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Revenge Isn't Really a Jedi Thing

Diana walked with a purpose from her small transport. The pilot called to her, but the words were lost within the air between them. A stare of complete and utter determination hung on her face, and a serious gaze bored itself into the path before her. The knuckles in her hand were a stark white as she squeezed her fists tightly into a ball, a scowl on her face as she took off in a jog from the transport.

It had been weeks since she had first fought the Sith master on Tython. Weeks of suffering, of pain, of determined struggle. At first she had been filled with fear, terror even. She had had nightmares of the alien coming for her in the middle of the night and slitting her throat. She had had dreams of the creature breaking into her home on Tython and ending her very existence. For days and days she had sat awake, crying and broken. The Whiphid had inflicted such terror on her that it had broken her. Until she had received a new master.

Darron had given her confidence. He had pressed her, trained her, and forged her into something entirely new. Something that was strong enough to take on her former nightmare, something that was strong enough to fight back.

So it was now at the height of her confidence that Diana had sought out the Whiphid. Through extraordinary means and the gift of her Kiffar Psychometry Diana had managed to track down the strange alien creature. Now she had finally found him, she had tracked him down to this barren dust ball of a world, and here she would confront him.

Diana ran across the barren world for nearly a mile until the transport was out of sight. Then she spotted a building. A small hut in the middle of no where. She frowned slightly, and looked down at the ground. There within the mud sat a set of tracks, Diana recognized them as the Sith Masters. A smile flashed across her face and from her waist she drew her two lightsabers.

Slowly she approached the hut, and then she shouted. “Sith. Come out with your hands up and your weapons on the ground.”
 

Ashin Varanin

Professional Enabler
Writer
@[member="Diana Moridena"]

The Dark Lord limped out of the hut on a nice new prosthetic foot, all shiny metal and claws. He supported his weight on a long staff, small to his scale, with an angular hook at one end and a spiral leading to a spike at the bottom. The Darkstaff, reforged, strengthened at the expense of most of the details of its ancient and frankly ludicrous powers. He kept its aura at bay for the moment, and simply used one of the most powerful Dark Side tools ever made as a walking stick.

"How do you expect me to come out with my weapons on the ground? Bent over and sliding them before me? Or, perhaps, you think there's ground inside my house, where I can place my weapons before coming out? Language isn't your friend, is it child.

"Nor estimation. What did you expect to find, if not a being whose weapon is his mind?"

Space twisted inside the squared-off hook that formed the end of the Darkstaff, and blue radiance cast jarring shadows as Velok tap-tapped towards her phlegmatically.

@[member="Diana Moridena"]
 
Diana stared directly at the Sith Master, her eyes flicked form the alien to the staff. She lingered on the staff and realized that a piece of the strange walking stick had actually been inside her. It would be difficult to forget such a thing. The metal spike had injured her greatly and had clouded her mind with such darkness that it had nearly eclipsed her. Of course the entire ordeal had only lasted a few seconds, but she remembered the sensations all too well.

Out of simple reaction Diana ignited both of her lightsabers. The brilliant blue blades sprang to life and the young Padawan pointed the one in her left hand at the staff, ignoring the aliens comments.

“Drop the Staff.” It was not a question, but a demand. Diana knew all too well that the staff was some sort of darkside artifact. When it had pierced her it had clawed and bit at her mind, almost dominating it, and that had just been a piece. Now that it was a whole she knew the effects would be much more severe.

Of course she had no idea that the weapon was the Darkstaff, nor did she know what the darkstaff even was. But it was clearly trouble.
@[member="Velok"]
 

Ashin Varanin

Professional Enabler
Writer
@[member="Diana Moridena"]

Velok shrugged, and did so. The Darkstaff thudded to the ground. "This weapon has tasted your blood, child. It hungers for another taste, and I don't share meals."

He kept walking toward her, hands raised and empty. "And now that I've dropped it?"
 
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