Eternal Father
Fire burned bright.
It billowed out from the blown-out structures, great gouts of flame that send ash and smoke high into the blood-tinged sky. Bodies littered the cobbled streets, left to lay where they fell. Most were unarmed, their injuries suffered as they fled for their lives. Some had even been struck after they had expired, the rage of beasts unleashed upon both the living and the dead. A pallor of darkness hung heavy over the settlement, which only hours before had been lively with activity; trade, jubilation, and the hustle of daily life.
When the Jedi came from the stars, the people came out to greet them. They'd been sent on a mission to help strengthen the settlement, to aid in their agriculture, and impart the wisdom of the Alliance. Though a neutral world, the system overall had been making dedicated overtures to the Galactic Alliance for potential admission. But before that could happen, the system needed to be strengthened. For many decades the world had fallen into decline, their trade lines severed by many, many wars. Population decline followed as many sought new lives elsewhere.
But, a shadow had followed the Jedi. It too came from the stars. Those that followed in the shadow's wake did not bring gestures of peace and prosperity, but fire and the sword. They descended without warning, volleys of plasma-fire raining down upon the outlying crop fields until the entire settlement was surrounded by a sea of flame. Then came the soldiers, clad in shimmering black, and utterly devoid of humanity. Even the Jedi, skilled as they were, found themselves on the backfoot as these dark warriors seemed to anticipate their actions; anticipate how they thought. It was only after these bestial soldiers established their own pocket within the settlement that the Sith descended down.
Among them walked a veritable titan, a towering Dark Lord who exuded pain and terror in equal measure. He need not do more than raise a hand and sow destruction, as though it were as effortless as breathing. But now, that devastation was a memory. Most were killed, but there were still many who survived. They were rounded up, settler and Jedi, at blaster-point and herded into the main square, where they were made to kneel and their hands bound by serrated wire. Their leader, the Dark Titan, strode amongst them like a living god. He took seat upon the edge of the great stone fountain at the court's center, a technical crew trailing behind Him as they began to record the prisoner's faces in a slow, deliberate sweep.
They then focused their equipment upon their leader, but He did not speak. He did not need to. The message was clear. Once they finished, they began to prepare the footage for transmission. The Dark Lord, for His part, unsheathed a large dagger from His waist. He inspected it briefly before using it to carve out a chunk of stone from the fountain, the blade easily cutting through stone as though it were paper. Then, almost lackadaisically, began to slice and chip away at the stone piece. He continued to do this for some time.
Sitting.
Waiting.
Jedi & Sith
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