Private Revival

[Darth Themis]

Atrisia, hundreds of years ago.

Moya De Lifte had wanted to die with her family. She had fully expected to die in that final battle, cutting down dozens of cultists. It had been her finest moment, even in her ultimate failure. Her death would lead to a chain of events that would cripple the cult for the forseeable future.

Themis had been a slowly fading memory the past few months. Her identity as a light side sith had slowly taken a back seat as her role as a Jedi in public had grown. Nobody remembered Darth Themis anyway. Moya was content with that.

But this...

She had not died in that final battle. Instead, she had been captured (after murdering scores of evil witches) and brought to Atrisia.

The Cult of The Brain Demon had something worse than simple death in mind for one of their most hated enemies.

They had tortured her, obviously. For days in fact. They never even asked her any questions. She had pissed them off that bad with the things she had done to them. Everything from torture, to forcibly turning them to the light, to mutating them in to abominations crafted from Alkahest.

So yeah, they wanted payback.

She was a mess when they dragged her into the ancient cavern, beneath the remains of Castle Li-Ves. She was severely bruised and burned, leaking glowing green blood everywhere. The Dark Side was everywhere in this place, infesting the people who inhabited it. The black fire, flickering shadows in the pit below that seemed an ocean wide made her flesh shiver in agony. What was coming was worse than anything her visions had shown her. Blindsided. They were going to sacrifice her to it.

The witches, women clad in all white gowns, dragged the bleeding Jedi to a precipice, the black ocean of flame below it. Moya felt fear. It would have been insane not to.

As far as Moya was concerned, this counted as dying alone. Dying in The Dark.

The witches cheered as she was dragged before them, and that was when she saw her, smirking. Figures. Of course she would be here. Be here to oversee it personally.

Darth Phyre stared down at her defeated arch-enemy, smiling. A curvy, but athletic woman with bronze skin, exotic features and long, dark red hair that curled, clad in a skintight white and gold chrome body armor, the only thing that hinted to the true vileness underneath was the rotting yellow eyes.

"Oh this will be a day, long remembered, in our order..." Phyre proclaimed, sweeping her hands over the crowd, her sithspawn flesh wriggling disgustingly on her bones from the intense miasma of the Dark Side below, feeding into her power.

"We have before us The Gadfly to our mandate. A TRAITOR TO THE DARK SIDE ITSELF!" Phyre shouted to the large gathering of witches.

"Not just a traitor to the Dark Side, but a traitor who pretended to be a Jedi on top of that. You disgust me Themis. You've killed a third of those I lead! Disrupted my rituals! Destroyed my assets. But this next one--and this is your greatest sin against me--you have stolen from me the magnificent champion of the Dark that I forsaw guiding to her destiny. You have denied me Julia Crownwraithe. For all this you shall die, but for denying me my true heir--" Phyre snarled, Force pulling Moya into her hand, being clutched by the throat.

"--I'll shall give you to the thing you hate most. I shall give you to the Dark Side..." Phyre snarled, choking the brutalized Moya in sheer rage.

Phyre's rage mattered little to Moya. She had already sown the seeds of Phyre's downfall, through her apprentice, whom Phyre had sent to torture her. Moya had planted treason within his mind in a short conversation. He would give the Resistors of Darkness the weapon they needed to bring down this beast, and repurpose her.

"I 'am' a Jedi." Moya gasped.

"Not after that lake is done with you..." Phyre sneered. "Have fun in the Dark's embrace."

Moya got in one last shot. "Have fun being torn from it."

Phyre stared in curiosity for a moment before dropping Moya.

She screamed as she hit the flames. Knives of agony in every cell and coherent thought, her soul covered in muck and poison. Moya burst into flames, thrashing in the black lake, her spirit wailing in horror much to Phyre's delight. All the pain, and all she could think of was the family she had made into great warriors, cut down and butchered and sacrificed by these evil creatures taking joy in her eternal agony. How she wanted to die with them, more than anything. How she 'should' have died with them.

She was trapped here, her bones trapping her spirit, the fires of the Dark stabbing her sanity.

Her soul found only one solace. Only one. It was the solace if knowing the evil beasts who had torn away everything she loved would soon be torn from their own precipice. That Phyre would get hers.

That alone kept the Dark from completely eating her...


Present day

(Character Theme Song Power Up)

(Theme: "Veteran of the Psychic Wars" by Blue Oyster Cult)

They had been found in an ancient shrine on Atrisia.

A vault of ancient Force Relics, placed they by the ones who had eventually murdered Darth Phyre and turned her into Syd Celsius had been uncovered deep within an ancient grove, guarded by vast pines. They had found what was left of her and placed her bones in a box of stone inscribed only with her name. They had at least had the decency to purify them. But not quite.

The shrine had contained holocrons, a Sith Sword. The usual mid-tier loot. But the bones had a nexus around them. The Light twisted around her somewhat human looking skeleton. Traces, faint traces, of agony and pain could be felt ever so slightly on the edges of a Jedi's senses.

Not understanding the danger, the remains had been quietly shipped to the Enclave at Svivren, on a rainy day at that.

Due to the strange light nexus in the box, and the fact they were the remains of a Jedi Master who had mysteriously emerged from seemingly nowhere during the Gulag Plague, had led to them being under guard when the reached the Enclave. The ones in charge had been informed of the shipment. No one knew the truth about the occupant.

Every Jedi the box passed by felt something as it was moved through the halls and into a chamber where it could be properly examined. The way the light twisted instead of flowed through that box. The subtle traces of pain...

Anyone who passed by it instantly felt disquiet at feeling the Light in that manner. So much so that in the sparse, stripped down training chamber it was deposited in, it was tended to only by droids until someone qualified came to examine it.

Centuries had passed. Centuries of only pain and suffering and guilt. Of feeling the embers of the black fire crawl over it. A damnation if ever there was one.

It had been a mistake to bring it here. It should have been kept far from the Enclave and under constant heavy guard. But again, what lurked within the bones, pulsing as the light that embued the building and the flesh of the people within it, was so silent, had had no reason to bother thinking with all the agony, that no one knew what was to occur.

Deep within the bones, a vision, the first in a long time, occured. Of a man it was not familiar with but saw showing in many futures.

A man named Caedyn Arenais ...

 

[Caedyn Arenais]

The Jedi Enclave of Svivren
Enclave Steward: Caedyn Arenais
Enclave Archivist: Oros
Darth Themis

​

This was a most unusual situation for Caedyn Arenais, whom had received word that there was not only a potential artifact being delivered to Svivren for safe-keeping, but that it was the remains of an unknown Jedi Master from an age long before his time. The Enclave on Svivren had not long been back in operating condition and their numbers still lacked that which you'd find in other branches of the Jedi Order. None the less, it wouldn't have been a good look to decline the request and so Caedyn had been certain to inform Oros of the coming arrival.

Accompanied by the Temple Guard, this peculiar box was taken to a private and temporarily closed off section of the medical wing so that it could be examined before being stored within the Archive Vault. As the head of the Enclave and resident Steward, it was Caedyn's responsibility to give the final confirmation following the completion of the procedure.

"What do we know of the remains...?" Caedyn asked as he walked alongside one of the representatives of the science and research team that had arrived to complete the hand-over.

"They were located on Atrisia, within a tomb we have yet to identify. We're not yet certain of the era of which they were alive, but as you can see, there is an unmistakable aura permeating from the remains. Svivren was chosen for it's subtlety, in the hope that further investigation may lead us to some answers without risking to much public exposure".

"I'm not sure how comfortable I am knowing now that these remains are somehow still active in the Force. Had these details been shared previously, I would have insisted they be taken to Kashyyyk instead..." Caedyn remarked rather cynically. The spiritual veil of the Force was not something to be trifled with, and to his knowledge of the Jedi Path and of the light, through his father's holocron as well as the information accessible via the Archives themselves, transcendence unto the Force was the ultimate reward and goal for a life of selfless service. To bare witness to these remains, and to consider the possibility of a spiritual presence still attached, it did not leave Caedyn with a comfortable feeling at all.

"Please inform Master Oros that I require his expertise, immediately" Caedyn asked one of the Temple Guard, his voice low and even carrying a sense of reluctance. It wasn't often that Caedyn summoned others to him, but rather made the effort to seek out those he needed. The small but significant gesture would no doubt lead Oros to question the situation, if the librarian mind hadn't already picked up on Caedyn's tension.

 

[Oros]

Caedyn Arenais Darth Themis

Quickly now Cato! My instruments!

"Yes, Oros."

The archivist's anzellan assistant scampered around as fast as his little legs would carry him, gathering up sensitive equipment into his tiny arms. Cato Fong was a brilliant young padawan often underestimated or overlooked because of his diminutive size. It was something Oros could relate to so he had taken Fong under his personal tutelage in exchange for help with manual labor and projects which required a more sensitive touch than his own telepathy.

Oros was very different from most humanoids. He relied entirely on the Force for sight not unlike miralukans but his senses were not confined to his immediate surroundings. This most peculiar artifact had been known to him from the moment it landed. He could 'see' it now even through layers of stone and duracrete. Unlike anything he'd come across before.

Despite his early warning both he and his apprentice were limited by mobility. It was ponderous navigating his crystalline life support chamber through the Enclave's interiors and little Cato's legs could only carry him so far at a time. They crossed paths with a Temple Guard in the courtyard who obligingly escorted them to the steward's exact position outside the medical wing. As a medical doctor this was another part of the complex Oros knew quite well.

Simply extraordinary, the harmonic tones which he used to simulate humanoid speech did not often convey emotion but there was an uplifting melody to his words that might have been wonder, A preliminary examination, then?

When Arenais nodded Oros attempted to follow them inside and backed away suddenly. Confused and meaningless harmonies emanated from his powerful mind.

Forgive me. Something about the aura. I was momentarily overwhelmed.

He paused to consider this strange new piece of evidence.

Perhaps it would be better if junior librarian Fong here handles the carbon dating.

"Steward," Cato bowed before dutifully assembling a mass spectrometer.

I assure you he is quite capable.

 

[Darth Themis]

Reconstruction Era


The day of Darth Themis's capture.

Planet: UNKNOWN (Designate: "Titan")

This was a place no Jedi should be.

They knew it as they set down on the planet. A planet of obsidian sand washed over occasionally by strange green fires dancing over the surface. Green Lightning struck the ground occasionally from black clouds.

The Jedi Order had traced the creature, found her stronghold. This place where the Light twisted unnaturally.

The creature in question had been responsible for multiple deaths. Most of them Dark Adepts. Twisting people with a blasphemous, light focused alchemy tainted by blood magics.

The architect of these sinister workings needed to be stopped.

Four hundred Jedi Shadows had been sent. The most skilled they could find.

They filtered through the canyons to the simple, ebon tower ending in a spike. Most of them had been trained on Coruscant. Quite deadly. Quite experienced. They would do well to smite the creature's servants.

But the most skilled ones were being sent to the Creature's Throne.

The Shadows kept their presence in the Force to a minimal as they got closer and closer to the two great pillars guarding the only gate into the tower itself.

This had been planned out months in advance. No Republic forces were to be involved.

This was, from The Order's perspective, a purely internal affair.

The Shadows, clad each in their equipment of choice, had already bypassed the mines and motion sensors, their sabers in hand as they approached the gate with camouflage fields active. The entrance was at the bottom of the tower itself, built deep into a canyon.

Green Lightning flashed overhead as the knights advanced. They finally spotted one, a single lone man in a dark green and black tunic, in a meditative position on the black sand. In front of him was his weapon, a Lightsaber Spear, a long shaft of metal whose sheen implied Phrik, an emitter at one end.

They could not see his face covered as it was by a mask shaped to resemble that of a Dragon head.

Two shadows crept forward in stealth fields, hoping to knock him out. He was perfectly still. Didn't even seem to be breathing. He was fifteen meters in front of the gate.

One circled to behind him. The other stayed in front.

The one behind The Sith moved first. The one in front moved a few seconds later, albeit both moved slowly.

The one behind struck first, his lightsaber modified for non-lethal stun properties.

The Sith's spear flew into his hand as the saber came down. A twirl controlled with telekinesis spun the shaft into the head of the Jedi behind him, and into the feet of the one in front, the small shoto blade activating, its core a solid teal color with a white aura, just in time to impale another Shadow who had deactivated his camouflage field to strike. The Sith, with a simple Force jump that turned into a controlled vertical spin in the air, dragged the spear point into a neat but wide circle beneath him, burning through the sands...and the torsos of his first two attackers.

He landed, the gold eye lenses on his black Dragon-Mask staring at the dozens of Jedi revealing themselves.

"The Master is not receiving visitors. Return in the morning. Announced, preferably." The Sith stated calmly, as if he had just turned away a nosy neighbor.

Instinctively (Not to mention justifiably) sensing the badassery in this statement, they all backed away a little.

"They leave only one man to guard the front gate?" A Shadow asked.

"You all backed away just now, did you not?" The Sith asked stoically, impressively keeping any sarcasm out of his voice.

"Point taken." The Shadow who asked the question stated, stepping forward.

"You cannot hope to defeat all of us..." Another Jedi Shadow called out in the distance.

"That is true. Who, however, would like to be the fourth person to be defeated by me?" The Sith asked.

Eight Jedi came forward.

"Do you have a warrant?" The Sith asked.

They all attacked at once, some trying to push him, others attempting to take him by blade.

His response was flawless. He sidestepped the push attempts with the quickness of a jackrabbit, spin parrying the slash attempts, impaling one inbetween those spins and then another. One managed to get too close, and the shaft retracted to half its length, the swipe missing the now shortened spear and The Sith spun, decapitating the Shadow.

The rest attacked him all at once. His spins were elegant. Breathtaking in their execution, lightsaber blades causing sparks along the shaft.

Every Jedi that attacked him fell dead seconds later.

Six more sprang forward. Then eight. The Shadows noted the way the Light twisted and churned in this heretic. There was no hatred or fury. The calm was pervertedly Jedi-Like in the Sith Heretic. But it was clear that the way he forced the Light to obey him, instead of flowing with it, forcing it to accurize his ability to feel where the attacks would come from, perhaps even to know when and where to attack in turn, made it clear his understanding and use of the Light was corrupted and disrupting to the Force as a whole.

The Electric Judgement came out, bright green bolts stunning the next attacks, the reach of a suddenly extended spear allowed him to reach out with a burst of Force Speed and impale them all in the throat with precision strikes.

The Sith twisted the Light around him heavily and inflicted a Stasis like effect on the next attackers. The Shaft of his spear retracted and he threw it, the spinning spear eating through their bodies. He caught it, just in time to put four more Jedi in Stasis before slaying them with yet another spear spin.

I'll take that as confirmation you do 'not' have a warrant." The Sith called out to the ones still waiting in the back.

"Figures she'd stick a damn Troll at the front door. Dammit!" One of the Jedi in charge of the operation, a young member of Yoda's Species in brown robes with a tuft of black hair exclaimed.

"Go home, Jedi! My Master and your masters want the same thing!" The Sith called out. "This era we live in is a golden opportunity to bring true order to the galaxy. Yet here you are, growing complacent. Just as before. Just like in the Clone Wars. Striking the wrong people. But we see. My master sees. Golden Ages 'end'! And when they do, order and stability must be the most important thing. When the Dark Times that are coming are upon us, you will understand. You will wish you had heeded us...

"This is bullchit." a Verpine Jedi said in the back. "Send the Specialist in."

Jedi in the back of the now fully visible throngs, dragged forward a large metal cube with a sealed Iris at the top, floating on repulsorlifts.

The Jedi all got nervous as it was brought forward. They say it used it to meditate before being unleashed.

The Iris opened, and a gauntleted hand of dark red metal reached out, followed by the warrior pulling herself out afterward.

She was covered in medium grade dark red armor, gold spikes lining the torso, shoulders and arms, and spikes lining the completely head concealing the helmet, which conformed to the shape of the head but left the facial features a complete mystery.

The spiked warrior summoned her weapon, a Crossguard Lightsaber with an extended hilt.

The Verpine Jedi simply pointed to the Spear Fighter. The Warrior nodded and the blue blades on her saber went active, the main one longer than normal blades by five inches, and she floated off the ground and towards her quarry.

The Sith spotted the red armored warrior floating towards him.

I've told you before. The Master is not taking visitors at such a late hour." The Sith spoke.

The Spiked Jedi sprinted towards him, the claymore saber crashing rapidly against his spear, both weapons moving against the other faster than most eyes could follow. His green lightning ground against the spikes on her armor, and the Sith some how began to fight even faster, his strikes followed by blocks that seemed to know where the Spiked Jedi's blade would go before she did.

The Spiked Jedi's Style was some hybrid of Forms 2 and 5, Retaining most of the aggressive, heavy two handed blows of 5 while encorporating some of the feints, parries, and stabs of 2. The Sith's Niman and Ataru was magnificent however, and for a few seconds some wondered if the Specialist would be able to defeat him.

But the true masters in the crowd knew.

The aggressive, savage assault was surely but slowly wearing him down, and was becoming clear despite his own use of Force Speed, the sheer speed of her attacks, combined with their impressive strength, would break his defenses eventually.

The Specialist, however, pulled back, deactivating her blade, holding its emitters downward pointing behind her.

The Sith tensed. He twisted the Light, trying to force it to show him a vision of the next moments ahead, to have an answer for this. But her powers were great, and totally concentrated on trying to disrupt his focus. Another weakness immediately became apparent to the Jedi watching: These heretics were heavily dependant on their ability to see ahead accurately. Too heavily, it seemed. When it worked it was devastating. When you totally focused your might to disrupt their concentration, you suddenly saw hesitance. Not the surety of a Jedi.

The Sith straightened his spear, prepared to thrust.

The Specialist waited.

He charged, mentally controlling a switch in the shoto to extend its lenth to thrice that of a regular saber blade, aimed right for the throat.

The Specialist's blade flashed on, batting aside the blade, twisting bodily and detaching the bottom half of her blade and throwing it.

The hidden shoto pierced the Sith's throat. He fell forward. Dead...

Five hours earlier...

The Spear Fighter kneeled in front of The Master in her throne room. It was a great chamber of volcanic glass, a single bridge connecting to a raised dais. Underneath was a great pit of swirling green fire.

His master stared down at him all black, reflective scales. The top half was humanoid and feminine, the face faceted and gold eyed, with two long, great horns jutting from her forehead.

"I have seen your future my faithful warrior..." Darth Themis spoke calmly, slithering toward him, clutching her own spear saber.

"You are destined to die out there. In every future I have seen. You die at the hands of a Jedi with spiked armor."

"Then it is a death I go to with Joy, if it will mean the survival of your teachings." The Spear fighter said.

Themis nodded. "It shall. You will give me time I need to finalize the trap..."


Present day.

That had always been the curse of her vision. To see the deaths of those she had been particularly fond of...and to allow it...all to forward her goals. It was a habit that had carried over to her career as a legit Jedi Master. It had started to crush her in the end, that burden. Both Themis and Moya had experienced the want to tear out their eyes, cut themselves off, if only to stop experiencing visions. But both Themis and Moya were in the end, sadly too dependant on it.

The Spear Fighter, Toruss Tenngu, had been one of her first apprentices. She had not wanted to send him out that day, but in every future where she did not, The Jedi breached her defenses too early. He had been a devoted learner. She had hated to spend her finest spearmen that way.

The weight of that guilt in sending him, like so many others to their death for her convictions, yet always avoiding that death herself, even when it seemed she deserved it, caused a long suppressed wail of anguish from the spirit trapped in the box, the sorrow in the force powerful enough to crack the box containing her remains open on one side.

The hilt of her collapsible Lightsaber-Spear tumbled out of the recesesses, followed by an ancient, scorched, skeletal hand.

Caedyn Arenais

Oros

 

[Caedyn Arenais]

The Jedi Enclave of Svivren
Enclave Steward: Caedyn Arenais
Enclave Archivist: Oros
Darth Themis

​

Cato Fong was one of Oros ' people, skilled and efficient, though he and Caedyn had rarely bumped into one another since the Enclave's coming back to life and now in full operation once again. The young Jedi Knight had no concerns leaving the majority of the work to those who specialized in these area's. The handling of the deceased was a field that required great care, especially those of such a potent presence in the Force such as they were dealing with now; "I think that'd be best, yeah" Caedyn replied casually as he looked between the Head Archivist and Oros' assistant.

From behind him however, something seemed to call to his attention and upon turning back to look upon the remains, something shifted. These were very old and delicate remains, ancient even, and so the thought of their being disturbed was enough to have Caedyn instinctively moving to ensure that nothing went awry with their care taking of the cadaver. Reaching out without really thinking about it, he caught the hilt of the collapsible saber-spear with his left hand, brushing against the skeletal remains whilst trying to preserve the hilt and whatever else might have been falling.

The instant that he touched the remains however, sent a great chill down his back as though another presence had snuck up behind him and started breathing down his neck, an unmistakable feeling that there were eyes immediately set upon him, causing Caedyn to step back quickly, looking down at the body in shock. Caedyn fell speechless for a moment that felt as though it lasted a lifetime, his mind trying to make sense of this feeling that had come over him. Oros would likely recognize that something in their situation had taken a dramatic shift in events, as the Jedi Master had frequently communicated with the younger Knight through means of telepathy and Caedyn had learned to find comfort in keeping his mental guard down around his elder friend and fellow Jedi.

"Oros...-Something's wrong" he spoke the obvious, stepping back several more paces this time in a bit more of a clumsy stumble and seeking the nearest seat in order to remove himself from his feet, no longer feeling so confident in his balance. This presence that he felt, it was stronger than the mere company of another standing by his side, this was something else more...invasive and shared. A feeling that he could only describe in his mind as the sharing of power or life, a prospect that he had experienced once before during the creation of his Bo Staff where Ignis Imura had shared his consciousness and been able to take control of Caedyn's physical body. That was however, something he had subjected himself to willingly, where as this felt much more...Forced upon him.

 

[Darth Themis]

The Day of Darth Themis's capture.


The Specialist hurled the gates open with her telekinesis, leading the Jedi Shadows to the Tower's front door. They were deathly quiet, and extremely paranoid that they had not run into more resistance. The Specialist was accompanied by a Jedi in stark, all white armor set modeled after that of the ancient senate guards. He carried two green lightsabers.

"The Ebon Serpent awaits, my brothers and sisters!" The white armored Jedi proclaimed in a deep voice as they marched to the towers front doors. "Even now I feel her power blasphemously twisting the Light against us, to use on its own servants!"

"What do you suppose she is doing to all the Jedi she captured?" The Specialist asked, her voice soft and low, in contrast to her prickly, fiery red exterior.

"The same thing she is doing to any Sith she captures..." he answered back. "Which is why we should make all haste..."

They finally arrived at the giant front doors.

[Why is it none of you understand what I am trying to do?] Darth Themis's voice echoed in the heads of all present. [You do realize my actions are meant to 'extend' this age of prosperity, right?]

"Your actions? You mean mutating others against their will? Killing premptively?" The Specialist called out, driving her claymore-saber into the door to melt the locks.

[Typical Jedi. Never willing to sully their hands with blood, lest their precious perceptions of themselves be damaged. Hiding behind living weapons such as yourself, as always. The latest in a long line of powerful, but ultimately expendable warriors.]

"Themis! We will be 'very' cross with you if we have to drag our asses all the way up there to come and get you!" The White armored Jedi snapped, his comrades getting instinctively into defensive positions near each other.

[Guess you're gonna get real exercise then.]

"Make it easy on yourself!" The Jedi in White called out. "The Jedi Order will NEVER permit what you are doing to stand! Its a perversion of justice and nature!"

There was no telepathic response from Themis. Suddenly a knight screamed as a pair of green armored hands reached up from the sands beneath his feet, pulling him under, stabbing him in the stomach with vibroblades. Other Jedi gave yelps of surprise as the same happened to them. Warriors burst from the very rocks around them, all in dark green armor, but it was unmistakably Mandalorian. Most were armed with Force Pikes tainted by a strange, dark green electricity. Without a word, they swarmed from all sides, and when they began to use Electric Judgement, it became clear, in the scant seconds that everyone had to react, that these Mandalorians had been captured and mutated.

What had been a calm had become but a storm. They were not as good as The Spear Fighter, but they were still good, and fifteen Jedi were dead in seconds, their connection to the Light disrupted by the altered pikes.

The Specialist and The Jedi in White were cutting down attackers around and below them. The Specialist employed Form 1 wildly, spinning her blade through torso and joints, The Jedi in White was more defensive, employing Soresu to counter-attack and exploit any mistake made in assault. He cut down many in this way. But the Specialist cut down many more like the spiky grim reaper she was, with no elegance. Just pure, crisp killing.

Darth Themis watched all of this from her Throne, frowning. She disliked having to kill fellow light adepts senselessly like this, but they did not see the glory of the age they guarded, did not see how hard choices and sacrifices had to be made. The Clone Wars and all the crap that occured afterward had seemingly taught the Order nothing: They were not even content to let their enemies kill each other: They HAD to be in control even when they could not properly adjust to the situation or reality.

Themis had dispatched her warriors to key choke points in the tower but they would only be an even further delay.

It was the Specialist and the Jedi in White that interested her. They were the ones who made it to the Throne Room in every future, and The Bright Lord understood instinctively that this battle hinged on what played out between her and those two.

The Serpent-like Sith rested on the Throne, taking a small, ceremonial knife and slitting open her scaly palms as the floor parted, revealing a glowing green pool of Alchemized Water. She let a few small, glowing green drops of blood hit the water, hissing unnatural words.

The sky overhead cracked with green electricity, striking the top of the tower repeatedly, green currents traveling all down its length. The crack was so loud it startled everybody fighting out side. The mutated Mandalorians, instantly bent a inee and refused to fight any further, and this alone caused most of the Jedi to stop fighting as well in confusion.

"What are they doing?" One Jedi asked the one in White.

Water drops fell from the sky. Water with a bright green glow to it. Most of the Jedi swooned as it soaked quickly through the robes.

The rain was making it difficult to call on the Force, like a weather version of Force Suppression. It also seemed to make them react slower physically, because one Jedi who was a master of Soresu was immediately struck down by a Mandalorian who rose from his knee, guided by visions for the proper moment to strike as they had been guided by those visions to know when to stop fighting...if only for a moment.

The battle went south as the Shadows began to die in droves...

Darth Themis felt bile rising in her throat as she felt so many futures being cut short. She had, despite her tendancies, developed a warped view of the value of life.

She viewed it as evil to extinguish life, unless there was a definite, concrete good to be gained for the greater whole.

Unfortunately, Themis did not view killing people preemptively for evils they had not commited yet as evil itself, nor did she consider her countless murders and mutations of Jedi and Sith to produce powerful weapons to use against the Dark as evil in how it violated their autonomy.

Darth Themis, despite her misgivings, absolutely believed in the greater good over the individual. This was among many reasons she was to be cast down this day: The Jedi didn't like their own ideas taken to such extremes, especially when it was increasingly obvious just how easily someone like Themis could do that.


Present day.


Old pains and hard choices motivated the suddenly awake spirit as she grew more aware of Caedyn Arenais and Oros in the room.

Such a powerful connection to the light...next to a skeleton feeling the effects of magic still.

Moya De Lifte's pain and endless guilt at not dying with her loved ones almost convinced her to stay dead. But when the possibility of jumpstarting her regeneration became too much, and the reminder of how she maddeningly could not touch or feel anything but that pain and guilt seethed as she remembered her failures, the lack of closure, she almost against her will called out to the Force, silently chanting old blasphemies she had studied on twisting the Light. She had no other way out of this. The honorable thing would have been to stay dead as Moya, move on to the Force.

The spirit of Moya had had quite enough of Jedi honor, given the results...had she not suffered enough?

What really sealed the events of what occured next however, was a slowly returning recollection.

Julia Crownwraithe was in this era...hopefully all grown up and powerful like she had seen. Julia was the only fragment left of her prior existence.

Well if ever there was a reason to go yandere...

She watched with etherial eyes as Caedyn accidentally touched her skeleton. That was enough for her, the magic in her remains clinging to him like a tick. She strengthened that connection, using his tie to the Light to kick start the whole process.

He was a young Jedi, strong. The sort Themis had liked to twist to her side. The sort Themis trained into legit Jedi as Moya. The sort the Jedi Moya had tried to die next to in battle, only to be cruelly denied the honor.

She focused, whispering the forbidden words in The Force, felt the power draw in from the building.

The floor and walls cracked slightly, the power being momemtarily drawn from Caedyn before becoming self sustaining on its own. She drew from him only as much as she had to.

Green Lightning flashed in the sky above the enclave, before coming down and striking the building hard enough to punch a hole through the ceiling, and hitting the box containing her remains.

There was a scream from the Spirit in the Force as it was drawn to its skeleton again. It had wanted to return as Moya, but its heart, wracked by centuries of guilt and madness and pure spiritual agony, simply wasn't set on it...

The skeleton burst out of the box, green lightning arcing off of it, screaming in pain as the Light she had twisted to her will worked its power on long burned remains. 007 strikes of Green Lightning hit the screaming skeleton, electrocuting it a little more...and growing flesh and muscles and organs back with each strike. Organs and muscles that were clearly not human, tissues a dark green until skin covered them by the seventh strike.

The flesh warped and twisted the figure into that of a curvy woman with brown skin and very dark hair in a top knot, completely nude. She dropped to the cracked floor on her hands and knees. Moya had not been Moya by the time of the seventh strike. Merely who she was before the De Liftes had become part of her life, but now with the horrible curse of remembering how they had made her happy. Made her whole. Made her stop being Darth Themis without realizing it.

Being alive enough to feel their deaths in her chest caused her to grimace as she found the strength to pull herself up from the scorched floor around her, the brand on her forehead becoming visible: A pentagram at the center of which lay the ancient symbol of the Light.

Themis opened Light mutated eyes, the whites a metallic bronze, the irises a solid dark green.

"What day is it?" Themis asked slowly and grimly.

"What year?" (I dunno...with these weapons...I dunno...: 50 XP)

 

[Caedyn Arenais]

The Jedi Enclave of Svivren
Enclave Steward: Caedyn Arenais
Enclave Archivist: Oros
Darth Themis

​

The scene that played out before the three Jedi was like that of an old horror holo-vid, and the damage wrought to the Enclaves interior encouraged Caedyn's mood to sour, making it difficult to appreciate the second coming of life and instead causing the trio to step back several paces in order to ensure their own safety whilst looking upon the form of Darth Themis, Caedyn himself uncertain what to make of her beyond the need for clothes or some form of coverage.

"What day is it?
What Year?"
​

The young Jedi Knights gaze briefly turned away from the woman, to glance to Oros in silent question. These questions provoked only more questions of his own, the origin of her remains being ancient according to the research team whom had contacted Svivren through the Jedi Academy Network's channels, and subsequently Oros' assistant having confirmed as much, suggested that this one would be well outside of their natural element.

"Master Fong, please fetch our...Guest, some clothes to wear" Caedyn spoke up reluctantly breaking the silence between them all, looking over to the medical assistant, Cato and giving him an encouraging nod, soon to look back upon the woman before them.

"It's currently 858 ABY" Caedyn answered Darth Themis, his brows furrowing slightly in consideration for the numerous possibilities playing out in mind for who she could have been, or how she might choose to react to this new life they'd inadvertently drawn her into. "What's your name? How are you feeling?..." he asked, though uncertain as to whether these were truly the questions one should ask in such a situation, given that he'd never been in or even heard of such things occurring, let alone knowing how to react or to handle such a delicate matter.

"You're currently within a Jedi Enclave on the world known as Svivren, in the Outer Rim. Does any of this sound familiar at all?".

 

[Darth Themis]

Caedyn Arenais to his credit didn't really miss a beat in explaining Themis's current situation and capture. She was hundreds of years in the future. On the planet Svivren in a Jedi Enclave. She visited this planet once during the Gulag era. Nice place. She wondered how it was different.

He then asked her name and how she was feeling...

"The name is De Lifte. Moya De Lifte..."

(Clip of Bond Theme plays.)

Themis, not without her own variety of mental instability, actually heard the OOC music, looking around in confusion for a second before shaking her head.

"I feel...like I have been stepped on by a bantha...a mutant one...with spikes on its fething feet..." Themis answered truthfully.

A Jedi brought her a black set of Jedi robes and carried in a panel behind which to dress and Themis did so, and when she emerged the first thing she did was set eyes on her spear.

Themis slowly walked over to it, a feline, liquid grace to her movements and her fingers reached out to grasp it. She took a deep breath, feeling the spear in her hands again.

She stopped, feeling the grief hit her. She dropped the spear, hyperventilating as it all came back. Her failures, her dead apprentices, her dead loved ones. Her dead everything.

It hurt beyond what any words written could meaningfully express.

Themis looked up at the ceiling the magic had punched a hole through.

"Sorry about that..." Themis said grimly.

Eight hours later...

Themis had undergone a battery of scans and tests. She hadn't been told the results. None had asked about her mutated eyes yet, thank the gods, but she knew they would get around to it, and that would not be as simple a lie as her name.

Part of her wanted to be Moya De Lifte again. But the rest of her knew where that had led in the end.

She didn't have a plan. It was enough she could breath for the moment.

Being dead so long caused everything to taste better. She learned this after drinking a glass of ordinary cold water, her first in centuries. It tasted like maple syrup to her. She had gone to the mess area, her strange light side presence drawing the attention of everyone there as she walked past. It was powerful. But it didn't feel like the Light of a Jedi. Too harsh.

At least the Gulag Plague was over.

Themis had ordered whatever was available, and began eating ravenously. A third of it was genuine hunger, another third of it was realizing everything tasted so damn good after being dead no matter what it was, and the last third was sheer stress. She wanted to scream at what she had suffered. Only her self respect and pride prevented it.

As she paused from her meal of Corellian Spaghetti in the mess area, she chose to finally speak again to Caedyn, gathering her thoughts past a haze of suppressed half-insanity and grief at last. Her collapsible spear lay on the table next to her. It had been her Jedi Spear. It was her only fragment of happy memory left.

"I was a Jedi Master in the Gulag Era, training and leading the De Lifte family into battle against The Dark Side..." she trailed, picking up her spear again and touching it to make sure it was real, to feel the familiar sensation of it metal.

"It didn't work out. Got murdered...De Lifte's got murdered too..." she said, not looking at him, remembering a Knighting ceremony she had used it in once. Aden De Lifte. So full of promise. Such a champion of the Light. Cut down too early. Aden's memory caused extreme pain for her and she set her weapon aside.

"Svivren looks nicer than the last time I visited it. Gulag Virus tended to ruin everyone's plans back in those days..."

She looked up at Caedyn at last. Her light mutated eyes fixed on his. So young. He reminded her of Adrian.

"Do you have family, Caedyn?"

(OOC: Did a scene transition to avoid staying in the chamber. Tried to keep it natural. Let me know and I will edit if its not to your liking with the scene switch)