Acceptance and Other Things(Complete)

[Darron Wraith]

Serene calm fell of the Jedi Master as he sat and regarded the Sith before him as the boy tried to taunt and goad him. It was a rather admirable job on his part, it spoke to his intelligence and training. Yet, it was in vain. Darron had long come to terms with those wounds during his two decades of imprisonment, each word of the Sith's was aimed at parts of his heart that didn't exist anymore. Each reference to Jason and his death was swiftly met with the Force as the Jedi Master's pain left him and he allowed himself filled with the life of the temple. It's what allowed him to remain eerily calm, and maintain the balance that he so strongly clung to. After all, it had been his one point of emphasis while trapped in that slab all those years, and his practice had paid off brilliantly.

Now had this boy met me right after it happened...things would have been different.

"My son was stabbed once in his heart, being that he was only six years old that was all that was needed." Darron remained leaned in close to the the Sith, as his words came out in the hushed tones he had been using earlier. "It took him about 5 minutes to die from the wound, and yes I was strapped to the wall and couldn't touch him. It was quite the emotional wound, but my son is in a far better place and he was always what I wanted him to be: a great person." A smile crossed his face as he leaned back in his chair and regarded this man before him, there was much pain inside his soul but he was lashing out quite violently to possibly the only person at the temple who could honestly help him. He must be quite addicted to that dark power of his if he's still lashing out at me, what a pity.

"You sit here and try and incite old wounds, but the problem is that I've learned to master myself Mikhail. My title doesn't just mean I'm a Master of the Force, it means I've mastered all the petty emotions that we too often let control ourselves. Do you honestly think I would be tasked with hunting down powerful Sith, and being sent alone on almost all of my missions against the darkside if you could hurt me with words? I know your opinion of the Jedi is quite low, but be honest boy. If Teferi had to worry about my emotional make-up when dealing with a neophyte I would never be doing the things I do for the Order." He kept the lethal calm on his face as he stood and once more went to the mirror in the room.

It was then that he felt a disturbance in the Force, something had happened while they where distracted. But what and who? The questions filled his mind momentarily as he reached out and felt a nauseating darkness coming from the younglings corridor. With a focused bit of his willpower, Darron made a thought much more than that, and sent the focused message to Rosa and Spencer. Go to the younglings now, and Spencer he is fine and you are in no trouble. Now please go! If there was any part of the Order he valued among all others, it was the children. He couldn't save his own son, but as long as he lived he wouldn't let history repeat itself while he still drew breath.

Still staring at the window, Darron spoke once more to Mikhail.

"You sit here and posturize and pretend to be some tainted soul. Yet judging by your age and the fact that you scream military, what possibly could you have done Mikhail? You sit here, poke and prod me to try and test the emotional fortitude of a Jedi Master who is genuinely trying to test you. For what?" He turned and regarded those pale blue eyes with his own electric blue for a moment as he pointed a hand at the Sith. "There you sit, some petty pain being your excuse to be a Sith and allow your hatred of yourself to drive you." He now turned his hand on himself as he continued. "Yet here I stand, after being constantly destroyed and broken on the inside after losing everyone I care for. If I can let go of such pain, surely you can try for some acceptance. Be a man and do the right thing, you can be so much better than you are."

Darron took a few steps forward, his voice still deadly calm. "You try and mock everything I stand for, yet you know the words I speak are true. I hate no one, I am a servant of peace and justice despite everything that has happened to me. The choice to be what you are rests squarely on you, and you alone. Stand up and strive for better than your petty hatred."

 

[Darth Hauntruss]

[SIZE=medium]@[member="Davin Jusik"] @[member="Jaxton Ravos"][/SIZE]

[SIZE=10pt]“If you surrender now I promise I won’t kill you. I can guarantee my friend here will give no such mercy.”[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10pt]“Kill me?” Val’Ryss spoke continuing her facade of a gentle voice. But now it was not upheld to its full illusion, in a sense it was done mockingly. She would keep the Jedi tone only to torture and taunt the Jedi. “But, what is ever so wrong my fellow Jedi? The Younglings are in trouble….and…” Val’Ryss’ voice changed to her dark hiss, “…in of so much pain.” The last words slithered and oppressed their vowels with menacing venom. She turned her head and from the calm hues of the Jedi robs a darker expression could be seen. Her black gloved hand rose up and pulled the clothe that covered her eyes down. Beneath the hood dark golden eyes burned with a black appetite. She then fully turned to face the Jedi and his companion.[/SIZE]


[SIZE=10pt]She could feel his power, his ambition, his uncertainty. “The boy is brave...” Val’Ryss said, looking at his newly ignited saber, “Ah…but the boy has more courage than sense.” Her stare turned to his companion, “Perhaps the boy’s friend has more sense than the boy…the younglings need more attention than this one.” Her black fingers pointed at the Jedi, “It is the boy’s to choose, focus all your hate and worry on this one or protect the innocent this one has permanently corrupted.” Val’Ryss hissed with a snicker, she chuckled further, “Hiss, hiss, hiss. I can feel your anger…. Good, use it, wield it and strike this one down.” Val’Ryss opened her arms like she was embracing a hug of death and with calm eyes asked the Jedi to kill her. “DO IT!” she barked. [/SIZE]

 

[Lord Ghoul]

Utter disbelief filled Mikhail. How could this Jedi be so calm? No one could muster that kind of composure over a wound so painful. Unless it had never occurred. Shorn suddenly began to doubt Wraith's assertions of his history. Had his son actually died? Did he even have a son? Mikhail was no longer so sure about this Jedi Master. He eyed the man, wary.

The Jedi Master continued to talk, turning to Mikhail's darkened past. This time, the Jedi hit the mark. Although, perhaps not quite in the way he intended. The words sank deep into Mikhail, tearing at his nonchalant mask. Petty? This Jedi Master thought Mikhail's pain was petty? A billowing stormcloud of rage built within Shorn. His icy eyes shimmered with fury. The other words the Jedi spoke were lost upon Mikhail. He fixated only on that word... petty. It drowned out all else. There were many things Mikhail was, but petty was not one of them. Yet, the Jedi accused him of it... a petty pain. Mikhail's impulses took over. The stormcloud broke.

Tenebrous might effused from Mikhail, uncontrolled and full of wrath, upending the table in his gale of power. The table hurtled toward the reingforced glass viewing pane. It shattered with a tremendous crash. Mikhail stood sharply, overturning his chair. In his eyes shone a fiendish light. He wore malevolence like a shroud. Destruction waited in his hands. Depravity furrowed his brow. His storm of anger fueled the Dark Side power as he brought up the many glass shards from the broken pane. They hovered in the air. He closed his fists. They shattered into a billion pieces and he flung them into the walls, creating a cacophony of sound.

"You don't know me," Mikhail sneered, trembling with anger and rage and standing amidst the now wrecked room. His feet crunched the glass beneath as he shifted his weight. "You don't know my pain." His hands were still balled into fists. No one does. How could anyone understand what it was like to run from the Republic after accidentally killing your senior officer, hoping to find redemption, only run into the arms of the Sith. To be tortured, broken, and twisted into something unholy and devoid of empathetic emotions. To be a vile being full of only rage and hurt. And... to be hated for it. Hated by himself. Hated by others. Hated even by his own kind. This man did not know what it was like to be wholly alone with all of that hatred. To feel it eating away at him day by day, until nothing more remained of his humanity, but unable to save himself from the Dark Side's grasp. An existence full of misery. "Do. Not. call it petty." Mikhail bit the words out.

 

[Allyson Locke]

Spencer leaned off the pillar; she was wallowing in her own self-pity. She had helped the Sith again, but this time she felt even more distraught about it. She had helped Ashin who in her mind was someone she respected. Either way, helping Mikhail didn’t help her much here. Someone spoke to her in her mind as she had gotten the strength to push off the pillar. The master that had scolded her from earlier contacted her and the emotion that was laced with his thoughts worried Spencer. She had complete forgotten her original intent and now they were going to suffer.

It didn’t take long for Spencer to feel the suffering, the darkness had engulfed them and her eyes widened. Turning on her heel she used the force to speed her feet up, turning the corner she came face to face with the dark essence. It filled her senses and she looked at the children on the inside. Spencer fell to her knees and gagged, she remembered the feelings of being alone, and she remembered the time she couldn’t be near her brother or her mother. When she felt so alone, all those dark feelings surged through her.

Her eyes closed quickly, she had to do something she had to cut the connection off from the children and the darkside. Then it hit her. Everything that she had been learning from Ashin, the way she had taken over the essence of the Gand , all of it lead to now. Spencer entered the room finally and the feeling became stronger. The blonde padawan fell to her knees, the children ignored her and soon Spencer felt herself falling from this reality and into the mind of the Force.

Short, thick strands emitted from the children, blotches of darkness stained the bright threads. Spencer didn’t have time to sit in wonderment of the children’s force connections; she needed to work fast so she pushed herself farther. Her own force energy merged outward and tugged at each of the children’s. She forced her connection to meld with theirs. The small strands were enveloped within her bright blue strands. The blotches quickly moved down from the children and latched on at the connection point attempting to push her away.

No, I have to save them…I let this happen to them because I didn’t come straight here…please please!ˆ

 

[Darron Wraith]

"I will call it as I see it boy, and you are letting emotions rule you. That is why you will always fail and never amount to anything."

Though Mikhail's anger wasn't directed towards him, out of reflex the Jedi Master put a barrier up between them in the Force. The destruction to the table and the mirror had been most unexpected, and now that the shards of glass were falling to the floor. He surveyed the destruction with a detached eye, the Sith's telekinetic manipulation was impressive but sloppy. The force of his throw and the damage he caused was in direct correlation to the rage that had surged through the Force for a few moments. "Well good job, with all your world destroying rage that you seem to hold so dear. You broke a table and a mirror, forgive me if I'm not impressed." The Jedi stood to his full height, and he crossed his arms as he looked down at the Sith before him. Blue eyes regarded the man now that he had clearly shown his true colors to his eyes and through the Force. Well played Wraith, there goes any chance of bringing him over.

"You want respect for your pain, but yet you callously disregard others? Are you that self-centered that you can't see that you aren't the only individual in this galaxy who has made mistakes?" Darron shifted his weight slightly and took a few steps towards the Sith, closing the distance and forcing them man to hear him. "You want me to quake in fear at your pain, yet here you are showing a complete disregard for everyone else's. The galaxy doesn't work that way, you must learn to endure and rise from your circumstances. Not to let them dictate the man you are, there are a hundred reasons I should fight for your banner and let what happened to me control me. Yet here I am serving the innocents of the galaxy and pleading with one of the most selfish individuals I have met."

Darron turned on his heel and started to move towards the door, after all he couldn't debate with Mikhail all afternoon. He pulled out his comm and sent out a command for a few temple guards to come and stand watch on this room, and to cuff Mikhail. After it was sent, Darron turned to give the Sith his full attention once more. "I'm not diminishing your pain as it must be great, and you aren't a lost cause like most of the Sith I have faced. There is good in you, if there wasn't you wouldn't be conflicted with guilt and pain...and that pain wouldn't be feeding your rage. You are addicted to power and it's blinding you to the world, there is a galaxy to save and innocents that need protection. You were blessed with gifts that you don't even comprehend, don't waste them."

With that the Jedi Master left the room and sealed the door behind him, you aren't going anywhere Mikhail.

The guards came and took up their posts and Darron bowed to them as he headed off in the direction he had sent Rosa and Spencer, Force I hope my senses are wrong...

 

[Teynara Jeralyr]

Having left his fellow Sith behind, deciding that the man's fate was his own - if he wanted to be caught napping by the Jedi, the least Tirdarius could do was provide him with that opportunity - the Sith Lord directed his footsteps towards the maintenance level. Mostly it was constituted by the more technical areas of the Temple: the workshops where students would construct their lightsabers, the droid maintenance and storage areas where the Temple's vast number of droids were stored and set by for repair were they to malfunction, and naturally, the power grid, his destination.

The others were no doubt causing quiet havoc in their own way - that was why he had chosen them, after all. Val'ryss was quite capable of causing all manner of mischief with her magic, while Voracitos would no doubt shock and disgust the Jedi with his antics in their Mess Hall - a distraction, but one that would serve well enough to disturb the placid sensibilities of those Jedi who might observe. Zalen...well, Tirdarius was uncertain as to what purpose the man served now, in retrospect, but he could yet be surprised. And Mikhail was keeping the Jedi more than a little busy all by himself, the Sith Lord noted with satisfaction. Perhaps that mistake yet serves us, he thought with amusement.

The entrance to the power grid access area was, as he had expected, well guarded: two Padawans, one standing on either side of the door. It was common practice within the Temple to assign responsibilities to the students, in order to teach them patience, diligence and, of course, to teach them to always do their duty, no matter what they thought or wanted. The gates, the reception area, even the couriers serving the Council...all students. Unsurprising, of course: the elevated Knights and Masters were always fewer in number, and had far more important things to do. Tirdarius had expected no less than to find them here - and knew what would need to be done to deal with them.

"Such fine specimens, making sure all is well here," he remarked calmly, a trace of a smile on his face, the illusion more convincingly projecting such a thing far better than his own face might have done. "The two of you must be bored, having to stand here for so long," he continued, his expression shifting slightly into something more suitably sympathetic.

Neither of them were at all caught up by his words, much as he'd anticipated. Guess we must do things the hard way. "We'll need to see your identification if you want access to the Power Grid, Master," one of them said politely, stepping forward with a hand outstretched, as if to accept Tirdarius' credentials from him. A pity I have none to offer you, lad, the Sith Lord thought. Unfortunate for you that our game must end here. "The Council don't want anyone in here without authorisation," the Padawan continued conversationally, as though that point hadn't been obvious from the start.

"Rightly so. Imagine the chaos an unscrupulous person might cause if they were to enter here," Tirdarius remarked with a little irony apparent in his tone. Time we dispensed with our illusions and got right to the point, he thought. Concentrating slightly, the Sith Lord inhaled a deep breath and then exhaled sharply, the illusion surrounding him, and him alone, dissolving in an instant. The calm-faced Jedi in tan-and-browns was suddenly replaced by a coldly disdainful Sith Lord in the traditional blacks. "Unfortunately, you're in my way, friends," he continued in an amiable tone. No need to be rude.

The two Jedi were fast enough, it was true, reaching for their weapons and stepping off to either side of him, no doubt intending to force him into making a choice as to which one of them he engaged first. As if I need bother with such decisions. He threw his left hand out and curled, the slender fingers turning inwards towards the palm, an invisible tendril of energy matching the motion as it reached out and grasped the first Padawan by the throat. The young man dropped his lightsaber, clawing desperately at his throat as the Sith Lord slowly sought to squeeze the life out of him, the boy's fingers trying to grab at the hand around his throat, one that simply lacked substance but had plenty of force behind it.

Striking out quickly, the other Jedi aimed to kill the Sith Lord quickly and end the suffering of his fellow, no doubt seeking to rescue him from the torment of a death he had no power to prevent. Tirdarius' lightsaber flew into his hand and activated in a smooth motion, a bar of brilliant dark blue energy extending from the black metallic hilt, facing straight at the young Padawan, parrying the attack that had been intended to decapitate the tall Human. "You're quick, I grant you that, young one, but I'm afraid the speed of youth is of little advantage to you here," the Sith Lord remarked, offering the woman a commiserating smile.

The dark-blue blade held the girl off, forcing her to back away and re-assess her strategy, all too late to save her comrade, sadly enough. Tirdarius' hands tightened completely, the fingers becoming a fist and applying a level of pressure that simply crushed the other Padawan's larynx with unstoppable force. An unfortunate death, but he suffered by a little, the Sith Lord thought. Now it was time to deal with his comrade.

She leapt in, a flurry of motion as her bright green blade sought an opening, one that might help her avenge her comrade - something that was no doubt on her mind, even with her training. "Hatred is a dark emotion to be playing with, girl," Tirdarius offered softly. "It has it's uses, but you should not hate me simply for doing my duty. Do not let your last moments be sullied by a malice that has not characterised your life," he instructed patiently, keeping her at length with short, efficient movements of his own weapon. "Be assured I feel no malice towards you. You're merely in my way," he concluded.

A parry flashed out as the girl directed a strike to his head, intending to slice him in half from the head down, an attack quickly reversed as his dark-blue blade connected with hers, the Padawan spinning her wrists fluidly to try for a decapitating strike, her weapon sailing under Tirdarius' own. He dropped his own wrist, turning the blade sideways, flicking it across his own body to deflect the strike, then pushed his arm outwards as the girl's lightsaber was knocked aside, his move a piercing lunge that caught her just under the chin and proceeded through her throat, taking her life in a heartbeat. As it should be, Tirdarius thought, deactivating his blade as the girl's corpse fell to the floor. The other Jedi cannot help but have felt that, he thought.

The door to the power core slid open forcefully at Telekinetic command, the Sith Lord dispensing with the opening mechanism and wielding a rare display of brute force. He stepped within, his grey eyes dispassionately taking in the multiple cores of the power generators spinning and whirling in place before him. The room was otherwise dark but for the flickers of energy produced by the generators and a low light given off by small glowglobes to the rear of the room. Allowing the sleeves of his dark robes to fall down past his wrists, Tirdarius raised both hands and drew a deep breath, gathering the energies around him and channeling them through his slender body to produce a desired effect.

Electricity to kill a power grid, the Sith Lord thought with a touch of dark irony, a blue coronal discharge of pure energy firing from his fingertips to arc into the room, illuminating it with brilliant bursts of blue-white power, striking at the mechanisms within. Sparks flew through the room as the arcing electricity struck time and again, channelling dark energy into a system that simply started to overload, unable to handle the ferocity of it. An acrid smell of burned electronics overrode all, the generators starting to melt under the barrage.

Melt, and fail. The power systems within the Temple started to falter, then give out completely. Lights flickered, then shut off completely, as if someone had simply destroyed the bulbs. Computer terminals whirred loudly and started to spark as too much power was pushed through the grid, then silenced as the screens went dark and their internal electronics fused. No doubt a few areas of the Temple would remain unaffected, having their own remote generators active to pick up the slack, and there was still more than sufficient daylight available for the Jedi to see, but as chaos went, this was a start.

The lightning discharge ceased, and Tirdarius turned away, striding past two rapidly cooling corpses and a room left aflame, destroyed in a moment of sheer energetic chaos. Now we begin, Tirdarius projected telepathically to the others. They could choose to discard their illusions or not, as they chose. Still, the time for concealment here was at an end.

 

[Davin Jusik]

Was this Sith touched? She seemed to have forgotten that there were two of them and that Davin was armed and extremely dangerous, and now she was presenting herself to be killed?

"@[member="Jaxton Ravos"] Why don't you go save the children, I got the lady here." Davin said as he raised the heavy blaster pistol and aimed it at her chest.

Sith always seemed to underestimate non force users and Davin relished every opportunity he got to throw it back in their corrupted faces.

Davin fire three shots aimed the Sith's chest and one aimed at head in one quick motion.@[member="Val'Ryss Zankarr"]

"Move Jedi." He said as he fired.

 

[Jaxton Ravos]

"Move Jedi." Jaxton heard the soldier behind him say and he ran past the woman, entering the chamber of younglings. As he entered the chamber he heard shots, but the sheer darkness in the room was nauseating. Jaxton was not the powerful or sensory of Jedi, but it felt as if each of the younglings had been somehow consumed by the darkside. Jaxton couldn't think of how such a process was even possible. He opened the door back out of the room and ignited his saber, slashing forward at the woman's torso.

"What have you done??" He screamed as he joined the battle.

@[member="Davin Jusik"] @[member="Val'Ryss Zankarr"]

 

[Phylis Alince]

So what was Phylis Alince doing while Sith were infiltrating the Temple, younglings were corrupted and battles were being fought? Well, would anyone believe that she was working in the archives? Probably. Either way, she had a very thick door with that green felt stuff which she pinned notes to, and she didn't hear anything, and only had the occasional twinge of discontent from the Force.

It was as @[member="Spencer Jacobs"] attempted to remove the wickedly uncanonical Sith curse from the poorly placed younglings that her Spencer senses fired into life! Now, Phylis had only been Spencer's master for a little while, but she had developed a keen sense of when her Padawan was in trouble. It happened a lot after all...so she had a good idea what was happening.
The darkness hit her suddenly, feeling like ice water down her back. Spencer was in trouble! And this time it wasn't due to an enraged crab which had chased her around the beach.
She was up and heading upstairs quickly. She paid little heed to what was going on around her. After all, the Temple was full of Jedi...surely they could deal with the Sith for once! Though, she noted dourly that Jedi infiltrations on Korriban or Dromund Kaas tended to be instantly detected.

And there was Spencer. While Jaxton and the Sith with a cool name faced off in the traditional 'Strike me down and become a Sith' stand off, Phylis homed in on Spencer. The girl was on the ground, delirious and clearly fighting the curse. Phylis gave the Sith a sour look and carried Spencer in her arms away from the battle...and probably out of this thread. Selfish? Probably...but despite being a silly sausage, Spencer was HER Padawan. And no one, not even a sexy plant, was going to take her away!

Long time readers might notice a pattern of Phylis coming in and taking Spencer away. At least this time there were no screaming witches or dragons...yet.

 

[Kiara Alanna Decoix]

Kiara's blood froze as she walked toward the archives, a jedi burst out through the doors and for a second Kiara thought maybe her illusion faltered. However as she went the opposite way Kiara cursed her own nerves and took several breaths before calming and continuing into the archives. As soon as she entered the doors feeling around she didn't feel anyone at least yet in the room so she began to look around for the main desk.

After a short spell she easily found it but the fact that it was a floating podium made her have to leap up to get it being too lazy to look for the button to lower it. Reaching within her purse she pulled out her holo-screen attaching it to the archives a blur of numbers rambling down before finally stopping like a slot machine. With a certain satisfaction she found herself within the main librarians access and she began working first pulling up crystals and various light saber build styles.

As the minutes ticked by Kiara began to get frustrated flipping through hundreds of files not yet finding another of her personal wants. She noted an armor specifications for armor made by a battlemaster called Rancor Armor. Her inner Alayna forced her to save that file while finally finding information on an old yet hidden Sith holocron that was said to be so tainted it was sealed away rather than risking moving it.

A jedi knight had walked into the archives with a group of initiates, she seemed to look around yet forgetting to look up as Kiara now crouched down as to not be seen or cast a shadow. However, she found herself singing albeit barely audible to herself yet it helped her use Sith Magic without extra effort. She cast the spell of anger upon the Jedi Knight, however instead of trying to sneak into her mind like a Sith might she completely blasted her mind with the pure rage that welled dormant inside Kiara as well as using her own repressed emotions as extra logs to the fire.

The Jedi Knight went crazy igniting her saber striking down an initiate before they seemed to spur into action. Kiara allowed her aura to wash over two initiate to allow them to get caught up in surviving with their lives. Kiara leaped from the podium drifting across the room through the doors, utilizing the force to close the door with the force.

It was then that she felt the shudder in the force which was others dropping their veils and much was going on indeed. Her own games bringing fresh darkness to the archives, and as she walked through the halls to the turbo-lifts she ran heard voices. Instantly, she shot to the shadows drawing them around her cloak her form while she awaited whoever it was to pass by.

 

[Allyson Locke]

Spencer was pulled quickly from the room; she had learned to cut her ties the last time she had done this. When she felt her body move she unbound herself from the Younglings and came back from her meditation. As she started to feel her body again, the young padawan screamed as she wrapped her arms around herself. The curse that the younglings had been plagued with seemed to have spread throughout Spencer’s body. Unlike the younglings, Spencer’s body attempted to fight it though it was failing quickly.

A hazed look washed over her as she looked up towards the person who was carrying her, at first she assumed it was another Jedi, but at a slight moment her eyes focused and she saw it was @[member="Phylis Alince"]. She stopped crying out and held everything in. A hand gripped the other woman’s robes as she held onto the Master.

“I tried to help…but they’re still – it burns everything hurts Master. Make it stop, please make it stop!”

If this was how the darkside felt Spencer wanted nothing to do with it!

 

[Lord Ghoul]

A great grief bore down on Mikhail in the weight of his outburst. The Jedi's words had a profound impact on him, for he knew them all to be true. His jaw clenched and unclenched as he gritted his teeth. If all this Jedi spoke was true... well, he was a better man than Mikhail. The burden of sorrow he bore seemed to crush him. Each day was a struggle. More painful than the last. When would the hurt ever stop? When would he ever stop hating himself? Never, probably.

Mikhail cast his gaze downward, berated by Wraith whose words rung so true. It was like the Jedi Master was ripping asunder old wounds, so swollen and infected that to even mention them brought Mikhail a wave of anguish. He couldn't bear it. The things he'd done. The Jedi stirred up hurts best left to rest. Darkness rose within Mikhail. In his mind, he purposefully shut out the hurt, anguish, and abandoment he felt, repressing the emotions until they were but smoldering embers. With them, his rage subsided. Wraith was wrong. Mikhail was in control of his emotions. Just... in a different way.

Pale blue eyes rose to meet the Jedi, who exited the door. As it slide closed, Mikhail shook his head and let out a bark of amusment as the man left. "No, there's no good in me Master Jedi." With all those hurts shut away, Mikhail was just a shell of a man. Devoid of empathy. "But you're right about one thing. I am selfish. And I'm bad. And I like it." Mikhail's eyes flashed wide as spiteful smile split his lips. He waited several moments for the Jedi to make his exit completely.

The man had never taken Mikhail's lightsaber. It leapt into his hands now, the cool metal refreshing against Mikhail's fingers. Locking the door did nothing, the observation window had been smashed in. It was time for Shorn to accomplish his objective. His senses crawled out and he felt the Dark Side at work elsewhere in the Temple. Time to reveal themselves then.

He clambered through the window and strolled lightly to the door of the observation room, it opened with a hiss. The guard behind it stared in consternation.

"Hey, you can't do that!" the man said, reaching for his pistol. Shorn stopped his hand with the Force, then placed the sleeve of his robe against the man's chest.

Snap-hiss.

A crimson bar blossomed from the man's back. The guard's eyes were wide with shock, before they glazed over in death. Mikhail withdrew the blade with a fluid motion. "Oops, silly me." He picked the body up in the Force and sent it surging forward toward the second guard, who was not a guard at all, but a Jedi. She somersaulted over the thrown body and ran at him with a sweeping attack. He recognized the attack as one of Niman's. A scholar's form. Not a duelist's. In a swift move, Mikhail swung his saber to parry. He then struck in a slash toward her leg, which was met by her green blade.

Their blades flashed in a flurry of motion as they struck at each other, Jedi and Sith, lesser representations of the greater conflict between the two Orders. Hate and pain fueled Mikhail's emotion lead strength in the Dark Side. Restraint and peace filled the Jedi. Light and Dark collided in an unrelenting display. Their lightsabers moved with speed and grace only beings empowered with the Force could manage. The Jedi padawan was more skilled than Mikhail in the ways of the Force and she sent him stumbling back with a Force shove. Mikhail was beaten back, despite her - in his opinion - utilization of the lesser Niman form. He was but an Apprentice.

Parry, riposte. Thrust, feint, backhand. They whirled around each other, blades constantly at war zipping and humming as they crackled together in a dance of death. A spinning heel kick took Mikhail in the face. Brutal, but practical. It sent him stumbling backwards. He tasted blood. He rose his blade to parry the incoming attack, meant to sheer him in half from head to groin.

Sparks flew as the blades pressed against each other. Shorn pushed hard, not typical of a Makashi user. His physical strength bore down on the woman, but she was a padawan, but her skill in the Force surpassed his. She frowned and concentrating, pushed back. Her strength outweighed his and he felt his own blade beginning to press against him. Mikhail smiled. He pivoted slightly, deactivating his saber. The Trákata technique caused bewilderment. The woman fell forward suddenly, her blade sweeping at empty air due to his sudden disengagement. Mikhail reignited his blade, as her lightsaber passed through where his had once been, impaling her at an angle, jutting up through the torso. She fell without a cry. Dead before she touched the ground.

Shorn deactivated his lightsaber and glanced around. Silence. He fled from the area, senses questing out to find the Vice Chancellor. Not a glance backward was spared for the Jedi whose life he'd just ended. His first kill of a Jedi.

 

[Darth Hauntruss]

@[member="Jaxton Ravos"] @[member="Davin Jusik"]

The blaster rounds flew in hard and fast, but Val’Ryss had known them coming. The force concentrated into her open hand and from her belt her lightsaber-shoto burst out. Flinging into her hand it was immediately ignited, the red blade bathed Val’Ryss in a glow of crimson. Sweeping flicks on her hand re-directed the beams into the floors and ceiling of the temple. One beam however, was closing in on her face. Val’Ryss contorted her back and leaned away from the round, when her body could no longer hold her weight she pushed off with the force and back-flipped onto another position. The beam grazed her hood and cut it open with a shrieking shing.

"What have you done??" He screamed as he joined the battle.

The other jedi, no outwardly showing his anger moved to cut her. Val’Ryss snickered and raised her other hand. From this hand a ball of energy exploded outwards but its path was perverted by the slight moves of her fingers. The ball of force energy erupted forwards smashing into the jedi and attempting to toss him into his companion.

“Hiss, hiss, hissssssssss…” Val’Ryss continued her snicker, “The Jedi is angry…Good…good. The boy is learning.” Raising her free hand she removed the damaged hood, revealing all of her face. Her skin was dark red, her hair black as the night. Dark scars that mimicked tattoos corrupted every part of her face, swirling around her golden eyes. “What has this one done?” She now growled with a black tone, “This one has merely planted a seed, a dark plant. And like all plants…..it feeds off the light.” Val’Ryss closed her eyes and took in a breath. “Mmm yes. This one can already feel it spreading, it has latched onto another Jedi and soon it will consume this temple.”

She could sense it all, anger, pain, sorrow and concern- what lovely and free flowing emotions were consuming this place. Val’Ryss was pleased by it. Focusing the force into her other hand, the lightsaber hilt for her whip struck out and pushed into her palm. Crouching down Val’Ryss took up a stance. The lights within the temple began to flicker in and out of existence- the power was failing. Val’Ryss hissed, “See, the Temple is already bending to the darkness.”

 

[Ventasia Terana]

Ventasia heard little more than her own footsteps as she paced through the halls of the Temple. While she knew it was best to keep her distance, she pushed forward regardless, hearing slight yelps and screams from corridors as she past. To say she had been with the Jedi long was an understatement. After all, she had practically just arrived and now here they were, under attack. Without thinking twice, she had already made the decision not to assist anyone out of her way. She had no intention of dying while trying to be a hero.

All around one could sense the ensuing battles. The loss of life. But through all this something else was drawing her. If all this was going on, then surely she could access the archives. Finally, she would be able to see for herself what secrets were hidden. It was her opportunity learn what the Jedi were seemingly always hiding. This was possibly her one shot, and she was going to take it without hesitation.

As she continued down the corridor, a voice caught her ears just before she reached a corner. Ventasia's steps immediately paused in their tracks as she listened. Coughing..a strained voice. Gasping for breath, Someone was hurt. Her pace slowed to a crawl as she came around the corner, finally having a visual of the dying man on the floor. By his garments, it was apparent what he was. He was Jedi. "Help me..", the voice reached out to her. Over and over again, the dying being asked Ventasia for her assistance. "Quite. Someone will hear you." It was pointless. The dying man laid there. begging for her help, speaking too loudly for Ventasia's words to reach his ears. Quickly, Ventasia reached her boiling point. "I'll help you alright.." With those words, she pulled the blaster pistol from her hip, aiming the barrel for the man's head. His voice drew quiet just as Ventasia pulled the trigger.

The loud bang echoed through the hallway as the man now lay dead at her feet, blood flowing freely from the remnants of his head. "I don't intend to die in here..", she spoke to herself as her arm returned to her side, pistol still clutched tightly and her finger still on the trigger. Her eyes drifted up, examining the hall before her. By this point, it obvious to Ventasia that she was not alone. Someone else lurked in the around one of the corridors. She took a few steps, putting her just past the Jedi she had just killed. She knew not who was there, but she knew she had made a mistake. Killing the dying male may have bought her more time, but was not the be all, end all she'd hoped for. "Whoever you are, I know your there. Show yourself." Her figure stood tall as she gripped the blaster tightly, ready to pull up and fire at a moments notice.

@[member="Kiara Alanna Decoix"]

 

[Rosa Gunn]

Rosa was already running for the younglings when Darron's message reached her. She had felt the darkness, she had felt their innocence fade and become replaced with some thing terrible, but she skidded to a halt as another flash of darkness erupted elsewhere in the temple. Panic flashed through Rosa but she quelled it quickly. It would do no good to panic, not when she needed her wits about her.

Closing her eyes she extended her empathy, she could feel Jaxton, Davin and Spencer with the younglings. Surely they would be able to handle the sith without her? She could feel Darron's presence and the rage that was coming from Mikhail, he clearly had his hands full with that one. Pushing further she found the third sith and let out a small cry as he extinguished the two lights that were her fellow padawans outside the power grid.

Darron! The power grid!

She was running again as she sent the message to him, no longer heading for the younglings but for the two fallen Jedi, darkness began to fall around her as the power grid overloaded and began shutting everything down. Smoke was billowing from the power grid when she reached it. With the power down she had no automated way to stop the flames all, she could do was pull the doors closed with the force to stop it from spreading. Kneeling down beside the bodies, a wave of grief washed over her. Both of their eyes were open, staring unseeing at the ceiling above them. Gingerly she reached out and closed their eyes one by one and for a moment she just sat there, the shock of what was happening around her rendering here useless.

The Sith were attacking them. Another life blinked out close to Darron and she winced as it went. Get up Rosa! Do something! She rose from the floor, something knocked against her leg and she looked down to see the lightsaber Darron had given her hanging at her waist. She was not strong enough to take a sith on her own, but the memories in the lightsaber could be enough to keep one of them busy. She followed the trail of darkness left by the sith that had killed these two, her feet moving slowly at first, before she broke into a run, the force giving her the speed to catch up with him.

@[member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""]Tirdarius

She could feel the darkness rolling from him before she saw him, pushing herself hard she somersaulted over him landing lightly with her back to him before turning slowly to face him. "I think you have done enough damage for one day. Don't you?" the saber in her hand sprung to life with a snap hiss, though she kept it pointing at the ground beside, taking a stand, making it perfectly clear that he would not be going any further.

 

[Teynara Jeralyr]

@[member="Rosa Mazhar"]

Tirdarius came to a halt as the young female Jedi somersaulted her way over the balcony that had separated the two, his expression one of mild curiousity, and perhaps a touch of amusement. She's a feisty one. He'd supposed it would come down to this: being challenged by those handful of Jedi close enough to check on the power grid shortly after it had been disabled in that fiery blaze he had left in his wake. It was a pity, really: for all their philosophical differences, it would have been better if the Jedi simply stopped trying to get in the way. He was rather tired of having to harm them to do his duty.

Folding his hands in front of him, the soft fabric of his black robes rustling softly against his wrists, he looked at the young woman with an appraising expression, his grey eyes taking it all in. Tall for a woman, blonde hair, unusual brown eyes which don't go with the colouring - perhaps dyed hair, then - and, of course, weapon in hand. Oddly, though, it wasn't pointing threateningly towards him, suggesting that it was perhaps there merely for defense. Interesting - she lacks the aggressive anger that her little comrade had. That was definitely a point to keep in mind.

"You are correct, little one. Enough damage has indeed been done here," the Sith Lord remarked conversationally, a touch of sorrow in his voice there purely a consequence of having to do that which he always preferred not to. "Alas, I don't think either you or any of your brethren are simply going to let that be it, are you?" Tirdarius arched an eyebrow inquisitively, as if to challenge the young Jedi's current stance. After all, if she stands in my way, more damage may yet be done. "We can be reasonable about this, I think. I do not, after all, have any particular desire to kill you."

He waved his hand towards the woman's lightsaber, indicating his meaning well enough. If she disarmed herself and stood aside, that would all that need be said and done. If she chose to continue standing as an obstacle, things would become difficult. If he had to kill her, he would, but it wasn't necessary: he hadn't come here to kill Jedi, even though none among the Empire would have issue were that his choice. Even the deaths caused at his hand thus far were purely a consequence of being in the wrong time and place: had they not stood between him and an objective, they would even now have been among the living. And there simply wasn't time to offer a less lethal method - not that the Jedi would ever appreciate mercy from a Sith.

"I suppose you imagine me to be evil? Of course you do," he said calmly, answering his own question - nearly all Jedi were indoctrinated to believe that. Jedi good, Sith bad. It was almost pathetic, in it's own way. "I have come here to do my duty by the Empire, young woman, just as you do yours by the Republic. I suppose you would imagine yourself able to walk onto a Sith world without repercussion?", he asked softly, knowing fully well that the Jedi response to a Sith tended to be expressed more often with lightsabers than with words. "Those two behind us were collateral damage - unfortunate, but a sacrifice that had to be made. Must I add your life to theirs, or will you stand aside?"

 

[Lord Ghoul]

@[member="Hanna Lissiri"]

The Vice Chancellor was surrounded by her four guards. As they rounded a corner, they were suddenly confronted by a dark haired man with a wicked grin. There was a snap-hiss and a blood red blade sprang to life in his right hand. The man raised an eyebrow above piercing blue eyes.

"Going somewhere?"

The guards raised their blasters, but the man known as Mikhail Shorn was faster. The fattest guard in front would be the first to go. He was a heavyset man with thick jowls, but he had the grizzled look of a veteran. Shorn raised his off hand to reveal a hold out pistol, which he fired twice. Two bolts of plasma took the man in the chest. The body armor stopped them from going all the way through, but it caused him to stumble back in pain. The other three guards opened fire simultaneously.

Eyes flashing with wicked delight, Mikhail batted aside the first several bolts. But deflecting blaster shots was not his forte. Makashi was for duelists, not soldiers. Still, he managed to deflect the shots, but he would be quickly overwhelmed by the barrage of blaster fire if he did nothing. He leaped forward, moving with unnatural grace and speed that was the trademark of Force Users. He grabbed the fat man by the back of his shirt, the fabric going taught in Mikhail's hands as he used the man as a shield. The veteran began to fight back, struggling as he recovered from the blaster shots. Mikhail jammed his lightsaber through the man's skull. Recover from that. The body sagged on Mikhail and he picked it up in the Force and tossed at the Vice Chancellor and her guards.

He moved forward swiftly. Attacking in fluid motions. His first strike took a guard in the throat, easily sliding through flesh. He ripped it out to block an incoming blaster shot, leaving the body to collapse to the floor, partially decapitated. Two flashes of his blade cut in half first the blaster, then impaled the guard behind. Shorn kicked the guard off his blade, sending him stumbling, dying, into the arms of the final guard, who Mikhail decapitated with a swift stroke. He grabbed the Vice Chancellor in the Force, fixing her in place lest she try to run.

Deactivating his lightsaber, he brushed the front of his robes in a nonchalant manner, utterly at ease surrounded by dead bodies. "Now, about being Sith." Mikhail's smile could've made a Wampa shiver. "I lied."

 

[Hanna Ike]

@[member="Rosa Mazhar"] @[member="Mikhail Shorn"]
Inside, Hanna was a mess, wishing with all she had that Rosa was here, she pressed the panic button this time.. the second time should go out to a wider array of units.. hopefully She had only moved to avoid the firefight and the guard that was thrown at her. She knew running was fruitluess, instead she had grabbed a blaster, before being stuck just about to fire at the blasted man. She wasn't going to give him the satsifaction of being scared, she glared at him. " How may I help you? good sir, Sith or not, I am a busy woman after all. " She thought about her option, her button had been pressed again... hopefully she would be saved but if not.. she had to rely on the jedi. She tried to reach out to them with her mind, which granted that she did have some force sensitivity might work, though she didn't know that.. She just knew that jedi could read that sort of thing so she thought about Rosa... and trying to talk to her. * Rosa please hear my thoughts.. save me...* She thought... hoping that somehow her firend could hear her. She looked the sith, wishing she could press the button. the wonderful button that would let her shoot the sith and begone with him. Hanna wasn't going to give the satisfaction of being visibly frightened or groveling, she was the Vice Chancellor after all, though it was all an farce, in side she was shaking with fear.

 

[Darron Wraith]

The Force rippled everywhere, and it's many disturbances were hard to sift through all at once. So much was happening it almost caused sensory overload for the Jedi Master, and he paused in his tracks as he digest everything. The sounds of his boots against marbled died to silence, and for a moment he was genuinely confused. If he continued forward, he could help Jaxton and Davin with the younglings, go to his left and head towards Rosa and the power grid. The darkness there was overwhelming and he knew there was a great threat there that she wasn't possibly ready to take on, nor would anyone in the temple be ready for. I am, he pondered as he felt the familiar darkness of Mikhail explode behind him. A few seconds later more death followed, and he could feel fear, not just anyone's fear though.

The Vice-Chancellor!

Jaxton and Davin can handle that Sith, and the younglings are safe. Every fiber of his being started to head left at the crossroads in the hallway, to go to Rosa's aid and save her from the darkness. His heart called to him, begged and pleaded with him to help his student and friend...maybe more? No Darron, you will not let your attachments cloud your judgment. His sense of duty and his knowledge of tactics told him to turn around, a Jedi Padawan was a nuisance and nothing more to most plans. Rosa would either be killed, or she would get help. The Vice-Chancellor could be a really good bargaining chip, and the Republic would either bargain for her life or risk more lifes in the effort to save her. Darron, you have to do the right thing, you can't give in to what you want. Remember Wraith, you can't save the galaxy and those you care for. You can only pick one..

His mind won over his heart, and his sense of duty rejoiced as his soul cried out. Force help me, I pray I'm doing the right thing.

Every fiber in his being screamed against him as he turned around and headed down the many halls leading to where the fear was coming from. Through the Force he could feel it in waves, its stench practically lining the walls. Yet there was a greater darkness there, the darkness of rage, and the Jedi knew who that being was. Having already talked to him. Blue eyes saw two dead bodies, and in the Force he could see the death coming off of them. As he pushed his senses forward he willed himself to move faster as he felt four more lives snuffed out, a hint of joy lining the rage he felt. Guess I was wrong, that man truly has lost himself. Those death's are on you Wraith, you should have known better than to leave him alone. If not for his senses, he wouldn't be able to see much, the emergency lighting didn't illuminate hardly anything, but with the Force he could see everything clearly.


As he traveled down the hall, he made no effort to mask his Force signature. His pupils caught the sight of the crimson blade deactivating as Mikhail strolled over the dead bodies. The Vice-Chancellor stood alone, not for long. He slid to a stop a dozen feet from the pair, his face still projecting the calm aura he always wore. Yet on the inside he was already channeling his will to win and navigating the penumbra of the darkside. Within seconds he had forged the superconducting loop between him and Mikhail, the Sith's own darkness becoming the Jedi's weapon of light. Darron reached down and grabbed his lightsaber hilt, and he thumbed the activation switch. The bar of azure energy shot forth with a snap-hiss and the smell of ozone flooded his nostrils as the blue light illuminated the macabre scene before him. His eyes calmly took in the situation, planning for every possible scenario before speaking in his cold, even tone.

"Let her go Mikhail, I won't ask twice." Eyes firmly on the Sith, he spoke to the Vice-Chancellor. "You should have stayed with me Vice-Chancellor...dont' worry you're safe."

 

[Rosa Gunn]

@[member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""][member=""]Tirdariushttp://starwarsrp.net/user/631-tirdarius/
Rosa smiled at his words, she would not let the fact that he had kill the other padawans make her angry, she closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. He was powerful, far too powerful for her to handle on her own and she knew that. To fight him would be to die, but nor could she let him walk away, he had crimes to answer for, regardless of what he was.

I need assistance, my friends. I cannot take him alone.

The telepathic message spread from her touching the mind of each Jedi it passed. "Collateral damage? What a wonderful term to use about the loss of such young life." she replied sarcastically "Maybe you're not evil, maybe someone just failed to teach you how to be nice. The cause you fight for however, is evil." The saber hummed in her hand, its sound somewhat comforting. "You and I both know I can't let you walk away. I am not under any illusions either, you're far more powerful than I, but like you I have a duty."

Her feet shifted as she moved into the stance of Ataru, suddenly very aware of the way her heart was hammering.