke an absolute nightmare seemingly unmarred by the rampant corruption of the Dark Side, a true King of the Sith.

 

Exodus angled his ancient blade in front of him, unlit in an opening Niman stance, wired in anticipation as he watched them acutely through heavy darkness. He could not yet understand their keen resistance to such powerful concussive blasts, but he would peel back the layers of their eyes to see for himself. Ryu had more toys to throw however, evidenced by the audible tells of the primed hand-helds. Exodus quickly shifted his weight and his armour trailed with obsidian robes that whipped up dust as they hissed over metal plating. 

 

“You haven’t won this already you skulking cur! You hear me?!”

Kakuto wailed.
Fear-scent. The Dark King distinguished the smell of it, even as it came out in words alone.
This was a haunting. 

Malacoda could scent it anywhere. His brother carried it with him, it was like the rancid stench of an unkempt charnel-house; a breath that betrayed presence, a vile reek carried through the halls. His body was his temple, and the temple of Kakuto Ryu was diseased with languor and uncleanliness. As he spoke, his decaying became obvious. Anzanti wielded senses far superior to most humanoids, and with the squeezing of the force, his senses were supreme. It was like old blood griming through already-blackened teeth; a rot that fumed from Ryu like a beacon, supernatural faculties were not necessary to see this. From where did they retrieve the old Master of Warriors? With eyes blacker than the voids between the stars and just as pitiless. Pallid skin smeared with loose skin and malnutrition; oily hair plastered to gaunt cheeks and narrow shoulders. Imprisonment, perhaps they had broken him after all. Exodus did not need to see him to know who it was that haunted him, but now it would be the Spider that pursued him through the endless shadows as tirelessly as the night wind.

 

Two more grenades flew, detonating with explosions vastly different than the concussive blasts. Exodus braced with the backing of his stance, shielding his face with the wide-breadth of his forearm, missing just when the Jedi had suppressed the effectiveness of the blast. Draygo was spending energy to keep them from killing themselves, affirmation of their disorganization. A hailstorm of shrapnel scattered across an open and enclosed space with deadly force– tink, tink, tink, tink. The fragments of metal punched into all, blacking the emergency glowlights, carving into piping, and tearing into structural integrity of the room. The adorned armor-plates weren’t enough to completely excuse damage to the King or the blow-back of pressure, the metal bit cleanly through at random, or embedded itself into the body of the exotic steel. Fascinating pangs of sensation riddled his body, from his forearm to his abdomen, and down his leg as he slid backwards. Blood made him smile.

 

The blast cleared the expansive gloom for the moment, but darker the room was without power and without a shred of light. Just then the screeching boil of a lightsaber dragged across a metal wall, lighting the room poorly as Exodus returned his same forearm to the opening stance of Niman and saw as plainly as day, the unified stampede of both Jedi and Sith, charging nearly blind in his direction. “Disgusting.” Exodus nearly spit the words. The skeletal chassis of the Dark King simmered with power, canalizing raw force through his flesh. Aggravation began to rise in him, feeding him as he watched the blatant defilement of a Sith champion skittering across the decking like a loosened rat. Draygo too, wordlessly simulating such aversion as if it were commonplace. Was she unaware of the demon that she kept under foot? She was Oblivious. This was her brothers’ keeper, the King of such Devils.

 

The dark crystal sparked, and his weapon manifested. The sickening hum of the blade cracked into existence, dripping with heat and hate simultaneously. A deep and drowned crimson, with halcyonic black veins seemingly etched throughout the long length of it, darkening the weapon uniquely. They could not see it, but as the weapon unraveled, the blood vessels inside of his hand swelled with overwhelming vigor, charting an engorged mapping of veins directly through his arm and hand, to the hilt of the legendary lightsaber. The woeful beam of power spun in his hand reflexively as Kakuto ran by, just outside of range, headed towards nothing and no one. 

 

 

"EXODUS!"
Kakuto shouted the name he could not understand from the nightmare, 
The name of his dream walker. 

 

 

Ryu blew his feint with his shout and turned to cleave an overhand strike through his brother. The Way of the Rancor established both a low and high guard, and transition between the two from an opening stance was as smooth as butter. Exodus tensed and brandished his famished blade high to meet the downward strike, while tracking the closing distance of the Jedi. This was done by the increasing pang of her steps, and the runaway blade that drew nearer. Efficiency was most paramount, and a misstep would be costly as three slants of attack now converged on the Spider. Deceptively, the unnatural power of Ryu hammered down beyond anticipation, much heavier of a wild force than he could recall in any creature he had killed in recent time. Exodus shouldered the burden, ethnological strength coupled with a burgeoning energy was more than enough to hold the rawboned warrior. But there was more, something inside of him that vacuumed an intangible might. The high-guard held as he drew his brother closer, considering his face for a small moment, between the burning palette of fiery red and nauseating green. “Ohhh, how I will break you before I free you.”

 

 

“That is...

King Exodus,

brother.” 

 

 

The words crawled out as a daring whisper, as if all else in the moment paused with held breath to witness his address. Such conceited stress on his sovereign name, and such malice hidden in the title of endearment he gave. As both brands rolled off of his tongue like dripping poison, the world around them cracked. When the Jedi came within feet of her final approach, Exodus roared with a power to shake the Goliath whole. An exceedingly powerful telekinetic Force explosion detonated from the body of the King, supremely evolved from any application of a traditional push. Violently the force dragooned outwards, constructing rapidly-expanding kinetic ricochets in such a small space, instantly flinging anything near him away at terminal velocity. The repulse was so violent and extreme that it threatened to disintegrate his foes in a blast of strenuous pressure; a dreadful conjuring of force repulsion unlike anything this vessel had ever felt, buckling the whining infrastructure around them. 
 

[Stormhelm]

And so the cancer would remain, the tumor unable to be cut away from upon the Force's will. I had lost, the first of my encounters with the Sith first hand as my blade grazed his form but did little damage. As I felt my momentum hinder, his use of it against me, I knew in my heart that I had failed to truly answer the call I had been tasked with. And as my form fell upon the permeated cold floor, my blade sliding away in deactivation, I knew my failure truly.

 

Exhaustive pants were the only warmth the floor experienced as I struggled to rise, feeling his dark form eclipse what little light remained in the darkened corridor as he stepped over me. And in the moment, I awaited what I felt was inevitable death at his hands, turning over to face the victor with disdain. I had lost, this much was true, but I held no doubt that my actions had been in vain. 

 

"Strike me down now, Sith". I spoke, unable to grasp the moment fully as I reeled against both pain and my loss, only hearing the echoes of his words. "I will never join you, no matter how many times you break me."

 

And yet, instead, I heard his call to his Apprentice and heard the revelation of cuffs and chain. Lowering my head in brief disbelief, I felt the coldness of the cuffs as they were locked around my wrists and I was bound. So I was to be a prisoner then? Gazing up, I wondered if the powerfully dark aura emanating from above would be the deciding factor in my fate, or if he truly felt the urge to attempt to break me and persuade me to his side. I could not truly gauge the moment.

 

In that moment, all I could process was my capture, and what it would mean for Master Armiena considering what she spoke of before and her last Padawan. In that moment, all I could hope for was her to remain in the light and leave me to my fate. Pain can be a very driving argument of the Darkness.

[Mavanger]

As they walked through the corridors, Mordecai made sure to take the most populous ones he could. In part, this was for his own pride. Show off his success, his captive prize. More so, however, it was to sow the seeds of doubt in the apprentice's mind. All would witness his most basic failure. And as they walked, Mordecai mused. First to himself, pride and victorious revelry painting everything in a haze. Here he had defeated another Jedi. Another lightsaber, and another snuffed light. What drove them against his blade. so sure to meet their demise? Then, he mused aloud, speaking to his captive.

 

"Tell me, Jedi. You only stuck me once. I've fought a Jedi before, and she but up a much better fight, though her fate was eventually the same as yours. I've fought Imperial Knights, some of their best warriors. Masters of their fouled craft and excellent swordsmen. I've only suffered the indignity of defeat once, and my opponent refused to kill me. Tell me, what are your haughty ideals worth if I, and Sith like me, can slaughter your people in droves?"

 

He continued, looking at Kahla.

 

"Understand, apprentice. The Jedi claim that theirs is the only true way to serve the Force. Any others are twisted abominations. And yet, our beliefs lead us to victory after victory. Your anger, your pain. All of your emotions will fuel you in different ways. Take care not to lose yourself to them entirely, however, lest you suffer defeat as I did. But do not let the Jedi tell you that the opposite will not also lead you to defeat. This Jedi was so sure that his emotions would lead him astray that he barely put up a fight. He's not only a disappointment to myself, but a disappointment to his master. Years of training likely went towards this boy, only to be wasted on insecurities and on unsurities."

[Stormhelm]

As we made our way down the elongated corridors, I began to come out of my daze and notice the populace that populated this ship, Soldiers and Sith alike adorning its metallic halls like endless droves of mindless machines. I could feel their intent, all in the sake of their Master no matter the cost that would be inflicted upon them. In truth, I felt even more pity for them than I did myself at this moment, my heart set in peace for the moment I chose to react.

 

Sure, I knew I had lost. I had failed to do my duty as a Jedi. But because I chose this path, whether I had won or lost, the outcome would be the same. I would know the Force in its truest essence, eventually, in my death. Nothing could take that away from me now.

 

But for them, their idle minds and lost soul, there was only one destination, a Corellian Fable that dated back millennia. The infamous Corellian Hell. Their souls would be forced into its grasp for eternity, never knowing peace, just as they had lived in life. Even as a Padawan, I had studied beliefs to understand the Force and it's true nature. And from that knowledge, I knew a better understanding of light and dark. And to see such a populace, ironically here at Corellia, it only hardened my resolve as I was paraded around.

 

"We follow the will of the Force." I spoke in retort to his question, a smirk adorning my face as the reality of my loss and what it spelt faded away in the back of mind. "Our purpose is to balance its nature, understand the inevitably of death, and stand against those who would throw it into chaos. I may have lost, but eventually you will know such defeat as well. Only our afterlife will differ."

 

My gaze shifted to his Apprentice, the apparent sadness in my eyes not for myself, but for both her and her Master.

 

"Those who believe there is order in chaos, those who wish to bend the Force to their will, will never know its eternal afterlife. The Corellians have long spoke of a place where darkness leads, and they named it Hell in honor of the life that brought its souls to it. Mock my beliefs if you will, but those who harm the natural order of the Force will never become one with it. Like the Followers of Bogan that were the original fallen Jedi, it will banish you."

 

My gaze shifted back to Mordecai, the same sadness in my gaze. 

 

"A Jedi always defends, never attacks. This is the way."

[Terra]

“Orders revised.”

Terra blinked away an array of notifications that began to stack up on her HUD as Hades began to narrow the receiving band on the comlink in order to clarify the audio. A single chime indicated recording activation as the voice continued from Alliance Command.

“Les Enfantes Perdus, process code Gamma 23 Zeta 456-23A.”

Hades automatically transferred the information cypher into the Alliance’s unit roster and the code started a download from the command ship. Once the download had finished, the orders were read aloud by Hades, the grating static of his voice shattering the silence of the Basilisk’s flight.

…Proceed to Kessel with all haste. Hunt and destroy any criminal element and Sith forces. Secure or destroy any cache of the illicit glitterstim found thereof…

Warehouses and mines were marked in three dimensions on a projection of the massive asteroid. Terra glared at the oblong formation of rock which made up the infamous drug-mine. She had never tried glitterstim herself, but she had seen its effects on countless souls in her days with Black Sun.

Glit-biters.

The Mandalorian remembered an addict trying to ram a vibrosword through her belly on Ord Mantell, the wild look of hunger in his eyes. His name had been Shen, and she had torn his throat out with her teeth. His blood had made her heart race and it had tasted like the smell of ozone. Ever since then, glitterstim made her nervous, and the thought of going to the heart of its production made her doubly so.

Terra panned through the navigation chart, checking the hypernet for any reports of interdiction before selecting their coordinates. She noted a few abnormal readings from where the Triellus and the Corellian Run intersected and charted a longer route. They would take the Corellian Run out of their current sector, following it all the way to Ryloth before setting into the Death Wind Corridor to avoid the Arkanis area, and rejoining the Triellus around Geonosis. From there it was a straight shot to the Kessel run without foreseen issue.

With the a weary shout of Oya, the Mandalorians leapt into hyperspace, bound for death and glory.

[Kakuto Ryu]

"Anger leads to...."

As Ryu charged in he could hear Exodus taunting him, his whispers coming in loud even over the relentless drum.

“Was his mind truly lost to madness?”

Ryu was virtually certain that he had. The lines between reality and his hallucinations had blurred.

“ Had the Jedi deceitfully led him to slaughter, and turned him into a doltish marionette for their games?”

Ryu didn’t have much time to ruminate on the words, as no sooner than he had been called a dolt did get struck by residual shrapnel from his own grenades. He had overestimated the size of the room they were fighting in, and Draygo’s ability to control the explosion, and in so doing felt the bitter sting of metal shards passing through his left side. One passed through his calf, while another embedded in his skull and a few small shards peppered his left shoulder. It came as a stark notice of how unhinged he’d truly become, too lost in his own madness to comprehend the suicidal danger he put himself in.

Even so, despite the intense pain and wounded leg, Ryu’s fervor only intensified. The Red blade intercepted his green one, locking together with a shower of sparks. He hadn’t whiffed the strike entirely as he had before, and though he could get the fearsome Sith to concede ground, he was still not able to make contact.

The smoke thinned from compression wave of the  grenade, smoke escaping from gaps into adjacent areas. In the mingling lights of their blades Ryu at last saw his opponent, encased in black armor with golden inlay, his helmet fierce visage of wolf.

“That is...King Exodus, Brother.” 

Exodus’s visage felt terribly familiar to him, the fearsome Sith was reminiscent of the dark specter that haunted his mind. And yet, he was distinct. It seemed more likely that the man who stood before him was in fact the successor to that dark legacy. The last word echoed in his mind, growing louder and louder until it was a scream.

“...Brother...”

In a flash of light, Ryu found himself in a Jedi temple, back to back with two companions, in combat with Jedi. They were three against numerous Jedi, fighting back to back. With him were the two Sith Ryu had sent with Dagon in the earlier vision. They were Exodus and Oblivion-- the white haired apprentice. Lightsabers blazing, they fought furiously against stacked odds. In this moment he felt a sense of kinship with the two he fought alongside of. They were his brother, his equals, those he had revered above all others. They, along with the unseen Dagon, were his first and only kin.

Ryu watched a lightsaber blade erupt from Oblivion’s back, felt a sharp pain of anguish running through his chest. As the Sith fell to the ground, his slayer was revealed. Though he did not recognize the faces of the other Jedi, he knew this one instantly.

Armiena Draygo

In the shock Ryu was mortally wounded by a blow to his chest. He fell to the ground and watched Exodus, only to see him be cut down last as his consciousness faded away.

He awakened later in a Sith temple. It’s obsidian walls felt familiar, like it was his home. His and his allies’ bodies were on the floor, arranged in a triangle, having apparently been resurrected by a dark ritual. Ryu stood first, then Exodus. But Oblivion did not rise. He remained motionless. His soul did not return from the force, and his death had been made final. Three brothers had become two. The despair he felt in that moment washed over him, and followed him to the present.

All this Ryu saw in the flash of light that connected their sabers, reeling in disorientation the moment after. Ryu saw Armiena close in beside him to try to strike Exodus, but they were both stopped by a sudden explosion. The force erupted from the Sith, creating an omnidirectional wave that shattered Ryu’s bones, tore his flesh and sent him flying ahead of ribbons of blood. The compression wave contorted the very ship around them, buckling the structure and demolishing panels along the surface of the walls.

Ryu stopped at a wall, smashing his spine into it with such force to leave a dent behind. He slid to the ground and slumped in anguish. It had become clear that he was hopelessly outmatched in his current state.

I can’t defeat him.

As Ryu sat bleeding on the ground, his gray hair, flesh and robe each being tainted with streaks of red. His back to the dent in the wall, he saw the malicious spectre appear in front of him, clad in his usual white armor. Ryu knew that this hallucination represented the man he was before his memories had been erased, a terrible demon.

I will fight for you. It is the only way to survive.

The vision held out his armored hand.

If I submit to his control, It would bring back a monster. Would I even exist as I am now?

Or would he obliterate what I am now and take my place?

For all I know, he may turn his blade on Armiena.

Armiena...

Was it really her who killed my brother?

Is it really my brother who I am helping her to fight now?

Would she take them both?

Am I being used to kill my kin?

Or am I being manipulated now, by Exodus?

Is he trying to use me on someone who has shown me mercy despite the beast I once was?

Or am I just lost in a fever of madness, and my foe is not Exodus?

Are these really my memories coming back?

Or Illusions?

I can trust nothing to be real.

I can trust no one to be my ally.

I am only sure that if I continue to fight like this, I will not survive.

I am free from my prison, but I am cornered, bound, and alone even still.

Ryu looked up at the man in the skull mask, extending his hand to grasp the Spectre’s.

I submit.

Ryu’s face twisted unnaturally, his expression going asymmetrical as his mind was a real sense torn in half. His right eye and mouth showed anguish and horror, a miserable weeping moan punctuated by genuine tears. And yet, the left side of his mouth was a hideous grin, gritting teeth in anger, beastial and fierce, yet joyous in malice. His left eye lid slid open, revealing an empty fleshy cavern inside his skull. In the center of his eye flickered a tiny spark, which grew in intensity until sparks erupted from his socket and showered his cheek.

Broken wreckage from the grenades and Exodus’ force attack began to lift up around Ryu, starting with pieces closest to Ryu. As he rose to his feet the effect branched out. The five throwing knives on his belt were lifted into the air, along with shards of electronics, exposed wiring and arcing electricity from damaged panels. Even the blood that poured from Ryu’s flesh got swept up and began to dribble upward into the air instead of caking his robe. 

The debris floated aimlessly until another spark, like the one in his eye, formed on the crest of his left shoulder. A spark of electricity erupted and set fire to the tried off sleeve that hung where the severed arm. As it continued to erupt in electricity the floating objects began to draw toward where his left arm would have been. Jolts of lightning traveled along paths that resembled his arteries and terminated where his skin would have been, creating a ghostly image of the arm in the flashes of light.The floating objects began to crudely smash together, starting at his shoulder massing to form an arm out of random shards of metal, blood, and lightning. It was not a mechanical arm, but rather a crude facsimile held together by the force alone.

Ryu let out a howl, a horrible layered moan that was at once agony, terror, laughter and rage. He hunched low and threw his new arm forward. The pieces scattered and reorganized, absorbing more of the debris and becoming looser, streaks of lightning passing through large gaps and seeming to hold it all together. About half way between Exodus and KR, the five knives embedded in the durasteel floor, each representing the last segment of his five fingers. It had become grotesquely disproportionate in length and size relative to his body, but the shapes of bone and blood vessels were still visible in the patterns of electricity.

Ryu pulled himself forward with the arm, launching through the air like an arrow. As he sailed directly at Exodus’, he pulled the force arm back in towards his body, shrinking it as pieces drifted clumsily in orbit of his body. He twisted in the air, igniting the saber behind him as the force heaved the pieces of his will-powered arm toward Exodus, a knife fingered hand made of twisted metal reaching to grab at Exodus’s chest.

A surge of lightning arced the pieces and escaped aimlessly bathed Exodus’s area, ignoring whether Armiena was in the path or not, and growing narrower as he closed the distance between them. He swept the green blade forward, his hideously contorted face mouth still wailing monstrously as he moved to try to slash toward Exodus’ neck.

((3))

[ObliviousKnight]

Most Jedi would have hesitated, or paused to raise a barrier and attempt to ride out the coming storm under the shelter of the Force. Most Jedi, to their credit, were not Armiena Draygo, who merely tightened her lips in a grim smile, lowered her forehead in a predator’s charge, and ran directly at the confluence of dark energy that was growing before her. What she sensed was an opening… and pain, assuming that she lived long enough to exploit it. A streak of turquoise light raced towards the Sith assassin on either side, the one held by the veteran Jedi merely vandalizing the floors of his Star Dreadnaught--the other shredding through electrical conduits and for a moment bathing the Sith assassin in a current of white-hot sparks.

 

Sensing that the moment of release was imminent, Draygo shut off her lightsaber and leapt past Ryu, nearly crossing over the head of her openent at the moment that the assassin relinquished his grip on the hoarded powers and allowed them to detonate. It was all that the veteran Jedi could do to release the telekinetic grip on her other lightsaber and attempt to formulate an attempt at a defensive barrier. The blast of Force energy scattered the turquoise blade away, bouncing off the bulkheads, tumbling in unpredictable directions and posing a risk to life and limb regardless of creed. The Jedi Master herself was punished for her recklessness by being catapulted into the rafters, turned into a projectile of oversized robes and plastoid plating that crashed into the ceiling and almost into the next deck. The unseen barrier protected her against the telekinetic blast, but it did almost nothing to prevent the harm of colliding into the rafters, where unaugmented muscle and bone pounded into armored girders, electrical wiring, and a terrified MSE mouse droid whose maintenance crawlspace had just been breached by the impact of a Jedi Master.

 

The Jedi Master cannonballed back down to the deck, trailing threads of wiring and clouds of steam. When she hit, a sharp yelp of pain could be heard just under the crack of bone and the continuous screams of the mouse droid that had fallen to the deck. The grenades in her collar punched into her chest and one, one of the white-caps that signified a dud lacking an explosive charge, popped cleanly away to beep its warning tone of imminent detonation. The pain of impact was significant. And yet even with the pain of at least one broken rib and a left arm that was now hanging at an unnatural angle from her elbow, Draygo rose in an instant with a cartwheel of flailing legs and a whirling lightsaber blade that was straight out of an Ataru training holo.

 

For the first time this entire confrontation, Draygo’s vision had cleared enough to see some semblance of their arena. Not even a meter away from her foe, she glared through an eye-full of blood and a few tangles of electrical wiring to see him, wearing a lupine mask and the blank photoreceptors that had protected his eyes despite the grenades--a combination of technology and theatrics. An MSE mouse droid was skittering between them, shrieking as it attempted to decide whether death by lightsaber or grenade suited it better. And behind both of them was the former Dark Lord, a man that she had previously thought of as a demon. What amalgam of steel and flesh he was becoming, Draygo couldn’t begin to identify.

 

She immediately took the offensive and stepped into his guard, her blade moving with the swiftness that only Ataru training afforded. A blast of Force Lightning surged out--from Kakuto Ryu, despite his previous Force blindness--and necessity turned her blade to intersect the forks. She returned it to her foe in a series of unpredictable, seemingly random blows that were dictated by the need to deflect the Lightning. With every blow, she took a short step forward to assault the Sith’s position and force him against Kakuto Ryu, perpetually closing the distance until Draygo was most close enough to reach out and bite him.

 

Something had just turned, and it wasn’t merely the fact that Draygo was within the Sith’s guard and every stroke of her blade passed within millimeters of filleting the man. Something of significance was about to happen--death, a climax, a turning of the tide--and her grin could be seen under the flurry of her blade and a bloodied mask of cuts and contusions. Whatever it was, she couldn’t wait to meet it.

 

((3))

 

[Zendrin]

"I don't care for your views, Jedi. The meer possibility of afterlife in exchange for the strength the Sith hold is not a worth while bargain. Trading power for morality isn't worth my time either. I have no need for the Jedi's hushed ways, instead the knowledge I seek is granted freely." She continued walking aside Mordecai, thinking on his victory and her own. The Jedi that had given up, the arrogant mercenary that refused to tap into his potential.

 

Mordecai had tried teaching her that there are more to the Sith than the power you could wield. Perhaps she had a purpose higher than simply rising through the ranks, both in the Sith military and in strength in the force. Maybe there was more to her destiny than her visions of grandeur. She would meditate on the thought when they reached the shuttle, perhaps seeking clarity, or that higher purpose.

[Mavanger]

Mordecai chuckled at the boy's words. Could he not see the flaw in them? That his beliefs would lead nowhere but his own destruction and the destruction of the order he so cherished?

 

"I do not mock your beliefs, boy, merely question them in a light your masters would never allow for. You claim you follow the will of the Force. You say that your purpose is to return it to balance, but then you say that the Jedi way is never to attack. Are your beliefs not leading to the destruction of your order? Perhaps your perspective is flawed. Perhaps the force is unbalanced, yet, but in such a way that the Sith are favored. Would that not explain much? Our repeated victories? Our superior numbers? Your own order being nearly wiped from existence so often? Is it not your constant warring with the Sith that brings true chaos? But alas, you do not fight us yourselves. No. You haven't the gall. You hide behind lone planets and organizations, telling them that we are the ultimate evil, yet you refuse to raise your own hand in battle until your own life is threatened.  The Empire ruled in peace for decades until your rebel alliance rose up, led by a Jedi, leading to one of the longest periods of instability, chaos, and war that the galaxy has ever seen. So I ask you again, what good are your beliefs?"

 

He shook his head, his own sorrow reflected in the boy's eyes.

 

"There is so much I could teach you. I could show you the truth of the Sith. I spared your life, allowed you to stand against me of your own volition rather than strike you down while you were unconscious. And you mock me, first by implying I should let you leave, a hostile invader intent on killing my comrades, and then have the gall to claim you have moral superiority for not striking back. Tell me, which of us displayed more honor in this fight? I need not an answer. I have no wish for you to state what you believe. No wish to hear you grovel. I merely wish for you to contemplate the truth of what has occurred here today in the hopes that in the future, we may be allies, rather than enemies."

[Exodus]

3
 CORONATION

Inside the kill radius.

 

 

 

Strands of electrical currents blinked in and out of the darkness where Exodus stood. Long and unspun sparks of energy rolled from his dreadplate armor, flickering anywhere inside of five feet from the King, like remarkable uneven stitching to the dark fabric of space this field of battle was immersed in. Wellsprings of dark power smelted these halls now as the repulsion of raw force superheated the very air they breathed. Metal alloy warped crudely against mechanical whines, loud hissing leaking profusely from ruptured pipes; destruction began to undress this passageway. The Assassin King drank this in deeply, indulging as his lungs expanded wide to fill the scathing strength he had just unleashed on the Goliath, fixing to unchain another. 

 

Sweat stewed underneath his armor, beading his body in flushes that he was too distracted from to feel. Open flesh wounds bled freely, stretched by shrapnel and draped in nothing but affluent cloth, these he acknowledged as they roused a competitive fire inside of him. Discipline ensured his respirations remained controlled however, that his mind was sharpened to the details of the threats that faced him and nothing else, optimizing for an endurance unlike any other. 

 

A maelstrom of the force began to exhume from beneath the Dark King that surged to the surface in seething vapors, seemingly organic in it’s evolution from the spheric detonation just a few breaths prior, forcibly altering the simulated sense of gravity directly around him. It was as if the air around the Dark King cooked absent of any heat, telekinetically overcharging before their eyes. Ryu fell and then reawakened, enduring a very visible metamorphosis before the final draw. Draygo stirred as well, wheeling as a hawk-bat, famished for the last dance. “At long last,” Exodus smiled knowingly beneath his fang-toothed mask. 

 

 

The passing of the torch; two far-famed names that had made their mark before the assassin had crawled from the backwater regions of space, both Ryu and Draygo of an aureated era, drenched in a time of blood and war. The Butcher of Gala would now chance a claim to both names, imprinting his growing legend to the legacies they had carved, immortalizing the beginning of his conquest with a Sith Empire more powerful than any that had stood before. 

 

 

Exodus put all else from his mind as he faced his opponents. Advancing towards him came the formless rage of Ryu, and the vainglory of Draygo in Ataru. Exodus redoubled within the Way of the Rancor, inviting the reckless abandon of the ungainly duet with an outstretched dark blade, pointing in their direction. It was unmistakable that the Assassin would not adhere to the philosophy of moderation over aggression, for Exodus was a vicious duelist who favored brutal power moves and had little contrition against lashing out on his foes with physical and efficient savagery. This disposition was accented by his unruly command of the dark side of the Force, actively drawing on his subtle rage in combat to fuel. Quite clearly, his employment of Niman maneuvers incorporated the use of Force powers chained into combat sequences, to compensate for the numbers against him in this battle. 

 

His full height dipped as he half-loaded his balance and weight into his thighs, widening his stance. The hilt of his blade appeared sentient even in the black of space, gamey with an embedded laurel wreath that hung from the handgrip, reserved only for those who had fought in foregoing wars, signaling that Exodus had ended an entire campaign with the draw of his blade. Exodus was everything a conqueror could be and yet, the weapon inside of his hand demanded more. 

 

 

Ryu let out a howl, a horrible layered moan that evidenced his manic depression. “Soon, I will end your suffering.”

 

 

Exodus lifted his hands high, quietly channeling the maturing residuum of his force repulse. He spun his blade in a quick full-moon motion, cutting the air with a whooshing of plasma and a heavy crackle of disruption as arcing lightning poured forward from the confused Arkanian. Exodus pivoted backwards to avoid the reckless firing, but the energy caught the blade of Draygo and reoriented itself into multiples, trimming the strength of the force but catching into his arm, which only raised to brace himself from the surprise, while the rest broke into the ground around him. Exodus reeled as quivering power crawled his body, electrifying a biting numbness throughout his off-limb, but dissipating rapidly against the alchemical wyrmsteel, literally swallowing the energy. There was no time to equalize his balance, Ryu was on him like a hound, so he moved in rhythm to counter.

 

They had finally shown up to play, and if not for their last ditch coordination, the Dark King would have torn the amalgamation of metal and Ryu into pieces, splitting him in two as he charged forward. Instead, a small orbit of debris and a crashing lunatic rammed into the bracing Anzati King. They were on him now. There was a loud crack as the serpentscale armor pinched the force-fueled-shrapnel hand, tightening upon impact as it was designed to. Exodus gritted his teeth behind his mask as he absorbed the raw forward inertia, sliding rearwards upon the weight of Ryu's impossible strength. The green blade whizzed barely by his collarbone, and then Draygo poured forward with an assault of her own.

 

Exodus waltzed step for step, keeping their distances even. They hadn't, not for one moment, spared a second to consider their foe. Malacoda Syn was Firstborn and a veteran of close-quarter execution. It was in their interest to have come across almost any other Sith; most were young and sloppy, too accustomed to fighting from a position of strength and high-strung emotion. Firstborn Anzati had spent ten millennia fighting against impossible odds, always outnumbered, outgunned and outmatched by the horrors that lurked behind the stars. Such a history begat spines of adamantium, unyielding tenacity and zeal that could not be broken. That spelt trouble no matter how the dice rolled.

 

They lunged, Draygo now entering his guard; both their swords sweeping left and then coming straight back for the Emperors’ flank. Kill Radius. It was a bold flurry, but he had been expecting their desperation. Exodus skipped sideways and angled his blade diagonally to counter, catching one sword and letting the other sail past without touching him. Energy flared theatrically as super-heated atoms trapped in magnetic fields clashed, showering the black halls in wild coos of amazement. He pushed away and then was on the attack again. Exodus’ skill became more obvious as he weaved inside of these attacks, a flurry of sweeping slices and thrusts that created a whirling dervish of spinning crimson. Draygo parried with hers, fighting to the utmost to keep Exodus within reach of Ryu while closing distance. Exodus moved into pure aggression, insanely skilled bladework while a maelstrom of force built up all around them, telekinetic drafts of pressure interrupting the simulated freedom of gravity. Form VI was smothering his circumference in a sluggish invisible weight.

 

Still, in a dazzling display of skill the three conquerors danced across the halls, hands moving so fast in the dark, none but he could recognize what was happening. Three supremely skilled swordsmen skipping across the floor, variably matched in speed and strength. Three artists in their element, unaligned dancers in a ballet of deadly force, one that the Assassin knew well. This was what separated him from most of his kin, he understood war was an art. Any could be the superior combatant on the day, but most treated war as a science of destruction, or an intricate machine or even as the trading of punches until one fighter fell over. So few grasped the tempo and the grace of fighting as Lady Alora had taught. He moved with lightning speed, always in motion and his feet skipped and jumped in poetry, countering and stalling purposefully.

 

By comparison Ryu was a raging bull, always attacking but never in the same way twice. Intuitive, adaptive and sly, he combined forms from memory and styles with ease, creating intricate webs of thrusts and lunges that should not be possible. Draygo exerted countless blows for his heart, attempting to skewer the Emperor from each contact. Exodus could see their craving for victory, their thirst for triumph, but furthermore, he was growing to understand that their eagerness hid a weakness. Ryu was monstrous in nature, scorning defence and disregarding his opponent's ability to hit back. Draygo was proud, staggeringly relentless, but sorely lacking purpose and direction as she led her followers to unnecessary death. Had she even a single thought to the life of the third in their party that had vanished? Did that wimpish creature know for what it was, that he would die? ...Did she?

 

Left low, right low, left high, right low, right high, right low, right low, left high, without pattern or reason. Exodus became impassable with the estranged marks of contact stylized in his form VI disciplines, fighting with every last dreg of speed and strength he had earned. Each impact on his defense seemed to send sparks flying and his arms began to succumb to a rare dreariness from the constant hammering. His limbs burned like fire from the effort, even his highly-advanced physiology tested sorely by the furious pace of combat. Every blow came a hair closer to his body, each attack nearer to spilling his blood. His world shrank inward and all else was lost save the flurry of flashing swords around his form. Inside his kill radius.

 

Exodus had enough. His feet spun him about and his blade swept dangerously low, not intending to cauterize limbs with a quick thrust, but rather marshal the staying power of the maelstrom that was maturing from the deadly repulse prior. Niman was in control and had never left. Exodus staggered and Ryu’s bladed hand lifted, slicing into his right arm, leaving a trail of blood running down his forearm. A sacrifice. Faster than any humanoid had the right to move, his sword lashed out, tearing across the enclosed proximity the three of them entertained, and then a vicious thunderous whine of pressure deafened the passageway, blotting out sound. Another explosion. It sounded as if the wall had ripped cleanly from it’s hinge, and a nasty bellow of wind was now sucking them into the sickening cold bite of black space. The passageway hadn’t changed. Unerring pressurization lashed out wickedly as a suffocating telekinetic force seized the moment. Brilliant achromatic energy wheeled from where the Sith lightning had struck, and crawled off of the wyrmsteel plates he wore as if coming alive. Arcs of electricity thicker than the high-branches of a Wroshyr tree exploded towards Ryu and Draygo like musket-fire. The Dark King drifted from his feet, slipping into the air imperiously, levitating by nature of the Maelstrom as it poured an unceasing bombardment of lightning onto the intruders. No two sounds were the same, as metal wept and mourned under strain, bawling incessantly as ruptured plates peeled away and an adamant quaking rocked the Goliath slow. Dry and hateful thunderbolts formed from naught but raw power had cracked, hissed and shattered against steel while loose debris hovered wildly against physical demand.

 

Exodus understood that this was too small a space, because what came after historically, was the onset of a destructive Force Storm. Did his power reach such heights? Would he break the Goliath, to rain death upon his enemies? Look what the little boy from the academy had become..
 

[Stormhelm]

I stopped, a grin upon my face as I gazed upon the Master and Apprentice. Perhaps in another life, where ambition and tranquility did not separate us, we could have been allies or even friends. But not in this one. I held strong to my convictions and beliefs just as strongly as the two before me. Such was life, a difference of views clashing against one another with no true winner or philosophy. Just opinions and debates. Nothing more.

 

"Some things just aren't meant to be studied." I spoke first, in reply, to the Apprentice. "Fuel is a precious commodity, and yet you must destroy nature to gain it, and destruction is left in your wake. But if another, less destructive and eco friendly option is viable, why not pursue it? Because it would cost more? Because the gain wouldn't bring enough profit? The darkside is no different. Jedi move with the Force rather than against it, not bend it to our will and disrupt its flow like the Sith."

 

My gaze then shifts to Mordecai, the smirk still adorning my face as the Force flowing around us begins to slowly pick up intensity, the torrential pour of it flowing forth like the rapids before the waterfall.

 

"Perhaps in another life, we could have been allies, perhaps even friends..." I speak, my mind focused upon the thought of what a friendship like that could be. "But for now you stand here an enemy, perversing my words and making them hollow. If the Jedi Order is truly meant to die out, then let it. Such is the path of nature, civilizations and religions rising and falling across the Galaxy's small life. But for millennia before the birth of your own corrupted Order, the Galaxy knew peace and balance under the Jedi. It was only when the fallen chose to study the Forbidden, the unnatural, that the Force became cursed with the birth of the Sith Order and the enslavement and destruction of those your Order's namesake derives.

 

My gaze briefly shifts to my own blade clipped to his form, myself drawing upon the Force flowing around us and willing it to me.

 

"Let nature take its course, no matter the outcome..."

 

With that, my blade flew toward me and I found its familiar feeling within my hand, inactivate, as I unleashed a torrential push of the Force in their direction, the men behind me clambering to quickly subdue me. I would have no choice, despite my wounds, to act quickly. Blade activated, I spun toward the men grasping at me, it's aqua hue cleaving through the metal form of their rifles as I pushed myself up and over them. Without looking back, I took off back from wence I came. I had to reach Master Armiena and Ryu quickly as I could.

Edited September 27, 2020 by Genesis
Coding

[Zendrin]

The Jedi was smart, his silver tongue kept Kahla on her toes. "Then who decides what can and can't be studied?" She allowed the boy to continue. As he spoke about the impact of the Sith like a fuel, an affront to nature she hesitated. "And similarly to that inefficient fuel, the dark side is in abundance, it is better, and damned the cost of the natural world. Again, morality can't beat results." For a moment Kahla pushed her feelings aside in favour of her steely calculations. She had the fullest intent to learn from her master. Not just on the power she could wield but the philosophy. Her mind wandered however, remembering what happened to not just herself, but her crew. The things they'd been through together, their eventual triumph, the feeling of success that washed over herself and her closest allies; her friends.

 

Her mind began to torment her, torture her with the memory of their faces, first in celebration, then in fury, fear, and finally in death. The things they did to each other, torn down to their baser instincts, fighting for nothing more than survival, self preservation. She remembered enjoying the feeling of the saber cutting them down, the look in their eyes as she mercilessly struck them down, one after another. What could he be thinking right now? The things she's put him through, moreover the things that he must be enduring. She couldn't just double back on her word now; but maybe she could make things slightly more barrable.

 

In her distraction she failed to notice the Jedi's saber being summoned to his hand. Kahla was pushed against the plated hall, grasping for understanding of what happened. When her mind caught up to her the boy was bolting for the door. For a brief moment she locked eyes with Mordecai before drawing her blaster pistol and unleashing a flurry of bolts in his direction, one of which catching the blast door release ahead of him.