I Have Failed You

[Krux Mullarus]

​

Retreat, Krux. Just as it did before, the Living Force upon the breathing world of Dagobah will help guide you to your next goal.

The marsh planet of Dagobah stretched across the vision of Patriot once again, only this time, Krux Mullarus stared down at the world from the windows of the vessel itself rather than the windows within his old quarters of The Paladin​, shortly after defeating the former host body of Darth Ferus - to which he still believes he has completely slain - and discovering the deception of his grandfather. Dagobah, for thousands of years, has always been a planet of visions and clairvoyance, helping guide past Jedi and Sith through the pages of their stories and helping them to transition to the next chapters of their lives. It also helped other more prominent and famous Jedi of the past to hide from the Dark Side that slowly consumed the entire galaxy. Once before, Krux came here with that very purpose - to become clairvoyant in his goals - and was guided along the path to his Ascension to the Sith.

Today, he returns for the same purpose. After parting ways temporarily with his beloved partner, Setzi Lunelle, as a part of her Padawan training to test her independence as a Jedi, Krux had found himself with a lot of free time and found the living world calling to him once again. However, much to Krux Mullarus' dismay, he failed to notice a familiar presence both within the Force as well as the scanners of his vessel as he descended into Dagobah's breathing atmosphere.

On the far side of the world lurked a dangerous old starship that had been hunting him endlessly since that day so long ago he decided to leave the Dark Side behind, but not before it permanently scarred the honor of his former apprentice. Sith Apprentice [member="Abelain Narv'uk"] would finally come face to face with his old master, inevitably so, after stalking his prey for so many months.

Perhaps this is what called the Jedi Knight to Dagobah's surface...

 

[Abelain Narv'uk]

[member="Krux Mullarus"]

A predator stalking through the void finally laid eyes upon it's celestial prey. The gentle beeping from the sensors station gave an indication to the vessel that soared through the pitch blackness, and alerted him far before the words ever left the crewman's mouth. They were ignored, eyes giving a rapid surreptitious glance towards the alarming console. The cabin remained placid, irritatingly calm in such a pivotal moment. Recycled air flicked through vents stretched along the entirety of the room, giving a false freshness to it that was distinguished by it's dull taste from the refreshing hint of wind painted with morning dew. The scent was not a familiar one, not always, but it was a peaceful one that seemed to match the room.

The ship ignorantly continued onto it's voyage towards the surface of the world; Dagobah. It was a swamp, covered in vast and diverse wildlife and flora. It held a vibrant energy to it that rivaled the envious quiet surrounding them. There was no doubt that it would be nicer down below, laying feet once more upon solid land that was not floating through an endless ocean of darkness interspersed with points of brilliant light. There would be so much to do, so much that simply had to be accomplished. The traitor would need to be executed upon the planet; justice preserved in it's finest points. There was simply no honorable way of avoiding that conflict, nor was there a desire.

Indeed, the hatred for the man that had scorned him was rekindled. It ignited gradually into an inferno in that tedious silence, burning away and scorching embers from his innards. That malice found itself carving into his memory, painful swathes of anticipation reaching out for the imagined throat of the betrayer. It was far too quiet, and suddenly a chill pierced the room, quelling the outside heat but allowing the hate to retain it's stand. The words felt dry, foreign within his mouth, but he allowed them to flow anyways. In that solemn moment, the silence was broken and the tedium was overrun with activity.

And the battle cry that hissed out was so dreadfully simple,
"I've found you, Mullarus."

 

[Krux Mullarus]

Patriot touched down close to the same area he had visited before, where he had entered a cave and 'battled' and 'slain' Darth Ferus in defense of the small, slender, blue-haired woman of whom he gave the name Fortuna. A memory forever carved into his mind. It fed his weakness that was his pride. He spoke of humility and how Jedi strove for it all the time, yet he constantly caught himself feeling so proud of everything he had done and how far he'd come since the day he stepped off of the shuttle and entered the Sith Academy on Coruscant to begin his formal training as a Sith Acolyte. Now, here he was a member of a Jedi Order, himself a Jedi Knight, with the mutual love of an ex-Sith Lord holding him high in the air, fighting to purge the Dark Side from the galaxy and bring all who are willing to the Light.

But what comes next? His Padawan has trials of her own to pass or fail alone. If she would fall to the Dark Side once again simply because he was not around to protect her, then he will have failed her and her destiny would never have lied with the Jedi. If she succeeds and runs back into his arms after her days of isolation from him reached an end, then he would smile and be so proud of her.

Pride. It's always pride.

Krux stepped off of Patriot's loading ramp, pulling his silver-furred cloak around himself as a misty rain fell through the jungle's canopy and onto his messy black hair, the mist striking his dark blue eyes like moonlight on a waterfall. "Hello again, Dagobah...i'm back. So soon, I know." he would speak to the planet itself, a firm believer that somehow, the quagmire world lived and breathed as any Jedi or Sith did. "I'm losing my way. I don't know where else to go or what to study. I'm...afraid." he admitted, beginning to simply wander the jungle in his lonesome, glancing around at the plants that gave the world its life.

"I've lost sight of my destiny. Can you help point me back in the right direction again?"


[member="Abelain Narv'uk"]

 

[Abelain Narv'uk]

[member="Krux Mullarus"]

The shuttle lurched as it detached from the mass that was the Paladin. It shot away from it in a rapid flourish of accelerating maneuvers, descending towards the slick green planet that loomed below. The vehicle held the same chillness that the room had only moments before action had taken it's foothold. It was the cold of anxiety, the faint glimmer of weakness that showed itself within nearly all sentient life. In the moments that seemed to stretch on for eternity, that frost made it's home, terrifying old and young alike with the visions of potential imminent demises, fastidiously accurate in their depictions. Abelain willed away that cold, focusing instead on the physical warmth that still singed his hide after preparations were conducted for his departure from Paladin.

It was in these quiet moments that he thought of things that could have been. The traitor may have remained his teacher, could have taught him all that he knew. Together, they could have become an unstoppable and eminent force among the faulty chaos that designated itself the One Sith. Even if that had not been the case, they might have abandoned that ship, allowing fate to sink it when it chose, and instead they might have journeyed across the stars. Both events would have had beneficial outcomes, they would have lead to an adequate stream of knowledge for his mental consumption, and inevitably he would return to his home and teach them of all the things that ignorance kept from them.

Instead, the teacher had betrayed him, both in physical state and in blow to his pride, and that of his people. He had called him an inferior being, and slung him like a child's toy across the room, screaming abuse at him as he lay upon the ground. All for what? For the calm and reasonable recommendation that they not slaughter innocent lives. For that glimmer of light, Mullarus had responded with ire and rage. That was the reason that he needed to be slain, because he had offended both the sensibilities of his apprentice, and had laid out a challenge towards the Arue'tii species. If it were left to stand, how could they prove their superiority? Cowardice would not stand as an example of their strength, and challenges such as these threatened to fissure the fabric of their society; and Abelain's very being, if left unresolved.

The ship fell between a set of surprisingly large trees, hung over as if they had been crippled and made lame. The door to the vessel hissed open with a gentle warning, opening out to reveal the vast swamp. It lay upon one of few solid landing areas around, and even that seemed precarious. The Arue'tii stepped from it, taking a whiff of the air and noting the intense moisture flooding the atmosphere.

The hunt began.

 

[Krux Mullarus]

His boots getting muddy in the marsh as he wandered about, he felt nothing from Dagobah itself. It was strange, usually the planet felt as if it spoke to Mullarus when he came near it. Even back when he first came here and ended up consummating his sinful lust with Darth Azurea in orbit, he heard voices in his head the entire time. Not that he paid attention to them at the time, but they were there. Dagobah was quiet today...

But there was a presence. It was dark, hateful, and full of revenge. Darth Novus, maybe? That Sith he'd met on Atrisia? It was possible...i've been followed!


[member="Abelain Narv'uk"]

 

[Abelain Narv'uk]

[member="Krux Mullarus"]

One particular advantage to having been conceived and raised upon a planet filled with swamp was that one became quite adapted to it's many facets and quirks. An inexperienced individual might not have noticed the gentle depressions, leaving slightly uprooted markings upon their center as pressure was exerted and then released. Abelain, was quite used to to seeing foot prints in the mud, whether they were of sentient life during wars, or monstrous prints when upon hunts. These particular tracks belonged to the ladder, they belonged to the quarry that he had initiated hunting, and he intended to finish what had begun.

The Arue'tii marched solemnly through the wet and sickly green swamp, hearing the drip-drop of liquid falling from overhead trees, wrapped in twisted and gnarled vines that threatened to choke the life from them. Upon the ground lay thistles and thorns, scattered about into haphazard terrain, bristling with painful potential and shaking limply in the uncomfortable breeze that flowed every few moments. It was not a breeze that might be found on many worlds, but the type he was familiar with, dank and wet with moisture and warmth. Unlike his homeworld, it did carry a particularly nasty scent of general filth that caused him to screw up his face in light disgust.

The steps were careful, taking keen notice of sticks and deep puddles that would create noise and alert Mullarus. Instead, he chose a path that drove him through more sucking mud, lapping at his feet and drenching them in unclean dirt layered with grime. Finally, a scent tickled his olfactory senses, alerting him to the presence of blood; specifically human blood. He set off in the direction, ignoring the tracks now that he had a far better indicator of the traitor's position. Anticipation arose within his chest, forcing itself out in heavy exhalations as he eagerly rushed to face his opponent, mindfully slowing himself every several steps to resume a more practical gait.

Beyond a fern of some sort, he spotted the first glimpses of the teacher. He shifted through the fern, eliciting a gentle rustling as his red cape and the plant tickled one another. His hand found itself racing down his side, roughly clasping at the lightsaber hilt placed there, and releasing it from it's prison at his side. The area opened up into a seemingly circular patch of moderately stable mud with interspersed puddles located along both on the far west and east. Within the center of the mostly clear circle lay a row of thorns, allowing small and cramped passages betwixt them.

He had not seen the traitor in a long time, and he simply spent a moment watching him. Features in his mental image that had delved into obscurity found themselves returned to memory. He could even make out the scar across his eye if he squinted slightly, that crack of flesh tainted with a different pallor than it's surroundings. For the briefest moment, he didn't want to fight, he just wanted to greet his teacher and return things to how they had once been, peacefully.

The challenge had to be answered though, and he worked himself back up into his irritable hate of the man, fanning fires that had begun to weaken as the moment of truth revealed itself. Imagined deaths for the man swarmed Abelain's mind as he stepped fully from his camouflage, revealing himself completely to Mullarus. The words that hissed from his mouth held the same scorching spite that now once more fueled his actions.

"You hypocrite."

 

[Krux Mullarus]

[youtube]https://youtu.be/FXZJ55Kqy9c[/youtube]​

No...no, no nononono not him. Anyone but him...!

Alas, as Krux turned his gaze to his left, he saw the one man in the entire galaxy he wished would not be here confronting him on Dagobah. His face contorted to one of sorrow and regret for a brief moment, feeling the urge to run away to his starship and never make contact with anyone ever again.

But he did not. Knight Mullarus forcibly morphed his face to one devoid of emotion, but he could not hide a frown as he stared at his old student, burning with hatred and vengeance. He took a deep breath, asking himself if this was really Abelain Narv'uk standing before him. Maybe this was another vision of Dagobah?

No. I can feel him. He's no illusion...

"The puppetmaster known as the Dark Side is capable of twisting and destroying the most unbreakable of men in the galaxy, Acolyte Narv'uk." he called him him Acolyte, but in truth, he felt stronger. Much stronger. Surely, his crusade across the stars had made him more powerful and more wise. Perhaps he was strong enough to stand against Jedi Knights and Masters now. After all, Krux knew that hatred and passion fueled the power of a Sith. If that were true, Abelain of all people should be the most powerful being in the galaxy.

"If you truely knew that, you would understand that I was the master's puppet when I gave you that scar. The mental one that led you into chasing me across the galaxy with the lust for revenge in your heart." That was the problem, though. He didn't expect Abelain to understand. He respected the honorable Sith alien, but he was still Sith. Sith were always blinded by arrogance, no matter how honorable or dishonorable. Abe was no exception. Krux reached for the lightsaber hilt on his own belt, taking it into his hand. He didn't want it to come to this, but there was no avoiding it.

"But you don't understand. You're here to avenge your pride. Just like any good servant of the Dark Lord. If you knew half of what i've learned since the day I wounded your pride, you would not be equipping that lightsaber of yours. So here, I give you the chance. Throw it away, Abelain. We don't have to ruin Dagobah with battle today. We can talk as teacher and student..."

[member="Abelain Narv'uk"]

 

[Abelain Narv'uk]

[member="Krux Mullarus"]

The seeming apology was far too little, and far too late. Abelain glared at the elusive man that he had spent months tracking across the stars in a crusade that would make the greatest hunters of the Arue'tii proud. That was what it fell to; pride. Abelain had been blinded by his own pride, that was what had driven him to his fight, but that had only been aggravated by pride from the crestfallen and traitorous teacher. "I am afraid that the time for gentle speeches and peaceful interactions between us has long passed." The words hissed from behind the 'smile' as it set itself into place, protectively guarding the weak mouth behind it.

The option was laid out to simply throw down his weapon, to leave and simply repudiate instead of reprimanding with violence. No, his mind was set in stone, and it became increasing clear to him that he must execute the teacher. The thought of being a servant to the Dark Lord was humorous, and showed a general ignorance for the recent workings of the One Sith. "It is in my experience, that one does not support the murder of someone they serve." Memories of the coup flicked into his mind before it focused once more at the task at hand.

The gentle and vile breeze flooded the air for a brief moment, and Abelain found that his hand was shaking with anticipation for combat. Exhilaration painted him at the idea of exterminating the individual that had dared to mar his reputation, and that of his superior people. The challenge had been accepted, and it would end properly in death, just as it had been issued. That was a curious thought, that the conflict between them not only had to do with pride, but also had originated in the act of planned murder just as it would end. Even with the justification behind it, the Arue'tii did not consider the duel to not be murder, he simply believed that his reason for it was just and righteous enough.

"If only I knew half of what you knew? You speak to me as if though I have become an outcast, a doer of cruel deeds." He snorted derisively, "Do tell me how I would be wiser if I had chosen your path. You picture yourself now as a paragon of virtue, but which of us advocated the slaughter of innocents, and which of us recommended that we refrain." He stretched an accusatory digit towards Mullarus, hissing his words, "You blind yourself to your true nature, consider that I have somehow fallen to evil, and yet which of us has engaged in more murder, more desecration, all for the purpose of revenge over a scandalous affair."

"In your eyes, I'd sooner be a pariah, than a paragon who preaches peace, but wields a bloody sword."

The anxious hand finally found relief as it awakened the saber from it's slumber. It snapped to life, an angry murmur erupting from it as crimson light pierced the air and challenged it's new foe. It's wielder held that same fierceness blazing behind his eyes, a predatory gaze that pledged itself to the spilling of blood and the murder of it's prey; Krux Mullarus.

 

[Krux Mullarus]

Krux's eyes narrowed at the arue'tii who once looked up to him, now standing before him spewing insults and accusations. Not false accusations, but ones that make his heart sink and his rage build. He took a deep breath, finding his center once again. I will not give in to anger. Not again. There is no emotion, there is peace...

"Chasing a man across the entire galaxy just because mere words can hurt you as much as a sword is an act of evil. Your chitinous hide is supposed to be a strong one, yet mere words can shatter it enough to make you obsess over harming a man who simply insults you a single time? I won't lie to you Abelain, I know what I did. I'm not proud of it, but it was hardly this man standing before you that said it. That man was Sith Knight Mullarus, Apprentice of Darth Pyrrhus. I have changed for the better, Abelain. The Dark Side is wrong, and if you can't see that, you are no student of mine.

"I am Jedi Knight Krux Mullarus of the Silver Sanctum. The Dark Side has no hold over my actions any longer. If you will let it control yours..." he said, igniting his own lightsaber, the dark blue blade snapping to life along with the unstable white core that sparked and cracked like lightning, "then I will defend myself. Not to destroy you, but to make you see the error in your dark ways, my old friend..." he said, softer, as if he was really speaking to his friend. He held his weapon with both hands in front of him, rooting himself in the murky mud beneath his feet.

May the Force be with you, Abelain...let's see what all your journey has taught you.

[member="Abelain Narv'uk"]

 

[Abelain Narv'uk]

[member="Krux Mullarus"]

The Arue'tii twirled the lightsaber once in his hand, beginning a gradual march towards his opponent, examining his every movement in hopes of locating any weaknesses that might reveal themselves to an observant eye. Mullarus continued to condemn him for being evil, for engaging in a hunt of pettiness. That was simply the way that sentient life worked, it needed to create justifications for violence, lest the mind find itself drowning in guilt. One could not fight a good man, if they thought themselves to be bad; not without ramifications. Instead, one had to make themselves righteous, and had to tar their foe with wicked qualities that would abhor even the cruelest of monsters.

There was no difference within Abelain, and he thought of his opponent as a cowardly, traitorous, inferior wretch that must be destroyed for the sake of validating the supremacy of himself and his people. It was easier to murder when you did not see them as equals, but took notice of them in the same ranking that one might place upon a pet, vaguely regrettable, but overall an acceptable loss that did not trouble the mind. It was simply the slaying of a rogue dog, nothing more, nor less. The resounding answer from his own crimson blade's challenge was the snap-hiss of the traitor's lightsaber. It flickered with instability, no doubt reflecting the moral status of it's wielder.

The march began to accelerate, steps becoming faster even with the mud sucking at his feet. He let loose a light bestial growl, letting it rumble forth from within his chest as savagery flooded his system, overtaking mental reasoning and leaving a dark lust for death. It flooded his system, every orifice seemed to pump with adrenal stimuli, jolting him forward with the energy that he knew would be necessary for the fight. "You scent the same, Mullarus, allow me to spill your blood and I'll see the difference myself!" He roared out, shifting into a direct charge, blade lifting vertically and whirring with force as he neared his opponent.

The crimson lightsaber would veer vertically downwards with a song of intended violence, crying it's song of hate. He had learned a while ago on one of his journeys to slow his body when he fell, and now he attempted to recreate the opposite effect, adding even greater weight to the downward blow in hopes of simply cleaving his opponent in twain.

 

[Krux Mullarus]

*splish* *splash*

The heavy footsteps of his former student sent waves of murky quagmire and mud flying around him, gradually becoming more and more violent as he sped up.

"You scent the same, Mullarus, allow me to spill your blood and I'll see the difference myself!"

"Then allow me to, once again, instruct you on the fact that a man's scent does not define his character!"

*crack*

The blades met, the Jedi Knight's being lifted up horizontally to deflect the powerful blow. It was powerful, so much so that he still staggered back a few steps in surprise of the amount of force put into it. Krux grit his teeth. No. I won't be slain here today. Abelain may be powerful, but I was his teacher...I know his weaknesses better than anyone in the entire galaxy! he mused.

With a dissapointed frown upon his face, Krux advanced on his old friend, holding his lightsaber with a single hand, pointed wrist, and began to unleash a flurry of Form II: Makashi strikes at the large-framed arue'tii, jabbing, thrusting, and making subtle slices at the joints of the tall alien wielding the bleeding blade of the iridonian he slew before him on the day he took him as his Sith Apprentice. He still uses that old thing...not even a weapon of his own creation. All the more reason why I cannot lose this battle. Abelain must learn! He must grow before he is ready to defeat me!

Krux made it a personal goal to disarm his former student of his weapon to claim victory. His heart ached over the insults thrown at him, which was quite hypocritical of him considering the speech he just gave to Abe about not letting his wounded pride govern his actions, but he would not bring himself to strike his old friend down. Especially not here on Dagobah, where he would bleed out, die, and be forever forgotten. That was a fate reserved for other old friends who truely held a place in Mullarus' hatred he kept buried so far beneath his Jedi teachings.

[member="Abelain Narv'uk"]

 

[Abelain Narv'uk]

[member="Krux Mullarus"]

Burning light glanced off of the sabers as they made their brutal collision. The Arue'tii took heed that his opponent was pushed backwards somewhat by the sheer force of the blow, reassurance that he was superior still in terms of raw strength. It had felt good to add the Force to his admittedly considerable physicality, he could still feel the surge of power flowing through him, almost painfully pulsating within his core as he withdrew his blade from the colorful dance. He released a gentle chuckle from under his breath, a twisted noise of vile glee at the successful blow hefted upon his foe.

However, whilst Abelain excelled at feats of strength and power, Mullarus excelled far greater than he in terms of speed and agility. The blows were rapid, and quick in succession, filling the air with the sound of humming combat. The first caught him along the left thigh, marring his chitinous armor with a long black char. He could feel the heat from the blow from underneath, but it had not reached the point of causing physical pain. Still, it was infuriating to be struck by the inferior species, and he quickly caught the next blow with his own saber, deflecting it away.

The next blow that caught him was along the joint of his right shoulder, sneaking subtly past his defenses and creating another char mark. If the wounds of attrition continued, then the clear victor would be the traitor. Still, despite landing more blows, it took far more than it would many other opponents to down the Arue'tii, and he knew this as fact. He slashed outwards with a Shii-Cho arc aimed at the midsection, a distracting maneuver while he closed the gap and carried out a more brutish attack. His left arm shot forward, aiming an upwards palm strike at Mullarus lower ribs; an obvious attempt at knocking the air from his lungs.

There was nothing beyond the distraction to protect the outstretched arm, barring the chitin, and the Arue'tii was confident that there would need to be nothing additional beyond that powerful hide.

 

[Krux Mullarus]

Sparks flew, both physically as the duelists' lightsabers met, and metaphorically as old friends exchanged blow for blow at one another, the friendship and relationship they once shared being torn to pieces. Krux's heart sank each time the alien lashed out at him, still feeling as if the arue'tii was a student of his. With the current seperation between himself and his Padawan and lover, [member="Setzi Lunelle"], who Abelain knew to an extent, Krux felt lost. He couldn't bear to imagine what would happen if his worst fears of her growing tired of him and leaving his life would bring to him.

Mullarus saw the obvious Shii-Cho strike approaching his side. The Form, as Abelain knew, was not the best to use in single combat. His foe's strikes were easy to see and anticipate, which gave Krux, who was practicing Shii-Cho's bane, Makashi, the upper hand.

There was still the problem that Mullarus had noticed the day he met Abelain. The arue'tii's hide was resistant to lightsabers. To an extent, though. Maybe repeated strikes would pierce it. Still, Krux didn't want to kill the man. He still cared about him.

Though, he had second thoughts when the alien's hand jabbed into his gut and made the air in his lungs expel outward, causing him to double over. He knew he was in trouble if he remained like this for long, so he threw his hands forward to Force Push his foe back, maybe strong enough to hurl him into a nearby tree.

[member="Abelain Narv'uk"]

 

[Abelain Narv'uk]

[member="Krux Mullarus"]

With the jab from his hand connecting, the Arue'tii quickly gained the upper hand, and he intended to use it. The crimson saber lifted itself up vertically into the air, preparing to decapitate the traitor, when suddenly the Arue'tii felt a force slam into his chest. The blow was akin to being struck by a truck, and he found himself propelled backwards at impressive speeds, lightsaber flailing through the air wildly as he lost all balance and control of his momentum. The incoming tree caught his attention, and he held his arm towards it, preparing to take the blunt of the blow while simultaneously attempting to lessen it with the Force. The crack of broken wood echoed throughout the swamp as he struck, a gentle fissure laid upon his arm's chitin, evidence of how rapidly he had struck.

Pain, unbearable and antagonizing pain shot it's way up his arm, flooding his senses and turning him briefly into a mindless beast as he shrieked into the air, a high pitched squeal of agony usually reserved only for animals. The blue chitin found itself dotted with spots of purple, and a line of the color appeared streaking down the length of the arm; evidence that the muscle within had been torn quite badly. The urge to run from the fight flashed within his mind, bestial tendencies telling him to retreat from the thing that had wounded him. Sentient thoughts fought their way back inside, restraining the natural tendencies and encouraging him once more to charge into the fray, to see Mullarus dead.

The latter voice won, and he found himself regaining composure, his left arm shaking with a harsh intensity. There were no words of hatred, no taunts or fiery speeches this time, only a solid glare of rage emanating from within the Arue'tii, and propelling itself through his eyes. That he would be harmed by such an inferior infuriated him, and he felt the power of the Force pounding through his veins, amplifying the voice of warfare and forcing him to begin to approach his target once more, new resolve found in the suffering. The crimson lightsaber hissed it's challenge, and Abelain began once more to approach his opponent, intent on ending his life for his trespasses.