"This is the freighter Starshine, awaiting contact at rally point. Please advise."

Her index finger released pressure from the button, and the channel died. Nearly all sound inside the freighter died with it; there was breathing between the two Jedi, and little else. The younger Jedi waiting on the older Jedi to explain, to give guidance, to be the Master to their Padawan. And yet...Satele Shan didn't say a word. With the glimmer of gold from the inlay of her unusual set of robes as she slid her weight against the back of the bucket seat at the communications console, noiseless, lost in her thoughts and the vast infinity of the Force.

"We should have already gotten a reply."

Satele's green eyes set upon her Padawan slowly, like a pair of emerald stars falling across the Padawan's atmosphere: measurements were made of the character, of the mind, of the situation. The Force was strong with the girl, that had been enough for Satele when she selecting a Padawan. Satele believed in what she saw and felt from the Force on the matter, the Padawan was most likely as far from certain in the Force. They weren't skills and senses you developed that quickly, not for most, and not in the period of tense intermission the Galaxy was currently in.

It wasn't peace, and this had stopped being comfortable. Finally Satele Shan sighed.

"Prep the speeder bikes. We'll go to the village ourselves, Grim's not coming to meet us." She hadn't heard from the Mandalorian like she was supposed to. There was a pattern to their communication, every beep of every call a signal and sign, everything timed out, every little thing had meaning. But silence? That had the worst meaning of it all. Even Brye, her Padawan, was going to start feeling it. There was no softening it, there was no hiding it, and no further any point in delaying it: "It's a trap, but it's not one we can run away from. Grim is a respected clan leader, he's never lied or steered me wrong, but he's never avoided contact either."

Can't lie or steer me wrong if you won't respond to me, a thought that festered in the back of her mind with irritation. It wouldn't last. If Grim was betraying her, he was betraying her for his Clan. Grim had never made any bones about where his loyalties lie, even ahead of pals. Satele and Grim were pals. That meant a lot to both of them...but they weren't Clanmates. She was a Jedi, he was a Mandalorian warrior. They'd fought before. The memory was always fresh enough in her mind. Even if because it was one of the few times she had smelled so much flammable gas at one time--and all of it aimed at her.

She still had a burn mark on the top of her left foot.

That was battle, there was honor.

Traps? Satele snorted at the thought, and bolted from the bucket seat of the Jedi freighter. The Padawan had gone about the checklist for each speeder bike, Satele punching away commands at the cargo door that would open and let them take out the speeder bikes, the command panel for the massive door heavy and thick and it's buttons mechanical, built to last no matter the heavy condition. She hoped the bikes would be just as dependable in the thick, humid, air of Dxun's dark jungles.

Satele couldn't help but feel her heartbeat quicken when the bikes were led down the cargo ramp. The ramp was retracted, the cargo door shut, and the Starshine sealed. Save for the dim glow of operational light from the skin of the Starshine the two Jedi worked their speeder bikes in darkness of the jungle clearing that was connected to by two "roads"--paths ripped through Dxun's jungle using very large equipment, and no more. In Dxun that alone was considered a luxury, and it was along the one path heading the direction they needed to go that Satele felt anxious about. The roads of Dxun were precious few, and never peaceful.

With that thought in mind Satele swung her leg over the frame of the speeder bike and twisted the throttle with a hard motion, bringing about more light than noise: the exhausts of their speeder bikes had been muffled for a sensitive insertion three missions back, and were so quiet they just never asked to have the modifcation removed. Not that Satele thought it mattered all that much here.

Everyone knew they were coming.

A quick tap of her bike's control and the dim blue holographic map projected into being between the bikes of the two Jedi. Most of the map was blue-blurred, representing thick jungle. Two lines arched away from the clearing they were in, one to an eastern coastal trading town, the other marked as off limits and hazardous by the Republic map: a Mandalorian Village.

The long arching path had several specks just off it; huts, a single independent ranch, and way-stations for the foolish ambitious few traders who would actually brave a Dxun clearing for profit. Nothing else. "Watch the treeline on either side of the road. This is as unfriendly a place as it gets, and it's pitch black until something's already too close to you so if you're not looking...it's easy to get surprised. I have a bad feeling about this, Brye," emphasis set with Satele's green eyes, a hard stare accompanying the warning to the Padawan, "so keep your lightsaber close and your wits about you.....and if I tell you to leave me and run, leave me and run."

The engine to her speederbike revved, and Satele blurring across the jungle opening and towards the western road.

There were predators just beyond the treeline. Satele felt them, but they weren't what she was reaching out for. A natural predator was a neutral party. Anything as dangerous to those attacking her as it was to her was a trade-off Satele could live with. After a few moments she even heard Brye catch up, but those were miles. A few moments more and more miles. The speeder bikes were too fast, but that had been part of why Satele picked them.

If the Jedi could react in time to avoid the natural dangers of Dxun, then the speed might provide an advantage.

Or bring them right in the middle of a mess before they knew it...not that Satele didn't already know it; lights from several speeders, another speeder overturned and burning in the black Dxun night. Bugs whizzed by and buzzed about, but they grew less frequent the closer Satele got to the fire. She stopped first, coasting to a full halt not even ten feet from the burning speeder. She hoped Brye would stop further back, but knowing the Padawan...

No words were spoken. The scene didn't surprise her. That she found Grim close to the burning, flipped over speeder? Of course she did. The second she felt the Mandalorian's presence, her heart sank, and that had been nearly a minute ago on the western road through Dxun jungle. The last minute was trying to keep a distance with the Padawan, and preparing herself for this moment.

For the four Sith that stood over Grim. The four Sith seemed surprised two Jedi appeared out of Dxun darkness...but they weren't surprised in the Jedi. They were surprised in the timing of the Jedi. All four of the Sith were masked in black masks of sharp lines and a fearsome shadow expression. Each carried red lightsabers that the Sith closest to the wreck brought to his hand.

"You're early," he said to Satele, as the other three spread out behind him, two of them intently focused on the Jedi behind Satele. Satele paid it no attention. Just Sith sniffing out a Padawan, and trying to isolate it for the easy kill. Welcome to the War, Satele wanted to tell Brye, but somehow the Grand Master knew better. Whatever this was, this wasn't that. The other three Sith ignited their lightsabers, their two seat speeders turned off.

Satele followed their movements, but she didn't look at them. Her eyes had been on Grim. He was alive, but barely just, a twist of broken bones under his unshining, dull, blue armor. Satele told him without words to relax as best he could. His thoughts responded as only they knew how: Just fuck off and kill them before I die here. Satele broke the connection with Grim's mind, focusing anew on the Sith before her, sliding off her speederbike.

Sudden as a Dxun Maaalraas brilliant blue light washed the entire scene in it's glow, the angry hum of Satele's double-sided lightsaber announcing her intent as she twirled it at the ready in a flat light before her otherwise unmoving, straight standing, form.

"We will not kill you, Shan...but your Padawan does not share your bloodline, and we make no promises to their safety. Come with us and we will simply let Padawan Farlance take her speeder back to her ship. Make this a fight and I promise only one of you will walk away."

His voice was deep, almost shaking with anger, and...excitement? It wasn't what Satele usually perceived from Sith before a fight. But it wasn't every fight that a Sith knew your name, and the name of your Padawan. "It's not only a trap, it's a very specific trap." Green eyes narrowed, and something dangerously close to anger became to be heard in Satele's low tone. There was only silent for what seemed an eternity. It became clear they weren't moving first, a bizarre thing for Sith. It was just as clear she was a target, not her Padawan.

Should she endanger the girl?...was the girl a Jedi?

"Brye," the name spoken louder than normal, Satele not looking back to address her Padawan. Not taking her eyes off the strange Sith, "you're ready for this."

Then the black night of the jungle moon Dxun blurred to life as the four Sith separated into two groups of two moving in opposite directions. Satele didn't hesitate in charging the left group, the group that included the Sith warrior who had actually spoken to them. He was a warrior, the other Sith with him was not a warrior, but something else. That was obvious in the clusmy way they tried to check and counter Satele's initial charge, yet even a clumsy counter was enough to warrant Satele's best effort considering the Sith warrior that taken a glancing blow from Satele's initial charge, only to come howling back at her the moment her back turned to deal with the clumsy one. A Sith at each side of her, but the double-bladed saber kept each off guard just enough to allow Satele to move the fight where she wanted, at a pace she felt comfortable with.

"This is the freighter Starshine, awaiting contact at rally point. Please advise."

There was a long silence as her Master, Satele Shan, made a call over the communication channel. Brye often sat in silence, watching her Master work, watching the process Satele took to do her tasks. The young Padawan was an observer, and she always wished to learn from her Master. It had been two years since Satele took Brye under her wing, but those two years had given Brye many experiences to grow, and good reason to as well. It was a ceasefire in the war, peace some would say, but Brye knew that was just a good way to cover up the truth. The time in the galaxy was many things, but it was not peace.

So Brye took every chance, every moment she could to learn from Satele. It wasn't just in tactics or strategies, but in the way her Master presented herself. The way she carried her attitude or feelings in certain situations. The way she overcame issues, and utilized quick thinking to come up with a solution to anything.

"We should have already gotten a reply."

"Perhaps there's a problem in our signal to his on the planet." Brye suggested, trying to offer a quick response, to show that she was thinking and aware of the problem. After a few long moments, her Master sighed and instructed her to prep the speeder bikes. It was a trap, as Satele had said, and Brye figured she understood why it was not one they could turn from. Nothing further needed to be said as Bryethe nodded, standing from her seat as co-pilot and hurrying towards the small bay that held the speeders.

Taking a small electronic, tablet-like device in hand as it detached from the wall, Brye wasted no time in going over a checklist for the speeders. A small task, but something Brye tended to enjoy as it came up.
She used a finger to scroll down the list, making notes of things she'd need to double and triple check after they returned to the ship, things that would be due for inspection after use. As everything checked out, Satele opened the cargo door and the speeder bikes were led down the cargo ramp.

Brye mounted her bike as Satele did the other, the Padawan doing her final checks before twisting the throttle and bringing the machine to life. She made some adjustments on the controls as her Master brought up the map of the road they'd be following. Brye noted the darker and blurred parts of the map, obviously thick foliage and trees that they wouldn't be able to cross.

"Watch the treeline on either side of the road."

A brief instruction and a warning to young Brye, who took them full, seriously, and to heart. Satele had never steered Brye wrong before, had never given her bad advice, was always on point with her strategy and teachings; something Bryethe had quickly learned to respect and to listen to, closely. She had never been one of overconfidence and recklessness, and being the Padawan of Satele Shan helped to solidify the right state of mind, and had helped to steer any part of Brye's personality that had ever leaned that far out.
Never one for words during a time of instruction, be them before a mission or in the interim, Bryethe gave a nod to show that she understood and was listening closely.

Though, something bit at her chest when Satele instructed Brye to run should the words be said. The young Padawan would obey and run, it would not be an easy thing to do, but at the same time she would not abandon her Master unless she knew it was her only choice. That hard stare from Satele's green eyes bore into her like a lightsaber into the ground. It was easy for her to sense the uneasiness in this mission, in the silence they had received on the ship, to the anxiety of the path they were about to take.

No further words were said before Satele took off on the speeder, Brye taking a few moments to leave some space before revving the engine of her bike and following behind.

Miles passed them as the speeder bikes bore along the path in the Dxun darkness. Brye watched the treeline as instructed, glancing behind them every now and then and watching above as well.
Caution. It followed Brye everywhere. It wasn't always a good trait to have, but it had helped the young Padawan avoid some sticky situations in the past. Observing before attacking, listening before interrupting. Being attentive had its perks, and had allowed Brye to realize her Master was making space between them. Why? She wasn't sure, but the young Jedi didn't question it for long, and allowed the space to be made.

The gap was closed quickly however as she noticed her Master coming to a quick halt in front of a burning, overturned speeder and four beings which Brye had sensed quickly the closer the bikes had brought her and Satele. Brye was about twenty feet behind her Master, but she figured it wasn't enough space, but it was too late to fix that now.

"You're early."

That voice had inadvertently send a shiver down Bryethe's spine. It was dark, its tone menacing and intimidating. She moved, sliding off of her speeder bike and her Master did the same. The young Jedi watched as three of the Sith spread out, sizing her up, intent in their movements. Brye took her lightsaber from her belt, igniting it just after Satele did.

"Make this a fight and I promise only one of you will walk away."

Many would question if the words of the Sith warrior were a threat or a promise. He was sure in his words. It would be a fight, and Brye knew which of the two Jedi they would walk away with; she was not of importance to their mission, just a hinderance. It seemed as though the four Sith had the fight planned to the end, Brye would die here and her Master would be whisked away with them. That did not hamper Bryethe's spirit, the thought of losing to these Sith would not cross her mind, for she wouldn't let it. She was scared, terrified of the Sith. This was a confrontation she knew was inevitable. She had trained for it, but a Jedi could train for anything and never be completely prepared.
Brye would not let fear win. She could fight, she could wield a lightsaber, she would not let fear be the deciding factor. Brye would not deny being afraid, but she would not let it cloud her judgement and focus either.

"Brye, you're ready for this."

Brye could feel her heart beating in her throat, she could feel her clammy hands as they held tightly onto the grip of her blue saber. Words spoken from her Master, words filled with confidence and trust. Brye took a quick breath in, then out, then nodded.

"Now I am."

It had begun. Brye watched as her Master charged left. There was no hesitation, no question as she began, so Brye did the same. She kept her wits with her, charging close to the two Sith and trusting as her senses guided her actions.
A quick deflection from their initial blow, and the slightest movement to the right as she deflected the second Sith's saber. Leaning forward and low, Brye avoided another glance. She could sense the Sith warming up, getting a feel for her preferences to fighting, and most likely trying to develop a way to counter that.

Minutes into the fight, Brye remained agile but realized that avoiding two lightsabers was a completely different game. They moved to more physical attacks then just a saber. Kicks, punches, body blows, Brye was not fighting a fair fight and she was coming to realize that. Both Sith were larger in frame and stronger too, the only advantage that Brye had was her agility and speed. A body slam from the right and a leg from the left forced Brye down. Her left hand shot out to the ground while the right maintained steadiness with her saber. Two red lightsabers came down on Brye's and forced it closer to her face. The Padawan let her body fall to the ground, taking her left hand and helping to stabilize her saber against the strength of two.
Quick wits made Brye throw a leg out, hitting the back knee of one of the Sith above her. It threw him off balance, enough for Brye to roll to the side, avoiding the remaining red lightsaber as it clashed with the ground she had occupied a moment ago. She rolled to her feet. Adrenaline had almost hidden the pain she felt on her upper left arm. Singed from trying to roll and avoid the red saber, Brye tried to push it to the back of her mind.

For what was a Jedi's downfall, was a Sith's strength. The slight advantage Brye had created for herself, hitting the back knee of the one Sith, was fuel on the fire for them. Their intensity increased, as did Brye's attempt to maintain her strength and stance.
Bruises, cuts and scrapes, singes from the ends of the red sabers, Brye quickly became adorned with them as the Sith relentlessly challenged her.

Keeping fuel on Brye's fire were the words Satele had said minutes past. She was ready. Despite the training, the lack of opportunity to engage in duels similar, Satele had said she was ready. Brye kept that in the forefront of her mind. Thinking of every lesson, every piece of advice Master Shan had given her previously, she pulled fire from every fiber of her body and kept fighting. She had to keep going.

Clumsy got careless, lashing desperate and wild at Satele's side profile--mostly the only target she provided either Sith attempting to disable her. A quick twist of her body and the desperate lash harmlessly missed. The awkward unguarded position the Sith left himself in easily provided her several killing blows. Instead she planned on a different disabling blow, setting it up with a quick heel kick to the clumsy Sith's inner knee with the force of an industrial jackhammer behind it, a quick parry of the Sith Warrior's saber, a quicker telekinetic push forcing the Warrior several feet back, and her twisted body untwisted as her feet sending her into a half-spin. Lightning fast and bloodily accurate; as the clean stump of where the clumsy Sith's lightsaber hand had been. The lowest end of her double-bladed lightsaber quickly cut across middle of the clumsy Sith's dropped lightsaber hilt, destroying it.

Satele turned her back on the disarmed and de-handed clumsy Sith, her lightsaber tips coming up in a single line again as she re-squared her stance and re-foocused on the Sith Warrior. She barely noticed the change of sound, and the near instant commotion behind her. Satele turned her shoulders, her eyes followed. Green eyes widened in surprise at the dis-armed, de-handed Sith charging her. His mask was gone now, only the red faced, long nosed, large bloodshot eyed face streaming tears remained where the sharp dark shadow face of the mask had been.

"I AM WORTHY!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Instict lowered and turned her lightsaber. She never made another motion, not another move. The screaming, handless, Sith impaled himself on her blade. His crying blood-shot eyes smiling alongside his mouth as the veil of death descended upon his conciousness. Satele killed that blade, the only noise in her ears the heavy breathing of her own body. Her green eyes still stuck on the smiling dead body slumped to the ground.

What just happened?

Her head whipped around, to the masked Sith Warrior, to the flurry of violent and bloody motion off to the other side of the road clearing. Violent and bloody. Near the treeline. The treel--FUCK. "BRYE, REMEMBER WHAT I TOLD YOU BEFORE SETTING O--" Shadow struck, and one of two Sith fighting Brye disappeared after a heartbeat, their masked screams cutting through the humid jungle night air, getting distant so fast it gave Satele a terrifying measure at just how fast whatever predator of Dxun had taken the Sith was. Just a blur of darkness and death, and the Sith was just echoing screaming getting fainter and fainter into the Dxun black night.

Watch the treeline. I wasn't kidding. Satele turned back to the Sith Warrior, a Sith pureblood now that he'd dropped his own mask. "...I guess you didn't warn your guys about the treeline?"

He ignored it, his eyes locked on her. Fixated as if he was looking at her through the Force. "You will never know what you mean to us. What he means to us. Darth Re--"

"--not now," Satele cut him off in a flash of anger. "Not that name. Not now." No, no, no, no...the Sith impaling himself on her lightsaber, knowing who she was, who her Padawan was, what she 'meant' to them...the anger under her controlled surface was boiling. Brye wasn't going to die because that cursed, damned, name. That name could haunt Satele all her life, but it was her burden. It was bad enough her weakness allowed another soul to bear the burden of that name when she had a son.

The pure blood Sith Warrior went flying the moment Satele changed her grip, and sent her free hand palm out flying in his direction to focus the Force powered attack. Satele Shan was done playing this game. With more predators closing in on them, it was time to get out. The moment she turned her back on the Warrior she sent flying, she heard the trees move behind her and that unmasked pureblood Sith Warrior screaming, a sound that got further away by the milisecond.

Satele simply began to walk, her hands reaching towards the lone masked Sith Warrior still on the field attacking Brye. When she felt him, she grabbed and pulled--HARD. The masked Sith Warrior never had time to get back to his feet before a single blue light blade of Satele's double-bladed lightsaber activated, removing the remaining masked Sith Warrior's head from his body in a single, decisive, strike.

The blade de-activated just as fast, and Satele was quickly over Brye to offer the girl a hand. "Come on. The bloody fight attracted predators, now it's time for us to get out of here. I'll send my bike back to the ship, hopefully it'll make it. I'm putting Grim in one of their two-seaters, we have to get him back to his village."

All of it said ignoring what just happened, and more importantly, how it happened.

Shit, the treeline.

Brye barely had time to process her Master's warning over the battle between her and the two Sith. She had even less time before the shadow came over them, and suddenly one of the Sith were gone, his screams echoing as he was taken far away at a very fast pace.

What the fuck was that..? Brye asked herself. She wasn't given much time to process what had just happened as the last Sith was on her quickly. Her head snapped from the treeline to his bright red saber, her focus momentarily distracted thus allowing the Sith to gain some ground.
Brye was tiring, she wouldn't deny it. The cuts, singes and heavy hits came in quick succession and the young Jedi was trying her hardest to not let them hinder her ability and movement. Bright blue and bright red blades clashed in a crackling frenzy, over and over and both saber-wielders challenged the others strength. Both utilized the Force to push and pull the other, trying to catch each other off guard. The young Jedi had never fought as hard to survive as she was now. The only experience which could rival the present was when her Master was killed. The desperation to live, the determination to win, that was all that filled every fiber in her body.

More screams were heard along the treeline, and Brye could only assume it was the other Sith Satele had been fighting.

A relentless onslaught from the last remaining Sith came at Brye. The intensity had been dialed high and he was determined to kill the Padawan. Brye kept a strong stance despite this, not letting the thought of the end of the battle lower her guard. The Sith was relentless, but clumsy in his desperation and anger. Brye saw an opening.

As quickly as the had seen it, it was gone, for the Sith Warrior suddenly went flying. Head turned and saw her Master, Satele, as she decapitated him in one swift movement. Brye's body lowered to one knee, the girls lightsaber de-activated but held tight in her hand. She took a deep breath as the pain from the battle threatened to wash over her. Satele was their quickly, however, and was offering a caring hand.

"I'm putting Grim in one of their two-seaters, we have to get him back to his village."

With the pain in the back of her mind again, and her sole intent to help her Master, Brye nodded and looked over at the broken Mandalorian warrior. Despite what had just happened, with the shadows coming through the battle and whisking away the Sith, how it all happened and how fast, Brye could sense that it was not what Satele wanted to focus on in the moment.

"I can drive him," the young Padawan began, "Those creatures are out there, and you know about them. I'll stay close behind if you want to lead... it might be safer that way."

Bryethe was never one to issue orders, and she hardly ever suggested a path of action unless the idea seemed to make sense. But sometimes making suggestions and offering a course of action was a good way to show a Master that she was involved in the situation, that her mind was constantly thinking ahead, that she cared for their outcome.

_{Collab with Bea and Ruby}

It didn't matter to Satele, and there was more safety in the heavy two seater speeder than on one of the bikes. She nodded along with the idea of the Padawan driving the speeder and started the process of helping the heavy Mandalorian into the speeder, his big hands grabbing at handholds just in the cabin of the speeder so that his even bigger arms could pull his mostly dead weight into the speeder. He didn't want any more help from either Jedi than was absolutely necessary. Broken and bloody the Mandalorian would still provide for himself as much as physically able.

But it came at a cost, one obvious in the heavy labored breathing of the armored warrior. The helmet of "Grim" wasn't too much unlike more traditional helmets of the Mandalorians, pre-Crusader. It was only unusual in how smooth it's surface was, however dull, there wasn't a single spike on Grim's armor. No ornamentation at all covered the armor of the Mandalorian clan leader, only built in weapons and utilities. A killer that was caught inbetween a desperate clan and his own code. The dull blue helmet was trimmed in silver along the shadowed visor turned to stare at the Padawan.

And stayed there. Staring.

It wasn't until after Satele punched in the auto-drive function to return to the ship on Brye's bike and got upon her own that the Mandalorian even made a noise. "You really wanna be the Padawan to the Galaxy's most dangerous Jedi? Her Padawans tend to see a lot of conflict. A lot of conflict. Think that's any accident kid?"

- - - - - - -

Brye saw that nod of approval, so no words needed to be spoken further. She moved to help the Mandalorian onto the speeder. It was obvious he didn't want their help, but that didn't stop Brye from making sure he was securely on the machine before climbing on as well. Moments went by and Bryethe watched as her speeder made its way back towards the Starshine, or so she hoped.

Satele climbed up onto her bike, and that's when Brye felt a pair of hidden eyes starting at her. She glanced down at Grim, his visor hiding any little part of his eyes she might've been able to see.

"You really wanna be the Padawan to the Galaxy's most dangerous Jedi?"

Grim's question stung a little bit. None of what he said about conflict was too surprising to Brye. She had been lucky, and the last two years with Satele hadn't been filled with missions, but she had also received her fair share. What had happened this day was the first taste of brutal combat Brye had got since the incident with her former Master years ago.

"She saved my life two years ago, she was there without hesitation. I've overcome some serious obstacles with Master Shan, conflict is just another part of the war. It's a part of being a Padawan and a Jedi. So no, I don't think it's an accident, but that's not going to stop me from staying by her side, as her Padawan."
Brye watched Grim for a long few moments, truth in every word she spoke. No amount of conflict would sway her loyalty towards her Master, she would let nothing change that.

“The war? You talk like the war never ended. Tell me, Jedi, is that how you see this? Do you think you’re transporting an enemy to an enemy base to save his life?”

Brye frowned at his question, looking down at the Mandalorian before back up at the scene around them.
“It hasn’t ended. There is never peace. Today is just one example. Master Shan respects you, that’s how I see it. You’re not an enemy in my eyes but you’re definitely not my ally. I see it as: my Master wants to take her friend to his camp to save his life. Is that good enough for you?”

The Mandalorian visor gave no hint at any facial expression or reaction beneath. It’s stare was infinite and dark. The voice of the warrior wasn’t much better; a deep thing dulled by boredom or pain or both. In fact it wasn’t until the Padawan gave that final little twist of ‘good enough’ that his voice changed at all.

It grew in intensity, and dropped in volume. The sensation of hard, deliberate stare was impossible to miss...even through the dark visor of a Mandalorian. “Keep your attitude, girl, you haven’t earned it but you’ll damn well have to that’s for sure. You’re the Padawan to the ‘Grand Master’,” an emphasis placed on title--the mocking kind, “which would mean nothing to me if I hadn’t seen her and fought her myself. You know what? She is the best you got. You were already badly losing the war. Between the Sith and the Mandalorians and the Chiss you hadn’t a prayer in the Galaxy. We’re better organized, more efficient, and far more ruthless. In the past you’ve been able to overcome that. Sometimes with science, sometimes with politics. Take us. It took fucking Revan to beat us. Know what you’ve never had before and never had since? Darth-damn-Revan, kid. I see her...I think to myself it had to be like watching him.”

Out of nowhere the warrior turned his head away from the Padawan, and stared ahead. They were nearing the outer perimeter. “If you’re smart what you saw tonight scared you a little bit: not the Sith, your Master. She got triggered and there goes a Sith head rolling on the ground. Not exactly up to her own standard or your precious fucking Jedi Code, is it?”

Then the strangest sound appeared from the Mandalorian: he started to chuckle in some fit of dark amusement. “It tickles me a little, because it’s exactly the one thing you need most in this war you aren’t winning. You don’t just need her, you need Revan from her. And just wait until we pull up to my village...you’re about to see some serious shit girl.”

- - - - -
“Keep your attitude, girl…”

Brye listened to the Mandalorian, listened to every word. She didn’t respect this man, but should she? He preached about Revan, about the war and how they would’ve lost without him; said nothing about the collective effort the Jedi had put forth. No, to Grim it was about one person, one Force-wielder had won them the war, and if not for Revan they would’ve have been eradicated.

“If you’re smart what you saw tonight scared you a little bit…”

The young Padawan couldn’t deny it. When she had watched Satele pull that Sith away and decapitate him in one swift movement, no hesitation and no remorse, it had widened Brye’s eyes. It didn’t change her respect for Satele, no, it would be hard to pull Brye away from the respect she had for her Master, and to forget all the experiences that helped grow that respect.

The Mandalorian began to chuckle, at least that’s what Brye assumed from the sounds he was making. The young Jedi wondered if Satele knew this, or felt this way, or had any clue that this was how Grim felt about her. That she should become the Revan of the current time. Could they really win the war if Satele turned that direction? Perhaps, but, what would it do to her? Brye caught the tail end of what Grim was saying, about his village as they arrived. The grip on the throttle of her speeder tightened and the Padawan made sure to stick as close to Satele as she could.

Whatever was to come wouldn’t be good.

“Even when you Jedi say the right thing, you say it the wrong way.” He sighed, playful if you were any kind of read on that sort of thing, and prepared to get helped out. He saw four of his, including the girl who had made the deal with the bizarre Sith, and ten of the bizarre Sith themselves. “And here we go.”

---

With a flash the ship exited hyperspace, coming into perfect orbit above the green moon. Though noticeably larger than a gunship, it was a small vessel to be flying alone, distinctly imperial in design. For some time after its arrival in orbit it simply floated there, but it was not idle. Within the confines of the ship several men and women worked the various instruments controlling its advanced sensor suite, even as a single man lorded over them from his chair at the center of the ship’s rather small bridge.

“They came here. Find their ship.” His voice was gravelly in tone, filtered through his faceless mask, half-hidden beneath his black hood. He reached out with his senses, trying to find his quarry, but failed to sense their presence. That meant one of two things: Either they somehow managed to mask it, or they were dead. The former would be pesky and mean more work, but the latter would be considerably more annoying. He had questions for them. Questions that needed answering before they were taken back to the empire to meet well-deserved justice.

After a few minutes one of the technicians looked his way “Inquisitor. I have something.”

“Show me.” he answered, for once rising from his chair. His heavy boots made dull thuds as he trod upon the ship’s flooring. Subtlety wasn’t his forte. Certainly not while dressed in armor, at least. He made his way over to the woman’s console, where it displayed a three-dimensional image of a section of the moon’s surface, a series of filters applied to the image to bring out the relevant information.

There were numerous ships or similar constructs more or less hidden within the jungle foliage, several of them presumably old wrecks. A few, however, were clearly not wrecks, revealed when the technician working upon the console applied various filters to the sensor suite data. She had been a good acquisition for this mission, very skilled at her job.

“I have identified five ships on the surface, Inquisitor Tonaal. Two of them are within some sort of encampment, the other three are spread throughout the jungle.”

“An encampment, you say?” his interest was piqued, especially when he looked at the screen and saw that the imperial shuttle clearly was hidden near it.

“One moment.” the technician pressed several commands into the console and the image changed, focusing closer on the encampment. Within moments the computer had analyzed it. “Mandalorian, by the looks of it. Strange to see them here. I can’t recall anything about them having settled here.”

“The other ship nearby. What is it?”

“It identifies as the freighter Starshine.” The technician pressed buttons again, trying to get more details. “It has a design common to the Galactic Republic. More than once used by the Jedi Order.” She suddenly stared enraptured at the screen. “Wait, something’s happening…”

“What?” he half-growled.

“A speeder bike is approaching, and there’s a number of life signs around the shuttle, hidden.”

“Get me visual telemetry.”

“At once, Inquisitor.” came from one of the other technicians.

He quickly moved over to that technician’s station. The images on the screen quickly zoomed in, slowly enlarging until they revealed the profile of the freighter. The moment the speeder bike slowed down, a number of figures stepped out of hiding. Some were clearly mandalorians, but the others were decidedly Sith. “Our quarry. Keep watching them. We’re going in. They shall not escape us again.”

By the time he had finished speaking, he already sat in his chair and the engines were firing up, taking them on a direct route down towards the freighter. He would burn the jungle if he had to if it was needed to take this scum down.

There were ten Sith before her as she brought the speederbike up to the front, and more Sith upon and above Dxun, Satele knew as much with the same certainty as she knew of the four Mandalorians standing in front of the ten Sith wearing robes slashed and ribbed in purple before her very eyes. As many battles as Satele had thrown herself into over her life and survived she was able to scan the line of Sith behind the Mandalorians with a careful and deliberate gaze. Taking full measure with every sense available to her. What Satele saw instead was as clear and all encompassing as only the Force itself could be, not just spirit and energy and matter but the very lines of time and space.

And the shatterpoint she found herself in.

The bike immediately came to a sudden break. The jolt didn't phase the expression of surprise hiding behind quickly narrowing eyes. Her left hand removed something from a compartment just under the controls of the speederbike; her green colored single bladed lightsaber. She was prehaps five feet in front of the strange assembly when she brought one leg over the bike and slipped off it as easy as a swooper stopping at his favorite cantina, just as casually sticking the single bladed saber hilt behind her on an awaiting spot upon her belt.

Her first hard look was the opposite direction. She could only imagine the weapons Grim had in that speeder. She knew even seated there he was dangerous. His fellow Mandalorians knew it. Grim's fate was his own, she would never insult him by attempting to save or protect him. The driver of the speeder, however, was the singular focus of her eyes in that second. "Get on the bike, Brye," her tone made clear the command. If there was one thing Satele was glad of, it was the likelihood of her Padawan doing exactly that.

Bllindly following orders was not something Satele had ever taught her, but knowing when to follow orders and when not to was a lesson visited from time to time upon their travels. There had never been a more stark lesson: even Satele's heart beat wildly. There were Sith, at least a few of them seemed dangerous, to say nothing of the Mandalorians who were capable of nearly any thing at any moment.

They were in a standoff, and Satele needed Brye out of there.

"We will allow her safe passage."

The Sith in the middle of their line spoke. A him under that all but featureless dark grey mask judging on the deep masculine voice. His words genuinely enough felt judging on his soft tone. He was one of the dangerous ones, the Force seeming to twist and contort unnaturaly about him, as if he'd beaten it into a certain level of submission. And he was verbally reaching out to her, a fact Satele ignored entirely as if it wasn't happening until Brye started moving out of the speeder and towards the bike. Only then did Satele turn on her heel and approach the line of danger standing in front of her, fingers delicately interlocked kept comfortably at her waist.

Now the real trick began.

"You're Roana?"

She spoke to the slight Mandalorian in blue and yellow armor, a jet pack with matching paint job on her back and a light repeating blaster rifle held in her hands, it's pointed but shortened barrel pointing to the dirt of the moon of Dxun. The helmet tilted up, just so. "Don't ask us to save you."

Satele smiled. It made the collective lot more anxious than any thing else she could have done, she sensed, but pressed on. "I would never. I'm just curious how a once proud Clan turns into...this. Whatever this is. What is this?"

"It's the moment of our destiny," the other dangerous Sith, the one with armored robes and a lightsaber at either hip, spoke up with puffed chest and irritation. Satele gave him a quick look, and nothing else before the full weight of her gaze returned to 'the girl' she'd heard Grim curse so much over the last few years. The Mandalorian woman's helmet turned this way and that, before the grip on her rifle was tightened.

"It's not personal, Jedi, but we can't pass up reclaiming what was lost to us so many years ago."

Satele's head snapped to the first Sith that had spoken, the tall one in robes with the tone she found surprisngly gentle. Suspiciously gentle. "...what did you find?"

"A vault that belonged to your ancestor. You should see it. He would want you to, I feel it...come with us to Manaan, Shan. I will take you there and show you the great trophies of the Dark Lord Revan."

Satele responded by showing the man her back, her eyes locking with Brye on the bike just feet from her. "Swift and safe get on that ship. If I don't return in an hour don't wait, just go, I'll have my reasons." Or I'll be dead. But that Satele was certain her Padawan would feel, much as Satele felt it many years ago as a Padawan herself. "Go. Now." A second of locked eyes in silence followed, and immediately after that Satele Shan turned and brought her single-bladed lightsaber to the ready in front of her. Ignition caused a chain reaction of ignitions, as the mostly purple and odd red lightsaber of the Sith came to life.

"It doesn't have to come to this," she said sadly.

The tall Sith removed his mask, the intense emotion behind the eyes of the Sith Pure Blood fixated on her. "We won't kill you, Shan. Your blood is his blood."

And you need that blood to open that vault? She was right, and in her bones Satele knew it. It was enough. "Roana I'll take you there and give you any thing we find that's Mandalorian. Any. Thing." Not that it helped much in the moment, when the large man seated in the speeder bellowed deep and loud and impatient, ruining everything and throwing it all into chaos as only the Mandalorian warrior could.

"THESE STUPID FUCKS WANT REVAN, SO STOP PISSING AROUND AND GET ON WITH IT GIRL."

The moment Grim pulled his heavy weapons hidden just out of sight on the speeder and began firing the dark night of Dxun came to life with fire and light and Force.

"Get on the bike, Brye."

It had all happened in a few short moments. One moment Brye was seated on the speeder with Grim, eyeing the line of Sith and Mandalorian who stood before them. She stopped not far behind her Master. Her mind had been focused on the previous fight. Brye was pushing away any creeping exhaustion or pain she felt, prepared to push on as needed.
Those thoughts were fleeting though as she observed the group standing before she and Satele. Brye could wield her lightsaber, she would wield her saber for her Master. Odds or not Brye would not doubt the strength they had together... but she was mistaken.

She wanted to speak up, to protest, to suggest another course of action, but the tone of Satele's voice told the young Padawan otherwise. It was not often Bryethe doubted her Master's orders. She believed in Satele and her capabilities, but this was almost too much. Ten Sith, plus Mandalorians, all odds pointing away from her Master. Yet something told her there was a reason behind the command.

So Brye did just that. She dismounted the heavy speeder and climbed onto her Master's bike, hands gripping the handles tightly as she waited for further instruction.

There was an extreme amount of tension, at least that's what Brye felt, as both sides stood their ground, neither moving nor letting their guard down.

"Swift and safe get on that ship."

Satele turned and without hesitation, instructed Brye back to the ship. Alone. Just Padawan, no Master. One without the other. The young Padawan wanted to protest, she wanted to show how against this she was, but Brye also knew better. There was a time to question orders and there was a time not to, this was a time to follow orders quickly and without hesitation.

Brye's hands were shaking as she held the handles of the speeder tight, turning quickly and accelerating away from the scene. There was a moment of silence between she and Satele. Go, she said. Brye's eyes met her Master's. It wasn't the last time it would happen though, it couldn't be.
The young Jedi had faith in Satele. Now all Brye had to do was return and prepare the ship. Once her Master returned they would leave immediately

Miles passed, Bryethe's mind wandered, and the freighter Starshine came into view.
Brye could feel her mind wandering. As the speeder bike slowed as it neared the ship, Brye took a deep breath and slipped off the seat.

I just... need...

The girl stopped suddenly, an odd feeling washing over her mind. She suddenly drew her blue-bladed saber from her side, flipping around towards the direction she had just came and holding it out in front of her towards the Dxun darkness.

"It shouldn't have happened this way, young Jedi. She should've come with us. Now there can't be anything but blood..."

A deep, raspy voice accompanied a tall dark figure as it emerged from the Dxun darkness. Red saber ignited with showed the position of another figure not far behind. Two Sith emerged from the darkness, slowly walking towards Brye, faces clad in black masks, long robes and armor adorning their sturdy frames.

"It doesn't have to be anyone's blood. Not mine, not yours." Brye spoke, keeping her saber held in front, the speeder bike in between the Sith and Jedi Padawan.

Suddenly, through use of the Force, the speeder bike was thrusted towards Brye, who had just enough time to avoid the projectile, diving to the side with a roll as she got back to her feet.

The two Sith were on her suddenly, a flurry of red on blue as sabers collided, igniting the Dxun darkness around them.
She was beaten, bloody and bruised. Outmatched in the first fight, outmatched here. But she could fight, and fight Brye would do.

Featuring: Bryethe, Kurin & two lesser Sith

---

The two Sith worked in unison, striking almost as one against the Jedi padawan, forcing her back quickly, hoping to overwhelm her to the point where they could crush her. A series of hard blows from one of the two, a hulking brute of a human, pushed the padawan down to her knees. He kept beating on her, forcing her to maintain her defense. The other Sith moved in for the kill, intent upon striking the padawan in the back.

Their attacks were intense and relentless, forcing Brye to withdraw any outward attempt she had wanted at making an attack. Instead the Padawan was forced to hold a strong, but weakening, defense.
Brought to her knees, lightsaber held in front as she attempted to maintain a strong defense, Brye could feel the other Sith coming around for the kill. Her back was wide open, but she couldn't change positions, not with the brute strength of a Sith challenging her defense. With one hand holding her saber, Brye reached out with the other, towards the treeline. She pulled back with her free hand, queuing the sound of cracking wood and falling branches. A large tree fell towards the group, giving Brye the break she needed as both Sith quickly backed off as the tree fell towards them.
Brye recovered quickly, saber held up in the next moment as she prepared to keep fighting.

The tree fell down with a thunderous boom, the larger Sith only barely jumping aside from it, while the smaller Sith easily rolled out of the way, her sneak attack foiled. The padawan was no longer at quite the same disadvantage. The two sith looked at each other, trying to silently plan their attack. This had not gone the way they had planned.

They circled the padawan who now stood atop the fallen tree, their sabers spinning slowly to hopefully distract the padawan. The larger moved in again, trying to look menacing as he pulled a small boulder with the Force to toss at the Jedi. The female Sith in turn prepared to toss her lightsaber from the opposite side.

Bryethe watched both Sith closely as they circled around her, her head snapping to each one quickly every few seconds so as not to be surprised by anything. She felt the boulder coming her way, so Brye turned to face it. At the same moment she sensed the saber from the opposite Sith also being thrown in her direction.
This was her chance, one Sith unarmed, she could push the offensive. Brye jumped quickly, narrowly avoiding both the boulder and the saber as she greeted the air. Directing herself towards the unarmed female Sith, Brye used her descent and held her lightsaber at the ready, intent on taking one of the Sith out of the fight.

The female Sith realized her mistake a moment too late as the Jedi leapt up above her attack and came down towards her. As it was, she barely rolled out of the way of the Jedi’s downward slash, her saber still far away. She did the only sensible thing: she ran.

Her companion, if he could be called such, did not suffer from cowardice, sensible or not in the situation. He jumped over the fallen tree, landing heavily near the Jedi and striking immediately with a flurry of hard strikes, hoping to keep the padawan busy until his fellow Sith could get back into action. Not that he needed her to take on one measly Jedi padawan. Suddenly, in between his hard strikes, he kicked out at the Jedi.

The female Sith recovered her saber but did not yet move in to attack, perhaps trying to figure out the best means of attack.

She had an open opportunity to change the odds in this fight, and Brye failed to do so. The young Jedi was kicking herself as she started to pursue the female Sith with intent. It was then that the second Sith re-entered the fight, his attacks swift and relentless, Brye was barely able to redirect her defense in time.

His attacks came quickly, quicker than Brye was able to keep track of. She was forced to twist and turn her body in order to dodge attacks, using her saber constantly, yet she was still at a disadvantage. Brye was tiring, weakening, her mind was frantic. She hoped Satele was alright, she could still sense her Master. But with the exhaustion and injuries from the first fight coupled with the intensity of her second, the young Jedi was failing.

Bryethe suddenly felt something impact with her stomach, hard. She fell back, attempting to catch herself while still maintaining some form of defense. Her mind was groggy, thoughts frantic as she felt her body losing the fight. Blue and red lightsabers met as Brye fell back on one knee, one foot held steady into the ground as she clenched her teeth, refusing to let up her defense as the brute strength of the Sith challenged her.

She heard it then, the loud engines of what sounded like a ship, a very large one at that. And it was very close.

High above the fight Kurin’s Fury—Serith—descended rapidly, only slowing at the last moment, stopping in the air above the similarly sized Jedi vessel. It had barely been still for a moment when the landing ramp slid open and a figure dressed entirely in black leapt out, dropping at least thirty meters straight down, landing with one knee bent, and one foot and fist on the ground, quite close to the three fighters.

He rose slowly, his hood casting his helmeted face in shadow. “Apprentice Kethel Domerion, Apprentice Zi Nathel. You are wanted for violations of the Tsisajak. Surrender now and your punishment will be moderate. Fail and no leniency will be shown.” His voice was deep, gravelly.

Meanwhile, the heavily built Sith warrior had been about to strike hard at the tiring Jedi. He paused, half in uncertainty, half in shock at the arrival of the imperial vessel and the Sith it clearly belonged to. He had to win this fight, yet how could he fight both an older warrior and a Jedi?

The female Sith had also been about to attack, but she too stopped, staring more at the ship’s guns pointed straight at her than at the Sith. She knew without a doubt that she was outmatched.

Bryethe watched as a new Sith warrior made an entrance, her eyes trained both on him, and the ship. The brute of a Sith let up and Brye took that chance to stand and take a few steps back. Her lightsaber still up and trained on the Sith Male she had been fighting, but now she had another to watch for.

The new Sith warrior put Brye on edge, even more so than she had been before. He spoke as if he was here to apprehend the two Sith she had been fighting, but he was still another Sith, another enemy.

The young Jedi didn't move, she didn't attempt to make an advance nor retreat. This, she felt, was a very delicate situation; one she would have to handle carefully if she wanted to get out with her life intact.
"Leave. Now. No more blood has to be spilled here, on Dxun. It is pointless."

Slowly the male warrior—Kethel Domerion—looked between his Jedi Quarry and the other Sith. He had his orders, yet how was he supposed to fulfill them now? He couldn’t do it while taking on another Sith warrior. Especially not when that other warrior had a fully armed fury on hand. But what awaited him back in the Empire? His thoughts raced through his mind. The new Sith had spoken of him breaking the doctrine. That clearly meant his cover was blown. That could only mean someone knew he was a Revanite. It didn’t take much intelligence to know that his punishment would be harsh, probably lethal. His kind were not treated nicely by the Empire.

Nearby, many of the same thoughts flowed through the young female apprentice’s mind. Zi Nathel hadn’t been with the Order of Revan for all that long. Less than two months, in fact. This had been her first real mission for the Order. ‘No. I won’t die like this.’ she thought to herself. ‘I have more to live for.’

With a resolute gesture, she turned off her lightsaber and gently tossed it at the feet of the newly arrived Sith Warrior. “I surrender.” was all she said.

Beneath his mask Kurin smiled. ‘If only all those revanite weaklings were that easily overcome…’ he thought to himself. The woman’s lightsaber was mid-air when he caught it with the Force, pulling it into his hand. It was a well-crafted saber. “Wise choice.”

He looked at the Jedi and the other revanite piece of scum. “I will leave when I am done here, not a moment before.” This young Jedi had more guts than many Sith. Almost admirable, had she but not been a Jedi.

Looking straight into the eyes of Apprentice Kethel, he spoke out, “Will you be wise, or will you be foolish?”

Kethel looked back at the crimson-masked Sith. “Death awaits me either way. I’d rather go down fighting!” With those words, he leapt up, somersaulting and striking down, not at Kurin, but at the Jedi.

Brye did not dare lower her guard while the three Sith conversed with each other. She watched all of them closely while taking these moments to catch her breath and regain herself, as best she could. The female to Brye's side surrendered and the young Jedi couldn't help but feel relieved, even if it was the smallest victory.

The latest mask Sith questioned the brute, asked if he was going to surrender, but Brye could feel the tension in the air. He had his mission, he wanted blood, a Jedi's blood.

It seemed that he would stop at nothing, for the Sith brute was upon Bryethe quickly, with little warning, and with maximum effort.
Brye brought her saber up to parry his strike as the Sith came downward. She was caught off guard as his attack was stronger than before, pushing Brye's blade down and nearly catching her in an opening. She recovered quickly, pulling her saber around d her side as he attempted to catch her side profile in the open. He was pushing hard, every strike forced Brye to step back.
Within moments of his first strike Brye had backed herself into the landing gear of the Starshine. The young Jedi was caught off guard by the sudden obstacle behind her, too focused on the fight and trying to survive instead of her surroundings. She stopped a downward strike from the Sith brute, but suddenly felt a hand around her neck, and was thrown down afterwards. Bryethe hit the ground, hard, her head in a daze. Still, she was determined, for she brought up her lightsaber to cover herself in an attempt to defend against the next attack she knew was coming.

Kurin did not immediately move in to stop the revanite imbecile. He was busy and the safety of this Jedi was secondary at best. Instead, he moved over and secured the female. It would not do for her to get a wise idea after having surrendered. He glanced occasionally at the fight, but only just that. Interference would come later. The shackles he attached were of a kind that could not be unlocked with the Force nor easily be removed with a lightsaber without cutting into limbs, but then they were designed specifically for Force-users.

With the female taken care of, Kurin could once more focus on the Jedi and the revanite. He saw how faltering the Jedi’s defense was. Proof that her training was clearly incomplete. He reached out with the Force, pulling the nearby small boulder into the air and tossing it straight at the revanite.

Kethel meanwhile, had been beating the Jedi’s defenses hard, working to break her down through exhaustion, rather than through direct harm. An unusual tactic in some ways, but at times effective.

Brye was exhausted, there was no hiding nor denying it. She met each one of the Sith's strikes with her own, refusing to show how tired she was becoming at the relentless onslaught of aggressive attacks.

She watched the newly arrived Sith, noticing when he moved. There was no reason to trust him. Even though he was supposedly here to detain two Sith who had lost their way, he was still a Sith himself.
Brye moved her body and saber in unison in order to avoid attacks, refusing to let the brute Sith get the upper hand. Her head was pounding from the impact with the ground only moments before, she could feel herself slipping ever so slightly with each attack that came.

Her saving grace was the small boulder that came hurtling towards her enemy. She narrowly avoided it, watching as it struck the Sith and knocked him back.

As the boulder impacted, Kethel’s breath was knocked out of his lungs but he did not let himself be hindered for long. Instead he summoned his rage through the dark side of the Force, his mouth producing a scream of fury as he moved to keep his attack up. He had to kill the Jedi, even if it was the last thing he did. He swung his lightsaber again and again, trying to batter the Jedi down.

From the side Kurin moved closer, as much judging the two combatants, studying the techniques of the Jedi and the revanite scum, both lightsabers held ready to be ignited in an instant if needed. Above his ship hovered, its weapons clearly tracking the rogue apprentice and the Jedi he was fighting. He could end this battle at any moment, but his orders were to—if possible—bring the criminals back alive. Ship weaponry has a tendency to not be conducive towards that goal.

He did nothing to hide the fact that he could interfere further at any point. It would be interesting to see if the Jedi would beg for assistance. There was a sort of strength of character to be found in knowing when you’re defeated and trying to find a way to live, even if it were unorthodox. If the Jedi died, it would not be all that great a loss.

"You claim to be here to bring these two to justice," Brye began, parrying the brute's attacks as best she could, but clearly speaking towards the newest Sith visitor. "Yet you are doing very little to stop this!"

Brye was exhausted, beaten, and furious. She and Satele shouldn't have separated. Not when Dxun was crawling with Sith; not when her Master faced incredible odds to fight the Sith, sending Brye back to the ship. They should've stayed together, for Brye strongly believed in strength in numbers.

"Are you going to finish what you came here for?!" She yelled, her saber clashing again with the brute's as she continued to challenge his strength and determination.

“You have the power to defeat this weakling. He is not even a proper Sith. Use your anger, forge it into a weapon. Break him.” Kurin said as he looked at the two fighting. He reached out with the Force, constricting the Apprentice’s throat a little, not enough to stop him, but enough to distract him.

He smiled beneath his mask. “Let’s make this more fun to watch.” As he said that, he tossed the captured revanite’s saber at the Jedi. He knew his crew on the ship was recording the whole thing. It would be fun to watch that later.

Brye could feel her emotions in turmoil. She could feel the anger and fury threatening to take over moral compass.
Sith lightsaber in hand, Brye could tell something had changed with the brute. He came at her again, his red saber versus the two Brye now held. She parried another relentless strike, another that threatened to overtake her strength and will.

The young Jedi was eye to eye with the brute, but her mind wandered.
Master. she began, reaching out but unknowing if Satele could hear her, or even in a position to understand.
I refuse to let you down.

Thoughts reached out, memories, emotions. Brye summoned all of her willpower as she thought about her time as a Padawan. She would not let her anger and rage overtake her, so instead she pulled strength from elsewhere. Training as an Initiate, passing the initial trials, her Masters, the Jedi who had taught her all she knew. Satele, helping her pull out of grief after losing her first Master, and helping Brye build past that grief, learning, growing.

Brye pushed hard against the brute, digging her feet into the ground, finding strength not in her anger, but in strength of will and determination.

The brute of a Sith was pushing hard, but Bryethe's will to live was stronger now. The Sith let up for a moment, expecting Brye to be caught off guard and move forward. She anticipated it though, and as the brute moved to get behind her, Brye moved quickly to intercept him. She met his saber with her own, and moved in quickly for a killing strike as soon as she saw an opening in the Sith's parry.

“You have strength, but you do not use it.” Kurin said with disappointment in his voice. “In time, you will learn better.” With that, he put his lightsaber onto his belt, then pointed his hands at the two fighters.

“Now feel the power of the Dark Side!” unleashing twin blasts of lightning, striking at both the Revanite and the Jedi. The revanite clearly tried to block with his lightsaber, but the surprise of the attack—combined with the raw strength of the attack—quickly overwhelmed his defense. He fell to the ground, twitching under the fury of Kurin’s assault.

Brye's strike was interrupted by the words of the Sith that watched over them, she found herself turning, attempting to block the incoming lightning with both sabers in hand. Her defense was quickly overtaken though and within a few moments the lightning had spread throughout her body.
Brye felt her heart speed up as the lightning threatened to overtake her. She cried out as the onslaught did not stop, dropping to her hands and knees, refusing to let her mind and body succumb to the attack.

Next Brye knew, she collapsed into the Dxun dirt, her body convulsing every few seconds as she attempted to stay conscious, mind and body threatening to give in.

After both opponents crumbled to the ground, Kurin alternated his blasts between them, using the other hand to pull their sabers to his belt. He would definitely have to put some of them away. That belt was quite full now with four suspended sabers instead of just the usual one. With the sabers out of the way, he pulled the second Sith away from the Jedi, holding him down as he put enough raw power into him to knock him unconscious. Considering his training, he knew exactly how much was needed. Additionally, he knew exactly how to keep from permanently harming either of his targets.

“Land the ship. Bring down additional restraints.” he said, jolting the Jedi just a little to keep her from acting up. He would take her with him. Perhaps she could be taught how to be a proper Sith, instead of a weak Jedi.

One question remained, though: Where are the other Revanites supposedly dispatched to Dxun? He did not know, but he intended to find out. Ideally taking them alive would be nice, but seeing them dead would be sufficient.

Brye could feel herself slipping away into the realm of unconsciousness. Eyes closed as thoughts raced through her head.

She was being taken captive, by the Sith. What would her Master think of her now? Would she die at the hands of this Sith, would she give in to him and conform?

She had failed. One hand clenched into the Dxun dirt as panic and uncertainty swept over the young Jedi as Brye slipped away into unconsciousness.

The rock and the hard place, Satele Shan had been here before.

“EVERYTHING. YOU GIVE US EVERYTHING, OR NO DEAL!”

Grim’s explosive weaponry sent most of the Sith scattering. Most but not all; the two most dangerous went straight for their targets. The brash and aggressive warrior came straight for Satele after deflecting a grenade shot in his direction with the Force. The softer toned speaker for the group went instead for Roana. The other Mandalorians seemed uncertain until Grim started screaming at them to secure the village and protect the Clan.

Protect the Clan.

The very phrase made Satele grin. The Sith Warrior met her with an impressive array of strikes and feints and hard charges. Satele never rose her lightsaber to meet any of the challenges, she simply dodged each one with a slight movement this way, a turn of her shoulders that way, a quick twirl and a hop back, and on and on. It was a dance of movement and light. For any normal foe, the Sith Warrior would’ve carefully set up a chain reaction of dodges and back-steps that would have left Satele open on multiple vectors of her body.

She even faced him squarely in that moment. His anger against her, his passion for the power exemplified in Revan, his desire to prove himself by besting a famous descendant of the very Revan he worshipped. Seizing his chance he stabbed at her with the tip of his lightsaber. Had she not been planning the counter before the Warrior even swung his first swing at her, she wouldn’t have been so confident, it wouldn’t have worked so well. It was surprise she wanted. And the moment his lightsaber stopped at her open palm and went no further save for sizzle and steam, she saw his body pause as his mind grappled with what he was seeing. In those precious few beats of their hearts, Satele finally used her lightsaber, bringing it up for a single and decisive strike he had no check for. His body staggered back, in the same direction his severed head rolled, falling back and into the dirt and grass.

And then Satele screamed, as a lightsaber sliced across the back of her, her body arching forward and staging in the blood from the Warrior she’d just dispatched. She whirled about, and found the scattered Sith returned. Grim had three of them converging on him as he and Roana used the speeder as their hilltop in which to retreat no further. Flame spewed from wrists, Grim used several blinding grenades, and other Mandalorians started appearing, the battlefield filling with blaster bolts everywhere you turned, every moment you moved.

The fallen Sith Warrior’s purple lightsaber was brought to her hand and activated, as Satele switched to a more aggressive dual lightsaber attack against the three lesser Sith that had circled around and tried to sneak in the kill. Her back burned, she smelled blood and burnt flesh, unsure how much of either was her’s, and how much was just the result of the unfolding maelstrom.

“EVERYTHING THAT BELONGED TO YOUR PEOPLE.”

Satele screamed it louder than she meant to, the pain and adrenaline doing her in. A checked slash, a quick stab with the purple blade, lean left to avoid a heavy overhanded strike. Clumsy as it was she hadn’t the time to make the lesser Sith pay for it, but the THREE of them were so concerned with the attack that she was able to unleash a Force Push that sent two of them flying back. The other seemed to have braced herself, seemed to have saw it coming. That lesser Sith female’s purple lightsaber came straight at her. She dodged, but her right arm seared in pain as the blow glanced off.

Satele had all but forgotten about the very, very Mandalorian negotiation taking place.

“Deal,” was all Roana said before shooting the lesser Sith who’d seen Satele’s Force Push coming in the back of the skull with a blaster bolt aimed with incredible accuracy. Satele caught Roana’s gaze under that visor, and snorted, near snorting as she switched her attention back. Then…something happened. The Sith just broke off. Their speaker had been pushed by Grim and Roana’s flame, and the small rapid blaster canon that extended from the center console of Grim’s speeder. That was the moment Roana had agreed to the deal, before dispatching the Sith who’d gotten Satele’s arm.

Now the lone dangerous Sith on the field was gone. She sensed him nearby, but her focus changed the very next beat: the very moment she felt Brye reach out. Satele felt her heart nearly explode, as images of Aldeeraan and Jace and just getting there in the very last moment. She hadn’t been as tired or injured then, but her mind never seemed to consider that. She just ran. Grim said something to Roana, and Satele heard Grim’s speeder throttle up from what seemed like a distance behind her that grew exponentially foot step by foot step as Satele went straight through thick jungle instead of the long curving road through that dark jungle. The darkness, the humidity of the jungle, the sounds and sights of super predators reacting to the kinetic force ripping through their jungle—it all just blurred. She saw Brye. She saw Sith. She saw a ship.

The images cycled through her mind, one vision after another, until she felt as if her body untether from the very ground of Dxun.

Moonlight and warm air became her reality as her body flew up high enough for the air to move harder and faster and whip open wounds on her body. She never felt it, all she saw was the clearing with the Starshine and the other vessel climbing into the air: she was too late. Her mind raced, her body burned, and her only act was igniting the fallen Sith Warriors’ purple lightsaber she never dropped, and throw it as hard and as accurate as she could right at that Sith Imperial vessel. She was on the Starshine and firing up engines by the time Roana and Grim made it. Grim was talking into a communicator, never ever moving from the passenger seat. Roana was up the ramp and on the Starshine.

“The Sith have my Padawan.”

The Mandalorian woman stopped. Fear, was what Satele sensed. Not for the Padawan, for herself, for her Clan. This time Satele did audibly snort. “Our deal is still on if your Clan helps me here.”

Roana didn’t hesitate. She went straight to her own wrist communicator and hissed commands, “Sith Imperial ship is to be considered a hostile. Ground to air and fighters, now.”

Satele heard the words, but her mind didn’t let them sink. She was too busy with the Starshine’s engine checklist and the communication system on the Starshine. Her tone was flat, but under it’s surface was determination. Single-minded, laser focused, determination. She’d always had it. Her mother said she inherited it from their grandfather, who inherited it from his mother, who said their father had it, who said…it all came from Revan. Flip a coin, in the Shan family, and it was either Bastila or Revan.

Her eyes closed tight, lush lashes flicking and tightening shut, hands flat on the console. She had to calm down. She had to reign her own blood in. A single exhaled sigh, and the communication system was activated, sending.

“Sith Imperial vessel this is Jedi freighter Starshine. I am Jedi Grand Master Satele Shan. You have a squad of Mandalorian fighters scrambling to you,” she said, proving she HAD heard what Roana said a minute before even if she had never acknowledged it, “in addition to my vessel in pursuit. Land and release your prisoner and we will allow you to leave the system unharmed. Do anything else but exactly that, and may the Force be with you.”

The channel died, and the Starshine roared forward even as Roana was left to hang on and close the aft ramp.

---

Kurin’s vessel had barely made orbit when the message came blasting through his primary communication system. He could see the faces of his crew grow white upon realizing just whose padawan they had captured. He was at least as shocked as they were. He had had no idea.

As much as it would be fun to keep the padawan, he was no idiot. There was no way he would escape for long this far from imperial territory, with such a tiny head start. “Oh no…” he muttered to himself.

“What do we do, inquisitor?” one of his underlings said.

“We obey. . . Up to a point. I am not so foolish as to go before an angered Jedi Grandmaster. Are you?”

“No, inquisitor.” the entire crew quickly said, one after the other.

“Throw her in an escape pod. Remove her restraints and send her out. Then plot a direct course for home.”

“As you wish, Inquisitor.”

Three of the crew members scrambled to obey. Within half a minute, they’d unceremoniously tossed the Jedi Padawan into an escape pod, removed her restraints and sent it on its way.

As they did the work, Kurin sent a quick, written message to the Jedi Grandmaster’s ship. “Padawan will be returned. Had no idea she belonged to you. Sincerely, Sith Apprentice Terith Sal.”

Seconds after the escape pod was jettisoned and the message was sent, Kurin’s pilot took the Serith into hyperspace, heading far, far away.

"They just released an escape pod. What do your sensors tell you?"

The Mandalorian woman asked the wrong question. Satele knew it was Brye in the escape pod, and it had nothing to do with the sensors of the Starshine. "It's her, let the Sith run," she responded, never once checking the ship sensors. The ship was put on an automated course for the escape pod, and Satele stood from the chair. Roana removed the helmet slowly, a suprisingly feminine face under the helmet of the Mandalorian warrior woman. Slender nose, high cheek bones, big blue eyes and dark lashes under a mess of blonde helmet hair in what had been a ponytail before the excessive combat and movement wearing the helmet all but undid the otherwise tight ponytail.

But it was Roana's eyes that were the surprise now. They were slightly wide, and there was concern in them...but they weren't trained on Satele. The Mandalorian woman's eyes instead were on the pilot chair Satele had been sitting in just moments before, and all the blood on it, and dripping on the floor of the cockpit. "Does this ship have a medbay? You're bleeding. A lot. I thought lightsaber wounds--"

"--they're not from lightsabers," Satele knew what they were from. As fast as she had moved it hadn't been enough to save Brye, or to spare herself damage entirely during her rumble through the jungle. More than one super predator had taken a swipe at her, blur of speed as she had been. But in the jungles of Dxun even a Master Jedi's speed wasn't a garuntee to escape damage. There were claw marks on the side of her body, deep and bleeding dark blood.

The Mandalorian went into action, without the Jedi's consent, taking a few steps forward and examining the right side of the Master Jedi. "It didn't hit an artery, at least, or the blood would be shooting."

Satele ignored it. She knew the difference between blood from a vein and blood from an artery. She had taken more than enough combat medicine training on top of Force Healing techniques. It was the result of a lifetime spent in war, a lifetime far longer than Satele's appearance would suggest. The ship's hull rumbled as the engines fired hard to slow them down and vertically descend for a gentle landing not twenty yards from the Sith vessel's escape pod. Without ever once responding to Roana's concern Satele stated flatly, "We're here. Get Grim into the kolto tank on the lower deck, his leg is much worse than he's letting on."

"Your side, though--"

"--is fine."

Roana glanced up from the wound to the Jedi's eyes, the hardness on the woman's face suddenly returned, her hands placing the helmet back over her head. Fine, was the response from the Mandalorian woman in the universally understood body language. "Go ahead, after you, Master Jedi," Roana put emphasis on the word Master in a mocking tone. Satele strood past the woman to the lower deck of the Starshine and activated the ramp with the Force.

"Don't want to move all the way back there?"

Satele's head turned slowly to meet the visor of the Mandalorian woman. A few beats and Satele sighed, turning her attention after the ramp lowered to the outside of the Starshine and began walking. Every step was a dagger in the dark, plunged hard and twisted fast in the kind of pain that sent tendrils of fire ripping through every nerve in her body. She could suppress the pain, but it was a temporary thing. It was a relief when the Mandalorian woman gave up waiting for Satele to collapse, and went to retrieve Grim. Grim was already joined by several other speeders, and several Mandalorian warriors in each of the two new speeders on the scene. The four new Mandalorians cracked open the escape pod.

Satele shared a look with Grim, before turning on her heel and walking back up the ramp. The second she turned the corner for the medbay...her body collapsed on the cold deck. The blood began pour harder than it had before, her grip on her biological systems slipping as her head lightened and buzzed and shock began to threaten to overtake her. The heavy booted foot steps of the Mandalorians helping Grim to the kolto tank and Brye to the med bed next to the Jedi medical droid both stopped when they turned the same corner and found the Master Jedi pale and bleeding and staring into space.

"Stubborn bitch," Roana snorted at the sight as she walked up behind the four Mandalorians helping Grim and Brye to the medbay. They all walked past her. Her eyes closed slowly, blinking and shuttering as the Force ebbed and flowed around her, through her. Tython... Her eyes opened slowly, clumsy, like she was waking from a heavy sleep. Her hands moved to the cold deck, and tried to push...but nothing happened. She just felt back against the bulkhead in which she fell.

A de-armored and irritated Grim started barking orders before allowing himself into the kolto tank, and this time Roana wouldn't even listen as Satele tried to protest, half unconcious from the pain. Roana's strength was impressive, easily lifting the all but dead weight of the Master Jedi and bringing her gently into the medbay, guiding the Master Jedi against the bulkhead across the room from both the med bed Brye lay upon as the med droid went to work on her, and the kolto tank that began to fill, Grim slowly letting his body drift off for healing--his leg black and purple and bloody where the bone had punched out of his flesh. Roana and the other Mandalorians had helped do what they could with the equipment in the medbay before putting him in the tank to heal it all up.

Roana told the four Mandalorians to secure the Sith escape pod, to rip it apart and learn anything and everything they could. She would stay aboard the Starshine and go with the group. Afterall, she told them, she was currently the only one standing and concious enough to fly them off Dxun. "Don't forget your Master," she told the Jedi medical droid before taking one last look at all three of them, shaking her head, and heading for the cockpit to begin the flight to Manaan.

Bryethe did not feel nor wake to anything. From the rough landing of the escape pod to the Mandalorians carrying her to the medbay of the ship. What caused the young Jedi to stir was when she sensed her Master close by.

The Starshine lifted off from the Dxun dirt, their journey to Manaan underway.

The medical droid patched Brye up quickly, treating the bodily shock from the Sith's lightning assault earlier, along with treating and bandaging the singe marks from the various Sith lightsabers throughout the duels on Dxun. Once the medical droids programming concluded no further care could be given at the time, it moved quickly to the Jedi Grandmaster, for more time and care would be needed to stabilize her for the trip.

Time passed, and Brye stirred more. Eyes opened slightly to the bright lights above her medical bed, then they looked around the room. She picked her head up and immediately saw her Master across the bay from her, the medical droid finishing up its care.

"Master Shan..." the young Jedi mumbled, hands underneath her as she sat up slowly. The medical droid was over to her in an instant, its flat-toned voice immediately giving instructions.

"Ma'am, you cannot move from your bed, you are still healing."

"I don't care droid, now leave me be." Brye retorted as the droid stopped next to her.

Mechanical hands were on her quickly, pushing her back down with impressive strength. "Ma'am, I insist, you need to-"

Brye raised a hand, her eyes focused intently on the droid as she waved that hand to the side. "You will let me leave this bed." She instructed, her voice reflecting her feelings in that moment, irritated, worried, and determined to go see her Master.
The droid paused momentarily, as if someone had pressed a reset button.
"I will let you leave this bed." It said suddenly, stepping back from the Padawan and moving back over to Satele.

Brye sighed heavily, slowly sitting back up and letting her legs swing over the side of the bed. She was at Satele's side after a few long moments.
Her eyes scanned over her Master, bloodied bandages littering the floor from when the droid re-wrapped her wounds.
The Padawan looked away, down towards the floor for a few moments, eyes closed as her mind replayed the previous hours events. It was evident in the injuries Satele had taken that she tried to reach Brye, but it had been too late, that much the young Padawan could decipher.

Grim sat submerged in the kolto tank, and Brye could sense someone else nearby, obviously piloting the ship, but to where?
Although, most of the Padawan's worries were directed towards Satele.

"You shouldn't have had to come for me. I should've handled it myself." She whispered, looking back at her Master as Brye leaned slightly against the bed, her hands keeping her steady against the bed frame.

"You said I was ready, you thought I was. But I couldn't live up to it... My failure caused this."

Satele Shan never opened her eyes, but she did chuckle.

"I failed, you failed, yet our faith in the Light side of the Force remained...and here we are. Bruised and bloody and alive. With allies we didn't have before..." Her eyes opened slowly, settling on the kolto tank across the room. "I've lost count how many times I've failed, Brye, just as I've lost count of how many times I've trusted in the Force to get me back up and keep going. If failure was something to be embarrassed by, to fear...we'd be no better than the Sith who were afraid to look at my face and hand you over, the Sith who came for Revanites yet let the most dangerous and senior of them escape. Fear...we know where that leads," she sighed, shifting the weight of her body uncomfortably from one side of her rear end to the other.

Both sides at once was just too painful a thing in that very moment.

"My Master shouldn't have sent me away. Darth Malgus shouldn't have killed him. But he did send me away, and Malgus did kill him, all of it allowing me time to warn the Republic and the Jedi Council before the Sith could just route us. I shouldn't have," again the Jedi sighed, trailing off instead of finishing the sentence. What would Brye do with that knowledge? Would it matter to her? Would it matter to Satele?..."I've failed far more than you can imagine, Brye. Yet here I am. Learn from it, get better because of it, and keep going. The Republic and the Galaxy depends on you."

Her head didn't turn, so much as it just rolled in Brye's direction. Green eyes saw Brye now, a soft and tired gaze, matched perfectly with a soft and tired smile. A bloody left hand reached out and set itself atop Brye's nearest hand. One pat, two, and then three, "Even in failure...hey, I'm the only person I know that's made a run through a Dxun jungle at night and lived to tell the tale. So if this is losing..."

She chuckled harder this time. Hard enough to make her wince. "Roana is flying us to Manaan. Grim's leg will be healed by then. We'll get in, I'll see what the ancestor people can't quit talking about left in it, and then we'll make a fast return to Tython. I have a bad feeling, and we need to get back. In the meantime maybe get some sleep, and I'll take a little nap right here where I can keep a watch on Grim."

And not have to move for another five hours.

Brye had her head slightly hung in silence before she heard a soft chuckle come from Satele. Her head lifted as she looked at her Master, listening closely as she started to speak. Brye was never disappointed when listening to her Master's stories, her advice, her warnings. Brye had never been steered wrong by Satele's words, which is why she was listening closely now.

Accepting failure is hard when it nearly cost your Master her life.

Brye's thoughts went in and out as she listened to Satele. The young Jedi didn't want to ponder over what would happen had Satele not made it off Dxun alive. She felt a close bond with her Master, closer and stronger than Brye had felt with her previous Master; most likely due to the hardships the Padawan had endured since her first Master's death.

She felt that bloody hand on hers, comforting yet causing the Padawans thoughts and emotions to conflict.

They were headed to Manaan, Satele suggested rest, but Brye knew she couldn't rest with her emotions like they were. She would find a quiet place and meditate instead.
The Padawan looked to Satele, pausing for a moment before taking a breath as she spoke.
"If you need me Master, I won't be far."

With that, Brye gave a soft smile in return before making her leave from the medbay, intent on finding a quiet place to meditate as they made their way to Manaan.