Ask Invasion Sith Invasion on Dantooine

[Crix Aran]

Killing is not the Jedi way.

Funny, people who tried telling him what the Jedi way was and wasn't tended to be the ones who stood opposed to it. As though being openly happy about accepting death as a requirement of the job meant that they had any kind of moral high ground. Funny in a dark kind of way that it seemed that people who ought to know what the Jedi way was were lacking in that same department.

Part of him wanted to quip back but it was a part of him that he had learned under the watchful gaze of his Jedi Master and he had seen how that could be twisted so easily. He doubted himself and his ability to do something like that in this moment; doubted his desire to even try to.

Advancing himself, Crix could feel the Force well up within the Sith opposing himself as he prepared his Push and he knew that he could probably battle it out power for power. But he didn't want to. Didn't want to rise to the bait, to the anger that even with every breath he tried to drive from his hearts, from his blood, even if it did always linger within him.

To be a Jedi was not to have an absence of fear or anger or hatred but to rise above them.

To be a Jedi Knight was to know that and to accept it within yourself, in order to face them when they came at you during combat against the Dark.

To be a Jedi Master was to protect others against those same burdens and be a beacon of a better way.

It was supposed to be.

Lifting his left hand, he brought the Force up in front of him in a thinner shape, acting like the bow of a water-based ship to break the brunt of Xeno's Push and force it to flow around him and his narrow shield. Even as he used the Force, he connected to it and through that connection he could feel the panic, the fear and dismay of those around him. His heart ached at his young Padawan, so new to this whole side of the Galaxy, being thrust so harshly into the absolute worst of it all. He tried to reach out to her, through their budding bond as Master and Padawan, to be even just a faint hand on her shoulder during the storm.

A faint reassurance even amidst battle that he hadn't going to let her down even if she felt others already had.

Standing tall amidst the writhing emotion, he changed his footing slightly to be facing Xeno with his right hand forward, his lightsaber humming as he held it in a defensive stance. He needed to resist the urge to be baited, to let the fear and anguish for his friends get to him. Crix stared past his own blade at Xeno's eyes as the Sith taunted him once again but, curiously, refused to actually commit to an attack and allowed Crix another crucial heartbeat or two to center himself against the maelstrom of his own emotions.

"You will try."

@Scoobert

 

[Clove Vanhoop]

---

For the first time in her life, Clove activated her training lightsaber not for training, but for a fight. Her thumb landed on the blade power adjustment knob and spun it all the way up to the maximum setting. It may not have made the blade capable of slicing through flesh, but it sure as heck gave it a boost.

Then a faint whisper reached her ears, competing with her father's. It almost sounded kind for a moment, until the words became harder and ripped right through the shattered mental walls and silenced him. The seething beast inside the drawer became agitated, fueled by the gentle voice. It was fighting to escape with all its might, taking away most of her focus.

The half-Sephi battled back against the monster, hardly hearing the Sith's steps change to a sprint until they became too loud to ignore.

Clove turned on the ball of her foot to the right, realizing she needed to dodge, but she was far too slow. The power of the ball of Force energy smashed into her left shoulder, sending her flying backward.

A series of weakened locks shattered the instant the energy ball collided with her shoulder. The arm of the festering, boiling monster burst out of the drawer and raked its claws into her consciousness. Her vision shifted and twisted until she saw herself falling backward along a bloody corridor littered with bodies. Hundreds of empty eyes followed her, laughing as if they just heard the greatest joke ever told, until her body collided with a pile of severed heads. With strange heavy metallic duts and harsh edges embedded in her skin, the heads dropped and spread around her. It reminded her of the reality; because these weren't skulls, but metal crates.

The half-Sephi blinked frantically, and the corridor's walls faded away, revealing the sky above them. She tilted her head to the side, expecting reality to reappear. But instead of the sweetness of life, she was confronted with a Jedi Councillor standing in front of her. His rotting pale arm grabbed her throat and started squeezing it. His glazed-over eyes locked on hers, waiting for her to stop her breath.

"You are nothing and everyone you’ve ever known has failed you." it whispered, before laughing joyfully and changing its tone all together. "We've got poles for ya, edgelords, so come dance!" It kept pulling at her mental barriers, setting them ablaze and instilling hatred for that terrible laugh. She trusted him. He spat on her face as a response. She attempted to scream, but all she got was a muffled squeak from her constricted throat.

"Clove..." Her father's voice returned, battling the voices by gently stroking her blazing mental walls. "Come on," The whisper continued, taking on a familiar aura that wasn't her father's. It was her Master, who through their bond tried to show her a glimmer of hope. They were right. She had to fight through this. For her family, for Xi, Ruz and Arctus.

For Crix, who was there in the distance, fighting with his brilliant blue lightsaber and yet still somehow managed to reach out to her. She couldn't die on him now.

She had to get back on her feet.

Her eyes raced across the corridor with open sky, seeking for something to use, fuelled—no, blinded by an impulse to live and an even more frantic desire to get the decaying Jedi Councillor off her throat. Skulls. The skulls—no, the metal crates—were there! She could use them. Clove stretched her hand towards a crate nearest to her and wrapped the Force around it. And with a flick of the wrist, the box flew towards the back of the assaulter's head.

While the crate went flying, Clove's other hand, which had emptied itself during her fall, searched the floor for her weapon. Her fingers found solace in the hilt of her training lightsaber, which she clutched firmly for dear life, and swung the blade towards the arm that had reached her throat.

Reality gradually continued to re-appear. The body in front of her took on a much more feminine appearance and looked a bit more alive. Relief came first, followed by the aftershock of the horrors flying freely in her mind. Her stomach had given up on containing its lunch from not long ago and emptied itself on the metal floor, or the Sith's chest if she was still holding her.

---

Tag @Logan
​

 

[Hannibal Grayza]

It was the first time to his memory that Hannibal's methods of wordplay had been properly reversed. He didn't know what'd been done, but the feelings of terror, anger, and pain washed like arctic water over the empath's senses. It was a cacophony of emotion mixed with the scores of soldiers and civilians, more than enough to stall and freeze the man he'd been.

A smart-mouthed and fiery punk of a padawan, all snark and defensive combativeness, who found his peace in healing the pains of others. Sharp-tongue Knight who'd never quite considered himself a Jedi, finding a new purpose in fighting to prevent that pain at all. A grinning master, distant and at times melancholy with smiles that never reached his eyes.

But that Hannibal was gone now. He'd walked the now-dead moon of Nar Shaddaa and felt every echoing loss. He'd experienced the death of worlds through the Eternal's eyes. Battle after battle, death after death, friends lost to the fires of war. Chipping away piece by piece at the things that made him what he was. He'd disappeared because he'd realized what was happening. With the defenses he'd lost pulling Trys Aran from the depths of her mind, he was losing himself even further.

Now he'd returned. Was what he'd become better than before? A matter for others to decide for themselves. Not only winter, the passing of seasons cared little for the life and death of small creatures. It couldn't afford to. Perhaps Crix and the man behind Raze's mask would recognize the look on Hannibal's face, detached and distant. The Jedi didn't focus on the words from others- or even the new splash of vomit on his boots- but on Raze before him. He'd just needed a moment or two to laugh his attachments away.

The woman's sudden death from the stones, and her child's reaction, would properly register later when he wasn't closed off, as would the effects the other Jedi suffered. If Hannibal lived through this, it would haunt him like such things always did. But for now?

Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil.
The Force is with me.
Fear is the mind-killer.
I will face my fear.
I will let it pass through me.
When the fear has gone, there shall be nothing.
Only I will remain.​

Smile gone, his presence ironclad and steady through endless repetitions of his mantra. Although no words were spoken or projected this time, that he was anchored to his present task was clear. Crix might be angry, but he'd been taught a similar method for himself. Hannibal moved forward into dueling range with Raze, the Light flowing into and through him.

His footwork bounced like a boxer's on the balls of his feet as he stepped left foot forward, blade's tip making tiny movements in different directions, fluid and flowing. A rapid jabbing thrust suddenly darted for Raze's right pectoral at the very edge of range, only capable of an inch of impact. Hannibal's right hand remained relaxed by his belt.

@Sreeya

 

[Darth Raze]

The Sith Lord saw the impacts of his mental attacks at once, knowing full well how to command a situation. That strict command and discipline continued as he came to a halt, knowing that the Jedi Master would advance to close the distance between them. Continuing on the thread he began, Raze continued to channel the Dark Side, letting it permeate through everyone on the field, allies and foes alike. However, he did it expertly in a way that would impact them in their individual ways.

For Xeno, the Dark Side of the Force would blossom around him like a dark taint that ate through the light. He would know he had allies and the backing of a behemoth with him on the battlefield. He would know he was not alone.

For Senin, the Dark Side would twist and contort his agony. The pain he felt from having his nose shatter would hurt far worse. It would be enough to enrage him beyond what it would have done otherwise, pulling deep from his psyche and giving him a well of the Dark Side to draw from to turn his agony into a weapon against his target.

For Aadya.

That was the one that caught Raze’s attention, his visor briefly turning towards the girl. He would teach her. Right here. Right now. She would hear his voice echo within her mind as she faced her target.

“Make her feel alone. Make her feel isolated,” The voice whispered, the one Aadya would know belonged to Raze, “Make her feel as if she can do nothing right.”

The Sith Lord knew the girl had potential and could weaponize things in her own way against the padawan she faced. She would know she was on display in front of the Sith Lord and was being judged for her actions. If she wanted his attention, she had it.

His focus lastly turned to the other padawan on the field. This one brought a twisted grin to the face beneath the helmet. A grin on Raze’s face. Which was a rarity. The Sith Lord had observed everything play out before him - he saw the way the Knight comforted the female padawan. He saw Hannibal entirely ignore every other Jedi on the field. He saw Thelian left entirely ignored and forgotten. And that alone made him that much more vulnerable thanks to the failings of both of the experienced Jedi on the field.

The Dark Side would be especially vibrant and lively with Thelian. Raze manipulated it expertly for that abandoned padawan on purpose. He called upon the parts that would have bothered the young man the most.

“Maybe I’ll do that if you give me a kiss!”

“Give me a kiss!”

“Give me a kiss!”

He would hear the words over and over and over again within his mind, followed by the sound of the sick crunch of his fist landing against the mask. He would see the mask beginning to crack, the nose shattering, the blood squirting, the bone crunching. He would hear and see it all amplified. And he would feel every emotion he felt at the time, the moment put on loop inside the padawan’s mind.

“Did you not enjoy it?” A voice would echo within his psyche, “Do you not wish to break him? To silence him for good?”

Thelian would then be subjected to the images of Hannibal not casting him even a glance, no acknowledgment of his existence, nothing. He would be subjected to the warmth that Crix had sent towards the female padawan but not him.

“You are alone,” The voice whispered, “So alone. But you do not have to be.”

He would see how the Sith operated in unity. He would see how Raze stood as a leader among his people. How he supported them. How he commanded them in battle. And Thelian would see this in stark comparison to his own leadership. Raze planted more seeds within his psyche, seeds that would sprout on their own without the Sith Lord needing to tend to them.

The Sith Lord then turned his focus on Hannibal, the Jedi Master knowing full well that he wouldn’t stop his mental assaults. The only way to stop Raze from doing so would be to attempt entering the Sith Lord’s mind, which was an elaborate trap Raze had set up. He wanted Hannibal to dive into his mind.

As the Jedi Master closed the distance, Raze prepared accordingly, drawing his own saber to his left hand. As Hannibal moved in with his jab, the Sith Lord swiped his own blade counterclockwise to slap the incoming saber towards the Jedi Master’s own right. At the same time, with Force aiding his movements, the Sith Lord moved closer to the man, moving in close outside of his guard. His free right hand came up towards Hannibal’s left flank for a punch.

However, the punch was a feint. Instead, the Force would discreetly coil around the Jedi Master’s left knee, a generally loosely attached bone. If Hannibal attempted to pivot or turn to readjust himself, it would yank the knee out of place from the opposing torque.

@Altaris @LilyNion @Logan @Scoobert @LouJoVi @Nefieslab @Mr. Teatime

 

[Aadya Rasheer]

Thump thump, thump thump

Aadya could feel the steady thrum of Clove's heartbeat as her fingers wrapped around the padawan's throat. Sharp nails dug into the sides of her neck, the warm and slick feeling of eking blood stirring old Firrerreon instincts long buried in her psyche. Mouth open, fangs bared behind her mask, a low and guttural snarl escaped her lips like rumbling thunder heralding the worst of the storm.

Thumpthump, thumpthump, thumpthump

“Make her feel alone. Make her feel isolated,”​

The words carried with soothing voice snaked up her spine and coiled around her brain stem like a strangle-vine. The voice was familiar and Aadya understood their purpose - both on the surface and the ones hidden deftly, unspoken between each word.

“Make her feel as if she can do nothing right.”​

Thumpthumpthump, thumpthumpthump, thumpthumpthump

Senses heightened by the darkside, resolve steeled by the gaze of Darth Raze, Aadya saw Clove's hand reach out and felt it tug on the force. She tightened her grip for another second more, Firrerreon strength deceptive with her small frame. There would be little doubt the young Sephi's neck would be without bruises.

A deft roll followed, Aadya staying on her knees The crate came soaring to where she had just been and with the subtlest of movements, Aadya gave it just another little push. The durasteel create, small but still heavy, solid, dangerous, soared over Clove. She would see it as she swung her saber - catching nothing but air - and she would hear what happened after.

A sickening thud, a blistering scream. Blood and brain and bone splayed across the hull of one of the leaving ships. The crate had struck a child in Aadya's stead, a child who never stood a chance. His mother, still holding his hand, could only stare at what remained. Stare and scream, so loud and with such unrelenting despair, until her vocal chords tore, shredded into strips of scrap paper.

On her feet now, Aadya's eyes narrowed to slits as her fingers curled tightly around the hilt of her lightsaber. The vomit that wanted to spew from the Jedi's mouth would suddenly find itself barred, unable to escape. An invisible hand of the force, of Aadya's, clasped over Clove's mouth.

Another innocent life taken by the recklessness, the stupidity of Jedi, She hissed. Aadya circled around Clove outside of melee distance, like a hungry wolf that had found an abandoned doe. Even your strongest, your beacon of light, your greatest champion on Dantooine killed an innocent woman. Did you see? Did you feel it? A laugh, the same one before that was hers but wasn't hers echoed from underneath Aadya's mask. A hyena's laugh, a killer's laugh. Her laugh.

The invisible hand would release.

Their light cannot help you anymore. They have abandoned you here, left you to fend away something that will only swallow you whole. You are going to die alone, little Jedi - and no one will remember you. No one will even care that you are gone. Aadya's tone was harsh and laced with venom. As much as she could, she would push them into Clove's ears, like bugs crawling in while you slept - biting through and stinging until they burrowed as far as they could deep inside of her.

Reaching out with the force, and channeling Raze's influence through her, Aadya let out a rip of force lightning. It shot from her fingertips, bright and menacing, and aimed right for Clove.

@LilyNion

 

[Darth Draugr]

Taking only a quick second to look over he noticed his apprentice get punched in the face and dropped to the ground. It was embarrassing to know that his training with the boy has gone absolutely nowhere. Should Senin fail to defeat that padawan, Xeno may be in looks to train a new Acolyte.

As for the others, Darth Raze has been handling all opponents fairly well, and Aadya had been scarring a padawan for life. Xeno was embarrassed his apprentice was failing. But this did not matter, if the boy dies.. he dies.

Xeno noticed the defensive position. Given off by the Jedi Knight. The fight was on now, and Xeno would be sure to bring it to him. Especially after feeling the touch of the dark side set in around him. He knew his allies would have his back this time. He would not be alone in this fight. Sith were always stronger together. Crix will learn this lesson soon enough.

"Hmph, try? No.. I will"

Xeno then dashed forward with the help of the force and would slice his left blade from right to left in a diagonal upward motion from Crix's left hip to his right shoulder. With his other blade he would jab forward at the center of Crix's chest. Xeno was going for the kill, and would keep his base set for a quick transition to a defensive stance should the Jedi avoid death. The Zabrak Sith was familiar with combat, and would know that the Jedi can be tricky at first, but whenever their fighting style would be studied, they became like glass. Transparent.

@Nefieslab

 

[Clove Vanhoop]

---

Clove, while gasping for air, rose on her knees as she saw the container hurtling above her. It was heading in the wrong direction, towards the ships! Despite this, a speck of naivety in her crumbling mind believed it would just strike the walls. But then she heard the sound of blood and bones, followed by the loud cries of a grieving mother until the woman's voice chords shattered, leaving behind small squeals of sorrow.

All it took was a quick glance over her shoulder to witness the wreckage her crate had left behind, and for her stomach to surrender.

An unseen force wrapped itself around her mouth, preventing the vomit from escaping. In a panic, the half-Sephi reached up for her lips, her claws sinking into the flesh in an attempt to free her mouth from whatever had trapped her. But it didn't work. It didn't come loose. Her back curved upwards as she tried to cough out the liquid, but all it did was push it up her nose and down her nostrils, leaving a burning trail. She had no choice but to swallow it down as much as she could.

During the struggle, more words reached her ears, which had flattened against her head in an attempt to shut out all sounds. It didn't make a difference. Because despite this, the twisted and deadly laugh managed to make its way into her thoughts, where it buried itself firmly.

The half-Sephi coughed out whatever was left in her mouth after the unseen hand finally let go. Her huge bloodshot eyes leapt up and met the Sith's, who was taunting her, circling around her like a Rancor circling its next meal.

Clove opened her mouth to scream back, but only rasped wheezes came out of her throat. Startled by the lack of sound, her empty palm stretched for her throat, the flesh heated and swollen at her touch. A vague voice in her brain determined that the strangling and acid from the vomit had taken a toll on her vocal cords, resulting in swellings. That seemed about right. Her hand dropped back at her hip.

The woman's whispers never stopped.

Their light cannot help you anymore. They have abandoned you here, left you to fend away something that will only swallow you whole.

That was wrong. She knew it was wrong. Crix was still there, she could feel him through their bond and the warmth and optimism he was trying to give her. Maybe the others had abandoned her; one Jedi Master certainly liked laughing at her misfortune, so why wouldn't he? After spitting in her face, why wouldn't he let her drown, and why wouldn't the others join a Jedi Master? She was only a small Padawan. All they ever called her was a child. But her Master was there, and he would help her. For Crix, she reminded herself. And that was enough for her to keep moving.

Clove's body was drained of energy from the horrors her mind endured, and getting back on her feet became a struggle. Her head bobbed, and her arms swung limply at her sides. Every time she closed her eyes, new Jedi Padawans with those damned sunken eye sockets gazed at her, sometimes intermingled with the remains of a child scattered in the air. It made it hard to focus, every inch of fiber wanted to lay back onto the ground and give up. But she tried her best.

With shrieking sobs and large tears, she took small steps backward to the nearest side entrance. And just when she thought she was getting there, the Sith's fingertips began to spark. Clove instinctively raised her empty hand, but her muscles froze stiff with terror. She just murdered a child with the Force a few seconds earlier; what if it goes wrong again?

What if—

Lightning struck her in the chest, sending shockwaves down her arms and legs. The collision pushed her backward until her back smacked against a nearby wall, crushing the breath from her lungs. Her body sagged downward, bringing her back to the ground. Before the stinging of her flesh, she was assaulted with the fragrance of burned hair, fabric, and skin. But the stinging hit her not long after, and a blood-curling yet fractured scream escaped her mouth. Her entire body felt like it was on fire.

Her trembling fingers dug into the tiles in front of her for momentum as she dragged her smoking body towards the door. With each new sob, her shoulders trembled, accompanied by a whimper of pain. Each new pull ripped against her nails, splintering them until the tips began to bleed.

She looked like nothing but a shattered kitten frantically looking for safety.

---

Tag @Logan ​

 

[Senin Ravelo]

Senin was preparing to do his backflip when he felt Thelian fist colliding against his face. It was painful, probably the worst punch that he ever received. The impact made not only his mask crack, but also his nose. Dazed by the hit, the Acolyte fell flat into his ass in the middle of the long grass.

While lying in the ground, Senin would only have time to roll away in the grass to escape having his legs cut off by the Padawan. However, the blue blade of Thelian would graze the young man’s right leg. He felt the pain in his nose becoming worse, it wasn’t even pain anymore, it was agony. It was like all the pain that he was feeling was amplified. The Acolyte was also furious for having his nose broken.

He focused all his rage and pain in his left hand and released a powerful blast of Force lightning that would go direct toward Thelian's chest. Senin wanted to make the other feel the same pain that he had. Regardless of the lightning hitting the Padawan or not, the Acolyte would felt so tired of the effort and the pain that he would pass out.

@Altaris

 

[Crix Aran]

Every heartbeat was another second closer to an equilibrium that he could use to properly center himself, to keep himself as firmly connected to the Light as he could. To remain the Jedi that he had struggled for so long to actually be despite and because of everything he had been through and everyone he had met along the way. It was about more than just this moment, no matter how horrible it was and he needed to remember that.

No matter how hard it was when it was beating down against him like the rays of some unforgiving sun.

He tuned out what Xeno was saying - it was surprisingly easy. As odd as it was to find that the Sith he was actually about to clash blades with was the easier to ignore, he was more focusing mentally on his connection with Clove. He didn't so much speak through it so much as he held onto it, his presence permeating through the connection without a need for words.

I am Here.

He couldn't afford to do more and he refused to do less, no matter how much it could assist in his combat with Xeno.

Swinging his own lightsaber down to catch Xeno's sweeping slash up, his blade would catch and lock up with the Sith's own down near his waist with the base of his right-hand blade. Cursing, he twisted his torso, bringing his left side back as the tip of his blade managed to ghost along the length of Xeno's thrusting blade to slow it and push it up further than intended.

The thrusting blade's tip lanced through the upper part of his left shoulder and Crix helped it along, igniting his shoto saber to catch and push the thrusting blade up and away from his shoulder - and off the tip of his main blade. Allowing him to twist is right wrist forward, keeping the slashing blade locked to the lower half section of the blade while the tip of it slashed forward to cut at the lightsaber hilt (and connected hand) holding the thrust-saber forward.

@Scoobert @LilyNion

 

[Thelian Lsai]

Thelian closed the precious distance between himself and Senin, his blue saber moving to strike offensively and put the Acolyte on the retreat. Silver eyes remained narrowed into harsh slits, his face a visage of harsh, unyielding resolve. While the Echani did not outwardly respond to anything that Senin had said, the words echoed repeatedly in his mind.

Little did he realize, the Dark Side seemed to single him out in particular - amplifying the words that bothered him most. The words that sickened him to his very core.

“Give me a kiss!”


No..


“Give me a kiss!”


Stop it.


“Give me a kiss!”


The words echoed in his mind, repeating like a broken holo-recorder that sought to drive him mad. He hated those four simple words, and each repetition caused the anger within him to spike. In that moment, Thelian wanted nothing more than to silence the source of those words forever – to feel the taunting Acolyte break beneath his fists.

The words repeated a few more times, and were drowned out the moment that Thelian’s fist made hard contact with Senin’s face. The taunting immediately silenced, and it was as if the boy had given the Dark Side exactly what they wanted.

Thelian felt as the painted visage of that terrible mask splintered and broke apart, shattering beneath the strength of his blow. He felt as the warmth of blood coated his knuckles and seeped through his fingers from Senin’s nostrils. He felt the sick-satisfying feeling of bone crunching beneath the weight of his blow, and he heard the chilling sound of cartilage shattering out of place.

Each and every sound and feeling was amplified in that moment, every emotion repeating across his mind. Thelian heard the voices echo in his mind once more, the questions they posed twisting into sickening realization. He did enjoy it.

He enjoyed it far more than he ever wanted to admit.

Even as the voices echoed in his mind, Thelian continued his momentum forward – carving his saber horizontally across the ground in an attempt to remove the Acolyte’s legs. Even as the boy rolled away, Thelian felt as the edge of his blade grazed Senin’s thigh, and the Echani immediately lunged forward to strike at the Acolyte’s torso with a vertical slash downwards – attempting to cut the acolyte in half right then and there.

It was a blow fueled entirely by his own rage and anger – an overwhelming desire to finish what he had started with that punch. It was a blow that blinded him in ways that Thelian didn’t even realize, and it meant that he did not even notice the lightning springing between Senins’ fingertips, not before it was too late.

Silver eyes went wide as bolts of violet lightning erupted from Senin’s palms, striking Thelian square in the chest. In an instant, the sting of electricity arced throughout the Echani’s entire body – burning molten as it fanned out across his limbs and sent sharp, painful shockwaves as it went.

He could not move, his body contorting and twisting unnaturally as the energy traveled and sought to escape the pale teenager. All that Thelian could do was cry out in anguish, and so he did. At that moment, the air was suddenly filled with the sound of the Echani’s bloodcurdling screams – echoing across the billowing grasses and adding to the choir of chaos that played out across the battlefield.

The force of the blow was enough to send Thelian hurtling bodily several meters backwards, his slender body flying through the air, bouncing across the grassy fields of Dantooine with a hard crunch. He continued to roll for several feet more, until he finally landed on his back – silver eyes fixated up towards the sky.

His nostrils were soon filled with the scent of his own skin, hair and clothing burning, the smoke rising in lazy wisps up from his arms and legs. It was pain that brought tears to the Echani’s eyes, rolling down his cheeks.

And even then – even as he reeled from the electrical assault and wanted nothing more than to flee from the field, the visions and mental intrusions from the Sith Lord never ceased. In that moment, the Dark Side was vibrant and lively all around Thelian, working diligently to dig tendrils into his mind – amplifying the details that the Padawan had seen and tried desperately to overlook.

While he had been ignored, Thelian suddenly saw the intimate connection that existed between Crix and Clove. He saw the way that they cared and supported one another. He saw the ways that, even in the heat of battle, Crix had reached out to strengthen his Padawan. Thelian was witness to every detail, and how Crix had not even cared to notice him in contrast. It was cold and frigid indifference, the kind that cut the boy to the bone and left him wanting. Wanting for even a fraction of the comfort and warmth that Clove felt. Thelian wanted it so desperately, and yet in his soul, knew he would remain unsatisfied. He would be unsatisfied and alone.

Just as he always had been. Just as he always would be.

His attention, then, was drawn to Hans - to the paragon of their Order and a Councilor that Thelian had placed upon a pedestal above few others. That horrible laughter continued to echo in the Ecani’s mind as before, but now Thelian saw the ways that the half-Epicanth had not even cast him a glance or reacted to his existence, when the Echani had emptied his guts into the man’s boots. Nothing he had said had registered with the man, and it was as if Thelian was never there at all.

It was a lack of acknowledgement – a complete disregard of his very existence – that Thelian had known his entire life. He had known it as a slave, where his worth and value was determined by the collar on his neck. He had known it as a vagrant on the streets of Coruscant, watching as thousands passed without a second glance in his direction. It was indifference that Thelian had known from everyone except the Jedi Order.

Until now.

In stark contrast to his own leadership, Thelian saw the Sith, and the Dark Side worked to show the boy what he wanted to see, while all other details seemed to mute into the background. He did not see the tragedies and crimes that they committed, but he instead Thelian was witness to the ways that they seemed to work in unity with one another. He saw how Raze and those around him worked as a concessive unit. The Echani saw all the ways that they supported one another and were not alone. Not the way that he was.

And once more, Thelian was left wanting.

Time seemed to move at glacial pace in those moments, and Thelian did not even realize how long he had remained on the ground. Slowly but surely, the Padawan attempt to rise to his feet – fingers digging into the tall grassed in an attempt to pull himself up.

His entire body felt as if it had been set ablaze, burning worst along the permanent spiderwebs that now fanned out across his arms and chest. Permanent reminders of this day and everything that Thelian had seen, felt and heard. All the while, the Dark Side continued never abated - continuing to whisper even then.

“You are so alone,” The voice echoed through his psyche, sinking hooks into his mind with every repetition. Repeating a reality that was slowly becoming so very real.

“But you don’t have to be.”​

​

​

@Sreeya @Scoobert @LouJoVi @Logan @LilyNion @Mr. Teatime

 

[Aadya Rasheer]

There was a pounding in Aadya's ears, the sound of rushing blood pushing all of the other noises out. Its roar was nearly deafening, Aadya barely able to hear her own breathing - that was, until, the first of Clove's wails pierced through like a needle popping a balloon.

Then the lightning struck.

Aadya's eyes widened with shock. The adrenaline from the fight, the fuel from Raze had receded just enough for the young, scared little orphan that still lived inside of her to gasp in horror at what she had done. She had hurt, even killed people before but they had been criminals; people that deserved it. This was different, this was.. worse in all the ways something could be worse.

The monster Aadya had been just minutes ago had faded and it was replaced by something that wasn't a monster at all. Something small, afraid and alone. The facade had fallen, the curtain had been pulled, the villain revealed.

Aadya had wanted them to suffer but.. maybe she had been lying. To herself, to the little orphan she used to be, to everyone. Aadya Rasheer was liar and a coward who hid behind a forked tongue of wit, behind the aloof air she forced herself to have, behind all of the walls and the barriers she had erected around the deep down inside kernel of who she was, and what she desperately had always wanted to be.

The rancid smell of charred flesh, the fucking stink of melted clothes and skin mixed into a bubbling concoction of pain and agony - it all seemed to hit Aadya in her face like she were standing right next to Clove. It was suffocating.

She couldn't.. Aadya couldn't breathe. Her chest expanded and contracted faster and faster as she desperately tried to get enough oxygen into her lungs. The mask.. she had to get this goddamned mask off of her face. Aadya fell to her knees and clawed desperately at it, nails finding her own skin first before fingers slipped beneath the metal plate that concealed her identity, ripping it off violently and tossing it as far away as she could.

Her face was wet but she didn't remember starting to cry, tears streaming from her eyes though no sound escaped her. Only the sharp inhale and exhale of her breathing as Aadya wrapped her arms around herself, her mouth open in silent screams of mourning at losing the only part of herself that might have still been redeemable.

-

After a time, Aadya's breathing had began to regulate, her ears no longer pounding. Dirty sleeve raised and wiped her face, though Aadya's eyes remained bloodshot and swollen. Her ability to think returned slowly and she warily stood back up. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and spit into the dirt.

None of it mattered anymore. There was.. no going back. Aadya's path through life had always been winding, forked and divided. But she had always, always been able to turn back. Now though.. now the way behind her was shut. Barred. Inaccessible.

The way in front was.. clouded, hazy. But it was straight, it had no forks, no options. So that is the way she would go. Her attention turned back to the others and her legs started moving. Aadya would arrive shortly to finish what the Sith had started.

Because sometimes you have a choice, sometimes that choice is made for you and... like now, sometimes you simply had no choice at all.

@Sreeya @Scoobert @LouJoVi
@Altaris @LilyNion @Mr. Teatime @Nefieslab

 

[Clove Vanhoop]

---

During Clove's painful crawl through the extending doorframe, strange black blinking dots appeared in the corner of her vision, pulsing and growing with every whimper. Every touch across her skin sent waves of pain through her entire body, as if the lavas she'd seen on Jedha ran straight beneath her skin, and each contact threatened to rupture the delicate skin. Every new scream became quieter and hoarser until her vocal cords couldn't make even the tiniest sound.

Then her palms touched the cool metallic floor, and for the first time since she arrived, she felt pure bliss. She drew her body closer into the entrance, yearning for more of that bliss until the coolness of the plating enveloped every inch of her body.

For a minute, the half-Sephi lay silently, her shaking shoulders the only movement she made. She wished she could remain there until help arrived, but her survival instinct shouted at her to move for the danger wasn't over yet. She couldn't be found lying at an entrance if the Sith won their battle. Because what if Aadya was correct? If everyone but Crix was gone and left her behind to die on her own? No, she had to keep moving.

Her bloodied fingers found a new grip on the floor, and she pushed herself forward with another whimper.

--
​

Time ceased to exist, it could've taken hours or mere minutes, but somehow Clove had crawled out of the back entrance of the ancient rebel base while her eyesight flickered in and out. Her hands first came across cold and comforting dirt, followed by long grass blades. She didn't realize how razor-sharp grass blades were until she clawed her way through them. If she could, she would've yelled and begged for help. But she couldn't.

In the back of her mind, she was faintly aware that she had no way to escape the planet. No way home. She was stuck.

Over and over, a fragmented recollection murmured a single word. Shelter.

Shelter.

Shelter.

Mindlessly she pulled herself deeper through the grass fields of Dantooine, driven by the commanding murmur. She might've left a trail of blood in her search for shelter, but she wasn't sure. She couldn't see or feel anything except the chilly mud and dirt beneath her arms and a sliver of light shimmering above her.

That shimmering light then faded, and she felt a shadow hovering over her body. The half-Sephi believed it was some kind of leaf or tree and tried to use it as motivation to continue just a little bit further. But her hands got weaker and her arms became as fragile as noodles, and her head became so weighty that her neck could no longer support it. After one last pull her muscles gave up and she collapsed even further, her cheek smashing into the mud.

Clove, in between the black dancing dots that had nearly engulfed her entire view, saw several leaves above her, covering her from the harsh light overhead and keeping her out of sight. Shelter.

In her mind, one final thought, or perhaps a feeling, managed to form. One she was determined to push through her bond with her Master before her vision went black and she fell unconscious in the forest of Datooine.

"I'm safe." ​

---

/Exit thread(?)

Spoiler: OOC:

Since Clove is a pretty unreliable narrator in this, I figured it'd be worth clearing up some bits.
- Her crawl into the forest doesn't take her hours. It does take a bit, obviously, since she's crawling, but she's constantly moving until she finds safety.
- There is a trail of blood, but it's not a lot. it can be tracked if somebody is searching though.
- She's basically lying unconscious in the forest very close to the base, covered by a lil' bush!

Tag @Logan @Nefieslab ​

 

[Hannibal Grayza]

Even shielded by winter's chill the combat experienced Jedi could tell what was going on. Rather than raw power, precision Force use, mental attack, and bladework were Hannibal's specialties. The Force echoed with the horrors Raze spread out and amplified across the plains. However, with his focus maintained on combat he wasn't able to open up and bolster spirits ith the Force without risking being overwhelmed. Frankly he wasn't much of a leader in the first place. But he did what he could.

"Stand firm!" he shouted just before the melee began.

His jab was deflected right, Hannibal's wrist partly relaxing to keep control and his guard intact, only the saber's end moving away. Wrist and elbow twisted counter-clockwise to repurpose momentum, bright emerald gaze focused solely on Raze's sternum rather than the helmet. The larger man moved in toward the Jedi's flank with a punch readied. Hannibal's machine elbow dropped, ready to break the other man's fingers on metal plating. His saber guard remained between their two weapons and ready to strike forward, a continuing threat.

The Sith didn't follow through with his blow and, when Hans moved to turn and keep on-line, he almost didn't catch the static pressure on his knee. The man had to admit, that was a clever trick. Someone with less experience might have panicked, dislocated their knee, and ended the fight then and there. Hannibal compensated with the Force, reinforcing the leg and managing to turn his leg enough to keep them facing one another.

He couldn't pivot and bounce the way he'd wanted to, but it was good enough for the moment. Instead he went for his specialties: Dirty tricks and mental assault.

Winter rose to the forefront and stormed forth, a blanket of arctic chill to smother the larger man's mind to stillness without thought. At the same time the Jedi drew his crossguard shoto from his belt, the trio of yellow same-length blades buzzing through the air in a thrust toward Raze's left side ribs from their new close-quarters position like a viper's fangs.

@Sreeya

 

[Darth Draugr]

Crix looked to defend the attack by the Sith Champion, and would stop his left blade down low and stopping the right up high. The Jedi Zabrak had taken a graze to the shoulder but not enough to ruin his arm, and looked to swipe for Xeno's right hand with the main blade of the Jedi. This was a decent move but he was not fast enough.

Before the swipe of Crix's main blade would go up Xeno felt his right blade get blocked by the shoto of the Jedi. Xeno knew there would be a counter attack coming, he could feel it in the force as his focus was on this battle it would warn him of danger quickly. The Sith would exalt a blast of force energy towards the Jedi Zabrak before the main blade had left contact with Xeno's left blade. The exertion through the force would be powerful and full of enough inertia to break open a door. The Jedi would be hit center mass, causing for the body to be pushed away before any contact from either blade could reach the Sith Champion Xeno.

For good measure, Xeno's right hand would be moved to the right, out of the way of an upward swing of the blade to the wrist. Once the Jedi landed from the blast, Xeno would take a readied position and prepare to defend from another force attack. This Knight will have to earn his way into a victory, Xeno was also not willing to lose any more limbs. The Knight will have to learn creativity.

Then Xeno could feel Aadya breaking down. He knew the pain of hurting from past actions, but she would need to learn it was not the time nor the place for this. He would reach through the force to her while he had the time and would give her the feeling of knowing someone was here on the battlefield for her. He would not leave her as the Sith had left him before.

You are strong. Be strong.

The Zabrak Sith would then bring his full focus back onto the Jedi recovering from the blast. Xeno's blades set in an offensive position as his front faced the Jedi. He would now know it was time to end the fight for Crix. This Jedi would need to be eliminated as a threat. Xeno would rather just eliminate him entirely. The Dathomiri would look to Aadya briefly as she came to the remaining warriors. He was confident she knew what to do in this moment.

Xeno would begin to charge the Jedi ready to strike. He was ready to end the Jedi once and for all. Xeno would keep his eye on an incoming attack by the Jedi and would then bring his right lightsaber up to thrust into Crix's torso, and his left striking at the right shoulder of the Jedi Knight. Though he would keep his legs on the ground to prepare for the defense to a counter by the Jedi.

@Nefieslab

 

[Darth Raze]

Raze knew he had done the necessary damage on the other Jedi on the field where his efforts were no longer needed. He turned his focus solely to the Jedi Master, resisting the urge to scoff as he declared his Jedi to stand firm when two were already collapsed. However, the Sith Lord knew focus and he knew not to underestimate the man before him regardless of his failings as a leader.

Raze moved in with the feint, his right hand whirling in towards Hannibal. As the Jedi Master lowered his elbow to meet the incoming blow, he perhaps wouldn’t have expected what happened next. The Sith Lord’s hand instead snatched the prosthetic bicep in an iron grip. At the same time, Raze purposely and abruptly released the grip he held on the Jedi Master’s knee. This meant that combined with the frictional resistance Hans was applying to turn, his move would suddenly overcorrect while Raze would still hold his arm.

Right as the mental attack began to happen, Hannibal would feel a massive wave of defensive energy explode within his mind. It wouldn’t be enough to drop him, but it would certainly blind him in all ways briefly and send him reeling. This was entirely passive without Raze taking any action.

The Sith Lord unleashed a massive push with the Force at point blank range as soon as the knee was released and the mental counter happened while Hannibal began to draw the shoto. This ensured that that Jedi master would be overcorrecting the pivot, blinded and abruptly hurled back with tremendous force.

All while Raze held that cybernetic arm.

The Sith Lord yanked in the opposite direction with all his Force enhanced might to work against every bit of force he had applied. The end result, if it progressed, of the attempt would be the prosthetic violently torn out of the socket, ripping through muscles and bone. This would negate the drawing of the shoto or any follow up attack in the immediate aftermath.

If by chance the shoto attack still carried through, Raze would pivot himself to his right and simply continue the counterclockwise motion he began with his saber to push both men’s blades down to lock the shoto. He would facilitate this with the grip he would have on the cybernetic arm.

In any case, there had been a mental assault attempted that was successfully defended. It left Raze's mind much more vulnerable to attacks than they were before. He would have to actively defend against attacks going forward.

@Mr. Teatime

 

[Crix Aran]

Oh kark they were too close - shrak!

Crix gritted his teeth as the Push from Xeno sent him rocketing backward from their blade lock, skidding along the ground and barely keeping his feet under himself. Perhaps for the better since he had entered said blade-lock ill-prepared and off-guard already but he was loathe to call anything that resulted in, what felt like, being kicked in the chest by a mule anything close to a good thing.

Hissing in pain as he was sent back, Crix could feel his bond with Clove alight with the pain he could feel coming from her. She likely could feel his own pain but she seemed to be growing more physically distant.

She was leaving and part of his heart left the place it had been lodged in his throat.

While Xeno focused on sending a message out to another Sith, Crix drew deeply upon the Force in his left hand as he backed up to put more distance between himself and the Sith. His shoulder throbbed in pain but he powered on through it as he glanced to Thelian, forcing a brief telepathic connection.

"Sorry about this - run Thelian."

Bringing his left shoto-hand up to rest close to his upper right torso, he used the gesture and movement of his left hand to help him Force Pull Thelian away from the area he had found himself in, toward the still mostly open door leading deeper into the Jedi base. The Padawan wouldn't so much be rag-dolled as he would be given a very good head start to get him moving by skipping lightly across the ground for most of the journey. Crix didn't dare send any more detailed instructions with such a powerful Sith Lord mentally interfering so often but with Clove leaving, he needed to do something to get Thelian away too.

Then Xeno was charging and he couldn't afford to split his attention like he had before.

As Xeno came within striking distance in a dead-straight charge, Crix waited until the last moment and took two quick steps to his right (Xeno's left) and brought his shoto down and across from where it started near his upper right, down in the direction of his left waist. The shoto blade would catch the slashing blade in the motion, deflecting it diagonally down into the thrusting blade to knock both attacks away from him with the same swing of his defensive blade.

His right hand blade would slash shortly at Xeno's extended left arm, the forearm specifically, as it was swept away to Crix's left by his shoto-blade. The quick footwork would put him more to Xeno's left side, keeping the Sith's own left arm and blade between Crix and the blade held in Xeno's right arm. Even the counter attack was quick, brief, however as Crix kept moving in the same circling movement to stay ready to continue with another clash should it be required.

@Scoobert

 

[Darth Draugr]

As Xeno went for his attack, he noticed Crix was finally paying attention to the fight at hand, now it would become fun. The Zabraks are both showing great skill in their fighting capabilities. Xeno showing his precision in attack, and Crix with his readability of the attacks. The Jedi is proving his skills to Xeno, as Xeno is proving his. This time when Xeno had charged in for an attack the Jedi stepped to the side, sending his shoto to bring both of Xeno's sabers downward away from the Jedi. Also looking to take the arm of Xeno out of the equation in this motin with his other saber. Clever.

In response, Xeno had to be quick with his decision here. Choosing that using the force to boost his dive to the ground to roll away and create space once more was the best option. Though in this attempt the lightsaber of Crix would graze the outside of Xeno's left forearm. Luckily this would be mechanical arm made of durasteel plating. It was enough to show damage but, thankfully for Xeno it wouldn't restrict his use of the hand.

As Xeno had rolled away and stood once more, he had prepared for any use of the force against him as well as a charge from the Jedi. This was a good fight, and Xeno had been enjoying every moment. Then when he looked down to see the heat of a lightsaber and a grazing cut on the mechanical portion of his arm, he became angrier once more. What was everyone's obsession with this arm?

Xeno immediately took a defensive stance, as well creating an aura of the force around him to assist in any attack made against him. The Jedi was cunning in the arts of swordsmanship, now it was time to see how well he does attacking as opposed to countering.

@Nefieslab

 

[Hannibal Grayza]

Raze's feint switch-up wasn't entirely unexpected. Still didn't mean Hans could do anything about the larger man grabbing his arm, the machine limb whirring to pull back. His balance was thrown off by his efforts to retain control of the bound knee, giving Raze the opening he needed. Hannibal's expression remained still save for his lips curving into a grimace at his error.

It seemed the Jedi's luck with mental attacks remained as poor as ever. Just as the Eternal once had reversed Hannibal's attempts to stifle its thoughts on Sullust this dirty tactic didn't turn out well. Tales of Raze told of a Force focus, but this was more than Hans had expected. The backlash made it feel like he'd blacked out, disrupting his shoto thrust as he flinched, chilly shivers running through his body. In that fractional moment, he couldn't see or properly focus.

When reality returned there was a rush of power from the other man. Hannibal's defense was hasty, more instinct than focus, only working at all because of the level of power he could wield. The Jedi's body as reinforced by the Force to resist with only partial success, teeth grit and arm tensing back as the wave lifted his feet from the ground. An ominous creek came from the arm. His debilitation and last-second response kept him from matching the Sith's degree of enhancement.

Something in the machine limb's elbow went pop-crack and Hannibal's grip on his main lightsaber loosened, losing control of the entire hand. His same-side shoulder screamed in protest, pain shooting through the entire limb. Hannibal was still reeling for the moment from the Sith's defensive energy. However, he could sense an opening was made, and Hans was nothing if not stubborn.

While the two combatants were still in their macabre tug of war Hannibal's shoot whipped up to sever his cybernetic arm below the elbow, threatening to take some of Raze's fingers with it if he wasn't paying attention. The sudden loss of connection would send both men reeling back off-balance. At the same time, for just a moment, Hannibal opened himself up to the empathic echoes of the battlefield.

He shared with Raze a flash of the sensations all around them. Physical and emotional agony, panic, loss movement, fragments of surface thoughts, the last breaths just before death came to take it all away. Things Hannibal had to handle every day from every living being around himself as if they came from himself. Rather than freezing a mind still like the last attack, this was meant to shock Raze's focus with the psychic static of life like a mental flashbang. All of it would blend together all at once, indecipherable.

It was brief, only a second, but Hannibal hoped to shake him enough for an opening. Either way, he still needed a moment to recover from Raze's mental defenses. He also wasn't going to be able to pull this trick again without shaking himself as well.

@Sreeya

 

[Thelian Lsai]

After several moments of staggering around on the tall grass, Thelian eventually managed to get steady back on his feet, bitterly digging his heels digging into the soil below. While the dark influence of Lord Raze no longer hung over his mind, it was abundantly clear that the Echani was still clearly reeling from the assault. Those seeds of doubt had been planted deep into his core, and it would take no further tending for them to take root within the Padawan.

Thelian took in a sharp breath, a jolt of pain arcing his body. By some miracle, he had managed keep a grip on his lightsaber as he bounced across the ground, still holding the unignited hilt tightly in his left hand. He took a moment to glance down at his bare arms, grimacing at the sight of the reddish-pink spiderwebs that fanned out across his pale skin and snaked towards his chest, remnants from the lightning blast.

The boy was no medic, but he knew well enough that those marks were there to stay. They would serve as a permanent reminder of his first battle. His eyes lingered for a few moments before the Padawan then looked out across the grassy plains all around him, watching the chaos unfolding all around him.

Just then, Thelian’s attention was snapped back to the battle ahead, feeling a voice brush against his psyche. It was not the taunting whispers of the Dark Side, but was instead the voice of Crix that Thelian recognized from earlier. He heard the apology and warning to run, causing the Padawan to blink a few times in response.

Before he could react, Thelian felt as the Force suddenly coiled around his torso, a sudden push of the Force knocking him off his feet and skidding backwards. It sent the Padawan tumbling back towards the door to the base – skipping off the tall grasses and rolling to a halt much closer to the door.

Instead of lingering on the ground as before, the Echani immediately sprang back to his feet, silver eyes narrowing in the Jedi Knight’s direction – a sudden spike of irritation washing over him. Only moments ago, Crix hadn’t even been capable of sparing him a glance – of even acknowledging his existence, even as he did so for Clove.

And now, the Knight sought to fling him away from the battle. And for what? It was as if the man didn’t think Thelian capable of handling himself. The thought caused his grimace to grow wider, whatever warmth or comfort he once wanted from Crix or Hannibal suddenly turning frigid.

He didn’t want Crix’s or anyone else’s help, and the Padawan stubbornly decided that he wasn’t about to run.

Silver eyes lingered upon the half-Zabrak for a few moments before eventually flicking across the field, catching sight of the other Sith Acolyte – Aadya – fast approaching. Thelian reignited his saber, azure plasma once more springing to life. He took a few steps forward before suddenly pausing in his tracks, taking an additional moment to survey his surroundings.

He turned his attention to one of the Sith Troopers close to the Acolyte, remembered the way that the invading Sith had only moments ago used the civilians of Dantooine against them.

Without another moment of hesitation, Thelian outstretched a hand in front of him, coiling the Force around the arms of the Sith trooper closest to Aadya. Suddenly unable to remove his hand from the trigger or control where he aimed, the Sith Trooper was forced to jerk his blaster towards Aadya’s back as Thelian abruptly flicked his wrist – unleashing a volley of crimson plasma bolts in an attempt to pepper Aadya whilst her back was turned.

@Sreeya @Scoobert @LouJoVi @Logan @LilyNion @Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Raze]

The impacts of Raze’s attacks were immediate, though they didn’t pan out quite as expected. Nevertheless, he felt the cybernetic detach and crackle, knowing it was largely useless. He knew Hannibal was still under the assault of the mental defense and he released his grip on the arm, focusing instead on using the Force to tug the councilor’s saber to his hand as the severed limb began to fall to the ground.

Raze stepped back to put a bit of distance as he felt Hannibal catch onto the Kravos defense and counterattack. With his focus having been on his prior actions, Raze had no time to mount a strong enough defense to prevent the assault. The Sith Lord growled in agony as he stepped back a bit more, a shooting pain coursing through his psyche as he felt the cacophony of emotions and thoughts hit all at once like a bomb. He was no empath, and he prided himself in doing exactly the opposite. That made the empath attack far more effective, virtually blinding him in all his sense for that brief moment.

While the Sith Lord still had his saber ignited in defense for any physical attacks, Raze was insidious. Knowing fully well that Hannibal was an empath and at least temporarily within his mind, he used a weapon in his arsenal that the Jedi would never have expected. Raze used Emryc.

The Jedi Master would suddenly be subjected to a flood of emotions. They would be emotions Emryc had been the subject of for years. It would be the unconditional love from Tiamat, the unwavering love from Renfry, the passionate love from Morgan. Love in its purest form even if Hannibal wouldn’t know their identities. It was love where Emryc was cherished beyond most ever experienced in their lifetimes. Raze did not reveal enough to share that he was entirely different from Emryc and that he was never the subject of this. Raze was sick enough to weaponize this - something Emryc could never do.

It felt as if a warm blanket would wrap around Hannibal, sweet summer rain to wash away any ache or agony he ever felt. It would be the crisp, fresh air he wanted to breathe at the top of a summit. It was a cool drink of water after he had been traversing the deserts for a long time. He would feel all of it pummel him at once, washing over him to explode every sense. He would forget what he was fighting.

And then it would suddenly remind him of what he never got to experience. Of what he could only guess at.

And he would know that someone could be Raze despite having such pure forms of love. That even with all this, there was room for evil and chaos. That one could have all the hope in the galaxy and still relish destruction. That Raze knowingly, calculatingly and methodically chose this path despite having ways he could be saved already presented before him. It would fill the Jedi Master with a sense of hopelessness and despair from the crushing weight of it all.

Raze began to dig deeper, almost peeling back the last layer to draw from yet another voice. However, Hannibal was forced out of his mind abruptly then. It was something not even Emryc would allow. Raze had what he needed and he acted externally then, his right hand unleashing a stream of lightning at the Jedi Master’s legs.


@Mr. Teatime