Private Severance

[Ala Quin]

The impact brought momentary blindness for the Jedi Knight as she splayed across the floor, legs falling in an awkward, unmoving inverted Y-shape. Her head had hit the base of the wall, directly beneath the window she had been rushing to in order to call for help. The towns people's instincts had been right, the Brotherhood of the Maw were making a home in the abandoned compound, and Dagon's instincts had been right...they were home.

They had been on the world a few days already, investigating sightings of tattooed and overly pierced strangers in the jungles. The physical description fit many a group of mercenaries or even some entire species, but this close to Maw territory and on the board of Alliance space? Yes, it increased the likelihood of it being the Brotherhood. Signs of the Maw presence had only taken a day to find, but an accurate location as to their headquarters had only been found that morning. Thankfully, a hunting party from a small village not 10 clicks south had come back reporting lights being seen on at the abondoned Vong prison facility. The buildings were ancient now, falling apart, but still more than enough for the Brotherhood to find shelter and keep their location secret.

The half dozen Jedi had split up to cover the compound faster, and avoid any clever hiding from the cultists that were present. It was on the third floor that Ala had rounded a corner in her hoverchair, to be confronted with a startled male cultist, piercings of various kinds running up his nose, and in a continuing straight line over forehead and all the way to the back of his neck. His jagged, blood encrusted blade had quickly been pulled, but not fast enough to catch Ala. She had fled for a window, to fire off the requisite flare gun, while calling in her discovery. "Third floor...main watch tower...single combatant pursuing me," she called out over the comms. It was immediately after that that she felt the impact of a heavy object on the back of her head which sent her sailing across the floor, flare gun falling away from her grasp and legs falling into their awkward Y.

The cultist was quickly to her, blade coming down towards her exposed back. Her wits returned with her senses just moments before impact. She felt for her saber hilt, it was wedged under her person, so she instinctively reached for her second hilt that was attached to the hoverchair which was now behind the attacking cultist. The other hilt flew from its clip, yellow blade buzzing into life and cutting through torso and downward pointing blade just a moment before impact.

Ala rolled, the tip of the severed Maw blade grazing her side, before the cleaved edge hitting the ground beside her just moments before the upper portion of her foe. The dead man hit the ground, eyes still open and staring lifelessly at the fallen Jedi Knight. She felt the guilt of previous encounters begin to bubble. This wasn't her, not truly her. But she had become so proficient at killing. It gnawed at her that it had become so much a part of her. The galaxy had changed, and consquently it had changed her.

Hand extended to call the flare gun to it, she then rolled, propped herself up on her elbow and squeezed the trigger with barrel pointing at the small sliver of sky she could see from her odd angled view of the window.

| Dagon Kaze |​

 

[Dagon Kaze]

After the catastrophic failure over Csilla, the Alliance and by extension the New Jedi Order had finally doubled down on their efforts against the threat from the Unknown Regions. Despite his frustration that they hadn't allocated the resources earlier - when he had pleaded for them - Dagon couldn't help but feel the gargantuan weight of guilt smashing his shoulders.

He was there at the reactor of the superweapon. At the heart of evil itself with the aim of stopping exactly what had happened. He had failed, and now Csilla was no more. Billions of lives gone in the blink of an eye. Just because he had been a second slower. Weaker.

Not good enough.

And now Dagon was here - on Selvaris - with a group of Jedi on the trail of Maw presence at the edge of the Alliance's frontier. The raven-haired Jedi had been inspecting both rumors and official reports on sightings of the cultists, drawing a pattern of their locations and reached the assumption that the Maw was preparing for an assault on the Alliance. Not a raid, no, nothing like that. The intel had all the characteristics of recon activities launched by militaries prior to large-scale war operations.

His ear-piece comms crackled to life:

"Third floor...main watch tower...single combatant pursuing me,"​

Ala.

The Jedi which he had met only once - during that damned excursion into the home of the Bryn'adul. Kaska and him had nearly found their death upon one of the Drael's ships. Ala's...experience had been far worse; she wasn't able to walk. Her participation in this mission had been concerning to Dagon but his disapproval had remained unvoiced. The objection had vanished into thin air at her call over the comms, replaced by his urgency to get to her first before the cultist could.

Not good enough, the self-critique echoed in his mind.

Lunging like a panther through the nearest window, unto the ramparts, then rushing to climb the tower from outside in a display of athleticism accumulated from fighting crime in the underbelly of Coruscant. Terrain had always been his ally, he'd learned to use it to his advantage the hard way.

By the time he reached her position, following the flare, it seemed she had dealt with the situation. Dagon sat crouching on the windowsill, his eyes tracing the split-in-half corpse of the cultist until they reached Ala lying on her elbows. He jumped inside and hurried to lend her a hand to get back up on the hoverchair. He offered a hand up, slightly unsure if he should just pick her up but decided against it.

"You alright?" the padawan asked, concern drawing lines on his face. It seemed she had managed by a hair's breadth.

Too close for comfort.

Ala Quin

 

[Ala Quin]

Taking the offered hand, Ala pushed through the Force to levitate herself through the air and fall on to the hoverchair, which wobbled precariously. Her technique in levitation was still not everything it could be, her legs still dangled in an ungainly fashioned, and she often ended up with bruises from the resulting 'crash' into the hover chair.

"Honestly. No," she said, relinquishing her Jedi comrades hand, "but I will be. Only real damage is emotional."

She avoided eye contact, as if to say by implication "you don't need to ask about that". Her chair was brought to bare on the door that had brought her into this room. It, like all the other parts of the building, was rusted and starting to fall apart. A small hole in the floor had opened up beneath the door way, with jagged rusty edges inviting all adventures to a quick tetnus shot.

"This fellow was coming from the end of the hallway...perhaps we best check down there?" She said, before pressing forward without waiting for a response, "watch your step...the floors have seen better days."

| Dagon Kaze |​

 

[Dagon Kaze]

"Honestly. No," she said, relinquishing her Jedi comrades hand, "but I will be. Only real damage is emotional."

Dagon's eyes narrowed at her latter words. He couldn't fathom losing the ability to walk, his reliance on the physical, on his body - especially his feet - had been paramount. After nearly being killed by his twin brother on Ziost and flung over the spires of the Sith Academy, Dagon had escaped that outcome by the narrowest of margins, the doctors had told him. Luck had been on his side but not on Ala's, unless it was all the Force's complex workings; maybe her predicament was part of her destiny. Maybe.

"This fellow was coming from the end of the hallway...perhaps we best check down there?" She said, before pressing forward without waiting for a response, "watch your step...the floors have seen better days."

The padawan teetered away from her darting hoverchair and barely evaded falling in a large crack on the floor. Her hard resolve resonated with him, reminding him of his own self to an extent. Yet, Dagon couldn't help the resurfacing concern over her handicap. As he followed her towards where the cultist had come from, he couldn't help but address his worry:

"You know, you didn't have to come." his tone was warm, a hint of worry in the undertones of his voice. The last thing he wanted to witness is a Jedi getting killed. Again. He'd seen enough of it during the brutal Stygian Campaign against the Sith. Loss had not only become his reality, but his unwelcomed companion. "Having an eagle eye coordinating the whole ops is as effective as boots on the ground." the long months in the trenches with the Alliance Defence Force fighting the Sith had procured military slang into his speech.

Their path ahead descended down, bearing all the characteristics of a hallway leading towards the subterranean levels of the facility. It was dimly lit, cultist markings carved into its walls and large electric cables slithered on the floor guiding their way forward. An eerie feeling of being watched began to intensify on their backs.

Ala Quin

 

[Ala Quin]

Ala stopped by the wall and allowed her hand to run over the almost neanderthalic carvings. It was as if the cultists had regressed to a near pre-sentient stage in their evolutionary development as they sunk deeper into their own form of dark side worship. She did not answer Dagon immediately but instead continued to look at the figures, characters and runes on the wall. She didn't understand them, nor did she want too. They did send a cold shiver up her arm though. She glanced back at Dagon as she removed her hand from the wall, dirt and grime coming along with her hand.

"I have tried the wandering, itenerant Jedi deal...but with all that is going on...I can't do nothing..."

She said before pressing forward down the tunnel, slower this time, with the gradual sense of impending darkness beginning to wash over her.

"...staying on a ship seems like doing nothing...know what I mean?"

| Dagon Kaze |​

 

[Dagon Kaze]

Dagon pointed his wrist-holo at the carvings on the wall, blue light illuminating the symbols scanning the writings. A frown materialized on his face - the carvings were a derivative of the so-called Scripture of the Hidden Maw, and while the scripture held similarities with the Sith teachings, these carvings drew further semblance to the code of the Sith then to the Hidden Maw's original texts. More and more evidence that supported the notion that there were Sith workings within the Maw's power structure. A troubling revelation. He clenched his fist; Csilla shouldn't have been the wake-up call.

If only they had listened to his warnings sooner.

"...staying on a ship seems like doing nothing...know what I mean?"

The Jedi shifted away from the writings and followed her lead, his mind departing from the case of the Maw to that of Ala.

"I know that feeling all too well." Dagon replied with a somber undertone. He had stood with his master aboard an Alliance ship over Korriban, while the rest of his companions had ventured to the cursed world and found their early graves there. The suffocating, rage-inducing sensation of feeling helpless. Dagon understood her, understood why she had boldly ventured down here with the rest of the unit, but since Korriban he had also learned that there was no 'undervalued role' among the Jedi. He shut his eyes briefly to shake away the grim past and focus on the present.

"But it's a fallacy, Ala." he spoke up again, pointing to the first example that came to mind "The Jedi in the library teaching and nurturing the future generations is as equal to the one scrapping on the frontlines..." a sigh escaped his lips, "Look - I know we don't know each other that well but you got close back there. Too close. And I don't wanna see anymore Jedi fall under my watch."

Even if it's inevitable.

Ala Quin

 

[Ala Quin]

Ala's head tilted as she noted the aura fluctuations around Dagon as he examined the runes. He was clearly more versed in the Maw than she, and there was a deep tie of grief that washed over him. She had heard the news of Csilla, and what the Brotherhood had done there. She had not felt it though, as she was still in a coma when it occured. From a moral and emotional level it was horrific, but Dagon carried more than just an intellectual burden.

"You were there...Csilla?" Ala said, attempting to put the last piece of her puzzle together.

They probably ought not to have been delving too deeply into their emotional state given that a cadre Brotherhood ultists could have been just around the corner. But Ala for one felt the need to continue.

"Death is not the end, Dagon. I have done it once already and it didn't take anyways," she said with a chuckle and shake of her head.

She began to whisper as they grew closer to a T-junction in the hallway. "The galaxy is so full of violence. There will be no peace and no place for Jedi teachers to instruct their wards if there is not someone on the front line. I cannot rest...not now...there is...too much to do. At least you get to know my stubborn side early..."

| Dagon Kaze |​

 

[Dagon Kaze]

"You were there...Csilla?"

He froze in place at the question, his heart skipping a long beat before he murmured, "Mhm." the wound was fresh, and forever it would remain so. It was a wound that would never heal, never turn into the numerous scars that traced his body and mind. Dagon could vividly remember the thrashing through the hallways of Mercy - the superweapon - in their struggle against the mysterious Knight of Ren until they had reached the reactor room. They had been there, Yula and him, at the heart of darkness on a mission to plunge a dagger into it and prevent the destruction of Csilla. Yula had managed to sabotage the reactor, while Dagon kept the Ren at bay until everything began to fall apart and as they departed the cursed superweapon they could only hope that this was the end.

The weapon never fired but hope was extinguished nonetheless as the Brotherhood launched the station into Csilla itself.

A billion souls were gone in a flash.

All that remained was a gash into the fabric of the galaxy, into the fabric of life itself.

He shuddered at the sensation that washed over him and took a sharp left from memory lane.

"Death is not the end, Dagon. I have done it once already and it didn't take anyways," she said with a chuckle and shake of her head.

She began to whisper as they grew closer to a T-junction in the hallway. "The galaxy is so full of violence. There will be no peace and no place for Jedi teachers to instruct their wards if there is not someone on the front line. I cannot rest...not now...there is...too much to do. At least you get to know my stubborn side early..."

He was of the same mind as her to the point that he believed her words to be the same he had once uttered. Preachers kept on preaching as the galaxy drowned in blood, as the galaxy cried for help, for action. Dagon had been one of the few to follow Ryv in taking a more active approach against evil even if they had ended up being lauded as villains, rather than heroes, Dagon still firmly believed they were and are right.

But the fear of losing another companion still slithered like a snake through his veins. The only thing he could do was what he did best - put his life on the line to protect.

"I agree--" Dagon said and as they stopped at the T-junction, he turned to face her and place his hand on hers, "--but if you ever reconsider, if you ever think you'd do better away from the trenches - no one's going to judge you." at least I won't. She was, after all, handicapped. In his voice, there was no hint of a patronizing tone, no. Simply care, reassurance, and honesty written in his blue eyes.

"Now let's see where this cable leads us to. And what the hell it could be powering." he turned heel, leading both to the left of the junction, following the large cable. "It's a thick one, so whatever they've got brewing down there, it should be important. At first, I thought it would be a recon outpost. There's been a pattern of Maw cultists setting up FOBs on the Alliance's frontier very similar to what usually precedes a large-scale invasion." Dagon explained, his natural investigative flair rising up to show.

The answer to their queries was soon revealed when they turned another corner, leading to a catwalk overlooking a large and wide hall. A massive drilling machine stood at its far end pointing at a rocky wall. Familiar-looking crystals of cyan dotted the rocks, while cultists with vibro-pickaxes chopped away and carried the gems away.

Wild-eyed, he exclaimed in a sharp whisper, "Kyber crystals!"

Ala Quin

 

[Ala Quin]

“I am not afraid of being judged,” Ala almost snapped back, her tone showing signs that just maybe she was not as sure about the truth of those words.

Dagon seemed near distraught upon the mention of Csilla. While she did not know what he had endured there, just being present when so many lives were ended would easily cause a rift within a Force Sensitive person’s soul. Ala understood that feeling all too well. So many Jedi in this era did.

Keeping herself a little ways behind Dagon, as the vantage point did not allow her to hide as easily. Ala heard the whispered revelation, but before she had time to process what it could mean she found her senses fire with an approaching Force aura from the same path that they had come. The individual approached with urgency, as if they had maybe found a dead comrade...

Ala spun about in her chair, pulled her saber hilt out and moved back to the T-junction. But she was not fast enough as the Cultist appeared around the corner. His eyes, though wide, somehow became even wider.

”ALARM!” Screened the cultist just a half-second before being impaled by Ala’s drawn blade.

| Dagon Kaze |​

 

[Dagon Kaze]

Sirens blared in a spine-chilling chorus across the facility, even basic things such as alarms carried an insidious tone when it came to the Maw. The goon Ala had stabbed fell to the ground with a loud thud and immediately after the rattling of pick-axes dropping to the floor echoed in their ears. They were rushing out fast for a lunch break and their meal was Dagon and Ala.

A spray of blaster fire engulfed the duo of Jedi pushing them back into the corridor from where they had arrived. Vibroblade wielding cultists charged forward, some friendly bolts fell a few of their comrades but they were so many that Dagon began having severe trouble fending off both bolts and vibrosword swings.

As if to make things worse, another batch of goons popped up from the opposite side blocking their way out leaving them in between a rock and a hard place.

"If you've got something up your sleeve, now's the time!!" shouted the raven-haired Jedi at his companion. Ozone filled his nostrils and pain burned from the marks left behind by blaster bolts grazing his flesh.

Ala Quin

 

[Ala Quin]

Retreat was not really the greatest form of attack, but alive was certainly better than dead, and so Ala retreated along with Dagon. To the best she could Ala pushed the blaster attacks away with her saber. The melee attacks that came in were a different story. She managed to push the first couple back, preventing the approach of the second wave for barely a moment.

"If you've got something up your sleeve, now's the time!!"

"Ah...there's always them?" Ala said, pointing to their Jedi comrades who had also responded to the sound of the alarm. The cultists approaching from behind Dagon and Ala were cut down by blades thrown from the end of the hall, which then returned to the hands of the 4 Jedi who had been searching other parts of the compound.

"I suggest a tactical...getting the hell out of here!" Called the Nautolon Jedi Knight in the middle of the pack.

| Dagon Kaze |​

 

[Dagon Kaze]

"Withdrawal. It's called tactical withdraw-- ow!" Dagon groaned as a blaster bolt cleanly struck his shoulder and made him reevaluate his dumb idea to correct his fellow Jedi. Serving for so long on the front lines against the Sith along with the Alliance's Defence Force had molded his lingo in a way he never expected.

The duo retreated behind the shield wall their Jedi companions had formed, cautiously climbing the stairs up to the surface level.

"We need to get this whole place turned to slag!" he called out at the rest of the Jedi, "I'll reach out to the Alliance ship in orbit for a strike. Just need to get outta here, my signal's jammed like there's no tomorrow." the raven-haired Jedi squinted at the static in his ear.

**

With the mission a somewhat success, it was only Ala and Dagon left in the command room of the ship after the debrief had finished. He sat silently, rewrapping the bandages across one of his recent wounds - an activity that had become almost a hobby at this point. Bandages escaped through the sleeves of his t-shirt, some covering the scars - both old and new - that extended over his chest and back where most of the damage had accumulated.

Not long ago these marks were mostly 'acquired' over his teen years fighting crime on the streets of Coruscant, but now.. now they had all abated to the extensive scars and wounds gathered from the Stygian Campaign against the Sith. The warnings of his master, Asmundr Varobalder, still echoed in his head - Dagon was pushing himself beyond any normal limits. His mind might sustain his stubbornness but not his physique.

"Sooo...where next for Ala?" he broke the silence, while still fiddling with a stubborn gauze, "I'm not in the game of convincing Jedi to stay back from the grime, even if it did kindda sound like that earlier." blue-eyes looked up to meet hers, the signature, lopsided grin dawned on his grubby face as he lightly tapped the New Jedi leather jacket lying next to him, "we'll always need scumbags in leather jackets to keep evil at bay."

Ala Quin

 

[Ala Quin]

The debrief had the language of success but the emotional weight of failure. They had learned more about the Maw, but had failed to drive them from their hive. This planet, like many others, was mere days away from being overrun by the Brotherhood, or being used as a launchpad for some strike further into the heart of the galaxy.

Perhaps it was more the sense of persisting helplessness that kept Ala down. Her chair limited her in ways that she longed to be rid of but she found the faith she once had in her own connection to the Force waning, and healing by her own ability to be slipping further and further from her grasp.

”I need…a solution to this,” she said indicating the chair below her, that hovered with a soft, persistent hum, “I have considered a better technological solution, but that seems to present different limits…”

| Dagon Kaze |​