Dathomir

[Qyrisa]

Qyrisa gripped the staff firmly and shifted her weight to her back foot. Cetrisi continued to pelt her with various foliage, but Qyrisa was able to ignore it for the time being. She then leapt towards Cetrisi and lashed out with her simple staff. Cetrisi expertly dodged the attack and countered with a sweeping leg kick. Qyrisa flung her arms to maintain her balance, but in that time Cetrisi drove the back end of her spear into Qyrisa chest and followed with a swinging attack into Qyrisa's temples. The younger woman fell to the ground slightly dazed. Cetrisi did not follow up with an attack, but instead waited for Qyrisa to stand. The fight was over ; Qyrisa knew that in a real fight she would be dead by now. Cetrisi was now just going to test Qyrisa's resilience.

 

Qyrisa launched herself off the ground and quickly readied herself to attack. She wouldn't make the same mistake of foolishly charging the more experienced fighter of the two. Instead she used her spells to throw small stones at Cetrisi, but the woman countered and sent then back at Qyrisa with deadly speed. The sharp rocks cut her face and the stinging only added to Qyrisa's humiliation. Cetrisi moved closer to the young girl and brought her spear up to attack. Qyrisa lunged towards her and grabbed the spear and tried to wrestle it away from her. She landed two punches on Cetrisi and managed to win the spear because Cetrisi had let go. This caused Qyrisa to stumble backwards and Cetrisi then landed a kick to Qyrisa's temple and knocked her to the ground unconscious.

 

Qyrisa eventually regained consciousness amd saw Cetrisi standing over top of her.

 

"Get up and let's go. You have failed, but that was to be expected."

 

Qyrisa begrudgingly picked herself off of the ground and followed Cetrisi. She knew they were going to see Mother who would not be pleased.

[Qaela]

When they met her, Mother, as Qyrisa suspected, was not pleased. "You were to continue through the course, not try to defeat every obstacle along your way," she said coldly. "You are fortunate that Cetrisi did not punish you further." She was angry, but had more on her mind than simply punishing those failures. There was a lot to get done if the girl was to venture out into the Galaxy.

 

They returned to camp in relative silence while the older woman considered what to do next. The slaves would come in as they could but the Nightsisters didn't care about them. Once in camp, Cetrisi thanked Teyati for the enjoyment and departed back to her own camp.

 

With a sigh, Teyati took Qyrisa back out to the training field where she had practiced telekinesis. "You need to perfect your spells in many situations. You must both be able to focus on the spells themselves, yet wield them almost without thought. Some of them should come to you as naturally as breathing. You do not have to think about breathing, neither should you have to think about simple spells. They should come to you and be used without conscious effort beyond your decision to use them. These spells are often simple, like what you did here when hurling rocks with your mind. They are used on the battlefield to defeat your enemies and protect yourself. They must be used quickly and yet not consume so much of your focus that you cannot continue to fight or keep an eye out for additional threats.

 

"You must also be able to master complex spells without being forced to focus all of your energy on them. It is not possible to be able to perform some spells without focusing a good portion of your mind on them, but you shouldn't have to focus so hard that you lose track of your surroundings or a battlefield. When you sing a familiar song, you do not need to think about the words, they simply come to you in proper sequence. It is for that reason that some of the more complex spells are chanted. These spells are not suitable for use while you are in combat, but are helpful in other situations like healing, divination, or as a support role in battle.

 

"For the next several weeks, we will be working on honing your spells. You are well conversant in how to track, fight with simple weapons, and survive on your own, but your training in the Arts has been woefully inadequate. Perhaps that is my fault for focusing too much on Qaela, but it is something that needs to be remedied now."

[Qyrisa]

Several weeks had passed since Qyrisa had begun her training. After her first attempt at the gauntlet, Qyrisa had become more serious about her training and in the last few weeks had made significant progress in regards to her ability with spells. She would go out every morning to the field and would spend several hours mastering spells. On some days she would practice simple spells to the point of being able to use them without hesitation. It was only in the last week or two that she had made any sort of progress with the more complex spells. She had learned that she had a natural affinity towards healing spells and Teyati had made her focus on these spells.

 

Over the weeks Qyrisa had done the gauntlet several more times and the last three times had been successful, though she had broken at least three of her ribs on the last attempt. Qyrisa's latest challenge to herself was to practice the healing rituals on herself to speed up the healing process.

 

Qyrisa had been outside for nearly four hours and the temperatures outside were becoming uncomfortable hot, but Qyrisa didn't seem to notice. She was lost in a spell she had been attempting for several days now. The average person would have grown frustrated and quit by now, but Mother had almost literally beat that trait out of Qaela and Qyrisa when they were younger. When faced with a continuing problem Qyrisa would approach it from every angle possible and with every ounce of determination she had until she had found the solution.

 

Finally after nearly four hours of practice Qyrisa began to feel her side tingle and knew that the spell was working. She had to be careful to maintain focus on the spell. Last time she got this far she lost focus in her excitement. She continued to chant the lines of the spell for another ten minutes until she grew too tired to remain focused. She stopped chanting and slumped down. She barely had the energy to stand up and when she did she saw that Mother was standing on the edge of the open field watching her. Qyrisa summoned the energy to walk over to her.

 

"Mother I have made great progress with the healing spell you taught me." Qyrisa said with enthusiasm. She hoped that soon Mother would be giving her her first mission off of the planet.

[Kautra Nadio]

The Kootan slipped through the atmosphere over a beautiful blue ocean. It had been some time since Kautra had seen such a beautiful landscape. He could almost smell the fresh air of Dathomir comming from the cooling vents in the cockpit of his ship. He heard the sound of rushing air passing under the wings of his ship. Years had it been since he has made landfall of any planet. He had left to the out skirts of the galaxy to deepen his connection with the force, and hone his skills with a lightsaber.

 

For some reason the force had called him to this lonesome planet in the outer rims. It felt right to be back with the Jedi Order. Though he was sure that they were un-aware of his return. He knew that there was a reason he came back, he felt it was time to take on another padawan. It had been a while since he had a young jedi under his wing, so it would be a little strange at first, but Kautra felt it was the will of the force to pass on his new found knowledge.

 

He skimmed over the ocean, looking for an island to land his ship on that was inhabited by the local populace. He came across several islands that looked promising, but with a few scans he found no sentient life forms. This disappointed the old Jedi, he needed to find a suitable loaction for his base of opperations, somewhere that was concealed from plain sight yet open enough to allow for a quick escape in time of need.

 

Kautra looked down and smiled, he passed above a small mountian formation that might suit his needs nicely, not too big to arouse suspision, but large enough to hold a small fortress. He slowed his ship down and began to survey the area. He noticed a small collection of houses and small buildings that looked like a nice thribing city. It was several miles away from the location he had in mind for the base, this served as man-power for building it. He saw a small area a few hundred meters outside the city and landed his ship there.

 

The Kootan landed with a wet thunk, and creaked and moaned from the weight of the ship. It had been months, since the ship had landed last. Kautra only landed on remote planets in oreder to resupply his food and water needs. The pops and cracks subsided after a few seconds. The ship setteling on the soggy ground.

 

Kautra Stood up from his seat, and strided over to the exit hatch as the air seal was broken. A loud hiss of cool rushing air flowed over Kautra as the door creaked open. The warm sun against his dark skin, and the smell of fresh greenery. All these sensations brought Kautra back to the real world. He rememberd his first time venturing Haruun Kal many years ago, and meeting his dear friend Neada on that wounderful planet.

 

Kautra missed his pet vornskr, they had many great adventures together before Kautra decided that he had to be set free again, life on a ship in space was not good for a wounderful creature, so they had to part ways.

 

Kautra stepped out of his ship, and down the ramp that led to the mushy ground. He turned towards the city, in search of supplies and man power to help build the fortress in the mountians.

[Delta73]

Danthomir came forth like a child bursting forth from the diseased womb of a prostitute. The wretched planet hung between the stars, a bog of disease, ferocity, and terror. Savages ruled here, and what was worse, it was a planet ruled by women. Which made the planet a place to avoid for honest men. But Delta was no priest or businessman, he was a criminal Lord. A high class roller. And he had an army of knights to back him, an army wit ha single purpose. To destroy the world of women.

 

Lannister squadron ripped from darkspace, having left the other two squads to defend Dubrillion, and rushed towards the world of women.

 

Delta turned in the cockpit and smiled to Qaela, "Well looky looky, we are home."

[Qaela]

"Home?" Qaela said distantly. As she was facing backwards in this cursed contraption of metal, she couldn't see the planet they had arrived at. She could sense the Force emanating from it and was disturbed to say the least. She had not expected them to come here this soon. There were things she had wanted to prepare before meeting up with her mother. Things like gathering an army, a massive star fleet, and bringing in a few hundred spellcasters.

 

"What are we doing here, Ca'Aran?" she asked hesitantly while trying to hide her fear and concerns.

[Delta73]

Delta laughed, "Well you were always going on and on about how awesome your home was, and what a horrid person your mother is. And well, I just up and figured we should come here and deal with this crap once and for all, and maybe I could whet my blade a little." At Qaela'a look He quickly corrected, "My sword, uhh-" He stammered "My real one, you know made out of steel and bronzium, the thing that cuts things. Not the other one."

 

He coughed,

 

"So uh, where is your villiage located at? Hmmm, perhaps a stone mountain? Wait what? This isn't a single terrain planet? What the Hell? Well that's new, I was used to super giant cities, sand dunes, or forests. Pshhh this sound like a hella nice place to visit. Variation is the bomb."

[Qaela]

Qaela rolled her eyes and shook her head at Ca'Aran's fumble. Sometimes he was naive and downright concerned her, but other times he was just humorous. Normally, she would have jumped on the comment, but right now, she was a little preoccupied.

 

She had been confident about facing her mother for some time now. She had spent many nights running through what she would do in her head and had even plotted to return here on her own, but things tended to get in her way. Now that she was here, though, she was nervous. Doubts that were typically foreign to her, were creeping up into the back of her mind. Her mother was strong, that much she knew. She also had allies that were nearly as strong. Were it a simple matter of killing the woman, she was confident that the two of them could take her just as they did the Sith Ares on Dagobah. But there would be more than one to face if they confronted her.

 

Even worse, they couldn't just bomb her mother from the air. That might work, or it might get them all killed. Teyati was perfectly capable of taking down fighters and smaller ships with her powerful wind and lightning spells. They also didn't know exactly where she was, so firing from orbit wouldn't do any good unless they had the firepower to wipe out thousands of square kilometers, and that was a little overkill that would also cost them many potential allies among the rest of the Nightsister clan.

 

Even if they could kill her from the air, that wasn't what Qaela wanted, what she needed. She had to face her mother and whatever allies were with her or she would never be able to sleep comfortably. One of the few things she shared with the Sith was that one had to defeat their master to truly prove themselves. Plus, the other Nightsisters would never recognize her authority if she or perhaps one of hers didn't kill the hag in personal combat.

 

"I didn't live in a village, Ca'Aran," she said in a serious tone. "It is too open and vulnerable to attack by the Witches. We were heavily nomadic, and Teyati especially so. She forbade any technology near her, so you couldn't even track her on transmissions or energy signals. We would have to go to ground and find her the same way that I always did, through tracking and spells."

[Delta73]

"Ok so you don't live in a village, I was playing to stereotypes, my bad. So tell me where to land and lets get to tracking."

 

He set the ship down near a rice paddy sprinkled with workers in cone shaped hats. Hopping out he quickly made sure the ship was locked and all the electronic equipment was stored, he did not want these people stealing anything. He commanded the R7 unit to blast anything that came this way, and Qaela, Simone, and himself headed off into the wilderness. The rest of the lannister squadron landed as well. And the 60 household knights of Ca'Aran's personal guard quickly followed in suit.

 

Within several minutes of trudging, they were deep in the forest and rice paddies. Stretched into a line of crimson and silver. Men and women in full plate, swords, pikes, blasters, and slugthrowers in hand.

[Qaela]

Qaela wasn't sure what Teyati was doing so close to one of the Witches' villages, but that was the general area in which she sensed her mother. Trying to stretch out and sense where her mother was constituted a risk in and of itself. It carried with it the chance that the elder Nightsister would pick up that her daughter was here and would give away the advantage of surprise. But if she didn't, they could spend weeks scouring the land looking for her.

 

With the small army following behind them, they began searching for Teyati's camp. Qaela knew it would be impossible to sneak up on someone as paranoid as Teyati with such a force, so they would have to move quickly and attack in force before she could summon any of the other Nightsisters that were scattered around the area.

 

She could feel her mother now. The older woman was a seething mass of treachery, plotting, and anger that lit her up like a beacon for Qaela. She smiled at the thought of slaughtering her mother because there was no way Teyati could withstand an attack by her, her beloved, and his horde of knights.

 

She had dreamed of fighting her mother alone, but now she was sharing her life with Ca'Aran. Though many of her kind didn't truly take a single mate, she would. Perhaps it was the taint of the Galaxy as a whole corrupting her, but she saw Ca'Aran not as a slave that would give her daughters, but as a partner, an equal. Teyati would have killed her for even thinking that any male could be treated as an equal. Qaela would be happy slaying her mother with her mate at her side just for that very reason.

 

Soon, they were in a thick forest and had to be careful where they trod. It was exactly the sort of place that Teyati would choose as her lair because it was dark, gloomy, and left plenty of places to attack, flee from, or hide in. It felt comfortable. She had grown up in places like this and spent many days out on her own in the wilderness. If only she had her traditional garb and weapons, she would be far more comfortable. Now, the only thing she had was the charcoal robes she wore while working with the Sith.

 

They kept going until she felt a sudden spike from her mother. It wasn't exactly alarm, more like. . . anticipation. Qaela didn't like it one bit because it definitely wasn't alarm or concern. "Something is wrong," she said quietly.

 

They didn't have much time to react because, out of nowhere, the forest sprang alive with the sound of large beings crashing through and armed slaves yelling. Blaster bolts, arrows, and giant boulders came crashing into their lines as they were ambushed by a horde of Nightsister thralls and five mighty rancors. The Nightsisters must have been focusing their energies on concealing such a force both from the Witches and then from them.

 

There was no way that Teyati would have had such forces under her command, so Qaela immediately spread her awareness out to try to find the other Nightsisters who might be with her. When she did, she realized that things were going to be rather interesting.

 

There were at least seven other Nightsisters with her mother. Only once had Qaela seen so many gather at once was to attack a new village being built by Witches and their weaklings. That they were stumbling upon them while gathering an army was extremely unfortunate and put their plans in danger of ruin.

 

With a cry of anger, she leaped into battle along side the knights. She knew it would be useless to try to break the Nightsister's hold on the rancors, so instead, she went about killing one of the beasts. The cortosis staff was more powerful than the plain spear she used when killing her first rancor, but the Force was even more powerful.

 

One of them turned its attention toward her and swung its mighty club to turn her into paste. She jumped over it and snarled in anger at the beast. With fire in her eyes, she wove as powerful a spell as she could. When it was ready, she splayed her fingers out at three trees next to the rancor. They snapped off at the roots and rose up from the ground. She flipped them over and used them as spears to ram straight through the rancor in a spectacular display of blood and gore that coated part of the forest in glistening ichor.

 

She turned around and helped some of Ca'Aran's knights fend off some of the slaves who were armed with blasters and various melee weapons. The density of the forest made blasters somewhat ineffective, but they were still a menace for the unwary. Most seemed to forgo modern weaponry in and engaged in close combat with weapons whose designs were nearly as ancient as the stars themselves.

 

Qaela was about to start going after one of the Nightsisters when she felt the summoning through the Force. Teyati was ordering a retreat and all of her thralls obeyed even though they were far from defeated. Fearing an ambush with yet more hidden forces, she warned Ca'Aran not to follow.

 

It wasn't long before a lone, haughty female voice echoed through the woods. "So, my daughter believes she can challenge me. How quaint, but you should have done so without involving pets."

 

With no apparent concern for her safety, Teyati herself started walking into the ground between the two forces. She spoke as though this situation was a mere trivial concern over what to eat for dinner rather than an issue of mortal combat. "I see no purpose in having all of our forces fight until we wipe each other out and allow our enemies to triumph. Since I know you would never be able to command such a force on your own, you are not worthy of facing me.

 

"Let your commander fight me alone. It is a male, is it not? Such a shame, truly, I expected better from you."

 

Qaela's fury spiked and she nearly lunged out at her mother. Teyati smiled and said, "I sense your rising anger now and as delicious as it is, but it is disappointing to see how little control you have. You are nothing but an animal like that."

 

She looked out over the surviving knights until her gaze fell upon Ca'Aran. "So what say you, face me in combat without any of the cursed technology that plagues the Galaxy, and the loser's forces submit to the victor. What say you?"

[Delta73]

And so it would so be over. The Knights of the Household Guard, and his own handpicked Knights, dressed in deep crimson cloaks over the brushed steel full plate, made the trudge through the forest a long journey. But they had an objective before them, to end the reign of the evil mother of Qaela. His men were walking forward in a long skirmish line, ready for whatever would jump out from the treeline. And almost on cue, there were roars of angry beasts and the cries of a hundred poorly armed and armoured slaves.

 

Arrows reflected off the thick modern armours of his men, doing no damage whatsoever. It was pathetic. Purely pathetic, that a society would try to attack well armed men with such weapons. But then came the blasterfire. Slightly more deadly than the arrows, a well placed bolt dropped Ser Knight Jaztomm of house Varlii like a stone. Smoke and blood pouring from the hole that had been his handsome face. The Knights shouted in anger and redoubled the defence, blaster fire and large calibre bullets smashed through the ranks of the pitiful slaves. Dropping many with the dark fury of modern technology.

 

A great granite boulder careened overhead into Ser Knight Barik Thalmann, crushing him against the bore of a great pine. Splitting him in twain. Then came the rancors, a great number of them. Delta cried in anger as another knight fell, his head split by a knightsister spell. He pulled his disruptor from its holster, and placed a round through a plump lady upon a grey skinned rancor. Her chest imploded in blood and the rancor was soon also brought down by heavy blaster rifle fire. His knights took out another witch and her steed, and Delta laughed as the rancor fell onto a young slave.

 

Another two knights were felled, their capes soaked with their and their enemies blood. Though blasters were effective, it soon delved into a gruesome melee. Swords and pikes were drawn, and even in point blank range the effectiveness of heavy armour was seen. They cut a swath through the thralls, with Delta leading the charge his vibroblade drawn and hacking. But before he could cut more than two down, the slaves and nightsisters were in a full route.

 

"Let your commander fight me alone. It is a male, is it not? Such a shame, truly, I expected better from you."

 

Really? Not this stupid females are better than males crap.

 

"So what say you, face me in combat without any of the cursed technology that plagues the Galaxy, and the loser's forces submit to the victor. What say you?"

 

He laughed in response.

 

“So be it foolish woman, a duel of fates. Swords only. And none of your curses or spells. If that is the agreement, then we will let you withdraw, and we shalt battle in the morn.”

[Qaela]

Teyati's harsh laugh resounded throughout the forest. "I do not need spells to crush a mere pup like yourself. Flee now, offworlders, we shall meet you here when the sun rises." She turned and faded back into the forest. The Nightsister's forces pulled back a few hundred meters, but remained alert for attack.

 

Qaela walked over to Ca'Aran and checked him to make sure he wasn't harmed. When she was satisfied, she said, "We probably should have attacked her now, I don't trust her not to attack in the night." She narrowed her eyes and added, "Unless, of course, you were planning on attacking them in the night?"

[Delta73]

Delta coughed and smiled under his great helm. "Well routing her slave forces in the void of the night did cross my mind. For I fear that she will not stay true to her word. You must tell me more of her so that I am ready for whatever she tosses my way. I will let you decide whether you think it would be a good idea to dispatch her forces whilst they sleep."

 

He flicked the blood off his blade and nodded to his Knights who let out a cheer. "I am well versed with the blade, but I must be ready for anything. Should I also prepare other weapons in the case of a cheat?"

[Qaela]

"Don't get overconfident because you managed to hold them off here," Qaela warned. "They were preparing to attack a poorly armed village, not deal with your knights. They won't make the same mistake twice and should they come back, they will use trickery and the Force in ways that you have never seen before. You have never seen me truly hunt in the night. It is not a pretty thing. They were content to sacrifice some of their pawns to learn our strengths, now they will begin to use them against us.

 

"Nightsisters are used to fighting against the Witches who can counter spells with spells. While the two of us can use the Force, none else here can and that puts us at a distinct disadvantage, especially once night falls. In the forest, we are highly vulnerable, technology or not. We must find an open location well away from here. The Nightsisters would not want to move closer to the village at this point, so we may be best near our ships."

[Delta73]

Delta sheathed his sword, and his knights did the same. "Let us collect our dead and be gone then." It was a long trek back to the ships, made even longer by the weight of the fallen. They prayed, and lit the funeral pyres, as 6 ARCs left the ground to do sweeps every couple minutes as the groups slept.

 

After unfurling the tent he motioned to Qaela.

 

"Sleep now, I will take first watch. I will see you when day breaks. Pray for me."

[Qaela]

Qaela was grateful that Ca'Aran didn't ignore her advice and underestimate the Nightsisters. He might think they were a bunch of backward savages, but she knew that they were extremely deadly. Her earlier idea of confronting her mother was completely out the window now that she was part of or even leading an entire war party. The plan had been to find Teyati with just a few slaves and to confront her with Ca'Aran while his knights took care of any other resistance. It would have been quick, fairly easy, and mostly risk free.

 

Not with an entire war party out there. Some of the Nightsisters had been slain, but there were many more. Their slaves, as weak as they might appear, were nothing more than distractions for the real powers of their spells and rancors. Just as the Sith employed Acolytes as their cannon fodder, so also did the Nightsisters employ male and occasionally even female slaves. The skirmish in the forest had been a hasty attack on both sides, if there was to be any further fighting, it would be far more orchestrated and planned. If Teyati or hers opted to fight, it would be a bloody affair for both sides.

 

On their trek back, they didn't speak much. She was too preoccupied in constantly keeping her senses, both natural and through the Force, searching for any signs of ambush. She didn't sense any and was relieved when they emerged from the forest and into the more open fields.

 

She watched silently as Ca'Aran and his knights mourned their dead. She really didn't understand such things, but knew it was important to them and didn't interfere. When it was over, watches were set and, to her relief, fighters were sent up to patrol. While she felt that the Nightsisters might eventually find a way to take them down, she didn't think they could do it in one night.

 

She lay down while Ca'Aran took the first watch, but wasn't able to sleep. She kept thinking about tomorrow morning and Ca'Aran facing her mother alone. It was foolishness, to be honest. Now, more and more, she wondered if it wouldn't be a better idea to just strike them from the air. As cowardly as it might be, it would be effective. All of her visions of personal vengeance against her mother were fading away and being replaced by concern for the man she loved. She was willing to forgo the satisfaction of seeing her mother's lifeless eyes gazing into nothing if it meant Ca'Aran was safe.

 

She was about to get up and tell him that, but she stopped herself. Ca'Aran was a man who had a strange sense of honor. As much as she normally hated the notion, she had to admit that it was somewhat endearing in him. For a man who had no problem slaughtering by the thousands, he had a strange habit about him regarding his honor and what he thought was right and wrong. If she were to suggest attacking from the sky after agreeing to a duel would probably just anger him and offend his sense of honor.

 

But that didn't mean that he should be sitting out staring into the darkness. Tomorrow, he would be fighting. He needed rest, or a least, something else to help him relax a little and he definitely didn't need to be out standing watch.

 

When she did get up, she did so with a welcoming smile on her face. She found Ca'Aran and said quietly, "You have dozens of knights at your command, let some of them stand watch. Come in to the tent with me and stay there for the night for who knows if we will survive tomorrow's battle? Be with me now, give into your passions, then sleep and rest."

[Delta73]

The thick forest was filled and teeming with life, his thermo-imaging setting on his visor's HUD, game him a good view of deer and various other forest creatures feasting upon the fresh grass of the spring. He felt a hand upon his shoulder, and glanced up. It was Qaela, beautiful even in the pitch dark.

 

"You have dozens of knights at your command, let some of them stand watch. Come in to the tent with me and stay there for the night for who knows if we will survive tomorrow's battle? Be with me now, give into your passions, then sleep and rest."

 

Delta let a laugh escape his lips, he patted her knee, and looked her in the eye. "I appreciated the offer love, though I must decline, sitting here gives me rest. And passions released would not put me into the proper mood for fighting on the morrow. After I kill your mother, then, we can give in. For now if you want, you can join me on this night watch."

 

A faint glimmer of dawn would soon appear.

[Qaela]

Qaela tried to hide the disappointment in her eyes by resting her head against his armored shoulder. If you kill her, she thought. It wasn't that she doubted her mate's ability to kill so much as she didn't think he was going into this fight well prepared. He was okay enough with knives, but when it came to swords and long, drawn out fighting, she wasn't so sure he would prevail against a woman who had spent decades practicing and fighting and teaching with such weapons. She wished now they had just blown her away with a barrage of missiles fired from the safety of starfighters.

 

She would stay with him tonight, even if it wasn't in the manner she preferred.

[Delta73]

Rays of light illuminated the darkness of the deep forest as the first edges of Dathomir's star rose above the wooded mountaintops. Delta let out a sigh of relief, and slowly stood, it would soon be time to fight the duel of duels. The battle for his love, and the freedom of her people. Oh and maybe proving to these savages that men could kick ass too. He was a Mandalorian after all, although one that had been raised outside the code, he still kept some of the values. The values his teachers had bestowed upon him when fresh from the cloning chambers.

 

Delta took off his helm and let the rays brush across his face, a gentle warmth tickled the stubble that had grown upon his face during the long flight. He had never felt so at peace, he took a deep breath and let the cold mountain air fill his lungs. It smelled of pine, a fragrance he had not smelled since the Clone Wars. He knelt and said a prayer for his fallen brothers, and asked God for guidance in the fateful fight. Crossing himself he almost laughed. He had picked up this strange religion on a backwater planet, during the clone wars, and he had never let his faith slip. He and his fellow soldiers had fallen into war and death on outremer during the fateful crusades led by Jedi General Bailen Jarrdunn against the entrenched separatists. The Battle of Acres had fallen to a gruesome melee with the Separatist Volunteers being routed before the blades of the Jedi and their Clone Commandos. It had been a pyrrhic victory. Thousands had died that day.

 

Delta shook his head, clearing the memories, and drew his silver blade. To Death and Glory then. Like so many times before.

 

"Knights, bannermen, dawn arrives, and rising sun marks our coming victory. To Arms! Arise!"

 

Within the moment his Knights and bannermen were up and strapping on armour and blades. Full brushed durasteel plates, and crimson cloaks that would soon be stained with blood of friend and foe.

[Qaela]

There was no attack that night and for that, Qaela was relieved. She had to admit that she dozed a little leaning up next to her man. It had felt good to be able to just stay there in silence and enjoy his company while breathing in the familiar smells of her homeworld. She wouldn't have been pleased if there had been something to interrupt that.

 

Now, it was time to fight. She didn't have much to get ready, but she did meditate and focus herself on her hatred of her mother. She needed to be at her best in order to fight off the inevitable betrayal. No matter how the fight turned out, she would not allow herself or those here to be enslaved to her mother. Should the worst happen and her beloved fall, she would charge onto the field and avenge him with any of his valiant Knights who would join her. She had little doubt that Teyati's bunch was planning the same.

 

They marched in general silence back to the battlefield where they had met the previous evening. She wasn't surprised when it had been cleared of bodies, even the massive rancor hulks. Bodies would attract carrion animals and thus draw the attention of the Witches.

 

A new addition to the battlefield was a large circular area over a hundred meters across that had been cleared with spellcraft and rancor muscle. There were still a few stumps and clumps of foliage present, but there were no towering trees to provide cover.

 

The host of Nightsisters and their thralls were arrayed on one side. Their lines went deep into the forest and they remained spread out to minimize collateral damage and give themselves room to fight.

 

Teyati stood in near the middle, but slightly closer to her lines. She was resplendent in blood red steel splint armor trimmed in gold with mail beneath. In her right hand was a light, thin sword with a slight curve to it. In her left hand was a long dagger. She had a small quarterstaff that was slightly over a meter and a half long on her back. Her armor and weapons had been treated with the finest empowerment spells the coven had managed to perform.

 

She watched without emotion as her opponents entered the field.

[Delta73]

Ca’Aran and his men began the slow march to the cadence of the drums. Banners of crimson and silver, embroidered with the black sigil of Black Sun waved in the morning breeze. They marched through the low underbrush towards the last place of battle. And within several hours of marching, had arrived.

 

In the centre of the clearing was a makeshift arena, trodden and hardened brown loam, pulled from the depths of the earth, dried, it made a perfect flooring for a new arena. And dirt also soaked up blood very very well. And there would be no doubt a tonne of blood spilled today.

 

The Nightsister’s lines were deep and wide filled with the thralls and lesser sisters of their great lords. They were a ragtag group, no proper uniforms. Irregulars. Great. If you felled their leader, they would most likely flee before the onslaught of his knights. Ca’Aran’s glance fell across Qaela’s mother. She was well armed and armoured. And she was already holding her swords.

 

 

Delta drew his own. A long two handed blade and fine was its blade. Star Forged steel, forged in the days of old, in the days of Revan and Exile. It was forged in the great smithies of Melida/Daan long before the first colonists arrived and discovered the ruins of the ancient civilization that had first conquered the world. The sword that Ca’Aran now held was yet a small legacy of the Elder Kings or the Celestials, who had held the galaxy under their sway long before humanity had crawled from their caves. The sword held no magical powers, yet it was finely crafted. Recovered by Ca’Aran during the height of the clone wars on Melida/Daan, in the first actions of what would later be called the Crusade of Outremer.

 

Delta planted the sword in the ground in front of him, crossed himself and said a silent prayer. He stood and adjusted the crimson cloak that was across his full silver plate. The emblem of Black Sun etched upon the breastplate. He pointed to Ser Knight Simone and Ser Knight David. “Simone, you will be my first, take the western side and stand watch with 5 banners. David, the east with another five. Watch for sorcery and trickery.”

 

He stood and tred into the arena. He held the sword in two hands, the blue steel glimmering in the mountain air. “Teyati, I have picked my two captains, you should do the same.”

 

After she did so, the knights of his guard, lined up in a battle formation. Ready for what would come next. Ca'Aran glanced back to his love, his blue eyes locked with hers for yet a moment. He smiled, then donned his helm covering his blonde hair.

 

BEGIN

[Qaela]

Teyati made no move to bring forth any "captains" for they were just targets to be assassinated. She would rather have her most trusted allies where they could strike from cover and the shadows. Instead of worrying about help, she wanted to learn more of her opponent. She could feel that he was a spellcaster and that in and of itself was enough for her to have severely beaten her whelp of a daughter. How dare she take up with a male spellcaster! It was blasphemy and perversion for males to cast spells and Qaela knew it. Teyati now regretted sending her daughters into the stars at such a young age for it appears that they were unable to resist the corruption that permeated it.

 

She had enough of the anger, it was time to crush this pup so she could turn her attention on punishing her wayward daughter. She sneered at the pathetic male and began to subtly draw up a spell that would make him feel drowsy and unfocused. It was a common enough spell and simple to use, and the best part was that it was subtle.

 

Despite the early morning sunlight, her armor looked as though it was perpetually in the shade. It absorbed the light somewhat and allowed none of it to reflect out. Her swords, on the other hand, gleamed in the sun like fire as she confidently stalked toward her prey.

 

The sneer didn't go away as she began probing his weaknesses with her longsword. He didn't give her any ground, but stood firm. She couldn't tell if her spell was affecting him just yet, but she would find out soon enough.

 

With a sudden, visceral cry, she snapped into action with decades of experience. The longsword in her right hand jabbed at his single sword while her shorter sword in her left lashed out around towards his side hoping to cut straight through his liver.

 

---1---

_________________

[Delta73]

When Teyati made no move to summon her captains, Ca'Aran inclined his head, she had the right to refuse a second. Then there would be no reprieve for the knightsister. No doubt this battle would not require it, both were extremely tested and true with blade and wit. It would be a standstill, but eventually one of them would slip up, and with a spray of cruor, one would fall lifeless to the barren field of battle.

 

The first several minutes of a gruesome affray usually consisted of probing the other's defences. Slash, parry, pierce, block, slash again, repel blow, then strike. The duellists wheeled around in a deadly arc, swords clanging and shrieking as they came together in fierce combat. Niether drew first blood for a minute. Ca'Aran fell into the long practised ritual of the sword fight. But there was something off. Her moves were of the normal speed, yet his seemed a hair of a fraction slower. Yet he knew it was unnatural, he had fought for years with the sword, he was a commando of the Crusade of Outremer! He had fought beside Bailen Jarrdunn and his bannermen, he had earned his valour beside the fighting knights, he was better than this knightsister. He had to be, or there would be no saving him.

 

He cursed silently as she yet again bested him, and for a moment his brain was fouled with drowsyness. Yet he had been rested by the fire. Clone were conditioned to spend days without sleep yet now here he was sleepy within only hours of his rest. Her sword jumped towards him with practised efficiency and he was almost too late to block it aside. When he batted the blade downwards the knightsister came up with her sharp knife across his side. A shriek of scratching metal awoke his ears to the coming pain. The knife left a white score in the brushed metal and the fine blade caught in the strap combining the two half plates. Red blood sprayed in a flume from the wound and Ca'Aran was awakened by the pain deep in his side.

 

Magic!

 

With his gauntleted hand, he shoved her away from him and retreated towards his captains. "Magic! Men to arms, the bitch had betrayed us! To arms! Wrath and fury beset upon you!"

With a roar of fury his knights came to his rescue, bolts and flechettes came flying into the ring from his knights. And Ser Knight Simone came forth with her war axe to smote the knightsister. There was a flurry of shouts as the knights formed a circle around their wounded leader. Ser knight David put his silver horn to his lips, and the war horn sounded deep in the hills of Dathomir. The buzzing of the ARCS could be heard from a kilometer away. Honour had been wasted by the bitch-queen, and there would befall the end of her reign.

[Qaela]

To Qaela's horror and disgust, it wasn't her mother who violated the duel, but her beloved. He took one wound and, instead of springing an ambush, he tried to lay the blame on another. She didn't mind as it was something that she would have probably done herself, but a part of her had liked that Ca'Aran was different and had that quaint sense of honor.

 

Now, as both sides rushed into battle, her heart was oddly heavy. She had no love for her mother, but the other Nightsisters were part of her Clan. She had no ill wishes toward them as they had not wronged her or hers.

 

The sky began to darken as angry clouds formed overhead and ominous rumblings resounded throughout the forest as giants began to prepare for their onslaught. Qaela knew what that meant and felt that Ca'Aran had once again underestimated her kin. Things were about to get very nasty and a lot of blood was going to be spilled in a very short while. Chief among that blood could very well be a large quantity of Ca'Aran's. He was in the center of the clearing, barely protected and very open to attacks. Even if he was surrounded by a few of his knights, they wouldn't be able to fight for long in the open.

 

This needed to end before it started. There was no point in slaughtering each other to the last because, ultimately, they were on the same side. Her mother needed to be removed from the equation and once she was, Qaela's plans could come to fruition.

 

"ENOUGH!" she screamed with the Force behind her words. "This is between Teyati and me, as it always should be. Stand out of our way and let us finish this!"

[Delta73]

“Son of a Bitch!” Screamed Ca’aran as Ser Knight Lieutenant Daniee Halispont pressed the emergency plasma torch against the bleeding wound in Ca’Aran’s side. He gritted his teeth, and bit back another cry of pain as he stood. He bannermen and their knights had formed a protective circle around their wounded commander, but they were hard pressed to keep it. The outer circle would soon be overwhelmed as they were fighting sword to sword and pike to pike with the Witch’s thralls. The knights were felling many enemies, yet they were heavily outnumbered. The inner circle was doing far better, armed with long ranged projector weapons, their fury broke upon the thralls with a vicious tenacity. Blaster bolts ripped through the armourless foes, and felled many within the first seconds of the conflict.

 

Ser Knight David Jiansenburg continued to blow upon his horn until he too was slain by a giant’s bludgeon. Ca’Aran bit back a curse and retrieved his rifle from Daniee, who he had entrusted it to. He brought it to bear upon the great beast and let fly a round. The Disruptor’s bolt blew through the cranium of the giant, and dropped him hard to the soft grass.

 

Ser Knight Simone was nearly cloven in twain by Teyati sword stroke, and was flung back atop a pile of the dead and dying. He shriek of pain accented Qaela’s cry of ending.

 

“ENOUGH, This is between Teyati and me, as it always should be. Stand out of our way and let us finish this!"

 

Ca’Aran scowled, and nodded, if she wanted to die by her mother’s trickery, than so be it. He had nearly enough of nightsisters and their beguiling ways. It would end here today, with one dead or the other. If Qaela fell, Ca’Aran swore, his vengeance would be swift and terrible. Dathomir would burn for a thousand generations.

[Qaela]

Teyati snarled in anger when she heard her daughter challenge her. She was just as willing to commit prolicide as Qaela was to commit matricide. She sheathed her blood soaked knife and charged away from the mob around Ca'Aran toward Qaela.

 

The two ignored the fighting that was going on around them as they allowed their emotions and pent up rage to flow freely. Teyati was furious at her daughter for abandoning her missions, her obligations, and for siding with a foreign male against her own kind. Qaela was enraged at her mother's overbearingly harsh parenting, dominating spirit, and treachery in sending her sister to kill her. Neither woman cared about talking for both were beyond words. Blood would be the only way to resolve their differences.

 

Lightning crackled overhead and the thunder it released shook the trees and individuals below. The storm that the Nightsisters had brought forth as cover was now in full force, though the witches doing the conjuring were well away from the battle and out of sight. An unnatural wind picked up stones ranging from fist to head sized and began swirling them up towards the incoming fighters. Those were mainly distractions and cover for the giant boulders being hurled like missiles by rancors off at a distance. Those boulders were in turn guided by spells at anything that flew against them.

 

The two met with a clash of sword and cortosis staff.

 

* * * * *

 

Qaela was first to break off the attack. Her staff was designed to work against energy weapons, not against raw metal, especially metal that had been empowered by the Force. The generally brittle cortosis was already beginning to show signs of cracking, so she had to change the nature of the battle or risk losing her weapon altogether. Changing into a battle of spells was not going to be difficult--she had plenty of pent up rage to draw upon and fuel her use of the Force.

 

She held her staff in one hand and made a fist with the other. For a brief moment, Teyati was grabbed up and pulled a meter off the ground in a crushing grip. After that moment, the older woman crackled maniacally as she broke the spell and glided softly to the ground. Her lips were peeled back exposing her still sharp teeth as she summoned her own energy to pull up the ground around them and hurl it at her daughter. Qaela tried to deflect the missiles, but she failed to get it all and was battered mercilessly by the hard, sharp stones and biting dirt. Her robes offered little protection against such weapons and began to shred along with her skin.

 

Qaela cried out in pain and fury as she used it to command the Force to serve her will by giving her more power to bring up a telekinetic shield. Teyati saw that her attack had run its course and ended her spell. She didn't waste any time, but charged at her daughter with her sword at the ready. Energized by the pain and the Force itself, Qaela leaped over her mother's charge and slammed her foot into the back of Teyati's head as she flew over her. The older woman didn't pause, but ignored the pain and whirled around with her sword. The steel weapon caught only air and cloth, not bone and flesh.

 

Qaela stopped several meters from Teyati and looked over her shoulder at her hated sire. Rage continued to consume here and she didn't hold herself back. It was good, it would make her stronger here and now. The future damage it would do to her didn't matter, surviving this contest did.

 

* * * * *

 

Teyati sensed the growing rage within her daughter and shook her head. The youngling had not learned anything and had completely given herself over to the blasphemous Sith ways. To lose control over one's emotions was to lose control over everything. She had tried to teach her daughter to remain level headed, but that had not enabled her to withstand the corrupting influence of the Sith. Even if it gave her temporary power, it would only lead her to self destruction. Such a shame for someone with such great potential to waste it in this manner.

 

The older Nightsister drew from her repertoire of spells and renewed the assault. Pure, black despair surrounded her as she moved in to engage with her sword once more. Qaela blocked the attacks with her staff, but it would not last for long. Teyati noticed with some alarm that her daughter's eyes were now a sickly shade of yellow and that the skin around them was beginning to show blood blisters like that that afflicted their kind in the old days. She was losing all control of herself and it was disappointing to see.

 

* * * * *

 

Qaela could feel the negative emotions flowing from her mother as they fought, but she ignored them. There was no room for feelings of hopelessness when all one felt was the pure, unabashed malice and rage that she was feeling. It took in the effects of her mother's spells and burned them like a moth in a candle. Nothing else mattered but death and destruction and the crushing of her foe. Her mother, the barbaric bitch, would die here and now and by her hands.

 

Even as pieces of her staff began to shatter and fall apart, she kept fighting with her mother. Reason had left her, only the bloodlust remained, and it gave her great power. When her mother's sword finally slashed her cortosis staff in two, Qaela's response was to lash out with a telekinetic blow that sent her mother staggering back several steps. Blood began to dribble out of the sides of Qaela's eyes like tears as she left everything behind to embrace her hatred in a way that she had dreamed of during the previous times she gave into the rage. The years of pent up frustration and anger over the countless beatings and cruel training came to the forefront. Hatred of the overbearing hag of a woman whose only claim to her life was that she shared half of her DNA with her bubbled up in vibrant red and clashing yellow emotions that could no longer be contained. Unadulterated malice lashed out at her mother in an attack that was almost physical.

 

* * * * *

 

Teyati had no idea that her daughter had hated her so much. Yes, there was a level of hatred that was to be expected, even desired, but nothing like what she felt now. Something, someone had done great harm to Qaela, far more than what she had done. She might be the core of it, but there was now rage that she had not seen before lashing into her very soul. It stuck her like a thunderclap and left her stunned in its passing. With eyes narrowed, she re-evaluated the situation and realized that for the first time, she was not sure that she could win this fight. Her daughter had grown powerful, far more than she had been when she was last on this planet. That could mean many things, but most likely was that she had succeeded in co-mingling with a Sith of great power whose bloodline was not diluted by centuries of inbreeding. As powerful as Teyati may be, against such raw hatred and power, she was staggered and nearly overwhelmed.

 

But she was not a young weakling, nor was she prone to giving into her emotions. With an almost inhuman growl of effort and determination, Teyati formed a shield of her own around herself to ward off the incoming malice. She was not going to give into an emotional firestorm like her daughter. Emotions were weapons to be inflicted upon others, not to control the warrior herself.

 

There were things that her daughter still had not learned and had yet to master. She cast aside her sword and made both of her hands into claws. Energy once again crackled and arced between not just her fingers but also her hands. Lightning was powerful and dangerous, but it was just natural energy until put into the hands of a skillful caster who was using the darkness. When blended with the unrestrained darkness, it became something else, something that could eat away at someone's very soul. While she had inflicted almost every form of injury and pain she could think of upon her daughter, Teyati had never even considered using this spell upon her. The corruption and damage it did wasn't just to the body, but to the person's being. She had not wanted to kill her daughter in this manner as it was a pitiful, wretched death rather than a quick one as any warrior deserved.

 

* * * * *

 

Qaela dropped the useless remnants of her staff and devoted herself to a new attack, one that would crush her mother like a flimsi sack. Before she could do that, her mother began forming another lightning spell. She smiled through cracked, bloodied lips at the sight of it. She would absorb the energy just as before and let it fuel her crushing grip. Her mother would implode in a mist of blood and bone splinters and then she would laugh.

 

With a look that was almost sad, Teyati pushed her clawed hands forward and vibrant blue energy hurled toward her. When the lightning slammed into her, Qaela did not budge. She gritted her teeth and glared at her mother with her molten yellow eyes as she absorbed the energy straight into her body. She would not allow her mother to escape, for she was now doomed. The spell that would end her mother's life was within reach, just as soon as Teyati realized how futile her attack was and paused to prepare a new one.

 

 

* * * * *

 

Teyati continued her attack, but with no joy in it. There was no hope for her daughter and it was sad to see her own creation fall as she did. She would put Qaela out of her misery then finish off the whelp of a male that had so easily given in. Then, she and her sisters would slaughter whomever resisted. Those who gave in would be folded into their army and, if their numbers were sufficient enough, they would continue their attack on the encroaching village. If not, they would fall back and bide their time while gaining strength.

 

To her astonishment, her daughter wasn't laid flat by her attack. Instead, it seemed that she was absorbing the lightning itself. She had known of such spells, but had no idea that Qaela knew them or could summon it so quickly. It seemed that her daughter might prove to be even more dangerous than she had previously feared. This was good in that she was not the hopeless, indecisive weakling that she had always feared her daughter would be. It was bad because she might just kill her.

 

She began preparing a new spell that she didn't think her daughter would be able to handle. Qaela might have survived her earlier attempt to bring about an ambiance of despair, but the young woman had other weaknesses. As her mother, she had long known them. Despite her outer shell, Qaela longed for one thing and most feared another. She yearned for acceptance, for approval, and yes, even for love. It was a weakness that Teyati had tried to break her of, but she had never been completely acceptable. The thing she feared most was to be alone, unwanted, and useless. Teyati could mold that into a potent weapon that would shatter whatever rage the girl was harnessing.

 

When she was ready, she stopped her lightning spell. With one last look at her bloodied and maniacal daughter, she lifted her hands to—

 

* * * * *

 

Qaela could only stare in shock as her mother's head exploded from a stray blaster bolt that came from the ambient battle around them. For several seconds, she just stood there in shock while her mother's lifeless body tumbled unceremoniously to the ground. It made no sense. It was, so. . . random. It wasn't supposed to happen like this. SHE was supposed to kill her mother. If not her, then it had to be her beloved Ca'Aran. Nobody else, nothing else would suffice.

 

She blinked several times, but her vision was clouded by the blood that was leaking from beneath her eyelids. It didn't bother her because nothing registered. The world stopped and was still.

 

All was vain.

 

Then, like a bubble, the silence burst and all came apart. The rage that had been supporting her became too much to contain any longer. She had drawn upon it to fight her mother, now it demanded release that had been robbed from her by her mother's pointless death. Vengeance was unfulfilled.

 

Qaela's eyes were not her own as she scanned the battlefield. She didn't know where the shot that had killed her mother came from and she didn't care. The rage demanded blood, and she would get it one way or another. She didn't need weapons as she struck out with the Force at whatever targets she could find. It didn't matter if they were clad in the sleek, modern armor that bore Ca'Aran's standard or in the hides and furs of her native planet, they were all her enemies now and she would cast them down in ruin. The rage had become more, it had become bloodlust that would not be sated until she swam in blood. It didn't matter if she reached out and crushed her target's head or simply tore them apart with the Force, all she wanted was blood.

 

Pure Force aided Destruction lashed out around her as she slowly walked towards the greatest concentration of targets nearby: the cluster of knights and thralls surrounding Ca'Aran.

[Delta73]

The fighter cover began taking hits from the magic rocks, it was a shocker for sure. But the kinetic shields held, “This is Lannister flight, we are taking heavy fire, withdrawing from range for the moment, will come in blazing when the battle is full force. Good luck commander.” Delta acknowledged the communication and directed the knights surrounding him to fire upon the rapidly approaching Rancors. He laid down suppressive fire upon the wave of thralls. Striking a young male in the eye with a heavy blaster round, splitting his skull in half, and splattering the nightsister behind him with brains and blood. His heart jumped within his chest as he watched mother and daughter clash in reckless abandon, blade to staff, a passionate yet unnecessary war. An uncaring mother, and a hating daughter. Sad to the extremes, a sacred relationship shattered by ancient and barbaric traditions, the relationship would end in death and despair.

 

Qaela jumped back with a snarl of savage rage, curling her delicate hand into a fist, the sign of struggle. Her wicked mother was lifted from the ground by the invisible hand of the force, but the woman was far too strong. The spell broke with a wretched crack, and the earth trembled with their vehemence. Qaela’s mother lifter hands, almost peacefully, and stones flew like a flock of angry vermin from the ground. The woman laughed as Qaela struggled. Ca’Aran cursed softly as he tore his gaze from them, for the front lines had been overwhelmed. The thralls had torn by the outer ring of knights, like a river around rocks in a coursing stream. The outer ring still fought, but even the strongest knight could not long last being besought on all sides. Delta let his rifle drop to the dark earth and struck his sword from its scabbard. He raised the sword above his head and brought it down upon the leather helm of a thrall, crashing through skull, brain, and sinew to exit from his shattered chin. The man dropped lifeless to the ground, spilling his lifeblood to mix with countless others.

 

Ca’aran brought the sword in a fast arc, and dispatched another thrall, but his eyes glanced a terrible thing. Two of his bannermen were getting pulled to the ground by the mass of lesser warriors. A stone sword found the visor of Ser Knight Palikann, and with a spray of bright red blood, felled the brave man. A nightsister cackled at her thrall’s success, but Ca’Aran was there. With a shove of his shoulder poudron, he cleared three thralls from his path and stepped to the old woman. She looked shocked as his metaled fist found the temple of her skull. She dropped, and Ser Knight Ionwe ended her life with a bayonet. Another nightsister down…

 

But the thralls did not waiver. For they were driven by some ungodly passion for blood. Ca’Aran slashed with his sword and felled two, but he knew it would soon be too late. This would be a last stand, they would fight to the last man, but no songs would be sung for them in this horrid place.

 

Oh if I could have died on that blessed crusade, from which songs and tales are still sung. Here we will die more valiantly than any in the siege of Acres, but no songs … no glory, just the sick finality of a painful death.

 

His gaze glanced across the gruesome melee. His Captains were both gone, and the bannermen were quickly falling. Ser Knight Kalven fell as he watched, pierced through the eye by a lucky arrow. Blood flowing across the bright silver helm. The blue horse-hair crest soaked with Giant’s blood. Ser Knight Hacyckionne was firing with E-Web from the hip, the stand having long been forgotten. His hand burning upon the barrel as he fired away into the crowd. Ca'Aran swung the sword again, cleaving through the wicker shield of a lesser sister, through her arm, and into her chest. The blade caught fast to the bone, and he was face to face with the young woman. Time seemed to slow as she screamed. Or at least she looked as though she screamed, for not a sound escaped her red lips, only a red froth bubbled around her tongue and dripped from her chin. He reached forth and place his hand upon her pale face. "I am sorry my lady, for I hath not known thee ere I struck thee down. War doth destroy us both."

 

As the words escaped his mouth he could hear a cry of rage, a screech of agony from a voice that he knew well. He spun, letting the sword stay in his foe as she toppled to the blood-soaked earth.

 

"Qaela!"

 

But she could not hear him, she had been consumed by the rage within her soul.

 

No...no...not like this...

 

The thralls scattered, and his men stood paralyzed, the enemy was gone, what were the orders?

 

Ca'Aran gestured wildly, "Back to the ships Knights and men of my banners! I, and I alone can face this threat. For swords cannot fight this foe. My house has crumbled, defend its memory men of my banners. GO, GO NOW, MY LOYAL KNIGHTS! HONOUR AND GLORY"

 

HONOUR AND GLORY came the unified cry of his bannermen.

 

His men ran, leaving their swords and banners planted in the earth, to their ARCs, kilometers away.

 

Ca'Aran said a prayer and looked upon the pride of his heart. Qaela, in all her glory, shining with the power of the force, her actions controlled by the furious hate in her heart. Now it was only but him against her. He plucked his helm from his brow and let the helmet fall to his feet. He spoke the words by which he had learned during the crusades of Outremer.

 

Lord take me thine kingdom...

 

He looked her in the eyes.

 

Blessed are thee, who forgives the downfallen...

 

He let his eyes drift closed, as he prayed, alone against the raging storm.

 

"I love you..."

 

The words were only a whisper.

[Qaela]

She knew nothing but death and destruction. Any living thing that got in her way was destroyed through her power in the Force. Pieces of bodies were left in her wake and she was covered in crimson from their blood. She didn't feel anything, either physically or emotionally, except a desire to destroy and kill.

 

The rage had her.

 

Faced with the loss of their leader, the stalwart defense from their armored foes, and her onslaught, the remaining Nightsister forces fled back into the forest. They were followed by the knights who fled at the order of their lord. She chased a few retreating individuals down and slew them, but that wasn't enough. The rest got away and she was left looking for something more to kill.

 

Her blood rimmed eyes scanned the ruin and destruction of the battlefield searching for any who might remain standing for her to slay. Her merciless eyes fell upon a solitary figure standing in the middle of the carnage around two hundred meters away. Her lips peeled back in a predatory smile as she saw that he was looking straight at her and not fleeing like the rest.

 

She didn't know who was foolish enough to stand against her in all her fury, but they would fall like the others. Her vengeance against life would be sated one way or another, and this poor sap seemed to be asking for death. She would oblige him in that request.

 

He didn't seem to be resisting, but that didn't matter. She began running toward him. As she did, she reached out in the Force and grabbed for his heart. Within her mental grasp, it would explode and one last body would be added to her list of kills today.

 

((Killshot requested on Delta))

[Delta73]

Please stop, God, make her stop. Please help her calm down!

 

But God in his splendor was not listening to the cries of his broken heart. She still advanced, unhindered by his whispered pleas of love. His heart rate quickened as she continued unabated, until she was at a run, her black cloak streaming behind her like great dark wings. All he could see were her eyes, the eyes of crazed fury. Yellow and orange, a sickly colour, her once beautiful face covered with blisters and blotches. Then he realized, she had lost complete control, there was no going back. His weapons were far away, and he resigned himself to what would no doubt be coming his way. Cold steel blue eyes locked with sickly yellow eyes as her hand stretched forth and the force gathered like a storm.

 

Tears filled his blue eyes as the force moved within his body. With a wrench of the force, his blood pressure spiked and stars shot through his vision. When the stars cleared, he was someplace very different. The air did not smell of pine and blood, it smelled of oceans, deserts, and death.

 

“Commander! Get the I am Groot down!”

 

An explosion shook the bunker on the outer defenses of Acres. A hand clad in pearl white armour pushed him to his knees, as shrapnel echoed through the view port. Kailen brought her hand up, and a bubble of force energy deflected the fire and concussive blast that followed the separatist’s munitions. She shook her head and brushed back the lock of red hair that fell from her white helmet to cover those emerald green eyes. Her usually clean freckled face was covered with ozone and carbon dust, courtesy of a month long siege.

 

• The second siege of Acres, the planet Outremer, day 247 of the Clone Wars.

 

Or such was his memory of the days of his brief youth.

 

Delta hauled himself to his feet beside his Jedi general, and looked out the view port. The Separatist guns were hidden behind a low stone ridge, in skirmishing distance if they had the men left to conduct such a daring operation. It would be very costly, but it would buy the city a few much needed days of reprieve. But it was just the thing the Jedi Generals would want. Every single blasted jedi he had ever met save Kailen had a profound disrespect for the lives of their clone troopers. Expendable troops indeed, for they had no families to receive expensive pensions no doubt. And no mother to write to about a son’s noble fall. Just pod brothers, or the few that survived the endless conflict named after them.

 

But what about Qaela?

 

Who?

 

The world faded for a split second, and Ca’Aran glimpsed again the foul ground of Dathomir. Covered in the blood of his men. It was strange. He could not move, but he could feel the slow flow of blood running down his face from behind his clenched teeth. His eyes looked up. He was on his back, his legs crumpled beneath him, his crimson cloak spread like a blanket beneath him. Soaking through with bright crimson blood seeping from his mouth and ears. He couldn’t move. After the initial spike of blood pressure, it plummeted as the blood in his body settled in his thoracic cavity and other sections. His sternum had split from the force of the blast, shredding his lungs and pouring the blood in his thoracic cavity into his airway. To spill from his mouth.

 

She doesn't love you. She just killed you my love.

 

Kailen? What?

 

Do you not feel it? The force’s call? The trumpet upon the wind? The battle cries of your fallen brothers screaming for revenge? You swore me an oath once Ca’Aran…

 

You are dead. I killed you like she has killed me. God, the things we do to those we love.

 

Ca’Aran struggled to breathe, to cough a word. “Qae-la, I….I…” A cough splashed blood from his gritted teeth.

 

Be silent. Spend your last strength upon prayer, you have a lot to atone for.

 

“L-l-l-ove….you”

 

Another cough, and spray of blood. His strength was waning fast.

 

Silence my love, they await you in Acres.

 

His thoughts turned to prayer as the oxygen supplying the brain began exhaust. Death was knocking. For it was at the doorstep.

 

((Killshot Conceded))

[Qaela]

The woman's mouth twisted into a vicious sneer when her target collapsed with blood pouring out of his mouth. Another victim down, another bit of wrath realized. Her head began to turn to look for any other living being that she could slay when it hit her.

 

Something was wrong.

 

Something snapped from within her, something she knew was out of place. A new sensation pierced her cloak of rage, hatred, and wrath and she didn't know what it was. This new emotion was powerful and painful. She didn't like it. It was regret, but her animal mind didn't know why she would feel such a thing. All that existed was destruction.

 

She tried to bury this new emotion in the ever seething sea of her pain and fury, but it refused to go away. It was weakening her, taking away from the purity of her violence. All evil things come to an end, and somewhere in her mind, she knew that the delicious rage was fading and with it, her strength. She stumbled toward her last kill as her strength faded. She didn't make it before a familiar blackness overtook her and she collapsed onto the blood soaked ground amidst the bodies.

 

* * * * *

 

When Qaela woke up, the sun was high overhead. Her last memories were of fighting her mother in the morning with the din of battle all around. She blinked in confusion as she tried to figure out what happened. Her mind felt like it was in a fog.

 

Battle, where was the battle?

 

Fear sent adrenaline spiking through her body, but it was a weak high. She was exhausted and weak, but didn't know why. The battle had not lasted long enough for her to have been exhausted. She tried to get up and collapsed in pain as her body protested the movement. Her eyes closed involuntarily from the pain. She felt as though she had been beaten repeatedly for hours. Every joint in her body ached and her skin was sensitive to touch. She had been struck down, perhaps, and left for dead. That would explain why the battle was over, but it didn't explain why she remained.

 

There was no way that Ca'Aran would leave her here, dead or not. Qaela's eyes snapped open once more. If she was still here, then that meant one thing, and that thing was too horrible to consider. She had to get up so she could find out more.

 

Ignoring the pain, she rolled over and lifted herself up with an arm. The sensations that were coming from every muscle in her back, shoulder, and arm caused her vision to blur and stars to explode in her head, but she willed herself to keep going. She got to her knees and started standing up, but as soon as she did, she grew dizzy and collapsed again. She tried once more with the same results before resigning herself to crawling.

 

As soon as the pulsing pain resided into a painful throbbing, she looked around at dismay at her surroundings. Blood and bodies were everywhere. She herself was covered almost head to toe in dried blood, as was the ground beneath her hands and knees. The battle must have gone ill for Ca'Aran's knights for them to have fled leaving the bodies of their dead. She vividly remembered how they carried the bodies of those that had been slain yesterday for a pyre. If they had lost, then why didn't the Nightsisters spoil the bodies? There were weapons and armor aplenty that would be extremely valuable to the Nightsisters, yet it didn't look like they had looted anything.

 

Ca'Aran!

 

The shock of her surroundings faded and were replaced by that one name. She had to find him, no matter where he was. She dearly hoped that he had managed to get away and was rallying his men for another push. She looked around for his armor, but didn't see any signs of it. Comforted slightly by that fact, she tried to draw the Force to strengthen herself. Try as she might, she wasn't able to get nearly the power that she was accustomed to. She had been drained of her energy too much for even the Force to restore her.

 

She crawled over to the nearest knight's body and searched for the belt that would contain the basic first aid pack. When she finally found it, she fumbled at its clasp with her blood soaked fingers. It took a minute, but she located the stimulant and pressed the injector to her neck. The chemical coursed through her body reviving some of her strength and taking the edge off of the pain, but it wouldn't last long.

 

Cursing at the pain, she got up onto her unsteady feet and looked around again from the better vantage point. Nobody living was in sight, just bodies. She had been in battles like this before, but there was something profoundly wrong here and it wasn't just the amount of death. Dread built up in her heart as her eyes fell upon a particular pile of flesh and armor.

 

Her raspy breath left her as she recognized the blood soaked armor. "No," she whispered as she stumbled toward it. Her heart was now racing and the pain was growing more bearable now that she had something far more pressing to consider. Each meter was a chore and she stumbled on a body more than once, but she did manage to make it to the body that had been drawing her attention.

 

When Qaela got to the body and saw the face that belonged to it, the world came to a stop. "Ca'Aran," she said softly, then it hit her. Seeing his body like that brought back other memories, memories she didn't want to bear. Memories of her fight with her mother and what happened thereafter. Memories of the horrible slaughter she began and of everyone on both sides fleeing in its wake. Everyone except the one man in this Galaxy she actually cared about.

 

Tears formed in her eyes as she fell to her knees beside his body. She was breathing hard and her hands were shaking as more memories flooded into her awareness. She saw now how she had reached out with the Force and killed him without hesitation or remorse. The horror that swept over her was just the first torment she experienced. Remorse, something she rarely felt, followed the horror. She turned her head and wretched dry heaves. Her stomach had already been empty before she woke, but that didn't stop the reflex or the pain that came with it.

 

Remorse was followed by denial. She didn't kill her beloved. That had to be someone else, she tried to tell herself. She could never hurt him. Something had killed him and given her the memories just to torment her. That must be it. It couldn't be her. She wouldn't do that.

 

The remorse wouldn't let her off that easily. The denial slowly faded away as reality set in. Qaela was forced to admit to herself that it was indeed her that had killed him. That realization caused her to panic. She began to hyperventilate through her sobs. She tried to calm herself, but she couldn't.

 

Next came the anger. She was angry at herself for what she had done. Her fists pounded the round until some of the blood that was on them was her own. She screamed in anguish until her voice was but a whisper. She welcomed the pain now because she deserved it. She had gotten out of control and it had cost her the one person in her life who actually trusted her.

 

Finally, after the anger subsided, the weakness came. She was spent, her body was too damaged to continue on. The anguish in both her physical body and her soul overcame her. Once again, she slid into blackness and knew no more.

 

* * * * * * *

It was some time before light once again imposed itself upon her eyes. Qaela woke for just a few moments before fading back into the darkness. This repeated itself several times, though each time was a little longer than the last. Hazy figures sometimes stood over her during those moments, but often times she was alone. At last, after many days, she woke and remained so for more than seconds.

 

Despite the obvious wounds on her body having been tended to, the pain was excruciating still. Qaela bore it without complaint. She deserved it. She welcomed it.

 

Her eyes, now an odd mixture of purple and brown as the dye she normally ingested filtered out of her system, looked around at her environment. She was in a tent made of rancor hides and wuffa rope. She was on a sleeping mat with furs piled on top of her. She didn't know exactly where she was, but she knew enough to know it was with one of the natives of Dathomir and not a camp of Black Sun agents. Her heart sank as the thought of Black Sun brought up memories of Ca'Aran and what she had done to him.

 

When that latest bout of pain passed, she looked around more. Various healing totems had been placed around her, but she didn't think they could heal her pains. She wasn't restrained, so that either meant that whoever held her considered her an ally or thought her no threat. She didn't know which, so she remained motionless trying to gather her strength.

 

In time, a young woman dressed in the typical black hides and furs of a Nightsister entered. When she saw that Qaela was awake, she ran back out. Qaela sat up and realized for the first time that her soiled robes had been removed and she was naked beneath the furs. She couldn't find any weapons to defend herself and didn't think she had the strength to beat even a male child.

 

Two more older Nightsisters returned and looked at her without saying anything. Qaela could feel their spells attempting to glean information from her so she stared back defiantly. She might be weaponless and extremely weak, but if these were going to kill her, she would die without cowering.

 

"Qaela," one of them spoke at last, "we have been waiting for you to waken."

 

"Why?" Qaela tried to reply, but her voice was barely more than a whisper.

 

It didn't matter, they could gather what she asked. "We found you near to death on the battleground," the second woman said. "It took a great deal of effort, but we were able to heal your body."

 

The first woman said, "Your soul, on the other hand, is beyond our capacity to repair. Had you not displayed such raw power, we would think you damaged and weak for the pain you carry. The Sisters debated over your fate, but in the end, they decided that your strength was superior to our own and that we were not going to kill you."

 

Qaela felt numb, despite knowing she should feel indignant. She said nothing, but just remained there staring at the other two.

 

"We are aware of Teyati's plan for you and can see that you have completed it," the second woman said. "Even without spells to confirm it, we can tell you have successfully merged your power with that of the Sith and are stronger than we. Your display back at the battle was, while misguided and uncontrolled, a startling example of just how powerful you have become. Teyati is dead, slain in battle with you. As her eldest gifted daughter, you are fit to inherit her authority and belongings."

 

Qaela simply nodded. "Leave," she whispered.

 

"Food and water will be brought," said the second woman as they left. Qaela didn't care, she just collapsed back down onto the bedroll and closed her eyes. The hole in her heart hurt more than her body did and she knew no way to make it better.