Allies:
The Dark Side Elite
Enemies:
Connel Vanagor
|
Magdalena Bloodscrawl
|@Alexandra Feanor |
Ysennia Lee
|
The Jedi
Mordane stood beneath the fractured stone arch, cast in the flickering glow of firelight and orbital debris, his silhouette tall and unmoving amid the ruin. Smoke curled around him like a dark mantle. The winds screamed past the rotunda's broken columns, carrying the dying echoes of war, but his eyes never left Connel. The Jedi's blade hummed defiantly, casting pale reflections against the blood-streaked temple floor. But to Mordane, the glow was hollow. An illusion. And as he watched this final, fated inheritor of a dying order stand tall with all the righteous fire of youth and lineage—he felt nothing. No intimidation. No awe. Only contempt.
"
That's it?" Mordane said at last, the words tumbling out with deliberate sharpness. "
That's the sermon you brought to your execution?"
Behind him, just beyond the periphery of the coming duel, Sunfyre advanced in heavy, ponderous steps. Where Mordane was calm and still, Sunfyre moved with cold efficiency, finishing the wounded, separating survivors from the field one by one. But even the 323rd Legion had slowed as the confrontation took shape. Like a predator recognizing a rival on the savannah, Sunfyre now stood watchful, silent. There was no room for brotherhood between beasts like these, only brutal admiration.
Mordane took a step forward, boots grinding against broken tiles, and the flame-scorched wind seemed to hold its breath. Each movement was slow, deliberate—calculated to carry the weight of inevitability. His voice carried, not with bombast, but with the grim finality of someone who'd buried too many children in too many wars. "
You people always think your pain is unique. That because you lost something—someone—you've earned the right to righteous fury. But let me tell you something about loss, Jedi…"
A fracture. There it was.
A hesitation. Barely perceptible, but present. His brow twitched, a tremor passed through his lips, his tongue clicked against the roof of his mouth like he couldn't quite swallow what came next. "
That anyone left alive gives a damn about what your father did, or what his name stood for?"
His voice cracked—not in volume, but in clarity. The sharpness dulled for the briefest moment, lost to something rawer, something exposed. He wasn't entirely talking to Connel anymore. His mind flickered elsewhere—to battlefields no longer remembered, to funerals with no graves, to men who followed him for nothing and died for even less. For a heartbeat, he didn't look like the Empire's butcher. He looked like a man who had killed everything that ever tried to love him. And something inside him screamed in that silence.
Then, in a blink, it was gone. The wall slammed back into place. The emptiness returned, colder, cleaner than before.
Mordane snapped his fingers once.The Death Troopers surged forward, a living wall of steel and menace charging straight at Omega Squad. The elite droids responded instantly, guns blazing, tearing into the armored horde, buying Mordane the precious moments he needed.
Without shifting his stare from Connel, Mordane began to strip away his armor, each piece falling in time with the solemn oath he intoned, voice steady and cold.
"
Upon my life and honor." His pauldrons clattered to the ground, heavy and final.
"
For the peace and bounty of all beings." His gauntlets slid off, echoing softly against cracked stone.
"
My full allegiance." The breastplate came free, falling with a hollow clang.
"
A galaxy of worlds." His greaves dropped, revealing battle-worn legs marked by scars and hardship.
"
A galaxy assembled!" The belt and vambraces hit the floor, ringing out like a death knell.
"
AN EMPIRE!" Mordane's boots came off last, leaving him standing bare beneath the shattered rotunda's starlight.
Mordane stretched and cracked his knuckles, a subtle break in his stoicism, the smallest tremor of unrest beneath his calm exterior. The cortosis staff was passed to him by Sergeant Major Varo, who nodded solemnly.
He spun the staff once, the rare metal humming with a dull promise, balanced perfectly in his hands. The air thickened with anticipation, the tide of battle waiting for the storm to break.
Sunfyre remained rooted at the far edge of the rotunda, watching like a monolith at an eclipse—solemn, spellbound. His hands rested idle at his sides, knowing this was no longer a battle for victory.
"
You think this is about domination? Control?" Mordane barked a short, bitter laugh. "
You still don't understand. This isn't about power. It's about proof. Proof that everything you believe in can be broken. That the Alliance is a joke. That the Jedi are just men."
He looked at Connel with contempt, not malice. Not hatred. He didn't even see an equal in the boy—just a vessel. A name with a pulse.
"
Impress me, Omega," Mordane said, voice low and deadly, the final challenge laid bare.
Then he moved, like a storm unleashed—his form brutal and exact, no wasted motion. And behind him, Sunfyre followed. They understood. This was not a battle.
It was a demolition.
