Wicked Stars

Wyatt Morga · Jan 4, 2020

The rain was heavy, but unnatural in those trying times. Wyatt could feel his heart race, knew that they’d been hunted to the cliff and were about to fall - he could hear - No, he could feel the fear in his wife’s voice as she cried out his name. He looked back, only to see her carrying his son with tears in her eyes. Everything seemed to move in slow motion as she was awash in the red backlight of a lightsaber -

And then both were struck in half. He remembered how… visceral it was, how instant they’d been gone - there was no drama, no chance for a goodbye. He had gone from striking down a hunter, to watching them die in a matter of seconds. Why couldn’t he have simply had a chance to say Goodbye?

The Sith stepped forward, through the blood and gore of his family. He lifted a hand to remove his mask. Wyatt hadn’t remembered that part, knew that it was diverted timeline - he’d thought back on these moments far too many times to confuse it.

As the mask unsealed, removed itself, Wyatt saw an expression he knew well - his own. Twisted by the dark side, dark veins running up either cheek to golden eyes and a vicious grin that mocked him -

His voice was corrupted, overlapping shades of bass on his own tonal range;

“You’re not ready.”, he - No, it said.

“You’re not ready for Dagobah.”

---

Wyatt jerked upwards in his bed, with his sheets soaked from sweat. A hand reflexively moved to grab his lightsaber, but for once he resisted igniting it in the darkness. His other hand went to his chest, feeling his heartbeat - but noticed the scars that ran across it. How long ago had he gotten them?

Far too long, it seemed. He calmed himself, slowed his breathing so he wasn’t so… Terrified, before he noticed he too had tears in his eyes. The Jedi stood, wiped what sweat and tears he could from his face, and glanced to the mirror. It showed a man tired, with bags under his eyes and an ever present anxiety only he could notice - fringed on the forced calmness he held.

The Force had a message for him - he was to do something on Dagobah. He grimaced at the thought of the darkness on that planet; how close he had once come to falling to that dangerous darkness.

Was this truly what the Force intended?

With a quiet acknowledgement that he’d require meditation on the matter, he relented and found his way to the sonic shower in his quarters - small as they were. Cedric would need to hear about this, had he not already gotten a dream of it himself. As the shower began to run, and Wyatt prepared to enter, he couldn’t help but remember his face behind the mask, his greatest fear made manifest.

Was he ready for this?

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Avo · Jan 4, 2020

A sea of crimson rippled before him. Its frothy, blood-red tides caking the cliffside that he precariously balanced upon. Whether it cleansed or tainted the ornate erosion that time had carved, Lan hadn't a clue in the world. He simply sat, staring out at the roaring waves crash into one another, with equally dark clouds looming overhead, threatening to unload a torrent upon the earth beneath them. An instinctive urge to clutch his cloak tighter came, but Lan couldn't move his hands even if he willed the Force to his aid.

Yet it called out to him.

"Do you see this? This sea of red?"

It almost hurt to speak. "Yes. I do." His throat ached, as if he'd swallowed sandpaper-covered honey bees.

"This is the blood of the innocent, the guilty. It is of heroes and villains alike, and there is one thing in common for all of them: they were slain by you."

"I did not!" Anger flared, with the slightest hint of a clutched fist coming to bear. "I know who I killed. They haunt me each and every day, in dreams and in waking life. I see their faces and their memories." A shiver ran down his spine.

A primordial, reptilian voice laughed from the dark sky above.

"You are neither the judge nor the jury, and far from the executioner. Just a murderer. You are not ready."

"Ready for what?"

---

The Jedi Master sat upright, eyes wide and bloodshot. A nauseating gag came forth. Lan was out of his bed and in the washroom in seconds, spilling everything he'd eaten the day before into the latrine. He heaved and heaved, until it was nothing but a dry croak of pain and suffering. Another joyfully quiet and peaceful moments followed, allowing him enough time to catch his breath and slump against the wall.

Would he ever be ready?

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Alyson Halle · Jan 4, 2020

The sea was churning. The world of Merides was a confluence of the dead, a place where the force was a central part of daily life, to the point that even a minor force sensitive could channel the spirits of ones ancestors. That was to say nothing of somebody with a force presence as strong as Alyson's. She was lying in bed when the Crystal amulet began to glow.

It was a shard of the nexus which flowed over the entire world, a connection to the very force itself. Soon the world around Alyson began to fall away to an ethereal blackness, then it soon began to fill with pale blue specters. It began with one, then two, then ten, then twenty, soon there was nothing to be seen but the spirits of her ancestors. One came up to her, fully colored unlike the rest of the pale blue spirits. It was the spirit of the Lord.

"Girl. Do you fancy yourself a master of the force?" He said, an echo permeating every word.

It was a strange question. The answer was clear.

"I suppose I do." She replied.

"You have struggled much child, but there is something you must do. You must come to terms with all that you have done, justify all you have done, become the ruler you were destined to be."

Vague, but ominous. "What must I do my lord?"

"Go to the planet of Dagobah. There you shall find your destiny. I can say no more."

Suddenly, the world flooded back. It felt like falling an immeasurable distance in the blink of an eye. Alyson gasped, her body was caked in sweat as she shot up in her bed. She shook her head, and equipped herself with everything she would need.

She pressed the intercom at her door, informing her flight crew to prepare for takeoff immediately.

She would go to Dagobah. There she would find her destiny. Whatever that may be.

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Placeholder 0128 · Jan 6, 2020

The flight to Dagobah was a quiet one.

Cedric had elected to travel alone and lightly, borrowing one of the Stealth X-Wings he and his cohorts had borrowed from the Galactic Alliance's now defunct docks on Sullust. Flying was not something the Jedi Master enjoyed, and he was more than content to let the outdated little astromech in the back pilot his ship for him.

The ugly sphere of blues and grays that was Dagobah spun in empty orbit below. He starred down at the planet, apprehension building strongly in his gut. His fighter hung in the upper atmosphere after he'd given the order for the ship to cease its approach.

Whatever the Ashla wanted of him, was he right for it? After meeting with his late progenitor? Coming so close to the brink? He knew in his heart that if

Loske Treicolt had not been there, he would have gone over the edge. A lifetime of discipline and restraint ruined by a single moment of abject and utter hatred.

Am I truly a good Jedi?

He shuddered to think of the possibilities.

After a few more moments of waiting, Cedric decided to bite the bullet and bring his ship in on approach. The fog was the first thing that he noticed, next was the rapidly approaching canopy that threatened to scrape at the bottom of his ship. The Jedi bit back a curse as he took direct control from the droid, lowering the ship's speed dramatically so that Dagobah didn't become his new home.

He simply followed the will of the Force, 'feeling it out' for lack of a better term as to where he should land. Eventually he settled on a small break in the forestry. It was a relatively small area on the edge of a swampy lake. As his ship settled into the mud, the life that was abound nearly overwhelmed Cedric's senses.

The Force was definitely present here.

"Watch the ship," he ordered of the droid as the canopy hissed open. The humidity hit him immediately, making him scrunch his nose up in displeasure as his boots plopped down into the mud.

Alyson Halle ,

Wyatt Morga ,

Avo · Jan 6, 2020

Before long, Lan was standing on the wind-whipped landing platforms of the Jedi Temple. Dark cloak was clutched snug to his frame, the gales of the nighttime air stinging his eyes even more than the tears already had. It was a somber moment, full of misery and self-loathing that only a distant world had promised to cure. The ailment came not from a bodily sickness, nor one of the mind: it was of the soul. Tarnished and black, it threatened to creep through his bones and veins like a virus.

The astromech beeped. Arfour seemed just as concerned as a droid should be: very. A dismissive wave was all the bot caught as its owner slipped into the cockpit and thumbed the activation key. Then the Jedi Master was off into the black oblivion, his pathway only marked and lined by the stars above.

---

Uneventful and mind-numbing, the journey was. All it offered was enough time to collect himself, a little peace and quiet, with the hum of a hyperdrive engine his only companion. His eyes were dull and listless, as if that same youthful energy and vigor of yesterday had somehow been cursed, replacing a once happy and vibrant man with an empty husk. Lan almost hated it, so much that he nearly threw up for a second time in four hours.

"Peace," he whispered, "There is no emotion, there is peace."

Repeating his solemn vow helped just a tad. It broke the damning silence at least, bringing his consciousness back into reality. Whatever trials Dagobah had in store for him, they were surely to be the most challenging things he'd ever do in his life. The future didn't scare him, the past did.

The interceptor lurched into realspace as if on cue, the murky world materializing before him. With a second thought to simply turning around, Master Graendal steeled his resolve and pressed forward. The craft disengaged from its hyperspace docking ring, slowly yet surely dropping down into the planet's atmosphere.

I can only hope that I am ready enough.

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Alyson Halle |

Wyatt Morga · Jan 6, 2020

Darkness.

It ran rampant on this planet, from the swamps to the trees - it drilled itself ever deeper; and there was nothing to signify its source. Whatever caused the darkness on this planet was unforeseen, perhaps could not be seen - but Wyatt understand a single, unequivocal fact;

He hated it.

The energies of the planet sent shivers up his spine as the aging freighter he taxied to the literal backwater planet lurched from its stable orbit and began to descend. The pilot, a rather young smuggler wiped what was left of spice from his nose as he exited the cockpit to look for Wyatt, only to find him near the exit.

“So you uh…”, he sniffled, inhaling sharply, “Uhhh, going down there? And want me to wait, right?”

The youth was addicted, it hurt his soul - and Wyatt could feel it. He knew that the boy wouldn’t make it but a few years at this rate, and had hoped to befriend him, so open his mind to the beauty that was life; to get him away from what dragged him to the depth of his addiction, but he knew it wasn’t necessarily possible. He couldn’t go around healing the Galaxy one person at a time.

He sighed as he nodded, speaking in a light - somewhat forcefully happy tone -

“Yes, Pad-Ram, I’ll be down there for only a bit. When I call for you, make sure to come, alright?”

Pad-Ram nodded as he sniffled again, seeming to grow more fidgety by the second;

“Y-yeah man, I uh… Won’t be sleeping for a while, I’ll be around.”

Wyatt only hoped.

As the ship finally found its place just above the treeline of the swamp, Wyatt lept from the walk way - slowing his descent into the muck below with the Force; but before he knew it, he managed to land in an especially deep part, and almost instantly ruined his clothing with a healthy coating of mud.

He groaned, remembering it was recently laundered by another of the Jedi at the Academy, and made a mental note to wash it before he got back - so they wouldn’t notice. With that, he walked into the darkness - for miles, it seemed, before he found the familiar aura of a man he knew well.

“Master Grayson, I hope you do well.”, he said with a warm welcome through the treeline.

“Or, should I say - better than me.”

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Alyson Halle │

Avo

Alyson Halle · Jan 7, 2020

Dagobah was a wicked world, twisted by the strong powers of the dark side which resided there. The swamp itself looked like a fairy tale dark place, where your mother would tell you not to go, lest you be eaten by a wolf-man or some other strange beast. However this planet was very real, and the force was caked in malign intent. It was like if somebody dumped a planets worth of polluting sludge into an otherwise pristine ocean. That was the best way she could explain it to herself.

Even her non force sensitive pilots were unsettled by the planet itself. A lot of them were rather nervous, one even asked "We aren't going there are we?" It was a fact of the matter that she had to go there. Luckily for them, they would be able to stay on the ship, covered in weapons. She would have to go out there, into the cold, dark, damp swamp.

As the shuttle settled down, she was displeased to find that her force senses were blurred by the dark side. What would normally allow her to sense for miles in this sort of terrain, she could barely make out her own aura. This was troubling but not a big issue. She knew her way around wilderness navigation, she had to do it back in her youth.

She pulled the crystal amulet out of her pocket, putting it around her neck. The connection to her ancestors would protect her from the worst of the dark spirits while she traversed the turgid swamp. They could not help her with her trial, she knew that, but they could do this much for her.

Eventually, she was able to make out two forms, light sided entities, they stood out like bright beacons, even through the dark haze which sat over them. The closer she got, the more clear it became. It was Cedric, and somebody she hadn't met before. It seemed the force was not sending her here alone.

"Greetings Gentlemen." She said, pushing through the brush. "Fancy meeting you here."

Placeholder 0128 · Jan 7, 2020

He felt nothing on Dagobah, save for the violence of life struggling to eek out an existence in a wholly hostile place. The Sith would have loved this world. Confused as to why he had been called here, Cedric's brow furrowed as he wandered the muck. His trek was an aimless one, taking him a mile or so from the X-wing before he felt another soul.

It was a familiar presence, though one he'd not felt in a very long time. At first he thought it to be a trick of the planet; a means by which the Bogan could lure him into a trap. A hand brushed the cold steel of his lightsaber as he halted, eyes narrowed as they peered through the foggy din for any sign of life. That aura drew closer, and closer...

"Wyatt?" He asked, confused at first. His confusion was quickly replaced with elation as he recognized his old friend. A wide smile split the Jedi's face as he approached the Morellian, an arm going wide to drag Wyatt into a one-armed hug.

"Wyatt!" He clapped the man on the shoulder as he drew away. "It's great to see you, though extremely odd, if I'm being honest. I-"

His words were cut off as another familair voice drew his attentions. Whatever thought he might have had toward coincidence was banished as soon as Alyson came out of the forest.

"You too Alyson," he reached up to scratch at the back of his head, "Did you all the dream as well?"

Avo · Jan 8, 2020

The Force was strong on this world. Both dark and light battled for dominance here, with life ebbing and flowing as it perished and came into existence all in one. Predatory fauna sought carnage and feasts for their young, whereas more docile animals were content with the vegetation and a simple, nomadic lifestyle free of strife. It was the legendary world rumored to harbor one of the greatest Jedi of all time, where even the Chosen One had steeled through the trials of the Jedi to restore balance to the Force. There was no balance here anymore, and it seemed like the enemy of Ashla was winning this time.

For now.

A few, murky presences called out to him. They shined like beacons in the night, like lighthouses for the old, grizzled maritime sailors of yore. Whatever or whoever they were, they would be promptly ignored. Familiar or not, this was something he needed to do alone. It was a trial of manhood, of the Jedi, of an independent living being. He knew that in the end it may only be just him, standing alone against the shadow, standing firm and resolute as stone facing the trials of time.

He needed to prove to himself he had what it took, to finally be ready for the coming battle. Light and dark clashed since the dawn of time, and a tentative peace in the galaxy would not end their eternal conflict now.

Begrudgingly, Lan pulled the starfighter down closer to the surface. Thick copses of darkness and fog welcomed him, as if urging him to steer ever closer to the brambles of trees taller than towers on Coruscant. Still, he avoided them and aimed for the highest ground he could possibly find. Swamps and murkiness were no friends of his, so a primal instinct brought his ship down on a small hill. Open enough for the tiny Jedi interceptor to slip through and land on soggy earth.

"Watch the ship," his voice came weakly, as though muffled by the fog, "I will be return soon. If I am not back within three days, take back into orbit and pass a message back to the Order."

Lan barely caught Arfour's worried chortle as he shouldered his pack and uneasily traipsed into the unknown.

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Wyatt Morga |

Wyatt Morga · Jan 8, 2020

“I -”, Wyatt began, but he slowed and stilled his righteous tongue.

Instead, he simply nodded, offered a small step back and spoke - “We did. The Force meant for us to come here, and by the senses of it… Another.”

Wyatt’s gaze moved to the brushes, the dense foliage of the Swamp that held untold animals and evil; though it grew more dense by the second. He could feel that this other entity had the right idea, that meeting was temporary - that inevitably, this was something they would all have to do alone. He exhaled, slow and steady before his gaze fell back to the two others;

“Were I able, I’d speak to you both longer. The Force has called us here for a purpose, to overcome darkness. An ultimatum by the great divining nature that it is; but I believe it is something we must do alone.”, he rested a hand on either of their shoulders as a warm smile fell across his lips.

“Cedric, Alyson. I wish you well in the journey to come. Please…”, he said with a pause.

“Be safe. Close your eyes, open your hearts - see where you are taken.”

And with that, he let go - turned, and slowly found his way in a seemingly random direction, but Wyatt knew within himself where he went was exactly where the Force was to guide him. He had opened his heart, his soul to its guidance long ago; yet the connection seemed tentative, almost strained in the darkness of the planet, and he couldn’t help but be vaguely anxious at what it was The Force hoped for him to find.

In truth, he knew. He had always known, and the Darkness that was in him was a terrifying reminder of what he knew he could not control forever. He remembered his fight with

Alkor Centaris and

LT-137 ; how close he had come to dying, and how great it felt - but that wasn’t who he had to be, it was only those who had once wanted to be.

To die on the battlefield as the Mandalorian he knew he was, but he had to kill that part of him. End that which hoped to drag him into death, to end that purpose for his death.

His Family, long since gone.

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Alyson Halle · Jan 12, 2020

The strings of fate were tangled between the three present. The force had dictated that their destiny was intertwined, wherever they were headed, they were headed there together. They would succeed of fail as a team in whatever challenges this world demands of them.

Her ancestors voices flew through her head here, she could hear their mixed words of encouragement, fear and various other emotions. It sounded like an anxious crowd before a play, waiting to see what sort of horrors would await the characters on the set. For her, it was very much a matter of life and death.

"The strings of our destinies are intertwined Master Morga, we live together and we die together. Whatever we will find here, we must face it as one."

Destiny was a fickle thing, it had a purpose for everyone, but that purpose was often times not completely apparent fro the perspective of those living it. Alyson had spent decades trying to discern the strings of destiny but not even she could tell what their purpose was. She had learned however, to tell when destinies were intertwined. She could see how people were connected even if she couldn't exactly tell how.

She knew that this group had a very strong connection, to the point that their fates would be one. For the time being.

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Placeholder 0128 · Jan 15, 2020

Cedric's elation at seeing his friends quickly faded as Wyatt spoke of their trial. They had all been called here, that much was apparent, but for what Cedric had no idea. Some kind of test, perhaps. The only way to find out was to press forward. Even still, he found himself agreeing with Alyson's words, though it seemed they fell on deaf ears. Wyatt carried off into the darkness, and Cedric exhaled a heavy sigh.

"You know nothing can ever be easy, Alyson," he offered his old friend an easy smile. "If we are to be together, then we will be. For now, I think Wyatt has some wisdom to his words. We were all called here individually. If we were meant to make this journey together from the beginning, then it would have been so."

The Jedi Master drew his cowl over his face. "We'll see one another soon old friend. Have faith in the Force, in the Ashla." He offered his friend one last smile before turning to walk his own path into the din of the swamp.

His path was a random one, chosen on simple instinct. He trudged through the bogs, and did his best not to get too annoyed at the thick sheen of sweat that stuck his clothes to his body. Dagobah was a bit too humid for his tastes.

It was only when he'd gotten about half a mile away from the gathering that he began to hear the sounds of gunfire. His brow furrowed as he trudged off toward the noise, which seemed to be originating from a break in the treeline.

He stepped through, and found himself standing upon a field of sand, broken bodies, mud, and gallons of blood. An army of men armed with rifles and swords stood sentinel upon a nearby hill. The orange sun that beat down upon them cast them in a golden light, akin to the paintings of the holy crusades of old. War cries thundered from their throats as they charged down the hillside, rifles spitting burning hot plasma in Cedric's direction. The bolts passed by him, and Cedric whirled, eyes going wide as he eyed another army, this one made up of mutated things, broken creatures, and the spawn of the Sith.

The Blade of Ruusan roared as she came to life.

Wyatt Morga · Jan 15, 2020

Amids the swamp, the muck and trees - Wyatt kept on with a dedication. The Force called out to him, though it felt… murky, mutated by the planet. It seemed to cry out, then silence, only to cry out again - but it was soft, distant, a zephyr on a warm day; something he couldn’t place, but knew was there.

It was… discomforting, to say the least, but Wyatt continued on. The trees blinded him, the noise of animals seemed deafening - but for only a moment. Their calls, cries, cacophony of a natural symphony all seemed to see in only a matter of a few seconds - descending into silence before all that was left was an even more deafening silence.

The Force quaked then, shook and prodded as it seemed to run ice through his veins -

And suddenly, he wasn’t there anymore. The swamps were gone, the trees little more than a memory. No, instead what he saw was something familiar, and even more so - absolutely terrifying. Around him were speeders, the city-planet at large, and the harsh whir of engines zipping buy.

In his hand was a lighstaber, and before him was the now dead body of a Sith Hunter who hoped to end his life. He remembered how quickly they fell, how he had used the emotions of his family to spur him onwards - to cut the Sith down with such ferocity, it was hardly even resembling a Jedi’s control.

Wyatt’s head turned on a swivel as a noise reached his ears, however. The hoarse cry of his wife, his son, their eyes burning with tears as another Sith held the former by her hair in a tight grip. He couldn’t see it behind the mask, but Wyatt knew the man was smiling - cruel as it was, hidden as it may be, Wyatt could feel that burning stare.

And then the crimson blade cut through them, ending his family's life in one fell swoop.

The Jedi Master could feel the tears well up in his eyes, could feel his own knuckles go white as they gripped the lighstaber - and he rushed forward. He couldn’t help but cry out, in a mixture of frustration, of anguish, and everything he thought was good in the world torn away from him in only a matter of a second -

He cried out for everything he lost, and everything he could have had.

And as their blades met, blue met red in a dichotomy of the Force. Though in that moment, as the Dark Side seeped into Wyatt - he could feel his power grow, and how great did it feel to enact righteous vengeance on how he hated. Juyo, as the Sith called it, became his weapon, and the righteous anger he felt drove the Sith he faced back -

Step by step, and every time his blade grew faster, forced the Sith back towards the edge - and when he finally made it there, Wyatt let out of a final, righteous scream as Force Lightning let loose from his fingers -

And the Sith was gone, launched over the edge - likely dead long before he hit the ground, Wyatt imagined, but for the Jedi he could feel something worse - the corruption slowly working up his arms, blackening his veins with the evil he had let in him, the toxicity of his emotions corrupting his very being.

All he could feel was pain, and then it was black.

Yet, when Wyatt awoke, he could feel his lightsaber in his hand, and the body of a dead Sith before him - cut in half by Wyatt’s skill with the blade. He could hear the cry of his family behind him, and as he turned his head, he watched their tear strewn faces splatter with blood as they were cut down.

Wyatt let out a cry of pain, anguish, and charged...

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Avo · Jan 16, 2020

The damp, warm unknown welcomed him like a boy climbing into bed with his mother, terrified by the dreams that had awakened him.

The murkiness, the fog, the sights and sounds of creatures calling out in either pain or birth resounded throughout Dagobah like a zoo. It was something to help himself keep his mind off of things, slinking further into the rhythmic pattern of boots squelching into thick mud. It came nearly all the way past his knees, forcing the man to practically slog in a straight path to absolutely nowhere. Nothing Borough, Unknownville, Void Avenue. It was a one-way ticket, or so his soul had decided. It was paradoxical: going nowhere and somewhere all at the same time, and it sent his mind spinning in confusion.

For what seemed like hours and hours of gallivanting in the murky swamps, the Jedi watched as long shadows began to draw across the landscape. Things became quieter as the day-time creatures fell to slumber and their nocturnal friends awakened. It was unsettling to say the very least, and nearly sent his nerves into high orbit after every cawing bird or screaming monkey that traipsed by once an hour.

Lan came to rest against a large, gnarltree after long. Its branches seemed to be contorted with pain and anguish, reaching towards the sky as if making one last ditch effort to seek out the sun and its warmth. He sighed, sending his eyes upwards to the mist-shrouded moon. Its light was pale and hardly reached him, offering little to no light in the darkness that slowly consumed the planet.

He hastily began to set up a small camp. Miniature generator, a tent under the gnarltree, and small lamps that bathed the tree in dim, red light.

It had began earlier, Lan realized. The voice in the back of his mind, urging him to lay down and rest. To stop and rest his weary muscles, no doubt exhausted and spent from slogging through miles of swamp and marsh. It had taken the form of his consciousness, the need in his mind to stay alive and take care of his body. Yet, now he was more alert than he had been in the entire day. His hair stood on end, prickling as a shiver ran down his spine.

Purple light soon accompanied that of his lamps as his lightsaber snap-hissed into existence.

Brow furrowed, he readied himself and stared into the darkness. It was coming.

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Wyatt Morga |

Placeholder 0128 · Jan 21, 2020

There was no god here.

It was only when the armies were close enough that Cedric could see the whites of their eyes that he realized their intent. The warcries singing from their raw throats were not meant for one another, but himself. Jedi Knights clad in war-plate readied their blades to cut him down. Sith on the other side did the same, and the men around them spat volleys of burning plasma blindly into one another, killing for the sake of killing.

Genuine terror filled the Jedi Master's heart as they closed on him. There was no way he would survive this, vision or not. Even still, he would have to try. He owed his people that much.

There was a thunder crack as the two armies met in melee combat. Men crashed over one another in a tide of bodies, knife sparked in the glimmering light as they ripped through exposed flesh, rifles sputtered as they cut men into cauterized pieces, and Cedric felt the pain of death more keenly than he ever had before.

He let go of everything. The Imperium, his friends, his history, his family Loske - all were cast aside. The Jedi's mind was naught but an empty vessel as the first Sith's blade met his. Cedric allowed the will of instinct and the divine guide his actions; it was a simple thing to lean forward, tilting his blade over his foes so that he could drive it through the warrior's skull. No sooner had the first fallen then another arose from the rabble. Their blades clashed briefly before Cedric reached out to snatch a pike from the hands of a common man, thrusting it through his opponent's spine with an expression of telekinetic will.

The third died on approach, her head removed by the glowing green blade of a familiar face. Cedric's gut twisted as he recognized the green lekku of

Wrenarias swaying behind the blade. He tried to speak, but a swing of her weapon stole his words. The lightsaber cut through the flesh of his forearm, sending a very real pain jumping up through his spine.

"Wren, stop!" he finally managed as she doubled back for another blow. The Jedi Master spat a curse as he met it, then blocked another sidelong strike that followed. His padawan was skilled, but experience was on the master's side. The girl struck again, stabbing outward to impale him. Cedric swiftly sidestepped, then drove his own blade through her chest, his apprentice's eyes dimming as she realized what had occurred.

The girl slumped to the ground, quite dead.

Cedric only had a moment to gather himself before a fist collided into the back of his skull. He was sent sprawling, though he managed to scramble away from the lightsaber that carved through the sands he'd just been sitting in. He gazed up at the faces of

Jegy Sesara and

Pom Stych Tivé staring down at him, violent intent clear in their expressions.

It's only a vision.

The Jedi grimaced as he rose to his feet, cyan blade hissing to life once more. "What test is this?" He asked the skies, "I want no part of it."

Whatever orchestrated it all seemed not to care, as Jegy's lightsaber came falling toward his neck, and green smoke began to envelop Pomsty's fingertips.