The room was dark, lit only through a series of small light panels high upon the pillars framing the room. At the chamber's center, one could see a massive holographic terminal, upon which observers could see a robed and hooded individual. His face was not readily visible, but one could see that there was a face. The hologram depicted no clear colors, but it could be presumed that his robes were dark and his skin held some sort of color. Before the hologram, a similarly robed but clearly feminine figure could be seen kneeling, head bowed.

“Darth Nyiss.” he said with a deep, gravelly voice.

“In two standard weeks, you and all ships you have available will be put at the disposal of Darth Malgus and Darth Angral.” He clearly brooked no question, which was fair evidence of just how confident he was, considering the fact of whom he was speaking to. “Our combined fleet will strike Coruscant. We will wreak destruction upon them as they once did upon us. The Jedi Temple itself shall fall and the Republic shall soon follow. The Empire will be ascendant. . . At last, revenge will be ours.” Just a hint of sinister eagerness could be heard across the hologram as the man spoke of revenge.

Though Darth Nyiss displayed no reaction to the man on the other side of the hologram, she felt anticipation and a vicious eagerness. A victorious end to this war was truly an excellent thing for all the peoples of the Empire.

“Your many agents in the heart of the Republic will pave the way. Aid your fellows in this grand endeavour, but do not allow a single shred of information to slip through your fingers. You will answer to the Emperor personally if you fail.”

“My Lord.” Darth Nyiss spoke, her voice a rich soprano. Her head remained bowed, her eyes still to the floor, but it was obvious from her tone that she wanted to request something.

“What is it?” The hologram replied neutrally.

“If it pleases the Emperor, this is a most excellent oppurtunity for me to continue my plan. If I may be permitted to capture a number of Jedi alive before the Temple is destroyed, it would accelerate my experiments considerably.” The Darth spoke with just the right amount of deference to her superior, hating every syllable for it. For a moment, the man did not respond. When he did, Darth Nyiss’ heart almost skipped a beat.

“Very well. Accommodations will be made for your endeavour.”

With that, the hologram flickered off and Darth Nyiss rose, her long robes settling about her graceful form. She resisted the desire to celebrate openly, instead allowing a the edges of her mouth to slowly curl into sinister smile.



One moment, the skies above Coruscant were mostly empty. A few ships moving in to take off, others moving to land. To the majority of its countless citizens, nothing unusual was happening. The violent altercations within the Jedi Temple not yet apparent even to most of those with clear view.

The next moment, scores of imperial Terminus-class destroyers and more than a dozen Harrower-class dreadnoughts jumped out of hyperspace. From each ship, countless fighters and bombers emerged, much like Killiks from emerge from their hives when threatened. Within minutes, every single holonet satellite in orbit above Coruscant had been destroyed, even as the ships dropped down towards the planet's surface, starting their bombardment.

What few ships were in orbit were quickly decimated, even as they watched in shock at the Coruscanti defense grid not doing anything.



Jedi Knight Na'vena Akkani lay with her back against one of the pillars of the grand entry hall of the Jedi temple, her lightsaber lying inactive on the floor less than a meter from her hand. Even if it had been in reach, it would have been pointless. Right beside the lightsaber lay her left lekku, severed by a Sith lightsaber. She could already feel her life slipping away, all due to the gaping hole in her abdomen, a gift from another Sith warrior.

Not even the mercy of a clean death did they offer her. She could only watch as the Sith defeated the last of her fellow Temple Guards. They had fought hard, but they simply had not been strong enough. She had still been up and fighting when she saw the Sith leader, the dreaded Darth Malgus, cut Master Zallow down. Had she been his padawan, she would no doubt have given in to the rage always so close, but she was not, so she managed, barely, to resist.

In the end it had all been futile though. She thought they had killed a score or so Sith, but it wasn’t easy to tell from where she lay. That was the final pleasure she could take from it all, that they had not fought poorly. Through the gaping hole in the outer wall, she could hear, and vaguely see, the destruction being wreaked upon her home. It made her sad, but she could not accurately show it. Her head hurt too much, the cauterized end where her lekku had been attached leaving her in constant agony.

It was at that point she saw three imperial shuttles landing before the temple, their profiles unmistakeable. A minute later, she could see a column of imperial troopers marching in, their black armor so polished that it would almost have fit into the temple before the destruction, except for the foul Sith symbols staining their otherwise pristine surfaces. Then there were the Sith moving alongside the column. She vaguely recognized some Red Sith, a few humans and several other species among them. The very air surrounding them oozed with the filthiness of the Dark Side. At least one of those held massive power at his or her disposal. On some deep level, she was thankful she did not have to fight that particular Sith.

Na’Vena started wondering what the Sith were planning to do. Just out of the corner of her eye, she saw a padawan trying to sneak up. She wanted to scream at the padawan, but knew she could not, as that would only warn the Sith. When she tried to lift her arm to signal the padawan to flee, she found herself unable to do so. Then she looked more closely at the troopers who all just entered. It hadn’t made sense to send troops in if they wanted to destroy the temple. It was then she spotted the stun weaponry they had in addition to their blaster rifles. Blood fled her face upon realizing that the Sith were taking the padawans captive. Her mind still fuzzy, she didn’t know for sure what was worse… Their defeat or the fact that the padawans would almost certainly be turned to the Dark Side, turned into Sith. After a few moments, she decided it was most certainly the latter. She hated herself for not dying like the others yet being unable to fight more.

---

Darth Nyiss stepped lightly off the shuttle, leading a procession of Sith, some loyal to her, some following her to leach off her influence, others still eager to learn her secrets in the name of personal power. Before her, the Jedi Temple was in the process of being ransacked by Darth Malgus’ hand picked Sith warriors. Her lightsaber was in hand, though unignited. This entire assault had been largely unnecessary, they could have simply blasted the Temple from low orbit, but merely destroying it was not the point. They were here, now, to show the Jedi just how completely they had failed. Not only would the Temple be destroyed, but Jedi morale would be crushed. The Republic would lose faith in them. Darth Nyiss understood this, but for her, this assault had different meaning. To Darth Nyiss, this was an opportunity. She would capture a great many young, vulnerable Jedi here, some of whom may prove suitable to fuel her experiments. The rest would be turned to the Dark Side, a final insult added to the grievous injury suffered by the Jedi order.

She took a breath of smoke filled air, her lungs burning with the results of the assault on the Temple. The fear from inside was palpable as she entered her enemies most sacred stronghold, daintily stepping around a dying Twi-lek. As she entered, her followers would split off and search the temple for young, malleable Jedi. She had a specific target in mind to visit first.

As she began to make her way towards Tolun Fi’s lab, a Jedi Padawan, she could tell by the braid, stepped around the corner, Lightsaber in hand. Darth Nyiss calmly raised her free hand and airily motioned towards the Padawan, blasting them back into a wall with the Force. The Padawan's Lightsaber dropped to the ground then, jarred from their grip by the force of the impact. The Darth walked leisurely towards the helpless Jedi, pinning it in place with the Force, savoring the fear as went. When she reached the Jedi, she raised her free hand once more, lightly touching the Jedi’s cheek, channeling fear through the Force as she did so. It only took a moment for the Jedi to become paralysed with fear. Disappointing. She thought. How easily they break.

She moved on then, letting her troopers drug and carry the Padawan back to the ship. Tolun’s lab awaited, and with luck she would find the Kaminoan scientist before anyone else did anything unfortunate to him.



Though it was far from empty, the ship felt much emptier. Lea moved around in the prison complex, fidgeting a little. She was stuck there, with guards below all the turbolifts. Through the Force, she could feel that something was happening on the planet below, but it was hard to say exactly what, or for that matter where she was. The only thankful thing right now was the complete lack of torture.

Ever since her capture those eight standard weeks earlier, she had experienced torture. Sometimes at the hands of Imperial Intelligence, asking her about things she didn’t know about, other times at the hands of Darth Nyiss. She no longer knew which was worst. With the agents, the pain was constant, the torture never changing much. With the Darth, the pain was worse, but at least she did not demand answers she knew Lea couldn’t provide.

The prison complex was strangely large. Earlier she’d been kept in a much smaller cell, so she wasn’t really all that familiar with this place. The entire complex consisted of five roughly hexagonal rooms. Two rooms with twelve beds and a large table and one with sanitary facilities the last two chambers was an empty room in the center and a sort of medical facility, which included an empty kolto tank. Was that meant as a joke? She wasn’t entirely sure about the purpose of this facility, but it was pretty clear the Sith intended to house many prisoners. But the strangest part of it all, the one she had not yet gotten used to, was the floor. the floor of the facility was transparent. Aside from the central chamber, the transparisteel was tinged with red, but still easy to see through. “Typical Sith...” she muttered when thinking about the choice of red transparisteel.

Below the floor was some sort of arena. Or at least she thought that was it. It was empty for now, but had all the hallmarks of one. Not the vast ones said to be on Geonosis, but not a tiny one either. Even if she could have cut through the floor, which she couldn’t, having lost her lightsaber to the Sith back when she was captured, she did not think it would be wise to jump down. Even the Force could only reduce the effects of physics so much. It would be rather sad to manage to cut through the thick floor, only to break a leg on landing below. Wouldn’t be much of an escape. Best thing would probably be to find a way to use the turbolifts to escape. Hopefully they wouldn’t have guards all the time.

In the meantime, she could only wait and wonder what would happen next.



Lyric Novan, a Jedi and master, stood overlooking the current activity below. Despite his relaxed posture, leaning against the guardrail and overseeing the progress being made, he couldn’t fully help pausing from his realistic thoughts to absorb it all. Bodies, men, women and droids alike, scattered to their assignments. Some off loading crates from arriving shuttles, others set them onto hovercarts and finally the rest pushing them onto the Thranta-Class Cruiser, obvious to the last minute system checks or engineers scrambling about to ensure any slight, last minute changes would work to maximum operation. To a Knight or Padawan, the group at work looked like scattered ants dancing across the hard metal grates.

Lyric chuckled, softly amused at the activity below him. Anyone seeing him knew, despite his thirty-nine years, he was a master. Though he wasn’t surprised how many questioned it as he pushed his lean frame farther into the railing and crossed over his right arm, a thumb scratching a thick, blaster scar nick across his right eyebrow. It was thanks to the battles he chose willing to take on, evidence to the challenges he faced, and made the reality of loss that much more real. Lyric always knew the war would end, but he never thought it would’ve ended this way.

Both troublesome information and details known to only a few settled in his head, each one made him ponder over his future course of acts and mystery about where they might lead. A fact he was taking his responsibly lightly - mainly should this mission fail completely - would’ve sent many in a sheer worry. His teeth bit a little harder into his cigarra. He liked feeling the herbs give a little under the pressure while the hot tip burned cherry red, his lungs inhaling the toxic air, shortening his life slowly. That he was sure of. The smoke wafted into his nostrils causing a overwhelming calming effect he had bitter sweet memories over. This task was going to be a challenge and he only hoped, with shadowing doubts, the Jedi chosen would be able to meet the challenges to come. His teeth sank a little deeper into the ciggara’s wrapping as his fingers pinched the center, holding the red hot tip over the railing edge where the ashes were tapped into his cupped hand underneath.

“Well, I better get the bad news out to those selected by the Council.” He mumbled to himself, feeling the slight sting in his hand fade. His padawan would be rather disappointed with his bad habits but he shrugged it off lightly. There was little point in getting upset over something not likely to last long. He pulled his ciggara back into his mouth, clamping down to hold it, while backing off the railing. He stood upright for several moments and tied up his blue and cream colored robes before turning on heel towards the nearest room. It was a temporary set for a command room. One which plans from the ship to key decisions were agreed upon in secret, hidden from curious eyes. Now, the room was abandoned during the final stages of the operation.

Lyric gently padded inside, closing the door behind him. It made a airy hiss as his path took him to the door and his arms reached out, placing his hands over the various scattered papers covering the table surface. Notes, receipts, and more were placed in messy piles but he didn’t care. They were the least of his concern. His right hand reached out then situated his cigarra into the dispenser. With steady and well practiced hands, he flipped on the hologram and stepped in front. He cleared away all human motion, the worry and frustration, once more complete stillness in his posture. Lyric placed his hands behind his back giving his image the air expected by master rank he held. Sometimes this job was turning out to be more of a pain in the ass than it was worth.

“Greetings, Knights of the Republic. It seems after many years of war, peace may soon be upon us. As welcome as the idea is, is it truly peace when our brother and sister Jedi are prisoners of the Sith? Now we have a choice, to either do something or simply let the Sith corrupt their ways. You have all heard the horrors of what happened to Jedi who were captured early on in the war. Their viciousness, their cruelty, and changes so unnatural that we were forced to often than not to put them down. They are now as bad as any Sith we fight against. Would you wish that fate upon our imprisoned brothers and sisters? Or will you spare them from that fate? Will you fight and help me save them from the Sith plans to twist them within the Darkness, they, themselves have chosen to decay in? If so, meet me at these coordinates where a ship will be waiting.”

When Lyric finished, the recording clicked off leaving him to slouch once more into less stiff manner. Slowly he padded to the table and once more, his hand picked up the cigarra which he placed in his mouth. He paused, his expression realizing immediately what was wrong. Giving a small sigh, he plucked the smoke from his lips then tossed it away into the incinerator hole. “Damn pranksters, can’t they come up with anything more original than placing worshyr sap in the ashtray? I’ll just have to show them how it’s done, won’t I? ”

Mumbling to himself, he walked back to see the ship progress while he waited for the Jedi to arrive.



After all the Jedi had arrived, many boarded silently. Lyric stood, quiet and somber, watching each individual trek up the ramp and into the large ship. His new cigarra was wafting with each deep inhale making him look much more grime than he felt while he waited until the Jedi disappeared onboard. Far fewer than expected had answered his call, that much he was disappointed in, though he couldn’t say he was surprised. Most their number were possibly falling back and retreating from behind the new enemy lines if the information he got was true. It also meant when that treaty was officially signed then there was bound to be serious casualties shortly enough. All Jedi. His teeth bite down deeper on his cigarra before he stepped on board, his boots softly tapping the grated ramp while it pulled up after him, the doors rushing to close behind him and officially sealing them all in. All the Jedi has been well informed about the matter regarding the Treaty negotiations, including the fact that shortly they had would have no aid should they fail.

It was a risk he made sure each of them fully understood and was willing to lay down their lives for.

He, secretly, was thankful for the hidden intel. The very information that reported spotting the same Gage class transport, a prison ship, belonging to a Darth Nyiss, heading to Coruscant some time before the Empire had seized the planet and obviated the temple. Lyric knew deep in his senses it was no chance occurrence that this particular Darth would’ve been sighted there or despite the lacking proof of missing Jedi, she hadn’t taken more prisoners on top of what she already had. She was cruel, heartless and everything the Sith idolized in their filth code. Sharply inhaling at the thought, the master made his way to the bridge at a steady clip. When he walked in, he watched the crew already seating themselves into their assigned places and preparing the ship for take off. The engines hummed to life and roared, the vibrations rumbling through the hull and interior walls bring the large metal behemoth to life. He nodded his praise but said nothing until the captain, a red haired man in his early forties, looked toward him for orders.

“Captain Sion Typhe, take us off Corellia and head straight to the coordinates our quarry was last seen.” Lyric commanded, his hands once more settled behind his back.

“Aye, aye, Master Novan.” The captain answered and turned to signal take off.

After waiting for months with no mission, the newly christened Memory of Coruscant gave a deafening bellow and took off for the stars at last. May the Force be with them.

Sitting crosslegged on the dias Som listened carefully to his inner thoughts, the echoes and dreams of his mind swimming inside his head. It had been at least two days since his Trials, but he'd yet to learn anything from his experiences and he still felt disconnected from his fellow Jedi, even though the Force seemed to ring through his body quite clearly. Is it really something wrong with me? He had begun to wonder, Or perhaps something wrong with them? Either way there was a darkness hanging over the Temple which he couldn't explain, something which made him want to leave.

As the door opened behind him Som felt his concentration waver. With a sigh he tilted his head to the side and simply said "Occupied," hoping whoever it was would take the hint and leave him be.

He heard the door close but now there was a presence in the room, a person moving quietly as if trying to hide themselves from him. After two days of silence however their every step, every breath and every heartbeat sounded out like a gong in the quiet chamber. Frowning Som began to wonder what the stranger wanted, a few weeks earlier he'd have guessed it was Xid playing a trick on him, but since his colleague had been promoted the two of them had had little time to spend together.

When the familiar snap hiss of a lightsaber activating filled the air Som's reflexes took over, launching him high into the air as his arm reached out summoning his dual-blade into his hand. The space he'd been in only a moment before was sliced through by a glowing blade, a glowing red blade.

So, this is what my foreboding was about, Som thought as he inspected his opponent carefully. The plain dark robes of a Sith apprentice as far as he could make out, one of low rank possibly. Som knew better than to risk finding out just how good of a fighter the assassin was, and he wondered how one of the followers of the Dark SIde he'd been warned about in training could've made it so far into the Temple without being detected.

As if to answer his question two more Sith stepped into the room, their lightsabers held unignited by their sides and manner suggesting they were to be spectators to the duel between the Padawan and their companion. Som knew then what the outcome of this battle would be and dropping to his knees he carefully placed his staff down in front of himself and bowed his head.

"I concede." He said, his voice clear and free of emotion while his mind roiled trying to understand what was happening.

She flexed her right hand's fingers. Her index and middle finger whirred ever so quietly at the movement. The purple Twi'lek observed her naked robotic fingers, she watched their every action. At least, until she was satisfied. She raised her gaze and nodded at the droid, who recognized the expression. Its eyes lit up, literally, and it continued working. In little time, it had covered the metallic surface of the Jedi's fingers with synthetic skin and Kinsakwi stood up from her seat.

"Save a record of this check-up in my personal file." She said.

"Task finished. Have a nice day." It responded in its cold voice.

Kinsakwi straightened her robes, took in a deep breath and pushed her chest out and shoulders back before relaxing. 'Better leave good first impressions on the crew.' She thought as she exited the Medical bay. She walked for a minute, greeting whichever crew member, trooper and Jedi she stumbled upon. They weren't many, though. Most were busy with the Memory's maiden voyage and therefore stationed in places where it would be foolish to cause any distraction.

Then her stomach grumbled. The hunger bothered her little, but she knew to head for the mess hall. It was, after all, improper to have your stomach growl when meeting new people.

The city shook as it was struck for above, buildings lay in ruin. Entire families killed as their very homes crashed down upon them, fires raged unchecked. Emergency services trying to best they could to save who they could, many simply trying to escape the slaughter themselves. Koren just stood, paralyzed. He was a Jedi, his duty was to serve and protect the people of the galaxy. But as fire rained down from above, he could do nothing to stop the death and destruction that it wrought. He fell to his knees, his hands open his lightsaber fell and sizzled out rolling away. He lowered his head in shame and waited for the darkness to come get him-

No, this was nothing but a memory. Koren forced the memory out of his head. He took a deep breath, eyes still closed. He was in his own room in the Jedi Temple. The sounds of explosion, foreboding. Death. They were no more than a shadow of Manaan. While he had failed he had saved lives, he had upheld the code to the highest honour. It was the Sith who were at fault, for bombarding a neutral planet. Turning it to cinders for no reason than out of pure spite. There was no honour, no justice, there was no REASON... He sighed, Taking another deep breath and forcing it out of his nose.

"There is no emotion, there is peace."

Despite that the cloud on his mind remained, he could still hear the death, he could still feel it. All around him. He sighed once again, opening his eyes as meditation was failing him. Then he saw out his window, there were lasers raining from the sky. Buildings were toppling and he could see the dropships approaching bearing the unmistakable markings of the Sith Empire. He stood up, clearing all doubt from his mind as he picked up his lightsaber. Not again, he would stand and fight to defend the temple. For in the end, there was no death.

Only the Force.

It had all happened so fast.

Twenty minutes ago, Arix Vaas had been smiling. Almost laughing, really, his straining lips trying desperately to keep clamped and prevent yet another victory by his well-meaning Master. He was too serious, she was always saying, too focused--as their footsteps echoed across the cold, quiet floors of the temple, he had looked up to her long enough to watch her eyes widen in the glimpse of premonition that likely saved his life. She whirled, fast enough to catch her padawan by surprise and thrust her hands for his chest in the familiar motion he'd only seen sent his way during their training sessions--the impact was breathtaking, literally, and he barely had enough time to process what had happened before it seemed like the world around him exploded.

He hit the back wall before he could properly right himself, crashing hard enough against it to rebound to his knees. He felt numb, the old term 'shell-shocked' coming to mind. Oddly enough, his first thought came from that little wounded animal pride, a feeling of mild betrayal. She had attacked him! The force behind that push had been enough to throw him some ten full meters, rolling across the floor like some rag-doll. It was only after the ringing in his ears dissipated, the oxygen pumping back through his lungs in thick but measured gasps that it all began to filter through. There was such noise, such chaos, shouting, explosions, blasters, sabers, battle--

Battle.

Like so many others, Arix had thought the Jedi Temple on Coruscant something sacred. Tucked away at the center of the galaxy, behind layers and layers of planetary defenses, he had imagined like everyone else that the war was far from here. It was absurdly jarring to see rubble fly past the smooth-pillar geometric architecture of the Jedi, to watch blaster bolts and shouting Jedi falling back from the Atrium with lightsabers drawn skid down the smooth concrete floors. And the Sith--Sith?! Black cloaks, lightsabers, the sharp crackle of Force Lightning, in the middle of the temple! For a single moment he had the absurd desire to shout at them, to demand they desist, before everything changed.

They'd been walking towards the atrium when the assault came, and so Arix had been sent tumbling down a long hallway branching from what when the bulk of the assault hit. Not immediately in the line of fire, but as the Temple Defenders were over-run and the Sith branched out from the main room of their assault it was not long at all before they were racing past his impromptu hiding spot, appearing and disappearing quickly from sight only to be thrown bodily backwards by a familiar force.

Master Sint was a force to be reckoned with, a powerful practitioner of Form IV and strong in the Force herself. Though Arix personally disliked the showy acrobatics of the style, he could hardly say that she wasn't proving it effective as she held her ground against the Sith that came her way. He watched her slide across the slick floor and whirl to her feet, taking out a pair of black cloaks with a slash to the back that turned gracefully into a parry, her green saber clashing against a red one to throw the swing for her shoulder aside. She rolled for a stop-thrust to bore through his chest, drew the blade out with a whirl to Push the body back to the doors...

It was wonderful to watch her fight. To see what decisions she made, what options she chose. She was fearless, a woman of confidence who turned ease with herself into a moving force and assumed victory even in the face of overwhelming odds. Arix had known her through sparring, had learned her mind through meditations and their practice, but to see her on the actual field of battle, scrawling her self-statement across the Sith--

There was nothing poetic about the blow that felled her. He almost didn't see it, so out of place was it in the schema of her assault and defense--a lightsaber whirled past her, thrown from outside his range of vision while she was dueling another warrior, and that was that. It bit into her side mid-swing, freezing her in place, and as its owner rushed past to catch the errant weapon he spun and delivered strike to her back without even breaking stride. Her body slumped, already lifeless, and the Sith she had been dueling pushed it aside impatiently to rejoin the fight without ceremony.

Impossible.

It didn't make sense. None of it made any sense, he couldn't feel her anymore. She was there--right there!--a minute ago, and now she wasn't. There was no goodbye, no cry of pain or agony, no warning, just...

Gone.

Whatever sound had come from his lips--scream, roar, cry, whimper, he couldn't have said--was enough to attract attention, to draw eyes to his little hallway, and it was the oblivious press of the attack by the Sith that came at him that somehow tipped him over the edge. His Master had just died. Been cut down, before his eyes--here one moment, gone the next--and these warriors, these soldiers, these...monsters came to mind, unbidden, couldn't even understand that. Had the gall, the audacity, to walk over her corpse to try and kill him before he could even--

It was with instinct that he blocked the first strike, a sweeping blow meant to bully its way through his defenses and cut him down. He drew his curved grip with the Force and snapped it to hand, angled the blade away and watched the strike slide off it like rain from a roof. Carrying his saber with it and using his momentum to turn, a quick jerk and reverse of his hand position popped the blade up and across the Sith's shoulder, carving a line across it and pushing him back just enough that he was able to roll out of range of the padawan's thrust. Try as he might to remember his training, there was too much noise going on. A student of Form II, Arix considered himself a poised individual, a duelist--this was a battleground, this was chaos. Though the weapons were live, he had never really watched someone before and known, without a doubt, that they would kill him if they could. And if he wasn't scared, if he had steeled himself that this day would come, it didn't help a slight shake of his hand...

...which only worsened as it became clear he was losing.

He was good, there was no doubt about that--on par with most knights and better than some, for his age he was an impressive combatant, and the hallway was narrow enough that he could keep them in front of him, worry them off. But there were two of them, which was hardly ideal, and he was running out of space to push back on. Though he tried to keep himself calm, keep himself serene, focus on the flow of the Force and the dialogue between him, all he could hear was their screaming lust for battle, their hunger for the kill--there was no communication, no dialogue, just fury and what they considered a foregone conclusion. He felt for guidance but couldn't hear past the throbbing in his temples that became louder the closer he got to the wall, his own realization that if he couldn't turn this around he was going to die.

Like she died.

No, like she was killed.

By them.

He would never even get to say goodbye.

Though he'd always known he could, always known it was there if he needed it, Arix had always assumed that when the time came he would have mastered himself long before needing to rely on that niggling little trump card he remembered with such trepidation. It was not, his Master had been careful to explain, strength--it was weakness, the success of base instinct and emotion over rational thought and skill. It was a failing to call upon it, but against these Sith he was already failing, and it was that as much as anything else that stopped his retreat, that turned a carefully timed parry into a stop-cut that sliced at the wrist of one of the Sith. They had killed her, they were going to kill him, and they already assumed that he would lose. That he would just roll over and accept that.

Arix had never been very good at lying to himself, and so he had to admit it felt good, when his next attack raked a glowing line through the breastplate of one of their armor, to see the man's stance unsettle as he backed up from a slice he hadn't been able to see or predict. To capitalize on the advantage and spin, sword in close and along the back of his arm, upwards and into his guard and take the Sith at the leg with a blow finally strong enough to punch through his armor, upwards and across his stomach to topple him. It seared as it cut so there was no blood, only bright glowing plasteel and charred flesh. The other Sith was better, a more skilled opponent, but as Arix stepped over his fallen enemy he watched the stance change from one of offense to defense. As he started to rain blows down on him with vicious speed, the echani found himself snarling, picking up the pace, diving more and more into that well of anger that propelled his arm into a blur that left his opponent doing little but evading, no opportunity to block the deadly, scything sweeps of Arix' saber.

More than once his opponent tried to make for the main hall for reinforcements, but footwork was Arix' specialty and he corralled him with brutal precision. He didn't want him to get away, he wanted him to go away. Fighting not to die hadn't worked, so now he was fighting to kill--like his master, like his foes, confident that each step and flick of his wrist was another step towards the end of his enemy. He pressed, pushed him back to ground, and when it finally came the man fell it was as disappointingly swift as his master's had been--he hit the wall, leapt over Arix' head with a jump fueled by the Force, and was met with a well-timed slash to the spine that battered through the defense of his reverse-hand Shien grip and had him land hard in a heap on the temple floor. Alive but incapacitated, Arix' Rage ended with the Sith's life as his saber punched through the face plate of the mask, leaving the padawan with a sudden feeling of loss. He was alive... but she wasn't.

And nothing was changing that.

With the rush in the hallway died down as the forces moved further in, it was all the silver-haired echani could do to walk for what was left of his Master, bright blue saber shedding shadows on the men he had managed to dispatch. The sizzling wound to his shoulder, the score at the edge of his calf... he barely felt them, back to that awful shell-shock nothing he'd felt when she fell.

-|Jedi Temple, Tolun Fi’s Lab, Day 1, 11:47 GST|-

A deep, violent rumble caused numerous fixtures in the laboratory to shake, some of which contained valuable specimens and samples that had taken some time to obtain and formulate. The stillness that followed was a peace illusion of calm before an even heavier impact caused several of the jars and vails to be lodged from their shelves, shattering in countless pieces. Tolun Fi watched a pair of juvenile kouhun he had been farming venom from scurry under the lab’s centrifuge out of sight and made no effort to stop them, or prevent the rest of the destruction that was currently befalling his laboratory. Instead, the Kaminoan calmly approached the heavy blast door, locking it with a flick of the wrist.

His lightsaber was in his hand next, a tool as much as it was a weapon. A brush with the activation wheel caused the long azure blade to emit from the weapon, and it was immediately thrust into the control panel of the door. Tolun Fi was satisfied. It would take a lightsaber or a detpack to breach the door, which was all but a guarantee, but it bought him a few more minutes. The consular extinguished his blade, placing it back in its customary place on his hip. There was still work to do.

The terminal still counted up until completion, only a few percentage points from backing up the most important of his work to a small drive that was designed to sit flush and inconspicuous with the small diagnosis console and climate control center built into his suit. With any luck, the Sith wouldn’t discover it, and if they did they would have quite an amusing time trying to not only bypass the encryption but also translating all of the content from Kaminoan to the common language. The convenient problem with the Sith was in their racial superiority complex they were exceedingly poor at diversifying.They were rather squeamish about near-humans as it were, but anything and anyone who did not fit their narrow worldview wasn’t worthy of existing in their eyes. Someone would be along to kill him shortly, particularly because Kaminoans were decidedly not one of the species that fit the Sith vision of purity. Ironic, considering he was the product of countless generations of selective breeding and genetic engineering. Pure Sith were quite diluted specimen in comparison.

The transfer was still not complete when yet another rumble shook the lab, causing the lights to dim and more glass to shatter. Tolun Fi could sense the extinguishing of life all throughout the temple, and he did not have to check the security holo to know the Sith were responsible, as the oppressive presence of the Dark Side hung heavy in the air. As he set about dismantling and destroying the equipment in the lab, he thought of the people he had grown to know rather well the past 30 years, knowing he would never see them again. It wasn’t grief that gripped him, but rather a sense of serenity. They would be released from the bonds of corporeal life and return to the Force where they would live on forever.

The consular thought of Xid, the brilliant young man who was recently anointed a Jedi knight. Perhaps if Xid survived, Tolun would seek him out from beyond and provide guidance, were he able to find his way. He paused at a screen with Nazca’s face on it, the older girl who was saved from a Hutt cartel, if he recalled correctly. A diagram of her hands rotated slowly under the portrait, showing the cruel melding of flesh, bone, and metal. “Unfortunate timing, it would seem. Your surgery was next week. It is regrettable you will not have an opportunity to experience life free from those shackles.” The Kaminoan said to the screen before he ran the machine through with his lightsaber, he expression unchanging, observing the carnage he had unleashed upon the lab. It was a regrettable loss, but it wasn’t as if he was going to let the Sith defile his lab. It wasn’t as if there were many minds amongst them that could even begin to comprehend his work. There were sub-evolved creatures that consumed their own feces that had more potential than the Sith did.

A single beep caught Tolun Fi’s attention and the Kaminoan walked towards the database he was saving his emergency back-up to, catching a falling jar of a neurotoxin that had shaken free of its cabinet. He sent this jar to rest beside the blast door with telekinesis. He had originally been testing to see if it could be used to halt the spread of cancerous cells or slow the heart in the case of advanced tachycardia. Now it would serve to perform in a much more hasty experiment with a very limited control group. Would the blast that took the door down destroy enough of the agitated liquid to render its toxicity inefficient to cause casualties, or would the heat promote an exponential expansion that would incapacitate any unprotected troopers that crossed the threshold? He reflected it was just as likely to be a lightsaber that pried its way through, thus rendering the inconspicuous jar useless, but it hardly mattered.

Ejecting the drive from the server, Tolun Fi destroyed the console with his lightsaber and slipped it into its slot on his person. He had not expected to die by the blade, a tool he found to be a boorish necessity, but life was full of unexpected surprises, up to and including a daring and brilliant assault on the Jedi Temple deep in the heart of Republic space. There was regret he would be unlikely to finish his work, given the exceedingly long odds of him surviving the next thirty minutes, but there was a potential plus side; if he did survive, there would be a near endless supply of test subjects to complete his research. Now the only question was if the Jedi would prevail and repel the attack or if the Sith would ultimately destroy every soul in the Temple.

Tolun Fi frowned, realizing for the first time in a long time, he had nothing to do. Who knew waiting to die would be so tedious?

Collab: Nazca meets Jakali

-Jedi Temple, Youngling training area, Day 1, 11:27 GST

Nazca tried to pay attention to the youngling class. She really did. But it was just so boring. Not even the other younglings, who were all adorable little squirts, could make her keep her attention on the instructor. Tucked away in her little corner, still technically apart of the class, the former(or current, depending on who you ask) criminal felt her self dozing off. I'm just glad they stopped trying to make me wear that stupid uniform... She thought drowzily, before sleep claimed her. Only a minute or so had passed before she jerked awake, glancing about wildly. Something bad was about to happen, she could feel it. Her sudden movement drew more than one curious look from her adorable class mates, and an irritated one from the Jedi teaching the class.

The human opened his mouth, likely to reprimand her for the distraction, but Nazca interrupted him blurting out "We need to leave! Something bad is about to happen." The Jedi frowned at her. "What do-"

Boom! The sound of a distant explosion, followed by rubble collapsing cut him off. He reacted in an instant. "Stay here." With that snapped command, he strode quickly out of the room. More explosions could be heard, as the Sith bombardment began.

Nazca considered staying for all of three seconds. She was mildly impressed she waited even that long. Jedi must be rubbing off on me. She thought dryly, looking at the scared faces of the Younglings. She smiled warmly before speaking kindly. "Come on. We can't stay here. It's too dangerous."

A young Twi'lek spoke up. "But master-" Nazca cut her off, gently but firmly. "He'll understand. We need to get to a safer place." And I need to get you to some Temple Guards, or at least someone who can protect you better than I. She added silently, stomaching twisting at the memory of those last under her 'protection.' Nazca shook herself. Not this time. Not. This. Time. With that, she lead the younglings out of the room, as orderly as she was able to get them.



Brown eyes scanned the outside as his shuttle had landed, the ramp coming open with a hiss, in front of the Jakali Harcor was the carnage of the assault on the Jedi Temple. Smoke filled the air as parts in and around the temple burned with fire caused by the sudden attack. It would appear that they had indeed taken the Jedi by total surprise, he could almost smell the dead bodies scattered not too far from him as he exited the shuttle, his long black robe blowing gently in the breeze.

He like many of the other Sith had followed Darth Nyiss towards the Temple, ahead of them their loyal battalions of soldiers went to work, unknowingly trimming down the defenses just enough for the main wave to enter the fray, as he moved towards the imposing building with the others Jakali glanced at the corpses, some Jedi, some soldiers, he almost shook his head in near shame that those Jedi had been killed by blaster users, not even another Force user. Any competent Force user, Jedi or Sith would have no trouble with those soldiers. But the Jedi weren't competent.

The Sith branched off from the main group, Nyiss too going her own way as did the others. They all were searching for Jedi, living ones at that, ones that could be captured, as Nyiss wished, and he of course wanted to please her, she was a powerful woman, someone he wanted to gain the favor of. Jakali went down a corridor, one that none of the other Sith had gone down, as he started down it he drew his lightsaber from his belt, but did not yet ignite it. Only fools rushed in.

Then he heard it, the telltale signs of life, breathing and he felt something through the Force, a presence, it had to be a Jedi. The only option, and the scum was close, he just needed to figure out exactly how close as he moved towards a wall to the side, nearly hugging it as he scanned for any doors or sudden hallways in which a Jedi might be hiding inside of. He could almost taste them. Then he realized there were mutliple signs, a group, a scared one at that.

As he moved quietly he heard the footsteps get louder, and as he reached the end the breathing too louder. With his finger hovering over the ignition of his weapon he popped around the corner, his eyes scanning then catching the sight of little feet, those of children. The Jedi did train very young ones, he might have just found some, he wasn't sure if Nyiss wanted ones so young, but it wouldn't hurt to try, and they were kids after all, if he chose his words right then he could fool them into following him. If they tried to fight him then he would easily be able to beat them. So he lurched forward.

On the outside, Nazca looked suitably worried about the situation, but not enough to panic the younglings. On the inside, however, she was freaking out. Dead Jedi everywhere, Sith troopers walking the halls, Sith's blood I thought this place was supposed to be safe! And there was supposed to be a truce being negotiated! She had done her best to keep the Younglings away from the carnage, but somethings were impossible to hide from them. They were now worryingly quiet. On the other hand, she now didn't have to shush them every five seconds. She had picked up a lightsaber, in an attempt to reassure the younglings and maybe unlock a hidden instinct she never knew she had(which didn't happen. It was still just a giant glow sword to her)! Maybe I can use it to intimidate some troopers. She thought, slightly dejectedly.

After avoiding yet another patrol of Sith, Nazca ushered them out into hall trying to escape as quickly as possible, her senses stretched as far as she could get them to detect anymore Sith. She didn't know what the Sith wanted, but she knew damn well that they had bad plans for the Younglings.

It was because of their unnatural quietness, and her highstrung paranoia, that she heard the footsteps behind them.

Whirling around, she saw the Sith. The first word out of her mouth was "Gunsos!*" Followed quickly by, "Run! Run and hide!" Stepping in front of the fleeing(she hoped at least) younglings Nazca activated her stolen blue lightsaber, holding it like she had seen countless, far more experienced, Jedi Knights.

"Stay back." She commanded, acting like she was ready to kill at a moments notice, and not just hoping she wouldn't die to quickly.

Jakali watched the scene unfold before him as a Jedi turned around in front of him, putting herself right between the Sith and the children she seemed to be escorting. He hadn't even noticed her presence through the Force, yet she clenched a shimmering blue lightsaber of a Jedi in her hand. He too ignited his own weapon, the fearsome red blade ejecting out as he grasped his own lightsaber in his non robotic hand.

Something was different about this woman, he could feel her nervousness through the force, a well trained Jedi would have been able to hide that. Yet her stance showed someone trained with a lightsaber. It was a strange situation, but one he could turn his way.

"Drop your weapon, Jedi, and I promise I will not strike you down. I will not hurt you unless you make me." Jakali said, sure he wouldn't have a problem with killing her, but bringing her to Nyiss unharmed would be an even better option. Then with his robotic hand he lowered the hood shielding his head in order to reveal his human features and long, black hair.

"I have no desire to harm you or the children, their fates and yours hinge on your decisions in the coming moments." Jakali added, moving into a more defensive stance, yet he creept forward just a bit to show that he was serious. If she struck at him then he would try to counter it and disarm her, or at worse, remove the hand the weapon was in.

Nazca felt her heart-rate practically triple as the Sith activated his own lightsaber. Shitgunsossonofasowechuta... She quickly ran through most of the expletives she knew as the Sith spoke. She had to buy time for the younglings to run. She had to. But that meant attacking, and she knew quite well it wouldn't take any effort at all from this man to disarm or even kill her.

She smiled cheerfully at him as he made his final comment, shifting position. It meant nothing to Nazca. To her, he was just uncomfortable in his old one. "Really? Then you can just turn around and fuck off." She said in a perky, cheerful tone. "We have no reason to be escorted by you, you Son of a Sow. Oh. I'm sorry," She gave him a doe eyed, sad look. "Did that insult go over your laserbrain? Gamorreans everywhere must be offended. Let me try a different one. You're a piece of Gunsos, that means shit since you're obviously stupid, the type of Kung, scum, that even Hutts wouldn't want to be covered in, a Schutta that even the most desperate of men would avoid, a Hu'tuun, cowa-"

Jakali listened to the woman's words for a few moments, almost laughing at the absurdity that he was being insulted with such foul language by a Jedi. No Jedi he had ever seen or heard of spoke in that manner, her made ranting gave him the perfect opportunity to attack, which he took as he flipped into the air mid insult, coming down with a timed swing which removed the girl's hand at the wrist along with her weapon, leaving a familiar stub akin to the one Jakali remembered receiving on his shoulder so many years ago.

Nazca tried to block when she saw him flip in the air, but he was so fast and she was so untrained. With a neat swing he separated her hand from her arm, taking the lightsaber with it. Screaming Nazca hit the ground, curled about her arm. When she hit the ground she could see that all the Younglings were gone. After a brief moment her satisfaction at delaying this bastard long enough for them to get away won over the pain. That and she had run out of breath to scream. Come on! You've felt worse pain than this at the hands of the Hutts! Rolling over to face him again, tears streaming down her face, she spoke through gritted teeth.

"Har'chaak!** Did you have to cut off my hand, or was that so you could feel better about your own arm, you ugly, ugly bastard." She laughed slightly before moaning and sobbing in pain again, her brief bit of satisfaction and strength drowned out by pain.

Jakali hung his weapon on his belt, the dangerous blade gone from it as he decided he did not need to use it anymore on a severely injured opponent. He had another idea in mind, spurned by her somehow managing to figure out that he had a robotic arm, the Sith having thought he hid it pretty well. It did not matter though as he motioned with his natural limb, lifting her off the floor like a ragdoll and pressing her against the wall, eyes facing him as he held her there before he grasped her remaining hand with his own, noticing the crude metal device on it.

"I'm impressed you noticed my attachment so quickly. Maybe we can get something like it to screw onto your wrist. It takes a little getting used to." Jakali said, a smirk on his face as he ran a robotic finger down her right cheek, before cupping her chin for a second then backing off.

"I did give you an option, if you had taken it you still would have both hands, but you declined and made me pretty unhappy. Now those children are gone, probably lost in the Temple as another Sith finds them, probably striking them down as a result, such a waste." He added.

She screamed again as she was lifted in the air, her amputated wrist dragging on the ground. As she listened to him, she could feel anger, fear, and hatred welling up inside of her. But that was what he wanted. To get to her. She clamped down on the emotions, barely, and resisted speaking. Instead, Nazca's reply was simple, crude, and all she could really do in the situation. She spat in his face.

"That won't help those children." He said, wiping the spit from his face, then motioned her away, back towards the shuttles, having caught himself a prisoner, albeit a damaged one.

*Shit! **Damn it

~| The Jedi Temple, fifteen minutes after the sacking began. |~

It was a strange feeling; To stand at an historic moment in the galaxy. There could be no denying that the Sith empire openly bombarding the capital of the Republic and sacking the Jedi temple was anything else then a moment that would long be remembered and that there were Sith all over the galaxy right this second that would slaughter and burn a dozen worlds just for the chance to be standing in the burning ruins of the Jedi Temple of Coruscant while the few remaining jedi within were being hunted down and slaughtered like nerfs.

Azariah didn't really feel anything as he walked past the bodies of dead Jedi, Sith and non force sensitive solders of both sides, lightsaber firmly in hand and ready to bring up at the first sign of trouble. This was simply something that had to happen, no more, no less. Still, this didn't mean he couldn't benefit from the chaos.

With Darth Nyiss already focused on her hunt, Azariah broke off from the group to go hunting for his own objectives. While he would keep the idea of capturing jedi in mind, it was merely a secondary objective. Azariah's primary objectives were the archives and the vaults... Knowledge was power and he was not going to let the chance to increase his own understanding of the force to slip through his fingers just because they had a limited amount of time.

The first target had to be the archives through... hopefully he would be able to download and copy something worthwhile before some short sighted zealot burned the whole thing to the ground!

Jayda didn’t need empathy to feel the emotions running rampant within the small shuttle. Fear, pain, anger and lust for blood all filled the small confines of the shuttle, nearly suffocating the Zabrak as she closed her eyes. She was trying to block out the scene around her. It wasn’t easy, namely when the filthy murder, his claws stained with her brother’s murder, stood quietly beside her. Jayda inhaled once then twice, pushing the emotions to the very center of her being and letting calm wash over where her emotions should’ve been given free range finally.

She could feel Sish’s head immediately snap, followed by a sparse few, starring in her direction. Her scarred flesh twitched uncomfortably at the sensation as her eyes snapped open to see Sish’s expression. One, disgust and mocking, blaring down on her composure. Her lip pulled back to give a low, silent snarl.

“Your brother kept his composure too. At least, until I cut off his limbs. Then he just screamed.” Sish spoke, his tone disgusted and ridiculing, when each syllable escaped his muzzle. There was unlining warning to remember where they were, including how dangerous it was, how easily they both could be killed.

Jayda’s emotions didn’t flinch or change. At least visibly, despite the anger wanting to rise like a tide within the acidic seas of her homeworld, but Sish could easily sense the spark which quickly was smothered again. She kept leveled with his when she spoke. Each word venomous and spiteful, hate oozed out of her and intended to hurt him as much as he hurt her. “Rage hasn’t done you much better, else you wouldn’t have lost an eye.”

Sish grinned. Good. She was fixing herself already. Hatred would keep her alive, long enough to kill him, perhaps. If she stopped holding herself back, that is. “I never said anything about giving into rage. I spoke of keeping calm. Jedi keep calm. And as you’re about to see, that is a lethal mistake.” He placed a claw on her shoulder, what seemed like a reassuring gesture, but they both knew it was far from anything kind. “Try not to die. It’d be a pity to end this fight with only a dead weakling as an Apprentice..”

The Zabrak’s shoulder tensed under Sish’s claw, flinching and immediately attempted to jerk loose before she lost her composure. Inside, she knew it pissed him off, a fact she cherish, as her eyes narrowed darkly. Her voice edged into her native tongue, aware of his lacking knowledge in its translation, to chew him out. “Shuree tze'tlesu keta et pik’ta kusin shar, mal gunsos jho mendi.”

Sish chuckled as he let her jerk herself free. So easily provoked, despite her best attempts. He’d make a Sith out of her yet. His eyes glinted with dark amusement at her words, before he spoke again. “Insulting me in a language I don’t understand? How brave and strong of you. Truly, you’re as ready to kill me now as you were in Kashyyk. Maybe it’ll be a blessing if a Padawan kills you. I won’t have to waste my time ending your pathetic attempt to kill me and your pathetic life.”

She was silent, both knew the truth, and despite her hotter temper, there was little chance she had to kill him. Jayda had been trying for the last several years and the closest she had gotten was being beaten, starved and pushed into becoming a murderess. None, of which, she was proud to have been. Her fists tightened as the leather gloves creaked at the pressure, her chest showing the fury erupting through her calmer demeanor. The shuttle gave a shudder, seemingly to read the tension between Lord and Apprentice, before the rumbling grew stronger.

“We both know if you wanted to end my pitiful life, you would’ve done that four months ago. There was nothing stopping you from dragging a claw across my throat and spilling my blood.” She snarled, closing her eyes briefly to rein in her hatred again. Her teeth were gritting tightly while the ship started to make its descent onto the Temple, the rumbling gaining in strength and volume slowly.

Sish’s grin became more satisfied, and bloodthirsty, as the shuttle began to rumble and he noted Jayda’s control giving away slightly. That’s it. Just one more push. He thought, his claws clenching and unclenching rhythmically. Unlike Jayda however, his was in anticipation, rather than rage. “Do we? Perhaps I thought you were stronger. You certainly showed potential during your trials.” He had to speak louder and louder for the next words, as the ship gained speed, rushing towards its destination. ”I must say however, I’ve been nothing but disappointed in your dismal displays since our little agreement.” Before he could go on, the entire ship was rocked as it crashed through the doors of the temple.

There was a few moments of an extremely bumpy ride, in which everyone held on for dear life. Then the ship stopped, and the doors opened. As the lightsabers all around them ignited, Sish grabbed Jayda by the throat and lifted her up so she was forced to look in his eye. A familiar, sadistic, bloodthirsty glint was in his eye as he spoke, roaring from excitement. “This is your first real test as my apprentice! Act like the Jedi and die, or seize the power of the Sith and live, weakling!” With that, he threw her into the temple and combat, using the Force to give her a bit of a boost. Enhancing his own speed with the Force, he leapt out of the ship and charged into battle.

Jayda’s eyes suddenly widened when Sish gripped her throat, his claws digging into her flesh enough to cause blood and pain to ripple through her mind. Her teeth gritted against the hurt as she hissed, her feet trying to kick out in reaction to his aggression. Her hands clasped his one lifting her off her feet making her eyes jerk to spot the ground instinctively aware of his animalistic, vicious desire to inflict more pain and suffering. She had seen that before, each time he tortured her, maiming her tattoos and causing her flesh to sear with fresh suffering. Jayda’s nails tried to dig into his wrist for both purchase and fury, her lip curled up in a feral snarl, baring her teeth at the creature who was the source of all her misery. Her defiance glared back at his unharmed eye with strong resilience though the hatred wafted off her form in waves, washing over them both.

They were casted in the faint glow of the multiple, red lightsabers flickering to life. Her face felt his spittle spraying over her with each word uttered from his stinking breath. Likely the last thing many Jedi had ever remembered before he ended their lives. No warning at all, her body was tossed carelessly the moment the rush began. She knew the moment she was released that she was going too fast naturally, causing her hand to whip around and summon her lightsaber to her hand using her force ability. Her hearts pounded furiously while she tucked in her head, followed by her upper torso allowing her to roll across the floor. Using the momentum in the throw, she used her force for balance before pulling back to her feet to face the first Jedi.

Naturally none of the other Sith paid attention or cared for Sish’s treatment of her, a fact she learned apprentices were barely anything more than property to their Lords. Something used, abused, or tossed away when an apprenticed ceased to show the expected potential. She hated it but endured the humiliation because unlike many other, she chose this path.

Baring that thought in her mind, Jayda’s thumb jerked and her lightsaber buzzed to life. Her face, twisted into dark look thanks to the dirty and dishonourable trick, centered on the nearest Jedi. Her first glimpse told her a lot about the foe, her mind absorbing it temporary, bracing for the battle. It was a human, male and likely younger than her, his age in his twenties according to his pheromones. She felt her irises shift immediately as they tighten, drawing what little light she could from the flashing lightsabers, including her own. Her ears listened to the buzzing fade into the background along side the cries from the first fallen.

Opening up in her first Soresu standance, her hand raised over her head with the blade dipped downward in front. Her left leg kicked back to brace while it coiled, readying herself for a counter or to attack first. Soresu was her default moveset after all and most familiar to her, ever since childhood it fit her best. Now she knew the basics of So Djem, enough to perform more satisfactory moves for assault. Her eyes waited, studying the young male for hints of aggression only to realize it wasn’t about to happen. Jayda quickly altered her opening position. Her hands raised upward and blade tilted, bring her dominant foot to the back. Coiling her leg muscles, Jayda immediately shot forward making a wide sweep at the waist. The knight brought his blade in front of him, grinding hers to a halt though the force knocked him back a few inches. Taking advantage of that, she used the momentum to bounce her blade back and swing to the left leg.

The Jedi jumped forwards, flipping behind her. His blade aimed at her head causing Jayda to drop into a roll, barely avoiding it. Not missing a beat she ended back on to her feet and twisted on heel, Jayda brought her blade at his legs. A scent of burnt flesh immediately greeted her when bone and flesh met her lightsaber. The jedi made a blood curling scream as he crumbled into the floor.

Not wasting time, Jayda’s figure stood over the dying Jedi. Her blade lashed out again and silenced the screams with a slice through his throat. The head rolled while her eyes spotted another Jedi, a older one, taking the stance of Shii-Cho. Jayda’s expression took on a grim determination, her body shooting at the Jedi with a downward slice.



Her robes showed signs of damage, visibly covered in charred slices and holes, from her simple long sleeved black tunic to her torso and boots. Through the holes skirted patches of her scarred skin and ruined tattoos. Most her scars were recently healed and faded, fluttering in and out of sight, her muscles still functionable despite the massive scarring. Each step had the air of a well trained fighter, filled with control and caution. Her cloak had been discarded because it was proving a hindrance. Jayda's eyes scanned along the corridor now littered by bodies, Sith and Jedi alike, forcing her to navigate around.

Apart of her deep down felt the loss in the force while lives were cut down. Their end would happen no matter what, whether they were taken alive or not, as the pity washed over her. If Sish had known, she was sure his punishment would've left her crippled with pain. It seemed all the Sith ever brought was chaos and misery... And now she was apart of it.

Her lightsaber had deactivated while she crept deeper into the hallway, seemingly vacant save for one individual: a young Padawan. She knew it when she spied the small braid hanging from the silver hair, his posture hunched over and weeping it seemed over a dead woman, a master it would appear.

It wouldn't take long for the Padawan to notice her presence so she had to be quick. Her purple eyes studied him and observed the scene, her hand gripping her lightsaber end lightly. The Sith were all given their orders and she was no different: seek out and capture any living Jedi after the first attack for Darth Nyiss. Like a Nexu stalking its prey, she drew closer, intending to make this distasteful task end quickly. Namely before the Jedi had gotten over his grief and realize she was there.

_{translation:“I don’t intend to die before you, weak, shit eating lizard.”}

Zanna, Jedi Temple, 11:44 GST.

Zanna stepped off the shuttle, watching Nyiss and the rest of the Sith leave heading for their own destination. She was nervous, and trying to hide it. She had never really wanted to be on the actual temple. Her place was in the ship, far from battle, in a lab where she could study her latest attempts at cracking the formula to unlocking the terrors of the mind. Still, it was Darth Nyiss' order that all Sith help capture Jedi. And one didn't disobey the orders of a Darth without inflicting terrible repercussions upon themselves. Namely, horrible, horrible death. So here she was, in the Jedi temple, hoping she wouldn't get killed by a Jedi who knew how to disable force powers and fight reasonably well. She left the main group, knowing that if she stayed with Nyiss all she would appear to be was desperate and uncertain. By the Force if I survive this I'm never neglecting my combat training again. She thought fervently as she slipped away from the group into the halls of the temple, looking for any padawan survivors.

She walked into hallways, briefly checking each Jedi(So she didn't miss any potential prisoners) and non-Force sensitives(So she doesn't get shot in the back) corpse to make sure they were actually dead. She didn't care about the Sith corpses, few that they were. If they were dead, one less enemy to worry about. If they were alive she didn't want to save them.

She walked through the halls, her lightsaber foolishly keeping a careful eye out for any survivors. She didn't really expect to find any, so it was a surprise when A temple guard stepped out in front of her, tightly griping his gun. Zanna froze in surprise, and the guard turned and saw him. For a moment they just stared at each other. The guard reacted first. Lifting up his gun he fired several blasts at her. There was no time to reach for her lightsaber and Zanna's reaction was more instinctive than thought out, as she saw death coming towards her.

In a move that was as natural as breathing, she fueled and covered her limbs with the Force deflecting the lasers coming at her with her bare hands, moving in a black robed blur. Before the guard could fire again she picked him up with the Force and slammed him into the ground, snapping his neck.

Zanna's heart was racing and she was breathing hard, still tense and ready to react to another attack. When no other shots were fired, she slightly relaxed, fear and adrenaline still coursing through her.

"Well." She said aloud to herself. "That was thrilling."

The temple was quiet and serene.

It was the first thing Xid realized when he walked through the pristine rooms, his eyes casually brushing and absorbing the current residence. His home since youth. It had always been this way for as long as he could recall, but it was the first time he actually acknowledge it. The ambience was something to enjoy for the first time in a long time. On grasping this, his mind filled with memories. Many of his fondest recollections ranged from quiet meditations with Koren in the tranquil gardens to disarming sparring sessions with Som, even time passing conversations among Tolun company and Olon's inquiries over his latest accomplishment.

Most of this occurred was during the recent weeks while he was awaiting reassignment. any time not left among his own mind, stewing over his past, was something he appreciated. He moved through the marble pillars and modest design, making his way through the hollow hallway while each footstep echoed back to him.

Xid felt like each sound was mocking him in some strange fashion. Doubting his worth in passing the trials as his fingers wrapped tightly about Navi, his custom droid noting the tension. His grip was tight enough it turned his cut knuckles white from the worry filling his thin frame. Though he wasn’t a padawan now, Xid doubted greatly that he looked the knight’s part and continued to force his pace into a steady and slow one. They were a matter that stirred lacking confidence in his ability the longer he reflected on them, though Sela was among the many to congratulate and assure him otherwise.

It was impossible to to pass unless one earned it, wasn’t it?

He sighed softly, feeling his droid stir to life within his grip and cause him to look downward at Navi. The little machine had retracted his lithe, recycled legs. Stretching them out then wiggling them, it was a signal for him to let his companion down where Navi could move independently. Xid knew holding Navi when he didn’t want to be was pointless because the little bot would’ve wiggled and squirmed his way loose, getting his way in the end anyways. Sighing to admit defeat, he grinded to a halt before bending down to release it.

When it finally touched down, Navi immediately zipped out of his grasp. At the sudden movement, Xid’s eyes widen and his body jerked upright allowing the droid free range. The little thing merely swiveled about to face him. It whirled and click in a series of sounds causing Xid to tilt his blond head, giving a small frown at it.

Most Jedi didn’t have had a clue what the small bot was saying, but Xid knew well, even if it helped he was the droid’s creator. At abrupt display, the knight forced a smile to throw off the droid’s concern, putting it at ease.

“Nothing’s wrong. I’m just… well, nervous about my first upcoming mission alone.”

Another bout of clicks, whistles, buzzes and more followed his reply. It seemed the droid didn’t believe him in the least and he couldn’t blame it. Xid’s hand reached for his head back, ruffling the fine hair a bit, while debating on how truthful he would be. Not because he had something to hide, but rather the droid would never drop it if it found out.

“I know, it’s not like I’ve never been alone before, but I've also never been a knight." Xid admitted when a gentle, motherly voice entered the conversation shortly.

“Still as hesitate as ever, aren’t you my now young knight? When will you learn to fully trust yourself and know you are more able than you will ever realize fully?”

At the sound of the new voice, his head jerked toward its source in surprise and shortly, on recognizing the owner, relaxed. His lips even pulled up into a relieved smirk when he spotted his old master. Sela Kythor, edge into the hallway from an adjacent one. It was a pleasant and unexpected encounter at seeing the past present itself once more to him.

“Some habits are hard to break, Master Sela.” He uttered. The title’s mention was more due to proper etiquette than actual being her student, the sensation was strange and made him feel out of place. Mostly when ever he was in close proximity with her. Digging his nails deeper into his neck and scratching it, he continued the conversation. “I’ve only been a knight for two weeks after all and I don’t really feel any different than when I was your padawan. I expected…”

“A greater feeling of accomplishment?” Sela kindly finished for him, allowing him to remain humble when Xid nodded. She shook her head, eyes closed briefly, and gestured for him to follow her. “Xid, you need to relax and stop being so down upon your skills, young one. It doesn’t do you any justice after all.”

“I suppose not.”

Sela let a motherly and tender smile linger over her mouth, her foot leading her to step next to him as she changed the issue at hand. “I believe this hallway leads to Knight Tolun Fi’s lab, doesn’t it? Are you aiming on visiting him today?”

Before Xid could answer, a deafening roar rumbled through the temple. The force in the shuttle attacking the temple shook the foundations to its very core causing debris and rubble to fall from the roof. A large chunk cracked and fell, aiming to crush Xid into a red smear. Alarmed, Sela immediately centered her force into her palm then whipped her arm at his chest. Her own feet flipped away to barely clear the falling danger. Xid made a small cry when he slammed into the far wall opposite his old master. His lungs, once filled with air, released when the pain replaced it.

Navi, however, was unharmed as it darted into the nearest vent for cover. Its buzzing and clicking sounds vibrating off the metal, tight space all the way.

The kicked up dust started to fade as the force within the pair began to twist with a sick, uncomfortable feeling, the dark foreboding spreading throughout their being. Something was dead wrong. Xid coughed harshly to clear the dust and dirt from his chest, his body weakly bring himself upright once more, ignoring his back screaming at him with each movement. Propping his arm against the wall for support, his watery eyes had started to clear alongside the dust just in time to spot someone approach the pair. A red skinned Sith came into view, her steps bold and insulting, causing both Jedi’s head to snap into her direction. For the first time in Xid’s life, he actually spotted distaste on Sela’s expression. Her lips tightened into a frown and hand reaching for her lightsaber, eyes narrowed on the newest arrival. When her hand came to rest upon her hilt, her tone held little to no softness within as she addressed him.

“Xid… I want you to get out of here.” To ensure he didn’t argue, her eyes turned to him. They were cold, hard and most of all, dangerous. It was enough to silence any protest Xid might’ve had and draw a nod from him. Wasting no more time, he started to move towards Tolun’s lab where he intended to gain help. He hoped they could manage to make it back in time, his figure vanishing shortly down the hallway, only looking back once.

Walking to the door, he felt it. The fear, pain, he let out a yell. No, this wasn't his pain. Wasn't his fear. He was letting other peoples emotions flood him. He forced a breath out as he moved to open the door, sadly the yell had drawn attention and with him pushing down on his senses he hadn't even noticed the three troopers. He snapped his blade up into a guard to block the shots. Stun shots?. This was far worse than he thought, if they were shooting to stun they were taking prisoners and Sith taking Jedi as prisoners probably wasn't the best thing in the Galaxy. He swept down low in a sweeping motion, pushing his left knee back within the move and bringing his right forward slightly to make him more streamlined. The troopers continued firing shots towards him, as one of them pushed forward a little he let fly a little smirk.

These troopers were cocky, probably hoping for their first capture. He pulled back into the room, making his moves slower, more erratic. Though still blocking his body making it seem as if he was tiring. He stopped, lowering to the ground. Putting his lightsaber down on the ground. "I concede." They took a second to look at eachother. That's when he struck out, hitting a second button on his lightsaber it grew in length, straight into the ankle of one of the nearest troopers. From there he sliced to the right, almost severing three legs before pushing the third trooper against the wall he ran forward with his blade slicing through the downed troopers rifles and he cut the wrist of the third trooper. That was three down, that was three less for someone else to take care off. That made the odds slightly better than they were previously.

What was he kidding? They still weren't great. The Sith would bombard Coruscant from above, they would wipe out all that stood against them, or even disagreed with them and then... No. Now was not time for such thoughts. Thoughts about that would kill him, and right now there were far greater things at stake than him. He had to prioritize. What needed protected most?

The answer came easily. Comm tower. The last thing the Jedi needed was the Sith to get access to their communication network, all their agents could be compromised.

Zanna walked through the ruined hall, ready to react to any more surprises that might crop up from the various door ways and other branched off hallways. Everywhere she went she saw only ruin and death, and in the distance more fighting could be heard. Her lips curled in disgust as she walked on, looking for some sign of Jedi life. Her disgust wasn't at all the death, it was at all the waste. They could have easily surrendered and then she would have had plenty of test subjects for her experiments. As it was, however, she would just have to do with whomever they captured in the following hours. Maybe I'll get lucky and they won't all be mentally destroyed or otherwise made incapable of doing a proper test on. That would be disappointing

She felt the Jedi through the Force before she saw her, the young Twi'lek girl walking in front of Zanna from another hallway. Slowly, Zanna reached for her dual bladed lightsaber.

Shiri had heard the explosions and began walking around the halls, trying to figure out what was going on. There were sith pretty much everywhere, and the dead bodies of both jedi, sith, and even those who were non-force sensitive. Shiri was being cautious, she haden't been detected by a sith yet, and didn't plan to be. Suddenly she felt a presence not too far away and ducked around the corner of the next hallway to avoid it, misjudging where the presence actually was and ending up facing a sith who was already reaching for their lightsaber. Shit... might as well use this to my advantage. I can fight off one sith, can't I?

She pulled out her own saber before the sith could activate theirs. Maybe if she played this right neither of them would have to use the weapons in their hands. "Hey, sith! Mind telling me what's going on?" Shiri yelled across the short gap between them, focusing on keeping herself calm and her fear and confusion out of her voice.

Zanna was briefly surprised when the Jedi didn't immediately attack, even as she activated her own lightsaber. When one was faced with an enemy, attacking first was the best, right? Then she sensed the Twi'leks fear. A padawan. Well. This just got a whole lot easier. She smiled at the Twi'lek as she yelled. Zanna wasn't worried about the upcoming fight any more. After all, not only was the Jedi an impure alien, but she was an untrained padawan at that. Her smile grew more predatory, and reached out and applied her mind against the Twi'lek's. "The Temple has fallen. Your fellow Jedi are dead. You will deactivate your lightsaber and kneel on the ground."

Shiri saw the sith's expression change and felt a stab of fear. No, stay calm Then the sith spoke. They're, dead? No, that's- "Not possible." Her thoughts spilled over into her speach as she grew more and more confused. "Not possible." She repeated as she tried to get her thoughts in order. I should... stand down... Shiri deactivated her lightsaber and dropped it before starting to kneel to the ground, just then realizing the trick. As quickly as she had dropped it, she reached down to grab her saber again.

Zanna smirked, only to realize Shiri had broken free, and was arming herself again. With a scowl and a quick gesture she force pulled the Twi'lek's lightsaber into her open hand. "I don't think so." She spoke with a disgusting sweetness. As the Twi'lek began to turn and run, Zanna gave up on subtlety simply trying to beat down Shiri's mental defenses with her own power. "You. Will. Kneel." Zanna felt her anger at the Twi'lek's resistance rising and she controlled it. No. She wouldn't be like so many other Sith she had seen, being swept up and taken away by their emotions. Being turned into little better than animals. Use your emotions. Don't let them use you. Her master's words echoed in her mind as she assaulted Shiri's mind again.

Shiri watched as the sith pulled her saber out of her reach, and started running a second later. She's going to use another trick, or worse. I have to hope I'm faster than her. Shiri thought to herself as she whipped back around the corner and down the hallway she had come from. Not fast enought though, as the next assault did indeed bring her to her knees. She tripped and slid a little before coming to a stop near the next corner, struggling to regain her mind and stand, to keep running.

Zanna quickly caught up with the Twi'lek, keeping her under control with her mind as the padawan fought. The padawan had almost gotten away, and the Red Sith wasn't going to give her another chance to escape. Not if she wanted to stay in Darth Nyiss's relative good graces. Without further adieu, Zanna placed her hands on Shiri's head and applied Force lightning.

Shiri tried to calm herself down, to think and regain control of herself, but as she heard the sith's steps growing closer that became more and more imposible. Suddenly he felt a pair of hands on her head, and then extreme pain until she passed out a few seconds later.

Darth Nyiss stepped purposefully through the cloud of dust thrown up by the broken masonry, Lightsaber still in hand. Between her and Tolun’s lab she could feel the brilliant, ordered presence of a Jedi Master. It sickened her, and in her disgust she felt a great desire to end it, preferably by cutting down whoever was causing it.

It did not take her long to find the one. A quick and incredibly low level telekinetic burst tussled her robe and swept the dust from the air, revealing a robed, dark skinned human woman of roughly the same height as the Darth. Nyiss met the Jedi’s gaze with her own, her eyes filled with disdain and disgust. “Your time has come Jedi.” She said in a richly accented upper class Imperial voice.

With that she shrugged off her thick outer robes, letting the mass of black cloth fall at her feet, leaving only a sleeveless light tunic and loose trousers loosely reminiscent of a Jedi’s garb but in black. Then she ignited a single crimson blade on her saberstaff, giving the Makashi salute to her opponent. She was a civilised warrior, and as disgusted as she may be, she would let the Jedi give whatever accounting she could for herself.

Sela eyed the Makashi salute the Sith gave her. Slowly, her own hand reaching for her blade and edged it outward, producing the same sincere respecting gesture to her side. Partly she expected there was some dirty trick within the Sith’s mind as she watched closely, waiting patiently for something to occur. In the back of her mind she felt Xid’s presence drift away bit by bit, a faded reminiscent of their connection, giving her some peace of mind he wouldn’t involved.

The master inhaled and tightened her grip on the curved blade. She took the offensive, her blade leapt out to stab a point at Nyiss’ shoulder, her mind already thinking ahead, ready to jerk back and flip her blade to cover her handle and block a counter attack. It was likely the Sith knew at least one other form like many Jedi, but she couldn’t be absolutely certain.

Nyiss put her left foot back and raised her weapon, still holding the long handle in only her right hand. She caught the Jedi’s strike on the middle of her own blade and redirected it away from her body. Rather than counter attack right away, she pulled back, keeping her blade between herself and her opponent. At the same time she began probing at her opponents mental defences with Force induced fear. She doubted it would work right away, but it would still serve as a good distraction.

Sela felt her blade connect. The vibration rattled through her hand, her blade turned away and flowed outward. the master wasn’t about to back down even as the Sith retreated, keeping her blade between the pair. It was then Sela felt the probing of fear trying to edge into her calm mind and wrench control from her. The Jedi snorted, mainly in disgust, as she brushed it away. It took a second, her mind accepting her fear but instead of letting it control her, she used the adrenaline brought forth. Fear was natural to all living creatures yet only the Sith let it drive them. She slashed forward, aiming at the area between the neck base and shoulder. Her feet pushed forward, cutting the distance, with another fast slash at the knee cap should the Sith retreat again.

Nyiss’ response was first to perform another quick redirecting block, then step in and grip her long hafted weapon with both hands. As the Jedi’s lightsaber came around, Nyiss left her blade high, making it seem as though she had missed the block. Just a moment before the blue blade connected, she activated the other blade on her Lightsaber. The screeching of lightsaber blades contacting filled the air as the Jedi’s strike was blocked. Nyiss then brought the raised blade downwards towards the Jedi’s head, stepping into the strike and keeping her second blade low to retain the guard.

Sela's frown deepened when Nyiss' attack halted her low aim attack, her ear filled with the terrible noise. The blade came down as Sela sensed it more then saw it happen, her fingers loosen slightly upon the curve blade and whipped it upward into a over head block. Her figure stepped back as her blade locked with the Darth, her eyes steadying for a weakness she could use, temporary.

Shifting her weight, her nearest foot raised and sent a force kick against the Darth's navel. An improvised attempt to disengage the pair and bring space between them.

Nyiss’ blade once again met resistance in the form of her opponents blue blade. Before she could react, the Jedi’s foot found purchase in her midriff. With the added power of the Force behind the kick, Nyiss found herself flung several meters backwards, shutting her saber off to avoid accidentally injuring herself. To avoid landing prone on her back, she used the Force to execute a somersault midair, landing crouched with her saber in her left hand. She quickly stood once more, raising her right hand towards the Jedi and sending a disdain fueled telekinetic wave directly at her, following up with a burst of Lightning no matter the Jedi’s reaction.

After the boot connected, Sela’s blade released and whipped about, crisscrossing it about her front while trying to keep close. Despite her machine enhancements to recover both her reflexes and what little depth perception she had, it wasn’t up to par compared to the Darth. Deep inside the woman knew she was out matched but she wasn’t terrified by it. Instead, she aimed to take the Darth down with her. Spurred on by the thought, Sela’s arms increase the momentum until the Sith lashed out with a telekinetic wave.

It connected, unexpectedly, causing Sela’s eyes to widen in surprise. Her feet were pushed back as the wave slammed into her full force, her teeth gritted while she tried to cushion the telekinetic attack with her own. The hallway, however, suffered badly. The energy rippled through it causing roof pieces to fall, pillars to shatter, and flooring to rupture upward along the force attack’s path.

Not bothering to take her eyes off her foe, the Sith followed up with force lightning. Sela whipped her blade quickly to the side and then up, setting it up to take the blow in her stead. Her other hand was released, freeing it up, while she used a telekinetic pull to jerk a shattered pillar form behind the Sith and right into her back. No matter what the Sith did, Sela aimed to toss another where the red skinned alien aimed to be.

Nyiss quickly stopped her burst of lightning as the Jedi used her lightsaber to absorb it. Moments before the pillar impacted her back, she sensed it coming and leapt up and over it. Before she hit the ground, she felt another heading towards her, and a distinct sense of irritation began building in her breast. Instead of dodging the next pillar, she caught it with her own power, stopping it dead in its tracks before dropping it.

“Is that the best you can do Jedi? You’ve already lost.” She said arrogantly.

She then raised her right hand and fired another continuous burst of lightning while clipping her saber on her belt with her other hand. Though she knew the Jedi would just catch it again, she still had tricks the Jedi had not seen, and a sinister smile formed on her lips. She raised her left hand, but rather than aiming for the Jedi, a burst of lightning shot out for an exposed metal girder in the roof behind the Jedi. From there, the Lightning would arc back down and towards the Jedi’s back.

Sela hadn’t survived the war without learning what to expect and usually, that was the unexpected. Though sometimes it put her in odd positions. Her saber whipped up and caught the force lightning with her saber, preventing it from connecting with her. Next her hand raised, pouring her advance tutaminis into the palm as the lightning from the girder rained down. Her Crucitorn was activated as she held her ground, using the force to shut down the pain and withstand longer. Her chest was heaving slightly while her mind raced for what to do next. It wasn’t her first Sith but this red skinned woman seemed to be enjoying this and it showed clear as day in each movement, attack and more. Sela’s legs widened her stance to brace herself from falling when she located the Sith, eyeing her movements while holding her ground.

“Very impressive Jedi.” Nyiss once again spoke, disdain still evident in her voice. “Such a shame your skill will go to waste.”

Continuing her barrage of lightning, she began to walk slowly towards the Jedi on an angle that would lead her to be on the scarred side of the Jedi’s face. She could feel the Jedi weakening, she was evidently blocking the pain of the Force lightning for now, but Nyiss knew the Jedi would run out of energy before she did.

Sela’s lips pressed tighter, but her emotions didn’t slip past her mask. Instead she was considering her options and at hearing the Sith’s compliment, even through a venomous tone, as she gritted out her own reply. Granted it was a waste of breath, but the distraction was welcomed.

“I wouldn’t... count me out yet…”

With those last words, her tutaminis released allowing the force lightning through. A bloodcurdling scream erupted through her lungs, her air pushed out, while she kept her Cruictorn. She had never hated Force Lightning more than this moment. It rippled up her body, threatening to make her seize up, as she made her mind focus beyond the pain. Her force took hold of the girder and jerked her aim downward. The base screeched in a deafening protest before the bolts holding it in play gave away, twisting off as it shot downward onto the pair. Sela knew this fight was death from the beginning, the very reason she sent Xid away, and now, she was determined to take them both down if she could. Her sacrifice was worth the price if the Sith died with her after all. Unless the alien moved, they both would be crushed underneath.

As the Jedi finally gave in, Nyiss felt the elation of victory, a snarling grin revealing her white teeth as she increased the intensity of the lightning. At the last moment, she notice that the girder she had been arcing the lightning off was hurtling towards the pair. She sidestepped as quickly as she could, lightning still streaking from her fingers - too late.

Pain shot through her right arm as a jagged protrusion cut down the length of it. Worse, lightning still coursed through the metal, and arced into her body. she was knocked to the side, falling to the floor hard with no grace or elegance. It was only through her strength of will that she remained conscious, and only through the Force that she knew the Jedi had fared worse.

Sela felt the steel and lightning burn through her being, every muscle and nerve set on fire through the girder collapsing over top of her. Like the Sith, Sela had tried to dodge it but was too slow. Now laid across it her chest, pinning her down. Chunks of twisted metal had seared and impaled her through the navel, her wounds slowly bleeding out but not fast enough to kill her quickly. The lightning had managed to hit her old war wound and with the lightning pulsing through it, any machine adaptations were rendered useless. She was paralyzed from the waist down in her horrifying realization when she tried to push away the thing pinning her down. Her lightsaber lost in the debris as she turned partly, spotting that had been tossed within eyesight of her.

Impulsively she tried to raise it to her hand before the Sith could stop her.

Darth Nyiss pushed herself to feet with her good arm. There was pain in her right arm, but it only served to heighten her awareness, just as the dark red blood that seeped from the wound only seemed to make her crimson skin seem more vibrant. She quickly spotted the Jedi, pinned beneath the fallen mass of metal. Nearby, the Jedi’s saber shook lightly, trying to make its way back to its masters hand. Nyiss raised her hand and summoned it into her own hand, clipping it next her belt alongside her own weapon.

“You wont be needing that anymore.” She said with satisfaction evident in her voice.

She made her way slowly around the twisted mass of metal and on reaching the Jedi, knelt beside her. Her good hand went to the Jedi’s neck, but rather than constrict, she drew on the darkside of the Force and began draining away what life remained. She held her injured arm where the Jedi could see, the gash closing and the skin mending over. She spoke no more words as she continued to drain the Jedi’s life away.

Sela’s hands attempted to push and claw the damaged girder off her, only to have it move down enough to crush her legs more. It was useless and though her body wanted to struggle against fate, her mind was calm as a storm’s eye. She knew it would’ve ended one way or another but at least she had bought Xid time to bring someone to finish what she started. When the Darth’s hand grasped about her neck, the Jedi expected the tightening grasp and suffocation to begin, but instead…her body was colder than ice where the Sith touched. The darker skinned woman’s flesh crawled at the wrongness of being in close contact while it spread, the chill sending needles into her muscles and surface, making it blacken more.

Her hands jerked up, instinctively to force the grip to release. Her nails digging weakly into the skin and tried to remove it, feeling her life slipping into darkness. Not being choked, she could easily speak her last words to her adversary. “Your darkness won’t last forever and what I started… someone will finish it. I doubt, but I hope, they will pity you as much as I do when they end your life. Showing you far more mercy than you deserve.”

Nyiss merely ignored the Jedi’s last words. “Shhh… Don’t fight it…” She said, in a tone that, if not for the hate she felt for all Jedi, might’ve been motherly. “Your end has come.”

“No.” Sela said, her lips smirking, though her eyes screamed calm and dignity, while her fingers slowly loosen. “It’s only the beginning for me.”

At her last words, her hands loosened their grip and fell to the floor, the black color spreading to the finger and lifeless.

Once the Jedi was drained completely, Nyiss stood once more, revitalized. She spared only a glance at the dessicated husk that remained before turning on her heel. “What a waste.” She said to no one in particular, her usual disdain and disgust having returned to her voice. She paused only to scoop up and put back on her outer robe, before continuing on towards Tolun Fi’s lab, the emotions of the battle already fading.

It was five hours and ten minutes into the flight when the captain notified Lyric his task was completed. In short, he was being booted out. Any other prideful and sensitive Jedi might’ve taken the captain’s blunt ways to heart, but Lyric didn’t. In fact he appreciated it for its honesty and lacking of wasting time that he ended up thanking the man, then moved to the door without a scene.

Now he had some time to kill and he knew just how to do it. His hands folded into his robes, lying in the larger sleeves that cradled and rested his arms, while his feet lead him to the mess halls. However, it wasn’t because he was hungry. In fact, he had eaten well during the whole ship’s preparation before embarking on its dangerous mission. No, he had another motive to heading to the very place he knew all the Jedi would visit sooner or later. It was the easiest way he could spend time ‘bonding’ and evaluating his present crew onboard. He needed to know what type of Jedi he was working with as the war produced many stereo typical types, from the unorthodox shadows to the stern, hard code peacekeepers. All them unique even among their various roles which made the order up as a whole in pushing out the Sith. The only negative part was it seemed to been failing during the passing war.

Casualties, Sith and corpse numbers grew with the passing years, killing the Jedi hope rate with it over the time. It seemed the Sith knew exactly how to cripple them without ever laying a finger on them. His fingers balled up into a fist under his robe while his feet slowed, turning into the mess hall’s entrance. It didn’t take long for him to sense those present, among them one powerfully force sensitive one, Master Tetsu, appeared to be finishing her meal and chattering among a group of soldiers. The collection was made from various young and promising Republic men and women who loyally served the Republic.

Careful not to interrupt the proceedings, Lyric causally walked by to take a seat at the table’s end. The one right beside the Twi’lek master. Leaning back against his stool, his lungs inhaled another smoky puff and exhaled when his hand removed the ciggara from his mouth. He took great care not to blow the rings into the current speaker’s direction while he related a recent adventure, his ears perked and surveying the Twi’lek carefully.

Lord Jewel Namore cut an imposing figure in her battle armor, silhouetted against the blazing orange Coruscanti sky. Currently, she was gracing a landing pad in the Jedi temple with that figure. This was the pad where all the Jedi were being brought. The ones that were captured for Darth Nyiss. Jewel’s task was to keep the shuttles and the pad secure. Though hardly the most glamorous of tasks for a Sith Lord, it was, nonetheless, very important. With the Jedi penchant for misguided heroics, she was fairly sure she would have the chance to kill or capture at least one Jedi personally, all without having to spend a second hunting them down. Ven’ren, one of her Apprentices, was there to assist her, though she had more brought him along to expose him to victory than actually fight. After all, she was quite capable on her own.

Ven'ren was pacing, clearly distraught. His boots made a clicking on the metal floors. Other people's feelings reached into his mind, and he shook his head to get rid of them. The battle was near enough for him to notice, or at least its effect was strong enough for him to notice. There were no specifics, only the sense like a sound you can barely hear, but still clearly enough there make it impossible to ignore it. It had been like that for nearly half an hour, and Ven had spent most of that time pacing around, first on the ship and then on the landing pad. He shakes his head again and turns to his master.

“Do you think they will be quiet soon?” He asks in a conversational manner, not sounding nearly as restless as he clearly was.

Jewel looked at her Apprentice. He was an odd one, she knew, and he had his uses, but that didn’t stop him being annoying. Especially when he forgot to address her appropriately. Anger rose in her breast at that little slip of his, but she suppressed it. In this environment, unleashing her rage might not only go to far, but risk her safety. If she was spent and a Jedi arrived trying to play hero, it would be decidedly embarrassing. That kind of embarrassment was much worse than enduring a minor slight from Ven’ren.

“It won't be long now.” She said, vicious eagerness in her voice. “The Jedi, for all their bluster, are not as strong as they believe. Our victory is at hand. Then there will be quiet.” She was only half addressing Ven’ren at that point. This was just too good a victory, and she couldn’t help but be swept up in it.

“Yes, my Lord.” the apprentice answered, even though his master only partly spoke to him, and even bowed, as if to make up for his previous mistake. He had felt the flicker of her anger, after all, in the midst of everything else. He rose slowly and stood for a moment, listening to something apparently only heard in his own brain. Then shook his head again and continued pacing. Since they had landed, the emotions were only getting stronger. Now, he could pick out the specifics. The fear and the death and certain force auras flickering and disappearing. His state of mind was getting worse, not knowing if he should make sense of what he was feeling through the force, or try to block it out entirely.

“My Lord, can you hear it? Can you hear the death?” He asked again, mostly curious. It was so loud to him now, and he wondered if not Jewel felt is as he did, but simply didn’t let it bother her. He made a quiet humming noise, as if to mimic the ‘sound’ of picking up deaths through the force.

“Its glorious, is it not.” Jewel stated, knowing full well that Ven’ren probably didn’t think so. “I can feel so many of our hated foes flickering out of existence.” Of course there were Sith dying too, and Jewel could feel their passing, but they were not her Sith, and so she did not really care about them. “But do not revel in it too much.” She said, suddenly whipping around towards her apprentice, a teaching tone in her voice. “It is the reward of victory, to feel the passing of your foe. But it is an end to conflict, and conflict strengthens a Sith. Be angry that your chance to improve yourself is being taken from you. Rage at your foe for his final spiteful act. Use that rage to overcome your next enemy. If you must, use it to create a new enemy. It is no use to proclaim yourself superior without proving it, and defeating your enemy is the only way to prove your superiority.” Just because this was a war zone didn’t mean it wasn’t a good place to teach. If anything, it was the best place to teach.

Ven’ren stopped when his master addressed him directly, and listened with his head slightly tilted. Responding with another “Yes, my Lord.” and bow when she was finished.

“I have so far only had the opportunity to measure my strength against other Sith. I will remember.” He would not have anything against listening to more of his master’s teachings, mostly because listening to actual words distracted him from the constant flow of other people's emotions. He did once go to the edge of the landing pad and looked down into the city, but was faced with a surprisingly strong desire to jump down there. He had instead started walking in small circles in the middle. He welcomed the chance to speak to his master instead. “I see why this victory is not mine to revel in, since I am not part of the battle and victory is not mine. But should we, even as Sith, grieve the end of conflict even when we are victorious?” He has drawn himself together as he speaks, tilting his head in a way that allows him to look up at her when asking.

“Yes.” Jewel stated simply, before elaborating. She was not bothered by her Apprentices strange path across the landing pad. It left him in a poor position to defend himself should a Jedi burst in and charge them, but if he was struck down by a Jedi here, he probably wasn’t worth saving anyway. “When not actively engaged in conflict, or preparing for conflict, you will stagnate. Like the Jedi.” Her fingers tightened their grip on her Lightsaber then, both at the thought of the Jedi and their ridiculous peace loving ways and at the lack of something in front of her to kill. “You may think the safety at the end of a conflict is a good thing. It is not. When you are safe, you are lazy. You will never acquire power unless you reach out and take it yourself… Tell me Ven’ren. When we force the Republic to capitulate, what will be your conflict?”

“For me, there will always be conflict.” He said before stopping to think of a more proper answer. “This is the first I have been directly involved in this war. Its end will not mean safety. There is no safety for Sith. I will still seek revenge for Tereth. That will give me enemies. It will always continue.” He tried to concentrate on that thought. On Tereth’s face when they had first met on Kaas. On the place itself, trying to push out the remnants of memories telling him he was currently standing on his home planet. “We are never safe, we always fight, to rise or to survive.” He trailed off on the last bit as he started to shake his head again, but this time it seemed to have helped, and when he continued he seemed perfectly calm, showing no further sign of restlessness. “I will not be lazy, master, for even when no threat faces me immediately, one will soon and one must be prepared. Being careless is death. Feeling safe is death.” He he had given an acceptable answer and looked across the city, grateful that the memories and emotions had, for the moment, tired of pulling at him.

It was an interesting experience for Som, being escorted down the hallways he’d considered his home for so long in the company of strangers. Hostile strangers at that, their sabers unlit but held ready in their hands as if expecting the Mirialan to make a move at any moment. He knew better than that though, outnumbered three-to-one, with his hands bound on front of him and lightsaber smashed on the floor of the meditation chamber there was no way he’d win in a conflict, and his death would serve no purpose in the greater battle. Instead he allowed himself to be prodded and shoved as the Sith made their way down to the ground floor of the Temple.

Jewel was still waiting on the landing pad, still distinctly unsatisfied with the lack of brave, stupid Jedi charging in to battle her. Several unconscious ones had been brought in, yes, but they were of no real note to her, not right now. She was almost ready to start pacing impatiently when a group of lesser Sith walked a conscious Jedi through the door. He wasn’t even bound. She knew Jedi were self destructive… But this, to actually surrender to a hated enemy, it took it to a whole new level. For a moment she just stared dumbfounded. None of the Jedi she had ever fought had surrendered. When she regained her wits, she couldn’t help but start laughing, a melodious, spiteful and evil sound. She waved the Sith away when they brought the Jedi before her. She wouldn’t need their assistance with this weakling.

As the guards moved aside Som nodded his head to them respectfully, thanking them for their patience with him in their long march down. He was sure he heard a snarl from one of the men as they stepped away, but it was no matter. He had after all done as was only proper, even if they did not recognise the gesture as it had been intended. Turning to face the new stranger he noted her uniform was more decorative than the others and guessed that she was most likely a superior to the guards who’d captured him. Clearing his throat Som bowed his head to her as he spoke, “Am I to take it you are the one who is to be imprisoning me? Or at least transporting me to a place of imprisonment?”

Jewel looked down at the slightly shorter Jedi. He was awfully polite. “Why yes, I am.” She said, still not quite believing it. It must be some sort of trick, his surrender. Yes. That was it. This was some kind of deception, to rescue the ones already captured. Though he wouldn’t get very far, with no lightsaber. “It would have been far more pleasant for you to have died resisting of course. The destruction of your temple and the crushing of the Republics beating heart is only the beginning. You’re valiant-” She spat the word, making it clear that she thought it was anything but. “-Actions in giving yourself up peacefully are wasted.” This Jedi was altogether far too collected for Jewel’s liking. He should be a broken wreck at this point. After all, his world was literally coming crashing down around him. If that wouldn’t do it, then she would just have to help the terror along.

Glancing around him passively Som took in the scorch marks and damaged panels dotted along the passageway, in the same way one would consider an insect bespoiling a beautiful flower. “My death here would serve no purpose,” He explained clearly and levelly, his voice never wavering, “If I were to allow myself to die pointlessly that would devalue my worth, both in my own eyes and in the eyes of others.” Turning his attention back to the Sith standing before him Som allowed himself a moment to study her scowling face, seeing past the hate and revulsion to the beauty which lay hidden beneath, “By allowing myself to be taken, I open myself up to the opportunity to later find some value in my actions, that my sacrifice may be of benefit to others.”

“Typical Jedi.” Jewel scowled. “Lacking the backbone to take an action in benefit of yourself. You will come to regret that.” She smiled knowingly, for she knew exactly what was yet to come for the prisoners that Darth Nyiss was taking. The smile quickly dropped from her face then, replaced with barely controlled anger. She raised her hand, fingers pinched together, reaching out with the Force to grasp the Jedi by his throat and raise him off the ground. She would not choke hard enough to do anything permanent, but she wanted him awake too. “So tell me then, Jedi, why it is you assumed a fickle darksider such as myself would not simply kill you for sport once you were captured. At least if you died with a lightsaber in hand, you might’ve taken a Sith with you, and spared the galaxy our ‘evil.’” She held him there for a few more moments after she finished speaking, before letting him drop back to the ground.

Som made no move to get back up onto his feet, knowing the Sith would see that as a challenge he wasn’t in need of making. As soon as he’d felt the invisible fingers clutching at his throat Som had breathed deeply, channeling his training as he took control of his breath and endured the Sith’s torment. The woman obviously had great anger inside her and if he allowed her to soothe some of it against him then it would no doubt save others from similar treatment, others who may not be as readily able to endure her wrath.

Finally he lifted his head with a serene smile, his eyes seeking out for his captor’s. “There are many ways to defeat evil, and often the most direct ones are not the best. In time I hope you will come to understand this as I do. Or perhaps not.” His voice thickened with pity as he muttered the last words, and Som let his head fall down, his gaze drifting to the floor.

The Jedi’s refusal to fight back frustrated Jewel immensely. She had struggle to resist the urge to ignite her lightsaber and strike this fool down in one motion. She bottled the rage up for another time. “Then it is a good thing I only care about power. Perhaps one day you will understand just how much of a waste selflessness and peace are.” With that, she dragged him to his feet by his collar, and with a hand physically around his throat threw him the short distance into the metal side of the shuttle, augmenting her strength with the Force to do so. She could’ve just drugged him, but that was decidedly less satisfying. She stepped to where he had come to rest on the sloped side of the shuttle, put a hand on his throat again. Bringing her face close to his, she stared into his eyes and wordlessly focused the full rage fueled power of Force fear on his mind.

Allowing his body to go limp Som hung from the Sith’s grasp as he felt his mind being invaded. As he’d flown through the air Som had summoned the Force around himself, cushioning his impact against the wall and allowing himself to fall safely to the floor, only to then let himself collapse into a hemp. It would be best to let the Sith believe she was causing more damage than she actually was, in some sick, perverted way this seemed to please her, and if she was pleased then she wouldn’t try to escalate things too quickly.

As the rage buffeted around inside his head Som pulled back within himself, letting the waves of hate crash against his mental defenses while remaining calm and composed beneath the assault. His mind took him back to his childhood and the training his grandfather had taught him and Som could feel his own darkness buried deep inside stirring but tamed within his control. He had never failed to live up to the example set by both his grandfather and his father and he would not fail now. With a deep breath Som focused himself once more, pursing his lips together for a moment before channelling the Force up through his constrained throat. With a precise tone the Mirialan whistled softly, letting the tone wash over Jewel as Som tried to break her concentration with as little resistance as he could.

For a long moment Jewel thought the Jedi was finally going to break, but then he started whistling. The sound tore at the edge of her mind, not much, but just enough to disrupt the focus of her rage to fuel her Force abilities. “So you do have some fight in you.” She said just loud enough for him to hear, through gritted teeth. Then she drew back, keeping her hand on his throat. With her other hand, she swung a punch at the green skinned Jedi’s jaw.

As the Sith’s gauntlet smacked into his face Som could feel the bones grinding, close to breaking point. The pain sparked inside his head and he took it and forged it into his own, drawing power from it to help keep his mind focussed. Smiling gently at Jewel, Som looked her in the eye as she pinned him against the side of the shuttle. “Your rage will be your downfall, if you don’t learn to master it.” He mumbled as his lip began to swell, feeling his mind becoming blurred from the physical shock which still echoed around inside his skull.

“Rage is power.” Jewel said simply and unemotionally, before raising her fist. Once again her armored gauntlet came down on the Jedi’s head and she felt as much as saw the consciousness leaving him. Dragging Som’s limp body over towards the hatchway Jewel reached inside, taking one of the thick syringes stored there. She unceremoniously injected the green Jedi with the cocktail of potent drugs, enough to kill most sentients, but necessary to keep a Force user sedated for the journey. That task complete, she left him where he lay and strolled casually back into the middle of the landing pad. The guards would do the rest.

Arix didn’t weep.

His master had provided him the same platitudes about death as any other, and all of them didn’t address the fact that she was gone. Trampled by the callous Sith, rent open at side and back with the cauterized black lightsaber wounds that cut far too deep for anything resembling treatment, he did his best to...tidy her, he supposed. Get her hair from her face, close her eyes. If his hands shook during the process, the best that could be said was that he didn’t weep.

But he did feel the Sith that thought to take advantage of his weakness.

“Come to kill me, too?”

Pushing to his feet he summoned his saber to his hand from where it had rolled, snapping the crisp blue blade to life. He straightened his spine, ignored the weariness in his limbs and the burn in his eyes. His blade flicked up in the most vicious Makashi salute of his life.

Pain, anger and spite wafted off the youth before Jayda, her eyes studying the Echani as his hand snapped his lightsaber to life. His arm whipped to the side and back in front him, making a salute she had only seen a few times, showing his emotions on the surface too well. For a strange, surreal moment a memory flickered across her mind causing her heart to crack slightly. A destroyed room, ruins of her brother apartment, with his corpse severed in half at Sish’s feet. The dead eyes stared at her and seemed to blame her for being unable to save him, her pain filling her every fiber at the sight.

“Preferably not unless you give me little choice.” Jayda spoke in surprisingly unemotional voice, despite the storm raging within her. Guilt pounced at her core the moment her brother’s face cropped up in her focus, temporarily dissolving her stance as she trotted closer. Her hilt still within her grip but not activated yet. “The temple is in ruins and there’s no escape. So your options are limited: surrender or flee. Which is it?”

She never removed her eyes, her face blank to what her thoughts or state might be as she spoke. Even her body seemed relaxed. At least on the surface, but in reality, her muscles were ready to spring into action at the last second and if the Jedi was anything like she was, he wouldn’t hesitate to attack.

“I’m sorry, Master Sint.” He said quietly, taking a few steps forward, raising the blade of light in front of him to stare down it towards the zabrak, high guard. “I should be better than this.”

And he charged.

It wasn’t as sloppy as it should have been, for how tired he was and for the braid dangling down the neck of his neck. A Makashi attack is a difficult thing to master, the efficient wrist-flicking slashes and thrusts almost always a trap for younger swordsmen in the tradition, but Arix knew better. This emotionless Sith that stared him down was not expecting a retreat--he could see it in the tension within the depths of her stance, the slight touches that showed her unrest. Many others would have missed it, but to an echani it was as clear as day.

He didn’t care that she wasn’t at ease. It didn’t matter that she didn’t really want to fight him, because there was absolutely no way he was about to simply let another one of these animals walk on him.

The first swipe was a flick for her wrist, turning easily into a feint-to-thrust at her chest. If he could feel the ache in his leg with his lunge, his breath coming harder and the dull throbbing behind his eyes, well… he’d live.

Or not.

It was quick, circular motion made to disarm at first though Jayda naturally suspected there was more to the move than met the eye. Her thumb jerked and her saber hummed to life, bring her arm up. There was a harsh sound as her blade pulled into the path of the Jedi’s, blocking it with the minimal effort. It skimmed past and missed her wrist, running up to her chest’s left. The Jedi twisted his disarming attack into a stab at her chest causing her bring her blade about, her hand flickering it across her body and redirecting the movement.

Battle light embered in her eyes for a second, her body feeling the hum edge from her core and outward to her limbs. Her hearts pounded and lungs inhaled deeply as she increased her steady pace to counter the jab. Jayda’s right foot stepped to the side, bring her body to circle him. Her form III showed easily in her blocks to date though her mind was waiting for the perfect time to strike, namely to take him alive.

A strategy Arix was familiar with, he’d seen the passive-aggression of skilled Soresu practitioners often enough to know how to deal with it. It was, in many ways, why he had mastered Form II--its economy of action, of unshowy, effortless combination of offense and defense against a lightsaber and its focus on footwork allowed him both the time and the precision necessary to bait a Form III user into their own trap as often as not, and overwhelm them with swift strikes when it did not.

It was not going to work this time.

She was planning to wear him out but he was already worn. She would wait for him to make a mistake and then capitalize on it, but it was clear enough from the tension in her legs, the crouched power she maintained despite the calm required by the form that she had done this before and would do it again, and that she was intending to capitalize on his first mistake rather than his third or fourth.

“You’re holding back.”

This, more than anything else, frustrated Arix. He was tired, he was beaten, his master lay dead and the temple he had dedicated himself to was in ruins, its enemies at its gates. He had lost, as his Master would have sharply explained, by his surrender to his darker emotions, and now this Sith beast thought him foolish enough to simply waste himself against her defense until she could have his head.

She circled and he circled back, continuing the footwork until their positions were reversed. He would lose, he had no doubt, unless he proved bold--and if he was going to die, he wasn’t going to do it like the mewling padawan she knew him to be.

“Don’t you dare hold back.” He finally snarled, lunging with another quick disengage to bait the obvious Soresu parry, the effortless motion that would be sufficiently automatic for the saber he tugged from his master’s belt and sent whirling for her back with a quick jerk of his off hand to hopefully come as somewhat of a shock. It was all he had left, the stop-thrust suitably final. Either his ploy would work… or he’d see his Master again soon.

Jayda’s eyebrow raised when she heard him speak, slightly surprised he noticed her restrain in the battle, but held her guard up. Her eyes caught his tired movements from his sloppy attempts to hide them, his patience unlike many Jedi was wearing thinly. She minded her footing, taking one step to the side then another as they continued their deadly dance. For a moment, a hard one, Jayda merely stared at the padawan, expecting him to become the predicted aggressor that many had in the past.

With a final snarl, he didn’t take long.

It was almost unnatural to see the unbridled fury within a Jedi. He, like many, didn’t understand why she held back. Not even Sish, the filthy murder, understood fully why she never let her emotion surface.

Again her blade flowed into place itself between her and the Jedi’s blade. However things happened differently this time. Instead of smacking it away, she locked with it and pinned it on the side nearest her.. Her body side stepped to his left then her free hand lashed out. Her sharp claws did a quick strike, enough to cause pain but to jerk out of the way should the lightsaber come whipping around. It was risk and unexpected, her hope it would’ve caught him off guard enough to gain an advantage. Each block and parry had brought her subtly closer and closer during the duel, lessening the gap separating them until he was within striking distance.

Her eyes caught the fingers in his free hand twitch. Instinctively, her head skirt over her shoulder. Jayda had little time to react and cover her back before the hilt popped her into the back. Pain erupted where it landed, causing her to growl as she whipped her blade about, severing the off saber in half when it went to clatter to the floor.

That he wasn’t surprised at her physicality did not, unfortunately, mean he was prepared to counter it. With his saber bound by hers it was all he could do to jerk his elbow up and guard his face, taking the brunt of her slashing claws across his bicep and forearm in thin, bright lashes of pain. His breath came hard and sweat beaded at his temples, but his ploy with the saber had worked. As she broke the lock to sever it---he took the opportunity to make a light cut to her stomach with a fillip of his wrist that turned into a stop-cut for her head, his knee hitting the ground and too much of him left open.

He should have had the strength to disengage. He should have played her game, capitalized on Form III’s predictable defense and used her tactics against her, but all that would do now would be to capitalize on his deficit. Trying to draw on the Force was greeted only with a throb behind his eyes, his head beginning to hang.

Perhaps, he thought dryly, bitterly, he should close his eyes. Would it be more in keep with the Code to resist unto death, or embrace it?

Jadya felt her claws wet with blood, even heard his teeth grit in pain, as his robes and flesh were subjected to her wicked claws. One thing about her race’s nails, they could be as strong and dangerous as their horns, making them ideal improvised weapons. At the moment she countered the saber’s back attack, her waist felt pain sear through her side. It erupted in fire when the blade skimmed her robes and burned into the scarred surface underneath, creating a graze.

She let out a scream but her body didn’t froze up, instead her free hand jerked up and flatten her palm at the lightsaber’s attack. The blade hit an energy barrier, stopping dead in its tracks when the Jedi crumbling to his knee. Not giving him another chance to counter with another slash at her head or risk a sudden burst of energy, Jayda’s foot jerked out and aimed at his chest. She poured her force through it as it made contact, aiming to send him back into far wall.

“You should’ve went peacefully, it would’ve been easier.” Jayda spoke, her tone dead and cold. They were likely the last words he would hear before passing out.

It was not the strike he expected but no less effective for it--the slam of her foot to his chest toppled him, sent him flying backwards across the sleek floor of the temple to impact the wall with a vicious crack. Something broke--he was unsure what--but as he fell to the floor he wondered idly where his saber had gone. Lost in the assault, of course, he could barely hold his teeth in after a kick like that, but still it had to be…

His head rang, he couldn’t breath, but even that punch of panicked adrenaline was fading into the cold dark of the floor. Absurdly, as her words rang in his ears, his final thought was still to his saber. No proper duelist would let himself be so disarmed.

Damn.

A collab between Fallen and myself

Meditation was something that didn’t come easy to Tolun Fi, given how his mind always was running through any number of ideas at any given time. Outwardly, his composure would have given a viewer a collected and serene individual. Inwardly, Tolun Fi had recited the periodic table of elements and about sixty chemical reactions by the time a clumsy sound started brushing through the vents above. The Kaminoan opened his eyes, regarding the ventilation duct above with mild suspicion. Raising to his feet with his lightsaber in hand, Tolun Fi listened intently at the approaching sound, relaxing after he made the connection. A few moments later, the tiny droid that Xid had created from spare parts emerged,as if it were panicked.

“Navi. I realized you could not possibly be a Sith probe droid because they are actually proficient at sneaking up on someone. Is Xid alright? I trust he sent you to find me.” Tolun Fi asked. The droid whirled, servos working as it produced a holo image of Master Sela locked in combat with an unidentified Sith lord. He nodded once and the image vanished. It was not the first time Navi and Tolun Fi had shared information in such a way. “I see. Knowing Master Sela, she sent Xid away instead of risking his life against a great opponent. Selfless, and perhaps a bit too sentimental.” He paused, looking back at the droid. “She did not expect to win, did she?”

Navi seemed to size Tolun up for a moment, it’s little, red eyes staring at the Kaminoan. It was already use to this reaction though its primary concern was Xid rather than Sela, suspecting the same thing as the Knight had pointed out. It nodded its board head then replayed the scene before the Sith’s arrival. Just after Xid was tossed away, his body rose to his feet and for a split second seemed to have struggled with himself over the right course of action. At least until Sela told him to seek help. It was a look Tolun Fi would know well, namely with rebellious padawans, that pretty clearly answered his own question.

When the replay stopped, the droid twisted about to notice the door had been locked in a very permanent manner. The locking mechanism had been melted by a lightsaber preventing it from ever opening again. It lifted one leg, pointing to the door, and wiggled it as if asking the reason.

Tolun Fi approached the door, staring with the droid at the fused panel, still glowing hot with molten circuitry and metal. “Ah, I should have expected your inquisitive nature to discover my handiwork. As you have most likely noted, I have destroyed my lab and have been waiting here in solitude for assistance or the enemy to breach the door. Given the overwhelming presence of the Dark Side, which is quite unmistakable, even if you ignore the turbolaser blasts, I had assumed the Order to have been on the losing side.” He looked at the jar of neurotoxin, moving it further away with a gentle push of the Force. “I know my last moments alive will be rendered quite irritating if I do not attempt to locate Xid because you are nothing if not tenacious, my friend. I will have to cut through this door to do so, unless you have another suggestion.”

Having no discernable objection, Tolun Fi’s lightsaber erupted to life and was thrust towards the bottom of the door until the Kaminoan felt no more resistance and he started to pull the blade upwards. “This is going to take some time, and somebody is going to notice. I do not suppose I could ask you to go and scout the other side for me in case I have a welcoming committee when I finally breach through? I’d rather my bland attempt at heroics not be cut short by a dozen blasters.”

Navi whirled its approval, then in a metal blur took off into the vent again. It wouldn’t take long for it to retrace its steps and arrive back on the other side of the door. Though truthfully, neither Tolun Fi or Navi could fully prepare for what awaited the Jedi on the other side.