"'The best fighter is never angry', it was a term I had heard before. When I was sixteen I found the truth in those words. My allegiance to the Sith Empire was not out of choice, but out of desire. I burned for knowledge that I did not have, and they withheld it from me until I had served them sufficiently. I learned that there was never a sufficient amount of servitude. They had wished to use me as a tool until I was obliterated in their campaigns against the Galactic Republic."
"One such moment was an encounter with the enigmatic Jedi only known as The Dark Man. It was a name I recognized faintly, a former Jedi centuries ago had gone by a similar moniker. It was a twist of their beliefs on the Force; believing that ultimate service to the Force mean't erasing ones own identity. They became an agent of the Force, and nothing more. A Jedi that served only the Force, and erased all else."
"The night sky cracked with lightning, and thunder boomed across the valley. The dirt became a thick paste as thousands of troops clashed in the ravines, and a torrential downpour came down overhead. I remember the raindrops licking at my eyes and forcing me to blink. I could hardly see ten feet ahead of me as I trudged ahead of my battalion. I was no Sith, and below that of Commander, but the Sith Acolyte that was left in charge of my battalion had been gunned down. I was forced to take command. I was only sixteen."
"I consoled myself, knowing younger than me had served in wars, and my upbringing as a Mandalorian had prepared me my entire life for these moments - it didn't. The bloodcurdling screams of dying soldiers was enough to haunt the dreams of even the most battle-hardened. Crimson ponds splashed underfoot, and where I looked there was suffering. I lost myself to adrenaline and the Force, and found myself fighting without thought; a primal instinct took over."
"The fighting became a brawl as the downpour prevented us from utilizing distance. I saw men topple down and begin to wrestle it out, others resorted to vibroblades, and some used their awkwardly long rifles at point-blank. The blood was everywhere now. I was coated in a thin film of it, and the rain constantly washed it away. I heard screams coming closer and closer."
"Out of the darkness, lightning lashed out and thunder roared, and a man shrouded in darkness came crashing down. He landed with an explosive halt. Dirt, mud and rock shot outwards, and the Force radiated out from him like a beacon. His yellow lightsaber was oddly thin, and only slightly shorter from common lightsabers. The plasma basked those around him in its radiance, and his eyes targeted my own. I felt fear."
"We engaged, my lightsaber against his. The hiss of the plasma was all that I could hear, and the drum of my heart. I felt the mud slide out from under me and I fell to the ground. My lightsaber lost in the thickness of battle. I knew I was dead, I would soon leave behind a damp and cold corpse. He clambered over me, a boot slammed down against my gut and I lost my breath."
"I gasped, drawing in the precious life-sustaining oxygen. My fingers clawed at his boots instinctively, and my feet kicked madly. I remember seeing his cloak caught by the intense winds. It whipped about wildly, dotted by a thousand holes from a hundred battles. His dark spectacles were emotionless. I felt him through the Force, and he was calm. I saw his blade arc back, ready to deliver the final swipe. It was here; I was going to die. STOP HIM my mind screamed."
"My clawing fingers curled around his boots and dug in. I swung with all my might to the left, throwing him to the ground, he lost his grip I saw his blade deactivate, his hilt disappearing into the knee-high mud. I heard something escape his lungs, and he coughed violently. As I rolled atop him, I saw him better. He was an old man. A moments hesitation and he had the advantage again."
"We rolled in the mud in the thick of battle, Republic and Sith troops engaging one another around us. A flurry of blows were exchanged, and I could see he was struggling to keep up. His finesse with the blade and the Force was superior, but the Mandalorians had raised me to fight. I knew how to win a brawl."
"His hand shot out, his hilt answered the call. I saw the glint of metal in the corner of my eye and reacted quickly. I clenched my fist, knuckles turning white, and took it to his chin. His head snapped back and his hand dropped. I reached out and caught his blade before he could recover. I felt my hand move over the strange electrum detail, thumb activating the plasma. I raised the blade high and drove it down into his abdomen. He made no noise, and his breathing lessened."
"The Sith troops evacuated me from the fight, this Jedi's lightsaber in my clutch. I thought I had won my first victory, my first kill. I would be proven wrong. As fate would have it, he had entered a meditation, slowing the processes of his body. He was critically injured and bordering on death but the Force sustained him long enough to recover in the months to come."