In the Darkest Depths

[The Dark Man]

When the long dark closes around us,
we will be the last light.

In the lowest levels, in the abyssal urban depths, of the ecumenopolis that was Coruscant, it was a rare thing indeed to see sunlight. For the inhabitants of the baroque and gleaming cloud cutters, sky towers and superskytowers—the latter reaching as much as two kilometres high— the sun was something taken for granted, just as were the other comforts of life. Since WeatherNet guaranteed that it never rained until dusk or later, the rich golden sunlight was simply expected, in the same way that one expected air to fill one’s lungs with every breath.

But hundreds of stories below the first inhabited floors of the great towers, ziggurats, and minarets, in some places actually on or under the city-planet’s surface, it was another story. Here hundreds of thousands of humans and other species lived and died, sometimes without ever catching as much as a glimpse of the fabled sky. Here the light that filtered through the omnipresent gray inversion layer was wan and pallid. The rain that reached the surface was nearly always acidic, enough so at times to etc tiny channels and grooves into ferrocarbon foundations. It was hard to believe that anything at all could survive in these dismal trenches. Yet even here life, both intelligent and otherwise, had adjusted long ago to the perpetual twilight and structured environment.

At the very bottom of the chasms, in the variegated pulsing of phosphor lights and signs, stone mites, conduit worms, and other scavengers flourished on technological detritus. Duracrete slugs blindly masticated their way through rubble. Hawk-bats built nest near power converters to keep their eggs warm. Armored rats and spider-roaches scuttled and hunted through piles of trash two stories high. And millions of other species of opportunistic and parasitic organisms, from single-celled animalcules all the way up to those self-aware enough to wish they weren’t, doggedly pursued their common quest for survival, little different from the struggles on a thousand different jungle worlds. Down here was where the jetsam of the galaxy, a motley collection of sentients dismissed by those above simply as “the underdwellers,” eked out lives of brutality and despair. It was merely a different kind of jungle, after all.
And where there’s a jungle, there are always those who hunt.

Jedi Ekul Selah, Knight of the Galactic Republic, walked hurriedly through the colourful crowds that thronged the black markets. A layer of smoke and fog, a miasma of narcotics, alcohol and decaying lives thickened the air. He moved cautiously and stealthily through puddles of stuttering neon light. It wasn’t safe for him to be here. The One Sith now ruled Coruscant. He slipped through crowds of various species—Bothans, Niktos, Twi’leks, and Humans—with few noticing him. A spice den opened up for him, in way of a concealed entrance. A thinly corridor stretched seemingly as far as the eye could see. Shady and less-than-honourable thugs rested themselves against the walls, murmuring to one another in intoxicated drawls. Orange luminescence shone between carved lommite, giving the wall the appearance of a thousand tiny lights that sparkled and shadowed as mysterious gangsters wandered past.

His eyes diverted down when a Rodian corpse was pulled by two bouldering men. He only hoped that the same fate wasn't held for him, but he knew that if it were, he would become one with the Force. As he wound his way along the halls, eyes averting towards his Nas-Tech Wrist-Mounted Datapad, he checked his current location and his end location. A tracking device of sorts to find ones way down in the hellish maze of the Undercity. The roof was suddenly replaced not by solid permacrete but grates that let light burst down from above. He felt a trickle of water drip onto his shoulder. He looked up, to see clueless citizens walking along the grated ceiling, unaware of what was below. Someone approached, "This way," they said.

He was brought through a set of doors, opening to a larger room. The main parlour with a great wooden table resting before a monstrous piece of furniture that was part chair and part throne. Scented candles welcomed his senses, a pleasant diversion from the smog that filled the world. Smoky trails wafted towards the ceiling and out between the grates. Ekul's browned eyes took particular note of the blood on the floor, and the thugs and gangsters that stood around cleaning it up. The Rodian, he thought. A Hutt was gingerly picking through spices when Ekul Selah intervened, "You owe me a favour, where is Sirak." His voice was like gravel down a metal chute. He didn't want to be on Coruscant any longer than need be, but finding Sirak was a higher priority.

 

[Sirak Kolar]

The Hutt convulsed, chortling at the comment. His hefty, grubby fingers dropped what spice he held, and moved to hold his shaking body. As quick as he started, the deep laughter stopped, a heavy exhale replacing it that filled the room with a humid breathe. The beast spoke with a voice of a bass, reverberating off nothing and all at the same time.

"Hi chuba da naga? Sirak?"

"La pim nallya so bata de wompa."

He grinned, his sluggish features accented by his vocal expression.

"Tagwa , Sirak kung yatuka Boboqueequee."

The Hutt's fingers began rummaging through his spices again, bored once more with the company before him. His assistant, a rather under dressed Twi'lek stepped forward, speaking for her master.

"He's not here. Somehow, he escaped his prison and ran off. You're a little late, as our own men are already after him.", she stops, hesitating for a moment and glancing back to her still occupied master, only for him to motion her on with it.

"Since the Hutt does owe you a favor, he will tell you where he is...", she says, more timidly than before. She moves to lift a holocron from a table, showing a detailed map of the underground of Coruscant. A small blip was lit up as she passed it to Ekul, a small path forming to the area...

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Far away, in another underground establishment sat Sirak. The spice filled room was at maximum occupancy, each table filled, and each seat sat. Twi'lek and Humans alike danced across tables, their scantily clad forms entertaining scum of the lower end of the galaxy, each high on various types of spice in their own right. The band played an upbeat and modern choice of music, each of the dancers find their pace too. A slow, steady rumble rocked the room, made from footsteps, music, and voices alike.

Sirak waited, his mind lost in a train of thought of what he is to do. Only a few weeks before was he released from captivity, and in his time awake, he'd found far too many things he didn't agree with. The planet being run by Sith angered him. The loss of the Jedi Order and his best friend further. His fist clenched, stretching the dark fabric around his hands.

He was dressed in a casual garb. His head, body and part of his legs were covered by a black cloak. Beneath, a tattered and torn civilian attire more attributable to a smuggler than a jedi. He looked like a common criminal, but in a place like this, it was the norm. He could pass like anyone else, and none the wiser to his background. On his waste, he had both his lightsabers. His etched, beautiful double bladed sword and his single hilt, far more simple dueling sword. He felt them dangle just out of sight of anyone looking at him, yet they earned to be free. He could feel an anger in him at the filth that surrounded him. Their constant rabble, their fighting, their-

He cut himself off. Sirak hardly noticed he had developed a headache by this point, and his hands moved to his cowled face to gently massage his temple. The barmates around him turned and talked to the men besides him, and the Zabrak focused on clear, clean thoughts. How much he had changed, how sick he had been, and only to add on to how hard it was for him to find a way off this damned planet. He hoped his friend would hurry with what they came their for, he tired of this place faster than was comfortable.

His shoulder was grabbed suddenly, pulling on it from the rear by a Rodian that Sirak had never met before. He squeeled something in his native tongue before Sirak forced his hand outwards, clenching his eye's shut as he fell to the floor. A wave pushed outwards, throwing the man against the ceiling, snapping his neck almost instantly. The commotion wasn't unnoticed, the music cutting, and people looking around for a moment.

The spice dens were hell, and if it weren't for more men running in armed to the teeth with blasters and basic armour, nobody would have thought twice about what was done. Shots rang out as Sirak's double sided blade ignited, his teeth gritting as his hood fell backwards and he threw himself feet first upwards to block the incoming blocks.

A unbridled rage grew in him as he charged, the surrounding people screaming and diving for cover as the whirring of the Zabrak's blades began to cut through the attackers and smugglers with guns alike, completely ignoring friend from foe.

 

[Tesar Osted]

​

​

Tesar walked through the streets, the tough leather collar of his tunic sitting erectly around his neck in a very "Dracula"-esq fashion. Several feet to his left Sirak followed closely, his hood drawn over his head. Truth be told, he wasn't sure how he felt about Sirak. He was a fellow Jedi but he seemed rash and unstable. Most people Tesar had associated with back on Barabel I had had tempers like a wet stick of dynamite; but Sirak on the other hand seemed that he would explode if a spark fell within a 5 foot radius. He was a good companion, but not a friend yet. Perhaps he never would be.

Thoughts like these ran through Tesars mind as he pushed his way through the crowds of the shady inhabitants of Coruscant trying to draw as little attention to himself as he could. The smells and sights offered little relief from their reality of being stranded on a planet inhabited by Sith with no means of survival other than the sabers strapped to their sides. His first thought was to head to a bar and see about finding transportation off the planet. That might not have been the best idea given their dire situation, but he was impulsive and desperate to leave so that is where his feet took him, and in turn took Sirak.

He walked toward a flight of stairs that led to a Spice Den, pushing the heavy cloth to the side as he entered the dimly lit room. Sirak brushed past Tesar and heading straight to the bar while he stood in the doorframe observing the room. He glanced up and sighed softly to himself and walked over to a nearby table, leaning on it slightly. Two Rodians sat there, speaking to each other in hushed tones. Tesar began speaking the minute they looked up at him, not allowing them time to question his appearance. He spoke to them for several minutes discussing prices and the speed at which they could get him and Sirak off the planet discretely. The three of them were interrupted by a loud crashing noise and the unmistakable hum of a light saber. He glanced over his shoulder just in time to see the Rodian Sirak threw crash into the wall about 10 feet to his side. The two Rodians at his table stood up and their hands dropped to their sides, reaching for blasters. Tesar pushed the table toward them, causing them to fumble slightly. He could hear Sirak cutting down people in a fit of rage behind him. He growled softly to himself as one Rodian aimed his weapon at him, but as the Rodian brought it up, Tesar drew his light saber and cut the gun in half in one fluid motion. The second Rodian fumbled with his gun for another second before Tesar flicked his left hand up, spreading his fingers out and a similar wave to the one felt moments before sent him flying into the wall immediately behind him, dazing him. He retracted the blade, clipping it back onto his belt. He stood quickly, making his way over to and leaning against the wall, waiting for Sirak to finish his poorly timed outburst.

 

[The Dark Man]

[Theme]

Our salvation lies ahead of us.
Go forth.
There is nothing left to leave behind.

Large oval spectacles, as equally dark as his robes and cloak, regarded the Twi'lek. An inky blackness that seemed to be devoid of any light or colour. Such was his cloak that its resemblance was far greater than the vacuum of space, where in the bleakness of nothingness, there was nothing but darkness. All consuming. The hem of the woollen uniform were torn, tarnished and soiled from years of wear. Blaster bolts marked uneven holes in the fabric, and scorch marks creased around the damage. Ekul Selah had been present when the One Sith invaded Coruscant. No more than a handful of Jedi and those associated with them survived. Even those whom survived soon turned to the dark side after witnessing such horrors. It was only the strong that remained in the light, and there were so few of them left. Their minuscule presence in the galaxy were now considered little to no threat by the One Sith as they claimed world after world, and with it, more Jedi were felled. There was no systematic effort being made to root them out; however, Sith garrisons patrolled the streets to enforce order, and if they came across a Jedi, that Jedi died. Jedi Selah knew in his heart it was only a matter of time before the beacon of the Order was truly extinguished from the galaxy. Ekul Selah had barely survived the attack himself, before it had all shattered, like the noctilucent towers of the Temple itself. As had so many of his compatriots, he had vanished into the crimson night, shedding any trace of connection to the Jedi. Barely surviving on the streets for seven months, reduced to surreptitious use of mind and matter manipulation to stay alive. He had a few run in with the Hutt that lay before him, and did a few odd jobs to earn a few favours — one of them was getting off planet, four weeks ago, and now he was back. His last favour was finding the other Jedi still trapped down here. Now, this Hutt owed him nothing. If not for the fact Ekul Selah was a Jedi, he knew that this string of criminals lurking about would better put a bolt in his back then give him his favour.

Selah caught the holocron between his outstretched, thick fingers. The brown flesh was wrinkled with age, the elderly but still quite robust Jedi was in his sixties, with forty-five years in service as a Jedi. Perhaps the oldest serving Jedi of this generation, even the Grandmaster herself could not compare to him, after all, she was only twenty-four. He had views about her he dare not express, but ultimately he believed she was not only spiritually lacking, but moronic and disastrous to the Jedi Order. She had absolved the High Council, and while these were radical times, that was a desperate measure too far. His eyes moved down to the holocron, he knew the spice den it was locating, a kilometre east of here, maybe less. He too saw the Hutts guns-for-hire closing in, their own blips indicated on the holographic map. He didn't say anything, the guns were closing in, and they would be there before he could if he took to the streets. Without a further word to the Hutt, he turned and broke into a break-neck sprint for the door. Time was of the essence, he had to be quick before the Jedi were killed. Normally the odds of those guns-for-hire would pose little challenge for a Jedi Knight fully immersed in the Force, but these were padawans, likely they had been on the run for weeks; with little rest and even less food.

He could sense them through the Force, the bounty hunters, their malignant auras like ice water along his nerves. They were getting closer to their target, but so was Ekul; he estimated the distance at little more than two-hundred meters now. He ducked into a recessed doorway. The entrance was locked, but a gesture of his hand, and the answering ripple in the Force, caused the door panel to slide back reluctantly, with a rasping screech. It jammed partway, but there was enough room for him to squeeze past. Jedi Selah hurried through and into a dimly lit, cavernous chamber that had long ago been a casino. A shortcut he had taken before, and a place he had slept when he was the prey. It was huge, with a high, vaulted ceiling that rose easily three stories. Ekul made his way to a window, pushing his way past furniture and gambling tables so ancient that some of them crumbled to dust when he brushed by. He made it to the window, and saw down below the spice den, and the bounty hunters were opening fire on the two Jedi. He had to act; now. Ekul Selah reached into his robes and sized his lightsaber. One of the hunters had sighted him, but before the crook, who was carefully lining up his shot, could fire, Selah activated the blade. With a fierce electronic growl, the energy shaft surged forth. A golden plasmatic blade. He swung the blade once, then reserved the stroke, slashing and shattering the transparisteel glass. He allowed the Force to wash im through it, an invisible cascade that carried him out of the building - high looming over the den, and in a long arc towards the floor. When he landed, he landed with the full impact of a speeding locomotive. The floor beneath him buckled, an invisible blast of pure kinetic energy resonated outwards, throwing those around him across the room.


{ [member="Tesar Osted"] | [member="Sirak Kolar"] }

 

[Sirak Kolar]

​

Sirak's blade swung with horrid intent, a rasping growl escaping through his sharpened teeth. The hilt of his double-edge saber spun fluently in his hands, yet his movements were for power, not for speed or influence. A hard step and the blade cut through one of the hunter's shoulder and neck, forcing the man to the ground with a mortal wound. His head jolted, turning quickly to look at the multiplying forces.

He had felled three of the armed men, and another man who sat next to him without thinking. His feet moved, his massive form rippling as he brought the blade down on another man, only to have a blaster bolt land directly on his chest. Sirak's air left him, but he did not falter. The massive beast of a man cried out in pain, falling to his knees as he held his lightsaber in a defensive position above his head, waiting to stop the next bolt to fire at him, unsure of his own ability to stop it.

It was in this moment he heard the calls of the rear guardsmen, and felt the subsiquent blast. Air rushed past him, and he could hear the force roll past him like that of a smooth song. He gasped for air, it coming in short as he dared to look at the new force. The hum of the blade through the smoke and air rang softly, bringing him some peace.

What he expected to be red, violent and glaring wasn't. He struggled to stand regardless, his hands tightening around the long hilt of his blade as he waited, his form solid despite the bleeding sound in his chest. He waited, watching, calculating some move if the man was a bounty hunter in his own right.

 

[Tesar Osted]

(One of the rag-tag bounty hunters in the bar)​

​

Tesar grunted to himself as he heaved himself off the wall, his hands dropping to his belt. He unclipped the two almost identical blades and smirked softly as the familiar hum filled his ears. He shook his head as he took off in a slow trot, heading toward Sirak but keeping his distance because he could tell that there was something going on his head that just made him lose all sense of familiarity and humanity. He twirled his blades in small circles, his eyes darting around the room. Three more bounty hunters burst through the door, pistols already drawn and ready to shoot. He leapt forward, drawing on the force to aid him. He launched himself toward the trio, slashing the blade in his right hand toward the right arm of one of the bounty hunters. The blade sliced through the mans chest, cleaving him in two.

As his eyes darted to the second man he heard a muffled gunshot through the adrenaline raging in his ears, the shot taking Sirak straight in the chest. The third bounty hunter turned toward Tesar as he spun around the second hunter, pushing the blade through the man's back into his chest. The man crumpled to the floor with a thud. The third bounty hunter shot at Tesar the second he turned around, the bolt taking him right in the shoulder. The bolt bounced off of his scales, leaving a slight burn mark on his shoulder. He extended his arm once again and furrowed his brow as the man went flying into the bar.

One of the few bounty hunters that Sirak hadn't killed charged up behind Tesar and stabbed at his back having thrown his blaster away. The blade bit into Tesar's body, blood trickling out of the wound. Before the knife could be pulled out, Tesar spun and head butted the man, sending them both reeling in opposite directions. Tesar's vision began to blur, involuntary tears welling in the corners of his eyes. He stumbled forward, falling to his knees. He put on hand on the ground, keeping himself from falling face first to the floor. His head got lighter and lighter, unable to move, at the mercy of whoever chose to take action.

 

[The Dark Man]

The enemy is only another algorithm.
Simplify it,
solve it,
and set it in its place.

Arising from the floor, Ekul Selah cast his gaze. Clouds of dust formed around him, and then canisters exploded, and smoke filled the spice den, embracing all those in the vicinity. Their sight was impaired, and so too did it impair the organic sight of Jedi Selah. The bounty hunters would be fools to think that this made any difference. A Jedi could “see” through the Force with better vision than any set of eyes. He looked around at the floor, a sheer massacre. A body lay strewn in two, a Rodian’s neck had been snapped from blunt force, and another head was decapitated. Selah almost did not wish to think it was the two Padawans who had performed this slaughter, but he knew how desperate things could get down here. If they all survive this, he would be having a silent word with them to knock their heads back on about their training. A Jedi did not attack, and never to kill, a Jedi defended, and only ever maimed. A barrage of particle beams were loosed at the elderly Jedi, and he pushed forward, weaving his lightsaber in a warding pattern that blocked every lethal bolt. Out from the corner of his vision he saw Sirak and Tesar go down, and a bounty hunter hovering over Tesar, ready to finish the job. Jedi Selah shot out of a hand, and a blast of energy surged forth. It struck the man, hurling him over tables and innocent bystanders until he hit the far end wall.

Ekul Selah accelerated into a blur of motion complex and rapid enough to baffle even the experience gaze of the bounty hunters. Selah's golden blade was here, there, everywhere. Selah increased his efforts. He was a living, martial hurricane, his body moving in two and three directions at once, joints flexing. Who he touched went down. And those who went down, stayed down. His attack was absolute fluidity, one motion flowing into the next, without a wasted effort. His blade was a cyclone of blazing golden light. The bounty hunters were trying to dodge out of the Knights way as he maimed and dismembered them one by one, and in some cases, two at a time. They tried to blast the Jedi, but Selah simply wasn't allowing it. In moves a Twi'lek dancer might envy, he spun around the hunters, claiming a limb from both with each rotation: left legs, right arms, right legs, left arms. One by one the bodies began to fall, their thuds were drowned out by the plasmatic screech of the blade as it moved about with righteous fervour. Suddenly the room was quiet, the blade deactivated. It had only been a matter of seconds, but the room once bustling with a firefight was now full of bounty hunters laying on the ground, crying out in pain as they sobbed and nursed their wounds.

{[member="Tesar Osted"] [member="Sirak Kolar"] }

 

[Sirak Kolar]

Sirak waited, his clothes a tattered and bloody mess, his own sensitivity to the force showing the man's accelerated movements, and he sighed. He could feel the light of the force through the man, and he knew he was a jedi. He watched his movements, moving his lightsaber to block the stray blast, only to wait for the dust to settle.

The only thing that kept the Zabrak supported was his great pain tolerance, his proud blood giving him the strength to hold his own. His lightsaber made an iconic noise, dampening the blades with a whir. He grimaced and clipped it on his belt, scratching his scalp as his other hand held onto the wound on his chest. He looked around, then back, waiting for the Jedi to speak. He was sure he'd have a few... choice words for him when they were alone.

If only the Jedi understood how hard it is to allow these people to just keep on killing, and to defend ones life with nothing more than their blood sweat and tears. He grimaced his teeth, and cleared his mind once more, his throughts troubled. Sirak sighed, quietly calming himself before looking back to his partner in crime, his lips moving as he acknowledged his condition.

He slowly made his way over to him, kneeling low to help support the Barabel, a slow toxic 'rain' forming above them and falling. The torn remains of his hood fluttered in the artificial breeze.​

 

[Tesar Osted]

Tesar's head spun as Selah finished off the remaining bounty hunters in a storm of righteous glory. The floor seemed to be getting closer and closer. A hand grabbed at him and he shook himself to his senses for a moment. Sirak stood over him, his posture not showing any signs of remorse. He knelt down and Tesar threw an arm over his shoulder. He grunted and gestured with his head toward the hilts of his blades lying on the floor. He stumbled toward the bar, shrugging Siraks arm off of his shoulders. Sirak picked up the baldes and put them on the counter next to Tesar. He fumbled around clipped them both back onto his belt, before his body convulsed. His knees shook and his arms gave out for a moment, causing him to slam his chest against the dirty and tattered bar. His head slammed on the counter seconds after, his vision going blurry once again. He could feel his head throbbing all over, the pain seeming to echo down his entire body. His body felt weaker then ever, having had little sustenance taking a toll as it colluded with the stab wound in his back. He let his head rest on the counter top, not making any motion to lift it off.

 

[The Dark Man]

"You two," Ekul Selah spoke, his voice like gravel down a metal chute, raising a finger in the direction of Sirak and Tesar. "If you have any belongings stashed anywhere, you're leaving them behind. I've got a freighter on my watch ready to come and get us." He raised his wrist, turning it to face upside, the Nas-Tech wrist mounted datapad burst to life with a holographic display, his finger tabbed a button and a small beep was heard. The signal for the freighter to come down into the lower levels, and with his coordinates. He moved towards the two, his great cloak swept about him in the stiff breeze, flying like a flag in the early morning. "I've got him," Ekul said to Sirak, as he moved himself in position to attempt to lift the heavy Barabel onto his shoulders. "Who ever you pissed off, they'll have move after you. We need to move." He made a jog for the door, "And if the Sith hear about this firefight, we're all dead."

​

{ [member="Tesar Osted"] [member="Sirak Kolar"] }

 

[Sirak Kolar]

Sirak nodded, allowing him to carry the injured man. He jogged along, keeping a great pace despite his injury, his movements seemingly unaffected by what should be a gravious wound. His mind rushed with thought, his clothes tattered and bloodied sticking to his skin as his hand held the still bleeding wound, his lightsabers blades clankly dantily against his hip. He thought for a moment before finding some words to speak, looking over to the aged older man.

"Why would you save us, and why are you concerned over who i've angered?", he said, rather hoarsly as he ran. He was getting tired, and his wound wasn't helping, but he was sure he'd be able to make it to the freighter dock so long as they didn't face much more resistance in their path.

The people in front of him grunted and swerved as he and Ekul made there way through, Sirak's large shoulders nearly knocking down anyone who wasn't paying attention, or blatantly in his way. His hulking form cared little for anyone in his path, and his muscular body exerted little effort to push through the crowds.

 

[Tesar Osted]

Tesar grunted, not having the mental cognizance to respond. He could feel the Jedi Knight put his hands on him to try and lift him up but he was too heavy. It took all of his personal strength and fortitude to push himself up with the help of the Jedi and throw his arm around his shoulder, allowing himself to basically be dragged. He felt his feet making some sort of stepping motion, but the pressure of having his legs support his body weight was not there. His head was slumped, staring at the ground. The dirty floor seemed to rush before his eyes, as if he was travelling in hyper space somehow. The different surroundings all seemed to blend together. The sounds of the shocked voices were muffled by a constant humming and ringing in his ears. What should have been the taste of sweat and blood left no trace in his now numb mouth. He could feel himself succumbing to the darkness. The darkness would bring relief. But he would be damned to have been stuck on this planet for weeks just to let himself fall now. He closed his eyes and he focused. he focused on his breathing and the consciousness of his mind. The darkness came still, slowly closing Tesars mind and eyes before shutting his body down into a state of hibernation.

 

[The Dark Man]

"I'm here to save you because I was stuck down here too, since Coruscant fell seven months ago. There are other Jedi, but intelligence is weak here, and we haven't located them yet. And the Hutt you've got sending hunters after you, is exactly why, he can hire who he wants. No amount of the Force can stop something every time. It's the law of averages, try it enough times and it will eventually work." Ekul Selah manoeuvred through the streets with the honed skills of a street rat. The way he brushed past the sentients with ease, and the quiet footfalls, as gentle as feathers, was evident enough this was far from his first rodeo. He motioned into the sky, vessels were coming into dock at the spaceport some fifty meters ahead of their position. "Our ride is coming in now." Tesar suddenly slumped entirely, and the aiding arm was now forced to quite literally drag him along. Ekul turned around, back-pedalling with his backside to the spaceport, using both his hands to pull the Barabel along. There was no time to wake him up, or give him medical relief. Once they were on the ship, Selah might be able to do something, but it was a long shot, and he needed the bacta tanks more than the Force right now.


{ [member="Tesar Osted"] [member="Sirak Kolar"] }

 

[Sirak Kolar]

Sirak gritted his teeth, letting go of his wound as the Barabel began to slow down the Knight. His hulking form lifted what remained of the beast, calling out as he lifted up the massive slump. The dead weight held tightly on him, his speed increasing as the adrenaline in him rushed into his body. His eye's had his goal, and with another grunt, the barabel was fully over his shoulder as he laid out into a full sprint, the crowd infront of him opening up as he did.

His mind thought back to Hasjo, of their duel, and the look in both their eye's as tiredness racked their bodies, in the same way it had licked at his wounds and muscles now. His eye's grew a fire, not of fury, but of determination to live, sweat beading on him as he ran, his coats flurrying in the breeze behind him. It'd be hard for the Jedi to keep up without the aid of the force to aid him.

The Zabrak began to roar as they closed in on the docking point.

 

[Tesar Osted]

Tesar's body flopped limply against Siraks tall frame as he was lifted into the air and over Siraks shoulder. Although taller and about the same weight as Sirak, he was lifted with ease, his unmoving body offering little resistance. The two single bladed sabers on his left hip clanked together with a metallic ping, seeming to mock the milliseconds between Siraks giant strides. His body was in horrible condition. His muscles were weaker than ever, having not nearly enough food to support his two stomachs, let alone one of them. His once tight leather tunic now sat much more loosely on him now, his Greenish-Redish skin peaking out from the multiple tears and the large burn hole on his left shoulder from the blaster bolt. The rest of his clothes were in a similar condition from the weeks and weeks of living "undercover" as a Jedi on the now Sith dominated Coruscant.