Private Antimatter

[Xashe Tistya]

C R U S A D E R
Lord Creuat
「tunnel vision fading in」
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯​

“You will pay for the arrogance from your lack of vision,”

Sparks flew as the mirialan held her ground. A bout of strength locked the two sabers against each other. Every ounce of her being pushed forward, urging him to break firs.

“I’d rather be arrogant than the emperors lap dog.” Xashe snarled over the blades.

His strength had grown with the free of darkness. The dam broke, forcing her to scramble backward to avoid his blade. The canyon below sung its foreboding tune - a warning that maneuvering would bring certain death. Still, the Jedi pushed forward, forcing another clash. The foundation of his teachings were there, if not warped, allowing her to meet the furious blows with an ounce of withstanding.

Again and again, they recognized each other, casting off one another’s strikes as one would bat away a fly. Slowly, her steps were forced backward, to the edge of hall behind. Xashe seized the chance. Throwing herself back into a tumble, three mirror images rose from the ground. A fallansi technique they had endeavored to master together. The illusions paced about the entryway, daring him to come closer, and see if he could gage what was true.

“Too weak to carry his own banner.” One of the Xashe’s stated with an eyeroll.

“Sold his soul for a taste of false power,” another agreed, as if chatting over Starcreds.

“He’ll die in a shadow.”

“Do you think he cringed when he heard about the Lightsworn?”

At once, the trio froze, looking to challenge their opponent. Every word was born of Xashe, blessed by malicious intent. Her crusade was a righteous one - but she’d be a liar if not to admit some part wanted to hurt him as badly as he had her. Retribution had been no part rehabilitation in the education he delivered.

“Think Sera will cry for him?”

One of the illusions developed a devious grin.

“No tears for a traitor.” The mismatched swore.

​

 

[Lord Creuat]

B L A C K G U A R D
Xashe Tistya

PULL ME UNDER​

The years of peace did not make her weak. The same could not be said for many Jedi as they allowed stagnation sap away their strength. It was because of their indulgence they allowed Tython be absorbed by the dark powers.

Small sparks flew every time their blades met, only to die out immediately. Her swordplay with her lightsaber greatly refined, Creuat recognizing the patterns he taught her while adding her own touch to create her own style. He was impressed with her skills, a testament she was capable to grow without him when he granted her the rank of Knight.

However, she was not the only one who grew in strength. So did the Nautolan when he accepted the Dark Side, greatly amplifying his power. He demonstrated with such ferocity when he pushed back Xashe little by little towards the hallway she came from. She disengaged, putting distance between the two of them to then deploy a trick against him. Three copies of Xashe appeared out of thin air, the real one hiding behind her illusions. They were perfect replicas of Xashe, not a single hair was out of place.

He was confused by this trick until they began to speak; to taunt and mock him. He could only glare at the projections with anger, ignoring their words. She carried the same demeanor as he did. Direct and blunt, not a single word minced. She would never hold back with this confrontation a testament. If she didn’t have any sympathy towards her former master, then what would ever restrain her sharp tongue.

“Enough!” his patience grew thin when she mentioned his previous apprentice. He approached the illusions and with one swift stroke, cut them to have them disappear from his sights.

Her words were immaterial. He evolved beyond what any ordinary Jedi could dream of. A life of significance and purpose. Change was the constant truth of life, and he accepted that objective fact. A static nature would only beget destruction, and said destruction would make people evolve or destroy them.

“Don’t make me destroy you, Xashe.”

But was he capable of bringing himself to that conclusion? Kill his first apprentice? His successor in the legacy established by his mentor, and passed down to the next generation.

 

[Xashe Tistya]

C R U S A D E R
「tunnel vision fading in」
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯​

“Don’t make me destroy you, Xashe.”

As the nautical cut away her illusions, the corporeal knight began circling her rival, saber drawn en pointe. The words from an other opponent would have been laughable. Generic villainy, uncreative. She had heard similar threats at the tip of Maw tongues, then their New Sith brethren. Perhaps that was why it stung. Another reminder that they had made a drone of him. Recognizable, but not as himself.

“You fool.” The hiss was tempered by a hearty dose of grief. Tears welled, threatening to spill. “Can you not see you’ve already done so?”

Recklessly, she pushed forward, falling into slashing strike.

“I am but a ghost,” the words fueled the relentless assault. “Doomed to haunt you.”

​

 

[Lord Creuat]

B L A C K G U A R D
Xashe Tistya
PULL ME UNDER​

“You fool.” “Can you not see you’ve already done so?”

The grief she tried to veil would’ve satisfied him as his tendrils identified her emotions, but it distracted him along with her words. Creuat was put on the defensive, parrying away her attacks and not able to bring himself to push back against Xashe’s momentum. Finally, he swiftly brought his hand and a small burst of the Force directed towards Xashe to create distance between the two.

He didn’t use this opportunity to go on the offensive. Instead he stood still, lightsaber still in hand and activated. This was a moment the two had been dreading, or at least for the Nautolan. There was a conflict of emotions stirring within. His guilt and anger at odds with each other.

She should’ve submitted herself…

She shouldn’t have come…

What was destroyed now tried to regain form.

He snarled and turned his head to stare at the wall, not wanting to get a glance of the Mirialan. “You should’ve accepted my offer, Xashe,” for both of their sakes. “It doesn’t have to be this way.”

 

[Xashe Tistya]

C R U S A D E R
Lord Creuat | hello Kyric , ghost of Christmas future
「tunnel vision fading in」
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯​

The Force hurled her across the floor. She barely caught her balance, landing in a crouch, panting, every muscle coiled in defense. Like a wounded animal, she braced—watching her master waver.

The plea of reason struck harder than any blow. It cracked through her soul.

The bridge gave way beneath her. In the void, timelines collided.

A robed figure turned—her own face revealed. Crimson eyes stared met azure, daring. The intensity shattered their connection.

Then Rhis, falling. His broken body lay surrounded by a sea of sabers, slicing through the dark like falling stars.

That's not right.

Desperate for something solid, she looked back to the Nautolan. His expression contorted. The aura around him shrank, and sorrow took root where hesitation once lingered.

A hand reached from behind him, resting gently on his shoulder. Squinting to its source, Xashe caught it—a flash of snow-white hair, just barely visible in the shadows.

The flashes shattered as quickly as they had come, scattered by a pestilant alarm. Her head swilved toward the corridor behind her.

A mouse droid skittered into view, beeping madly.

"Go!" Xashe snarled.

With a startled screech, the droid fled—off to summon reinforcements. There would be no time to process what she'd seen. No intermission.

This had to end.

"It does," Xashe affirmed, turning back to Rhis. Steel guarded voice and expression. "This is mercy."

She lunged.

The Force surged through her, driving her forward. Conviction vibrated in her grip. The amber blade howled as it carved the air—cutting low, then rising in a savage arc.

A draw cut fell upon the Sith, arcing toward his tendrils.

​

 

[Lord Creuat]

B L A C K G U A R D
Xashe Tistya
HATRED
​

It was all a flash, and he’d pay the price for his carelessness.

Were it not for his reflexes it would have been a mortal strike. His saber deflected the arc from decapitating his head, but the tendrils hanging from the right side of his head fell from the cut. The pain overwhelmed him, the nerves in his body howled in agony from the maiming.

He screamed violently, the pain still coursing through his body. It angered Creuat and he further buried Rhis with all his fury. The time of pleading to Xashe was over. Now she’d witness the full power of the Dark Side.

All his foul energy, anger and fury, channeled within and a bolt of energy of the dark side enveloped in his free palm. He did not need his lightsaber to fight the Jedi. Without hesitation he hurled the power of bolt at the Mirialan.

No longer would Creuat restrain himself, and the soul of Rhis would not influence his mind.

 

[Xashe Tistya]

C R U S A D E R
Lord Creuat
「in the impact we become antimatter」
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯​

The smirk that had begun to form on Xashe’s lips died at the bolt hit her point blank. The force sent her flying backwards. Blue static engulfed her form through the air, every muscle tensing so that she thought they may all sever simultaneously. Burnt flesh emanated the corridor, a guttural scream involuntary. She didn’t even feel the impact as she landed; her nerves were consumed by the fire Rhis held upon her. Momentarily, her form shook violently, the world around her swimming in and out of view.

It finally stopped. Whether a moment had passed or an era, she could not say. She laid there, listlessly, waiting for the end. She had not been strong enough.

“Get up.” A voice insisted, annoyingly. “By the force, get up, Xashe, or you’re going to die.”

The Mirialan’s gaze flickered upward. Takui crouched next to her, prodding her shoulder.

“Get up. You don’t have much time. You have to get out of here alive. Go.”

The defiance in his tone stirred something within. There was a surprising lack of pain; only numbness. Her limbs didn’t feel her own. Yet still, she managed to get her feet beneath her, panting. Takui was gone without a trace. Rhis approached at a menacing crawl. Weapon, she thought. Where’s Conviction? Her eyes darted urgently, searching for the saber. It was feet away, but that felt too far. Clenching her eyes shut, she reached for the force. It was all that mattered. The lightsaber bolt vibrated violently before flying across the room to meet her hand.

​

 

[Lord Creuat]

B L A C K G U A R D
Xashe Tistya
NULL
​

His attack struck true on his former Apprentice and sent her across the hallway with her screams bellowing throughout the durasteel hall. A small victory for the Elite, but it was a costly one. His display of power was raw and untamed, sapping his strength and bringing him to his knees. It was an act of instinct, not a show of mastery of the dark side. Still he had much to learn to bend the dark side to his will.

He stared down at the floor with heavy breaths and then to a motionless Xashe meters away from him. She was still alive, he knew this deep down; they still shared that bond. Simply, her strength surrendered and awaited fate to collect her.

A hand reached to touch the right hemisphere of his head. His anger boiled to feel what was left of his damaged tendrils, knowing they’d be scarred and not regrow. A bloodthirsty snarl raised on his face. It allowed him to temporarily clear his conscience and not be distracted by the voice of reason from Rhis Fisto.

On his fours he hobbled slowly to his foe. Their fight was no longer gracious instead it was animalistic and primitive by how weak they were.

“You,” he weakly said, “cannot escape from me. Your destiny lies with me, my old apprentice.”

 

[Xashe Tistya]

C R U S A D E R
Lord Creuat
「in the impact we become antimatter」
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯​

“Yes,” Xashe huffed, still crouched like an animal - somewhere between a lion pouncing and a deer jumping away. “But it doesn’t end today.”

Burned flesh screamed at the extension of her legs when she stood. Her face contorted, every line wracked with pain, but she did not give him the satisfaction of another noise. From the corridor behind her, she heard the not-so-distant march of troopers on the move. That was the droid’s army, then. She knew she was in no face to stand against them and Creuat.

Instead, she turned Galway’s, staring into the abyss below their platform. Blue eyes threw one final glance to her old master. Sadness and fury danced beneath their surface. Then, she threw herself over the edge. Conviction came to life once more, both hands clutching at its hilt, driving it into the durasteel that lined the chimney. It slowed her descent into something controllable; and with a swing of her weight, she fell into a roll on the platform a level below the Sith Lord. From there it was through the shadows, back to her ship; but in her contrail was a promise that they would meet again.

​