[FIC] Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic III: Sith Empire

[Lord Spitfire]

Hi guys! I'm new to these forums, and this is my first post. This is a fanfic about the journeys of Exile, Revan, Bastila, and Admiral Onasi in the aftermath of Darth Traya's death.

Well, I hope you enjoy it!


Chapter One: Exile Broken

Jayarede, the Jedi Exile, walked the alleyways of the lower city on a stormy night. He wore his grey Jedi robe, hood pulled over, and double-bladed lightsaber slid inside his inner robe. He had dark skin, red ravaged eyes, and stubble all over his face, which was framed with slightly long black hair that was combed from the middle, and passed down his collar.


‘The lives, all of the lives that make their presence on this world, they are . . . thriving. They do not feel suffering, most have never felt suffering. This is almost the opposite of Nar’Shadda. I have almost forgotten the powerful presence of this place’ he thought to himself as he strolled down the walk-streets, feeling every speeder go by and every person leaving an imprint on them.
It had been over ten years since he had been to Coruscant. It was the emblem of the core worlds, the capitol of an empire that stabilized through a system of democracy. It was a symbol of the Galactic Republic’s awesome might, now shattered from within.
Yet, he knew that the republic was recovering. He could feel the stability in the structure of the senate. Corruption was decreasing, and it would only be a few years until the Republic had the huge power that it hadn’t had since the war with Exar Kun.


But it all depended on the Jedi Council. There was now only four Jedi left. One had left to fight the True Sith, the other - Jayarede himself – was about to follow him, one was on Telos, but there was only one here – and she carried the answers that he was seeking. But Bao-Dur, Mira, Atton, Visas, Brianna, they had come already, rebuilding the order. It had been four months, and he hadn’t seen them since. They were here, on Coruascant, he was sure of that. But they were not in the temple. They had gone to Dantooine, training force adepts into Jedi, while Atris did the same thing on Telos. Jayarede did not know how many Jedi that they had mustered. It wasn’t the full-fledged training of the normal Jedi, but they would train people for only a month, so they only chose specific force adepts. Some of them were even ex-Jedi. But those six masters would have trained no more than ten Jedi up till now. They had to be patient. Word would spread on the Jedi academies on Dantooine and Telos, and more would come.
But on Coruscant, propaganda of the Republic ran deep, and Jedi were infamous.


His thoughts were cut off as he heard a man shouting.
“Give us all your credits, now!” he said. There were about four thugs – two humans, a Trandoshnan, and Aqualish - surrounding a young human boy who looked on older than about thirteen.
The boy stared at the thugs, fear flashing in his eyes. “I . . . I . . . no! You’re not . . . you’re not taking anything from me!” he snapped.
Before he could take a breath, the Trandoshnan bashed the boy on the side of the face with his fist. The boy screamed in agony, and crumpled to the floor.
But as soon as the fist made contact, the Trandoshnan found his body cut in half. Before the other three could react, Jayarede slashed his double-bladed lightsaber in the most complicated techniques, flying in the air so that he would not hit himself. In about two seconds, the other two thugs were down. Jayarede turned to the last human thug, lightsaber raised.
“Please!” pleaded the thug, “Please, Master Jedi! Don’t kill me! I will do anything you ask, please!” Deep inside, he was not so worried. Jedi don’t kill their prisoners.

But this Jedi was different. Jayarede drove his lightsaber through the thug’s flesh, feeling the anger and hate flow through him, but defending the dark side with the determination of his compassion. After a while, he settled down and deactivated his lightsaber, sliding it back in his robe.
He stretched his hand out to the boy, who hesitated at first, but finally took it, letting him be heaved up.
“Are you all right?” asked Jayarede, his glowing eyes, cold voice, and darkened figure making him look like a man from the shadows.
The boy looked at him with suspicion, then replied, “I’m fine. I can take a few hard blows. I’m not a baby.”
“Still,” breathed Jayarede, “a young boy should not roam the lower city of Coruscant at night. Go, head home now.”
The boy shook his head. “I don’t need to do anything. Even if I had a home, I would stay out here.”
Jayarede sighed. Coruscant was supposed to be the richest place in the galaxy. Yet the moment you go to the lower city, it is almost as bad as Nar’Shaada.


“You know much for a child. I am heading for the Capitol Center, with the senate building and the Jedi temple. Where can I find a speeder that can take me to the upper city stations, do you know?”
“Just go straight, through the street-walk, then at the station from there.”
In a second Jayarede had leapt back into the night, following the boy’s instructions as he took the train into the upper city, until he was dropped off at the outskirts of Capitol Center. It was quite sudden, moving from the industrial, pollution to the marvels of the upper city. There was not much traffic in the airways, and Jayarede was able to pick a taxi that took him at the pad near the senate building.
As he went off, he closed his eyes, and searched through the entire building, searching for a presence that reveled in the force. Then he suddenly found a source, a well of the source. He found a Jedi. But something was different. The Jedi was a tremor in the force, almost like a stone, being crashed against by the river of light.


Jayarede continued on, following the presence, guiding him. Strangely, he could feel the power of the force emnting from the building iteslf.
‘This very structure is built of the force.’ He thought to himself, ‘The Jedi Temple’s aura is immersed in the force. I had almost forgotten. But even this senate building was held together with the force. It is almost a codex of life.’ The very power lit him with a fire, and he suddenly felt stronger with the light side. But he concentrated on the one Jedi, the one who would have his answers, the ones he needed before going off into the Unknown Regions.
He followed through the passageways of the building, until he came upon a regular senator’s room, except it was immersed with the force.
He slid the door open, and found a figure standing in the shadows.


“And so you have come, too. Only to leave again, I am sure. You follow him, don’t you? You seek to find him, don’t you?” echoed a woman’s voice through the dark room. A strange aura surrounded her, a powerful one, but one that slipped Jayarede’s memory.
“So you are the one that I was supposed to meet,” breathed Jayarede out loud, “I was told to speak with you, last surviving member of the Old Jedi Order. Where has he gone? How can I find him?”
The woman in the shadows paused, and then continued, words escaping her mouth only when she knew what she was talking about. “If that is why you have come here, then you are wasting your time. I know nothing. I am only a broken Jedi, too stubborn to even follow the wishes of those who fight to the death for me. Do not be mistaken, I am no Jedi. Not any longer.”


The woman came from the shadows, for the first time showing her face.
“I thought you died during the wars. I was obviously mistaken. Still following the broken traditions of the Jedi Order, Bastila, or have you finally seen the truth? You are not a broken Jedi. The Jedi are broken! I know you knew Revan, so where is he? Or did you abandon him, leave him when he needed you-“
“I have not left him, Exile!” jutted Bastila, her eyes fuming with the hatred she had run loose, “I have seen much in the ten years since that faithful day on Revan’s flagship. I have finally learned the truth. The Sith are evil, but the Jedi are weak. I know now. This is why Revan left me here, so that I could find myself, find the true path.”
Jayarede couldn’t help but give a short laugh. Even though she was four years younger than him, Bastila had always received the best treatment on Dantooine. He would have bet himself a million credits that Bastila would never refer to the Jedi as weak. “So what are you going to do now Bastila?” asked Jayarede coldly, glowering at her. “Are you going to ‘sap my will and give yourself the confidence so you could strike me down?” he asked in a mocking tone, but one without any sense of humor, only cold hate.


Bastila sighed. “Go ahead then, attack me, Jayarede. I can no longer feel any compassion. I am now a slave of my own self. Ever since Revan left, there has been a hole inside me; a wound that cannot be breached.”
“Exile . . .” breathed Jayarede under his breath in disbelief.
“Exile.” Responded Bastila, drawing her double bladed lightsaber.
Jayarede drew his, and he lunged at her.
Suddenly, they were twisting themselves into a vortex of exhilaration, blades cutting through the aura that surrounded them.
Their double-bladed sabers made them lose their center of balances at times, and Jayarede found he had to keep on leaping in the air so that he could unleash a series of blows on Bastila, else he would risk losing balance and impaling himself.
But something was wrong. Bastila was swinging her blade with a new urge, and he was losing his accuracy.
He suddenly figured out what was happening. He leapt back with the force to regroup, and then centered his thoughts.
Soon, he countered her Battle Meditation. Her eyes narrowed.
“You’ve become just like Atris!” shouted Jayarede, “you have fallen as surely as that schutta did!”
“I haven’t fallen to the dark side,” retorted Bastila, “The Sith are evil, but there powers are strong. I have finally realized what Revan had wanted for me to do all along. That is to use the dark side for the light side.”
Jayarede withdrew his double bladed lightsaber, open to any attack. “You loved him, didn’t you? He left you in order to fight the sith, didn’t he?” He now slid his lightsaber in his grey Jedi robes.


Bastila drew hers, then closed her eyes, taking only a split second to vent her anger.
“I more than anyone else would know how you feel. I understand how it is to be a pinnacle of the living force, whether light or dark. Now tell me, where did he go?”
Bastila looked up to him, and then shook her head. “He is not coming back, and he knew it. He is dead! He died for me, for all that he stood for."
"Bastila, listen to yourself!" hissed Jayarede coldly, "Why do you think I followed Revan in the war? Why do you think I wounded my own spirit under his wishes? Why do you think I abandoned all that I ever knew to follow him to the wars? Would I really do that to someone who was not true to his word, or could not survive for five years of war?"
Bastila sighed. "He has gone through the Mandalore System, through there to the Unknown Regions.”
Jayarede was silent. His soft breathing gave a tranquil feel to the room.
‘The Mandalore System, I will go.’

[Diego Varen]

First off, welcome to LucasForums Lord Spitfire. For your first Fic this was good, but several improvements need to be made. First, I know in books that dialogue is crammed together, but for members with poor eyesight, trying leaving a line between each lines of dialogue, when a new person speaks. Nar’Shaada is spelt Nar Shaddaa and Courascant is spelt Coruscant. Also, the whole Chapter seems to be just one big paragraph. When it changes scene, perhaps leave a line for a new setting, etc.

Other than that, with a bit of editing, this Fic has got me hooked already. I'm looking foward to more of this and Jayarede is a great name for the Jedi Exile and the title of this Fic is good too.

[HK-42]

Good begining. I'll be looking at this, and follow all the stuff that pottsie said, some people have bad eyes.

[Lord Spitfire]

Thanks, guys.

I'll try to follow your suggestions as best I can, and I'll update it pretty soon. If I go on a writing frenzy,(:P) it will be up in a few days, but most probably a week or so.

EDIT: I revised the story baised on your guys' advice. I hope you find it better now.

[Bee Hoon]

Welcome to the forums!

Trandoshan is the way it's spelt, if I'm not mistaken. "distraction from the building itself"? That could use some rephrasing. There's some errors with tenses, and it is Nar Shaddaa. Coruscant is still misspelled in a few places. It's also quite strange that the DS Bastila would be living in a building that Jayarede perceived as light-sided. Hm. Jayarede himself is pretty enigmatic... His behaviour both LS and DS. A bit more clarification on where he stands would be good.

If you have the time, do go over it and revise it. I'll be keeping up with the coming chapters

[Lord Spitfire]

Thanks, I revised the dialouge between Exile and Bastila. I'll revise more later, while working on the second chapter.

[Lord Spitfire]

Hi, guys! I finished the next chapter, i hope you find it apeasing.



Chapter Two: Morale

The low hum of a lightsaber bent and twisted in the air as a man slid his blade through a heavily armored soldier’s throat. The man was clad in black robes with black armor plating on his chest, a hood, and a mask - once worn by Mandalore the Ultimate - covering his face. He held an aura of power, and an aura of a courage, a brutal courage, which would make anyone that fought by his side find the exhiliration to fight to the death.
He held his arm high in the air proudly, his silver lightsaber lighting the night skies of Reckleyon. A confident roar, almost like a battle cry, was heard behind him, as about five hundred humans held their blasters and vibroswords in the air.

The air held an aura of thrill, of victory, and the man suddenly felt a surge of savage honor. The crisp ground crunched under feet, and the cold air wisped and drifted, giving a silent atmosphere as the men started to regroup.

The man drew his lightsaber, and picked up a torn red flag containing a black symbol in the middle of it. It was the flag of the Galactic Republic. Though it was here known as the emblem of the Human Rebellion.

Revan, savior, conqueror, hero, and villain of the Galactic Republic and the Sith Minions had now emerged into the Unknown Regions, which was a place of dictatorship, oppression, and darkness. He knew that the True Sith, rulers of this side of the galaxy, would some day push Revan and the rebellion that he had created back to his side of the galaxy, where the Galactic Republic, Mandalorians, and the outer solar systems would face the Sith head on.

But he needed to buy them more time. Five years was not enough to completely restore a corrupted Republic that stretched through thousands and thousands of solar systems, or gather a shattered group of warriors who were now nothing but common mercenaries, or rebuild the order that he knew was shattered by Darth Nihilus. But the time for that was not now.

Revan trudged through the rocky terrain, the other five hundred men following him. This world reminded him of Korriban; it was a rocky terrain throughout the whole planet, and only one major city that spanned only three hundred kilometers wide. But it was crucial to the war.

Revan finally got to the drop of the cliff, where he overlooked a huge array of tents, with at least twenty thousand soldiers being housed in it. Revan saw a flying platform fly up to the top of the cliff. He stepped on to it alone, letting it take him down just past the entrance of the huge encampment. He shifted through the many tents, noticing that they were all grim, and devoid of all confidence and hope. Hordes of Shyracks had constantly been coming down at them, almost five hundred of those beasts at a time. Terenateks had been launching assaults on their camps in packs of twenty or so, and it took almost thirty men to pull down one. That, adding that the stealthed natives of the planet kept on setting surprise attacks on them, he was not surprised. He put that out of his mind until he got to one particular tent that had two armed guards outside, who saluted at Revan as he walked through.

In the tent stood a man sipping some warm drink, and over looking a datapad set out on a plasteel table. Revan took a seat down next to the man, then took off his mask, revealing his face for the first time. He had brown hair that was combed in something close to a mullet, though it landed gracefully at only just past his collar, and it almost curved over the top of his years. Stubble grew all over his light skin, though tanned and roughened by over thirteen years of war; from the battle of Dxun to the skirmish of Reckleyon.

“Revan,” stated the general as he motioned to the map.

“It seems that we live to fight another day, general. A few Sith spies that have been sent into orbit on this world have been found with about four hundred men on their backs. Luckily, we had over a thousand and were able to rout them out.” Informed Revan with a strange unsettledness in his voice, as if something was going to go wrong, fast.

“That’s good to hear. The Sith cannot find out that our headquarters is hidden in the city. If it is found out that the Reckleyon government has decided to house the rebellion, then the planet will be turned to dust. Well, one already has. I have some bad news for you, Revan. Dreclen has been bombed by the Sith fleet. Their spies picked up a small rebellion colony. But the mass communication was sensed there because they were in contact with us. They thought that out HQ was there, and destroyed the whole planet, the entire colony. Now they think that we are in disarray.”

“Excellent,” breathed Revan.

“What are you talking about? That colony was crucial to our cortosis trade! Our supplies and economy will take a major drop! Not to mention all those people who died.”

“You don’t understand,” breathed Revan with slight emphasis on ‘understand,’ “they think that they hit a major military base. They will hold back their attacks, trying to see their next course of action. Their outposts will loosen, and their cutting off of trade routes and surprise attacks will cease dramatically. It will give us time to regroup, and prepare for the final move.”

“The final move?”

“I never told where I came from didn’t I?” said Revan with some cold aura about him. “I come from past the series of empty hyperspace, where thousands upon thousands of systems lay, most bound by the hand of the Galactic Republic. Why do you think I used the flag as it is? It is because that is the flag of the Republic. It has been . . . ruptured, but it is rebuilding rapidly. As you know, the Sith outnumber us fifty to one.” He stopped, as if to let the general gather his thoughts.

“So, the great mystery of Revan’s home world has been solved,” muttered the general. “Wait, so the republic? It is what governs your side of the galaxy. But that would mean that it would have hundreds of billions of men at their disposal! We could-“

“No, general. It is your help that we could use. If we remain here, we will be defeated. It will take many months, but we will retreat back into the centers of the galaxy itself; to the Republic.”

The general shook his head in disbelief. “It . . . it’s impossible!” he retorted, suddenly angry, “how can we expect to move about four million soldiers and their families over such a vast distance? How do you expect to have these humans – who have spent their life here, all that they have ever known – to suddenly move to the other side of the galaxy? It’s impossible! It would take years to do such a feat, not months. That is, if you manage to convince them to leave! And what about the humans that do not follow the rebellion?”

“They will die!” hissed Revan coldly, “and those who do not follow us will continue to be oppressed by the Sith. They have no choice. And I will bring the truth to their faces! Those who try to stop us will die!”

After a few seconds of calming down, Revan shockingly noticed the hate in his voice; the cold determination. He had been like this ever since he had left. After leaving his entire life behind him to come to the Unknown regions, he had never been at peace with himself. Then there were also his friends. But that was it! Without the pact of a warrior, coded with honor, without someone to rely on him, not only physically, but personally as well, without someone to swear themselves for what he truly his, and without love, he was wounded.

There is no emotion, there is peace. ‘Bah!’ he thought to himself, ‘there is always emotion.’ There is no Passion, there is no serenity. Oh, it was all about passion to him. He could find no serenity. He was lost.

“Revan,” bowed the general as he walked out of the room, leaving Revan in the confusion of his conflicting emotions.


***


Revan leaned lazily back on his chair in the cantina.
He was here for information. He needed to know what the local populace thought of Revan, the insane person who had come out of nowhere to fight the Sith Empire, which enslaved almost all of this part of the galaxy. It had been three months since that day on Reckleyon, and the rebellion was still getting ready to move. Only a few months later, they would have left the galaxy, and a month or so of hyperspace travel after that, they would have arrived at the outer rim of the Republic.

All to escape from the masters of the dark side, only so they could by pushed back again. He had seen a sith before. They were not human. They carried the human form, walked like humans, talked in the same voice as humans, and were only a few inches taller than the average human. But behind all of that red armor plating, laid crimson skin, blank golden eyes, blue hair, and very long, pointed ears. The Sith - as he read in the chronicles of the Jedi Order - were supposed to be more rough, and less alien, but Revan guessed that their mix-breeding with the dark Jedi made them less . . . rough.

But it was not their difference to humans that was scary; it was their similarity. They may have looked different, but they were had the same ties to the force, the same base emotions as all humans do. It was almost as if billions of sith had one day come to the other side of the galaxy to settle, and they eventually evolved into humans through the climate and mix-breeding.

But Revan knew that was not true. He knew it wasn’t, because as he stared into their eyes, his lightsaber pointed at their throats for the final blow, he saw the force in all of its forms. He saw a codex that was life and death.

But they were evil. Well, at least their idea was evil. They had almost all base human emotions, but they also had a bloodlust; they were bringers of death and a new life, a life of hunger.

“So, I see you’re here again.”
Revan looked up to see the human bartender wiping the table.

“Well, not many of us here in this part of the galaxy,” he said roughly, “the Sith come in and take this whole sector of the galaxy! So, you’d understand if I’m glad to see another human here. So, what’s your name?”

“Kale Chaal,” sighed Revan, referring to the name that the Jedi Council had programmed into his mind seven years ago. Revan looked up at the man as he sipped his Juma Juice. “So,” Revan got the bartender’s attention, “what do you think of Revan’s crusade against the Empire?”

The bartender sighed and looked Revan in the eye. “Listen, Kale. Many people follow Revan, and the vast majority are humans. Revan did not launch his crusade as a fight for freedom, but I think he did it as a fight for defense. He isn’t from this sector of the galaxy. He wants to destroy the Sith so that they don’t attack the place where he is from.

"And yet he says he brings us freedom. Well, let me ask this; what happens if the Sith are defeated? Will this sector of the galaxy be able to recover? Will Revan abandon us after the Sith are defeated? And now he leaves the galaxy, and all humans that don't follow him will be condemned to death by suspicion of treason?"

When the Bartender left into the room behind to get more drinks, Revan sighed in frustration.

‘Is this the morale that I am receiving?’ he thought worriedly. But everything the bartender said was true. There would be no stability after the defeat of the Sith.

[Diego Varen]

Another good Chapter, but it needs a bit of polishing, when it comes to dialogue. Parts of it have been split up nicely, leaving a line in between, while others haven't been split. Not a major criticism, but polishing the layout of the Fic would improve the quality of the Fic. Kale Chaal is a good name for Revan too, I'm wondering if that was a random name or a made up one, but either way, it is good.

Look at me, I'm rambling, so I'll sum my opinion up. Good Chapter, needs a bit of polishing and I'm looking foward to more.

[Bee Hoon]

Well, there's still grammatical and word choice errors.

But behind all of that red armor plating, laid crimson skin, blank golden eyes, blue hair, and very long, pointed ears.

I especially have a problem with this bit. Honestly, have you ever seen a human with all of the above? I wouldn't call that being particularly human in appearance.

Not only that, in Chapter 1, why does Bastila tell the exile to attack her as she no longer feels any compassion? Maybe I'm just tired, but it doesn't quite seem to fit.

The storyline is there, but polishing would improve your fic tremendously.

[Lord Spitfire]

Sorry for the rough chapter, guys. I rushed, which I shouldn't have done, and I was too eager to put it up and get feedback. I guess I messed up.

Anyways, thanks for the advice. But Beehoon, I never said that Sith looked exactly like humans, I said that they were humanoids. When Revan thought them to be similar to humans, he meant it as their emotions, and connections to the force, not really appereance. But I guessed i messed up on that, too. I should have clarified it better.

And just to answer your question, Topsite, I used one file with the name "Kale Star," and another called, "Bran Chaal," which wer both random. So, I decided to merge the two and came up with Kale Chaal

I'll do my best to edit, and take time on the next chapter. Don't worry, I promise that the next chapter will not dissapoint you!

[Diego Varen]

Originally Posted by Lord Spitfire

Sorry for the rough chapter, guys. I rushed, which I shouldn't have done, and I was too eager to put it up and get feedback. I guess I messed up.

Take your time. When I first posted Fics, I did the same thing you did, but instead of errors, I just had really short Chapters and hardly anyone commented on them. My advice is to write and check it, before posting it. Good luck!

[Lord Spitfire]

Well, I did a major redo of the chapter, switching some ideas around, and owrding things in a completely different light.

I hope you find this one better.

[Bee Hoon]

I hope I didn't come across as too harsh... I'm really sorry if I did!

There's improvements, but there's still room for more. For example, in chapter one:

I have not left him, Exile!” jutted Bastila, her eyes

Unless I am mistaken, jutted isn't really a good word to use. Perhaps you were trying to convey that Bastila replied angrily, her jutting out defiantly? Do go over it and find similar mistakes. Another one in chapter 2:

‘Is this the morale that I am receiving?’ he thought worriedly.

A more appropriate word would be "support" instead of morale.

Your concept of Revan abandoning those who will not follow is him is good. I never would have thought of that myself! Keep up with the original storyline and work on your style, and you'll have a great fic to show for the effort!

[Diego Varen]

beehoon is right. This storyline is original and with more time spent on each chapter, you'll have a good Fic, as beehoon as already said. Remember, Beta-Readers can help point out your mistakes, but that is only to double check your work, since I've read works written by bad spellers, etc and you're not one of them.

[Lord Spitfire]

Okay, next chapy should be up in a bit. My keyboard keeps getting stuck, so that is why I make a lot of mistakes.

[Lord Spitfire]

Okay, this is my new chapter. I've tried to pace it well, and yet at he same time have balanced descriptions. I think that it's me best so far.

Anyways, enjoy!


Chapter 3: Dark Scoundrel


“So, who exactly are we looking for? And why do we need a pilot?” asked Bastila as they walked through the lower city of Coruscant, the industrial area around mirroring the poverty that came across every turn.

But Jayarede had learned to use it. He had learned to feel the pain, the suffering of those around him, and he looked at it from all perspectives, all points of view, until he could find the true problem. It helped his perception of the force increase, and it made him wiser and stronger with the force if he could feel the problem.

“Jayarede, I asked you a question.”

“You’ll see.”

Jayarede could see wisps of his breaths as he spoke, the rain pouring down on the cold Coruscant streets. But Jayarede’s water-proof grey-Jedi cloak covered the black leather robes he wore inside, the same robes that the Sith Assassins on Peragus had worn. The only part of his dark skin that showed was his eyes and stubble-covered face, as his hood covered the fairly long black hair.

He was aware of everything around him, from Bastila’s steady breathing, to the presence of revenge and darkness that told him that they were getting close.

“Wait. I feel something . . . something of the dark side. Almost like a power,” whispered Bastila as they stopped near an alleyway.

“That means that we are getting close,” said Jayarede.

“You seek help from a . . . a Sith?”

“Don’t be so quick to judge the Sith. You use the dark side now, so technically, you too are part Sith, even if you do use the light side to fuel you. The dark side carries more than you know. There are not only Sith.” He said ominously.

He tore off his cloak, letting his assassin robes show. “Wait here,” he whispered.

He quickly crept past the alleyway, but not after activating his Eradu Stealth Generator. A few steps in, he saw about five aliens of different races surrounding a man. The man had light skin and short brown hair that spiked out at the front. But that held no loom over his face, which had the strange feeling that he was always suspicious that something was watching over his back. His eyes were almost evil, much like Jayarede’s eyes, except that his irises and pupils were blank. There was some edge to him that hinted he was in his early twenties. He had a menacing presence, but he was actually quite handsome.

[So you here. We be looking for you for long time. Big bounty on head, could give us fortune!] laughed a typically slimy rodian with a heavy rifle.

The man’s fingers twitched towards his belt pistol, but his arm was left unmoving.

Jayarede took the two Echani Pistols that he kept in the small packs under the leather flaps on his assassin’s robe that covered his thigh and quads both back and front, neatly wrapped around his black leather pant.

‘A Jedi Watchman always has a handy pistol at his side,’ he thought humorously.

[This is enough! Let’s get him!] Roared a twi’lek who lunged at the man with his vibroblade. But before his blade could come down, two laser shots were engrained in his chest, and he fell limply to the floor.

“Anyone comes near me; dead.” His words were short and simple, yet he spoke with a menacing, intimidating voice.

Four aliens were left. They looked at each other, and nodded.

[Fire!] Roared a Trandoshan. The Trandoshan ran towards him with his vibrosword, but was shot down. The man quickly feinted to the right to avoid a blaster bolt, then shot down the Devaronian that shot it. But before he could react, the rodian rained a score of rapid fire on the man, who was caught on his side. His thin shirt burned as the blaster fire tore his skin.

He screamed in pain, crumpled to the ground, and tried desperately to breathe normally as the Rodian crept up to him, ready to fire the final killing blow.

But that was when Jayarede came in. Without making a sound, he slid to the left, positioned both of his pistols until he knew one would hit the back of the alien’s head, while the other would catch his thigh.

He pulled the trigger with force and retracted it back with a steady jerk, spurring the blast off with extra propelling force. The laser bolts flew and spun through the air until they met their intended destination. Jayarede smiled coldly. The place where he aimed at was a . . . a beheading point. The Rodian’s slime head slipped off and rolled on the floor, whereas the body fell lightly to the ground with a thump.

Just the moment Jayarede deactivated his Eradu Stealth Generator, Bastila came running around the alley.

“What happened?!” she asked, exasperated.

Jayarede held up a hand to silence her, after he had slipped his Echani Pistols back into the small slots. His eyes were on the man, who was breathing heavily.

The man winced as he stood up to lean against the wall. Blood was still gushing out of his stomach and side, his skin left bare and exposed to the pouring rain.

“Who . . . [cough, cough,] who are you?” he rasped into the air. Strangely, his irises and pupils had returned after the Rodian fell, making his eyes completely normal.

Jayarede walked forward until he was right in front of the man, with Bastila right behind him, her hands itching for her lightsaber. “Calm down . . .” breathed Jayarede irritatingly as he saw Bastila’s narrowed eyes, and uncomfortable aura. “Don’t rip him to shreds. He’s just what we’re looking for.”

“What makes you think I am going to help you, Jedi?” hissed the man coldly. “I’m Drendellean of Gourged. One of the finest bounty hunters in all the core worlds. So if you think that saving my life will get you my loyalty, then think again, Jedi!”

“Well, it sure looks like the ‘Greatest Bounty Hunter of the Core Worlds’ has his hands on top of things. Getting you stomach blasted open and cracking your ribs is all in a day’s work, isn’t it? You’re too tough for a Rogue, too smart for a soldier, and too arrogant for a scout. So let me make a proposal to you, scoundrel. I’ve heard of your skills. If you ensign with us, I’ll give you ten thousand credits once we reach our destination.”

Drendellean cocked an eyebrow. After narrowing his eyes, hiding his deep thought behind a wall of coldness and hate that was sprawled on his face, he finally spoke in a voice rough, yet which the same volume effect of a whisper, “Alright, Jedi. I’ll be your pilot, slicer, repair man, pistol-jockey, or clown; any of those five things. If you want a heavily-armed assault marine with five tons of armor on their back and the stiffness of a bodyguard, then you have the wrong man. I’m just in this for the credits. Oh, and yes. I’ve had bones broken and organs ripped open many times. I . . . have my ways of surviving.” His hand seemed to twitch toward an array of stims on his pack.

Jayarede gave a satisfied smile. He simply started walking, and went past Bastila. Drendellean followed as he injected the stims in his side, ignoring the gushing blood with an aura of endurance. As he walked by, he saw Bastila narrow her eyes, but then follow behind him.


“The Capitol ships are in position, Commander. All of the soldiers and their families have boarded on the Interdictor ships, as you ordered. But, why put the civilians on the capitols ships, commander?”

Revan scratched the stubble on his face before he put his mask back on, hiding whatever expressions that could betray him. “We don’t have enough money for transports, plus they will be well protected in the defenses. But anyways, how long should it be before we are in hyperspace travel?”

“One week, sir.”

Revan ignored him as he looked at the huge hangar, holding the Interdictor ship, Fire Siphoner II, a duplicate of Saul Karath’s Leviathan, and a second to Revan’s old flagship during the Mandalorian and Jedi Civil wars, and his new flagship now. Their entire fleet was now in space, about fifty capitol ships in a formation, with the Fire Siphoner II in the middle. Only about eighty thousand people had joined them, and only about thirty thousand of them being soldiers. Revan knew he was leaving the other hundred thousand humans to die in suspicion of treason, and he knew that he should have felt guilty about what he did, but he somehow felt no remorse, no pity. It had been that way ever since he had his memories back after the Star Forge, after he had ‘saved’ the Republic.

“Sir?” asked the captain. He had very dark skin, and a shaven head.

“Huh? Oh, yes, very good. Once we are in hyperspace, it should only be three weeks after we enter hyperspace before we get to the Mandalore System, our destination.”

“Sir,” objected the captain, “it will take more life three or four months to cover so many light-years.”

“You underestimate the reliability of the Rakata Capitol ships,” hissed Revan. He suddenly faltered, realizing who he was sounding like.

“Yes, sir!”

As he left, Revan for the first time thought what it would be like to see everyone that he left behind again. He knew one thing. The Republic would be stable and ready, under the flag of Carth Onasi. And the Jedi would be ready, by the help of an old friend. He had seen the future, and he had seen the return of the Jedi Exile.

And the galaxy would soon see the return of Revan. Savior, conqueror, hero, villain, Jedi, Sith, Commander.

[Diego Varen]

I have to agree that this is your best chapter so far. Remember that the Force needs a capital (lightsaber, pistols, etc doesn't). Anyway, good chapter as always and sorry for not checking the chapter over for you, since I'm busy nowadays. Looking foward to more.

[Master Demonius]

Jayarede gave a satisfied smile. He simply started walking, and went past Bastila. Drendellean followed as he injected the stims in his side, ignoring the gushing blood with an aura of endurance. As he walked by, he saw Bastila narrow her eyes, but then follow behind him.


“The Capitol ships are in position, Commander. All of the soldiers and their families have boarded on the Interdictor ships, as you ordered. But, why put the civilians on the capitols ships, commander?”

in between these 2 paragraphs i would recoomend putting something like this
* * * *
so people can see that you change who your writing about. other than that i noticed a few spelling mistakes.
by the way this is really good so far

[Lord Spitfire]

Thanks you all for the comments. I am glad you liked it!

Anyways, the next chapter should clarify your question of the DS Bastila, Behoon.

It should be up pretty soon. It's going to be much longer than the rest of the chapters, but it is crucial to the plot.

[Bee Hoon]

It is very much better! Good job with the previous chapter. As again, just a few suggestions to help streamline things:

But that held no loom over his face, which had the strange feeling that he was always suspicious that something was watching over his back."

The first part of the sentence is pretty confusing... What do you mean that his hair had no loom over his face?

His eyes were almost evil, much like Jayarede’s eyes, except that his irises and pupils were blank.

If his irises and pupils were blank, I'm pretty sure that he would be blind!

Without making a sound, he slid to the left, positioned both of his pistols until he knew one would hit the back of the alien’s head, while the other would catch his thigh.

It's like Jayarede's going to throw the pistols at the alien's head!

Revan knew he was leaving the other hundred thousand humans to die in suspicion of treason, and he knew that he should have felt guilty about what he did, but he somehow felt no remorse, no pity.

What do you mean by suspicion of treason? Apart from that minor detail, it's an excellent characterization of Revan!

I'll be looking out for your explanation Keep it coming but take your time to review every chapter.

[Lord Spitfire]

Hi, guys. The next chapter is up. I've tried to make it flow well, as I can't find a way to seperate this into two chapters. Thanks for the tips, everyone!

And a few things:

With the 'Held no loom over his face,' I meant that his spiked out hair did not loom out over his face, or cast a shadow on it.

With the eye thing; well, that's something you'll have to find out later in the story.

And when i say treason, I mean that the Sith (True Sith, that is) will think that the remaining humans are spies stayed back, so they would be executed.







Chapter Four: The Front Lines

“Well, this sure beats the streets,” scoffed Drendellean as he laid down on one of the sofas in Bastila’s apartment in the living room.

“Get off! I just decided not to chop you to pieces, and I’m not going to let you lie on my couch!” shrieked Bastila as Drendellean was thrown into the wall with the force.

“Relax, Princess. The mean little bounty hunter isn’t going to ruin your little chair,” mocked Jayarede, who couldn’t help but give out a laugh.

Drendellean heaved himself up, wiping the blood away from the nose he had cut while being thrown to the wall. “Look, Jedi. I sit where I want. You think I trust a Jedi? I saw what happened on- Never mind. Thing is, I know you might have a thing for a smuggler, but I do what I want.” His words were hissed, and every sound he made, it was of hate, anger, passion.

Bastila let out a breath. “The Dark Side runs through you strongly, almost as if you are a . . . a shrine of darkness. If you try one thing, you will be beheaded before you can say ‘dark Jedi!’”

“Shut up! Both of you! You can kill each other after we reach the Mandalore system. But for now, we need to stay on the task at hand!” hissed Jayarede. Bastila and Drendellean glowered at each other, neither one giving up. Tensions gripped inside the three of them, until Bastila finally backed down. Drendellean grinned at his victory, and turned to on of the bedrooms (Bastila took the main bedroom, while Jayarede slept on the floor in the mediation chambers).

After he closed the door, Jayarede turned to Bastila. “Why don’t you trust him? When I first saw you again, I felt your mind’s structure and your underlying power of the light, yet you were fueled by the passion and the determination, the anger, of the dark side. Tell me, when we were at the academy, you were always the Master’s Pet, a follower of the light side, always scolding us when we did something wrong as if you were one four years older, not us. Since when did you become a gray Jedi?”

Bastila turned to the window, laying her hand at the windowsill, the loud noises of Coruscant raging outside. “It- it’s a long story.”

“Oh, just shut up and spit out the damn story!”

Bastila sighed. “It started when Revan turned to the dark side and led his armada out against the Republic. In the middle of the war, I had to face the daunting task of leading an assault on his flagship and capturing him on the bridge. You don’t understand what I was feeling, knowing that the man that I loved, that was always there for me, was either going to kill me and the other Jedi, or I would kill him with the help of the Jedi. I knew capture was not a choice. So as I faced him on the bridge, time seeming to stop, Malak fired on the bridge and Revan was knocked out, almost dead.”

Bastila stopped for a while. Jayarede was listening intently at the story, taking in every word and its meaning, trying to work out all the pieces. “And then?”

“Well, I couldn’t leave him there for dead. I should have, for the sake of the galaxy, but I couldn’t. I took him to the Jedi Council, and they reprogrammed his damaged mind, and made him a smuggler, who was hired under my command.”

“You brainwashed Revan?!” rasped Jayarede in disbelief, and signs of anger. “You mean he forgot about everything, about you, about Malak, about me? He forgot all about his best friends and his lover? Or did you love him, only used him as a tool to of the Jedi. It wouldn’t be the first time!”

His words hit Bastila like a rod of cortosis. Tears welled up behind her eyes, as she masked what she could in a contortion of emotions.

Jayarede took a step back, realizing what he had just said. “I’m . . . I’m sorry. Continue.”

Bastila took a gulp, then breathed slowly. “So when we were on the same ship, it was destroyed, and he, I, and a Republic war hero Carth Onasi, crash landed on Taris.”

“Admiral Onasi?” asked Jayarede as he remembered the conversation with him before he went to Malachor. “So you mean your ship was the Endar Spire?”

“Yes. Anyways, I was a prisoner from a gang. Revan eventually was able to free me, and we got off the planet with the help of a Mandalorian named Canderous-“

“Ordo,” finished Jayarede in disbelief.

“Y-yes, Ordo.” ‘How the hell did he know that?’ “Anyways, we got off Taris, which was then bombed by Malak. We went to the academy on Dantooine, where Revan trained to be a Jedi Sentinel, like you and me and like he did before, and we went on a quest to find the star forge. Through the course of the journey, Revan followed truly to the path of the light side. But as we got to the third star map – which were clues to finding the star forge, which you already know about – he started to breed anger and hate, and started to get unsure and confused. Before we went into space after finding the third of four star map, he . . . he said he loved me.”

There was a long silence. It was now raining heavily outside again, thunder now sounding.

“Did you still love him?” asked Jayarede.

Bastila sighed. “Yes. Yes I did. And, for the first time in eight years, I said it, and memories from before the wars came rushing back. We . . . decided to keep it off until the end of the mission.”

“And then something terrible happened, didn’t it?”

“Yes. We were pulled in from orbit by the Leviathan, as you know about. We managed to escape, but before we did, we faced Malak. He and Revan dueled, but Malak stopped. He said that there was more of his old self in him than he expected. Revan didn’t know what he was talking about, so he revealed Revan’s secret. He was . . . shocked, to say the least. He blamed me for not telling him, and a blast of anger, hate, confusion, and love burst through him. He dueled Malak again, but this time, he pushed Malak to his limits. He fought like a Sith. But eventually, Malak defeated him. But before he could pull the finishing blow, I came in and held him off so that Revan and Carth could get back to the Ebon Hawk.

“I could feel through our Force Bond that he was shattered, confused, and angry, as they went for the last star map. But Malak turned me to the dark side. He told me that if I became his apprentice, Revan would be spared. I accepted, but I was unable to control my emotions, so I fell. We then met on a Rakatan temple, where we chose the light side over me. We again met at the star forge, when all I wanted was to kill him and prove myself. But he defeated me, and he turned me back to the light side. He said he still loved me. And I . . . I had to face the truth. I had become a monster, and yet he still stood up for me, even after all I had done to him. I was redeemed. The rest you know. He killed Malak, became a hero, he left, everyone was shocked, thought he was dead, then moved on.”

“You still haven’t answered my question,” observed Jayarede. “How come you became a gray Jedi after he redeemed you?”

Bastila turned to Jayarede for the first time. “After that, it all went well. Revan became a Knight, and a Jedi Watchman soon after, the first in many years. But, I could never turn back to the light fully. And neither could Revan. So he embraced the entity of the force as it is truly, and so did I. I had little choice, anyways. I had to leave the order, for it was corrupt. The old order was a democracy, where the Jedi Watchman would oversee the Jedi Masters, who would command the Jedi Weapon Masters, who would oversee the Watchman, who would all govern over the Knights and Padawans and Apprentices. It was then nothing more than an Oligarchy. The Watchman and Weapon Masters are gone, and the arrogant Masters rule with the light side, but a manipulated light side. Nihilus did a favor by whipping them out.

“But again to Revan, when he killed Malak, the swirl of the force caused Revan to become Revan again, starting right where he left off on his flagship. And everything that his programmed identity did, even defeating Malak seconds earlier, became a distant memory. And he remembered you . . . saying something before you went back after Malachor. And it told him you would return. So I have been waiting this whole time, waiting for you, as he told me to. Are you satisfied now?”

That last statement hung in the air. Did he know what he wanted to? Yes. Was he satisfied? No. He opened his mouth to say something, but turned around and headed for the meditation room, while Bastila went to her room.

*

Drendellean lay down on the bed, looking out of the window into the Coruscant night. He sighed as his irises and pupils once again went blank, but then back to normal after a few seconds, when he exhaled. He had to get them to the Mandalore System. And it wasn’t just for the credits.

There was a vibration in his pocket, so he took out his small holodisk and laid it on his hand, standing up straight. A figure then appeared.

He was clad in greenish-gray body armor, with a huge rifle in his hands that looked like it weighed a ton. Since he wore no helmet, and the ragged face of a man in his sixties with battle scars all over his face, and a tired, ravaged look in his eye gave a subtle edge to his already menacing look. But despite his age, hair was combed back and touched the tip of his armor. The hair looked like it was newly grown after a long time with a short cropped style. Matching his hair, a thick gray beard worked across his face, and anyone who fought in the Mandalorian wars would know exactly who that was.

“I have the Exile, Mandalore. My dark aura was able for him to find me. The plan worked. The best thing is that his intended destination was the Mandalore system in the first place,” said Drendellean as he went on one knee in front of the holodisk, bending his head in a slight bow.

When he spoke, the man’s voice was rough and deep. “Good. I have gathered the Mandalore clans together, and we are now moving to the Mandalore system, our old fortress before the Wars, and the place of our founding. We will then settle on Mandalore Prime, where the old city of the Mandalorians will once again shroud in glory. But you must bring him here!” the last sentence was hissed, cold, and menacing. “I don’t need to tell you the consequences if he is dead. Am I understood, scoundrel?”

Drendellean’s face remained passive. “Yes, Mandalore. But may I ask one thing?”

“Speak.”

“Do you intend to interrogate the Exile after we bring you to him, for answers?” Drendellean asked with a gleefully cold tone in his voice.

“The Exile is an ally.”

Slight disappointment emanated from Drendellean. “What about the Jedi whom I travel with? Bastila Shan? What about her?”

“She, too, is an ally. We will need her and the Exile to fight the true enemy.”

“Revan!” Drendellean breathed, half to himself. It was almost as if the pieces were fitting together.

The man shook his head in the projector. “No. Revan, in fact, is the one whom we all serve. He is the main catalyst in the war that is to come. We Mandalorians are just here to aid him. And you are the one that will take Jayarede, who will take the Jedi. Don’t fail me, or else it will be the last oath you ever break.” And the hologram disappeared.

Drendellean got up, put the holodisk back in his pocket, and headed out into the main room. So this was it. Everything was going to happen in the Mandalore system. The battle of the time, and he would be there to see it, he would be part of it. He was too young to fight in the Mandalore wars or Jedi Civil War, but now, the fate of the galaxy for Millennia, even eons, to come, was on his hands. He instinctually knew that the Mandalore system would be only the first step in something big. He could feel it. He knew it.

There was a low rumble. Drendellean looked out at the landing pad that was connected out of this apartment, and saw a ship dock. Immediately, Bastila and Jayarede came rushing out. Jayarede smiled slightly, but Bastila went pale.

“It . . . it c-can’t be! How? Who- Can someone tell me what the hell is going on?!” splattered Bastila, exasperated.

“It looks like the Hawk has caught it’s prey. Oh, the fastest ship in the galaxy. Let’s go.” They went through the door out of the living room, where it connected out of a landing pad, and the Ebon Hawk stood. A small utility droid came rushing out the loading ramp.

It started bleeping hysterically as it reached Jayarede, it’s “eye” flashing on and off as if it were malfunctioning.

“No,” muttered Bastila. “No way. It . . . it can’t be. If you were the one he found, then . . . “

“Then what?” said Jayarede, “So I found the Hawk one day. Surprised? Come on. Let’s get to the ship. Now let’s see how good of a pilot you really are, bounty hunter.”

Drendellean’s eyebrow cocked, giving a, ‘All right, I’m listening. What’s your offer?’ look.

Jayarede smiled devilishly, then looked out at the sky. “The Coruscant blockade lies above this planet’s orbit. The entire Republic fleet is orbiting this solar system of the core worlds, and Coruscant is the one Core World especially guarded. About a hundred thousand Capitol ships – containing a total of about eighty-million Republic troops – Are covering this system. I am now a Hero – confidentially, of course – to the Republic fleet. If they identify us, we will be brought in for questioning, and that won’t be good, for they will be on our backs this whole journey. I need you to use maneuvering, stealth, cloaking, and good timing to get us out of here unseen and undetected. Can you do that, scoundrel?”

Drendellean’s expression looked passive, with his regular tainted apathy to it, until something of a slight smiled crept on his face. “You’re crazy. I like crazy.”

*

“Kelborn, I need an update. How many of our Capitol ships have already landed on Mandalore Prime? What clans did they hold?” commanded Mandalore, his voice rough and intimidating, as always. His helmet only added to his menacing aura.

Kelborn bowed curtly at Mandalore, who was looking out from the bridge of the Mandalorian Capitol ship. “Clan Ferdorn, Clan Dusk, and Clan Bullfire have already landed and are now colonizing Mandalore City. We now have about five hundred Capitol ships in space, and about fifteen on ground in Mandalore City. Our current soldier count is two million Mandalorians, around.”

Mandalore continued to stare out at the Mandalore System, at the different planets that were now being colonized. There were four planets in the system, including Mandalore Prime, their new be of operations. ‘Two million,’ he thought as he gazed out. There weren’t even seven hundred soldiers when the Exile arrived on Dxun. It had been six months since the destruction of Malachor, and the Exile had given him the same order as Revan had given him. Gather the Mandalorian clans. And he did. Traveling the space, he found thousands of different clans. Turned out Ordo wasn’t the only group to gather themselves. He then sent the clans to Dxun, an excess of almost two million, and here they were, in the Mandalore system. It was miraculous, after only thirteen years, the Mandalorians were a force again – nothing, compared to the Republic – but a force growing and powerful.

He remembered his first battle, as he and the Mandalorians had joined with Exar Kun forty-five years ago. He was only fifteen, but he remembered the thrill of the battle. And here he was, sixty years old, now joining forces with the Republic.

“Mandalore?”

“Yes, very good. Prepare a shuttle. I wish to see Mandalore prime. I haven’t seen it since we began our crusade twenty five years ago, and I need to oversee the colonization. You keep the fleet in order and control the colonization of the other three planets. Give me constant updates. I’ll be in my chambers. Any who disturb me without a call first will be stripped of their rank and imprisoned. Am I clear?”

“Yes, Mandalore!”

He walked half-subconsciously to his room. This ship was almost exactly like the Ravager, another Mandalorian vessel. Yet this ship was not damaged, and it had a metallic feel to it. On the inside, it was completely different. The walls were made of gleaming metal, lighting the whole ship from the inside. They were a lot like the Republic capitol ships, but with a more organic architecture. It was even menacing, to some extent.

Mandalore sighed as he got to his room – it was small, one-man, with a bathroom door in the corner and only one bed on the wall – and as he laid his hologram projector on his bed. Suddenly, a man in black robes and dark-gray chest plating appeared over the projector.

Mandalore bowed on one knee in front of the man. “We have begun colonizing the Mandalore system, and Mandalore city is already in full battle readiness once we station our troops there. We will be ready for whatever your little enemies could throw against us!” Mandalore proudly proclaimed.

It was clear from the hologram that the man – who also had a great black hood covering his hair and head – had a faint smile on his lips, and his fierce eyes lit a little. “Once again, you underestimate your opponent, Canderous. These True Sith are as strong as a Mandalorian. The fact that they outnumber your small army twenty-thousand to one doesn’t help matters, either. You said you had two million this morning, right? I need at least fife-hundred thousand more. These are the front lines, Canderous! Surely you, of all people, should know that keeping that held for a long time could be crucial in a war! Don’t get too comfortable. You’ll be forced to retreat soon enough, where you will return on Dxun. Oh, and how is the colonization there?”

Mandalore slightly flinched at the sound of that name, ‘Canderous.’ He had not been called that in a long time. “It is going well. We have installed three new Battle camps. And Onderon is getting daily reinforcements from the Republic. There are now almost a million soldiers stationed around Onderon, them and the Republic. That whole system is well guarded.”

Revan nodded. “Good. They will be crucial in the war to come. And so will you, Canderous. As Mandalore, I tell you in advance that you will be given a job in this war, you and your Mandalorian allies.

“I leave you to the colonization. Make sure the defenses are strong. We need more reinforcements.” And he vanished.

Mandalore got to his feet. Thoughts were racing through his mind, stopped by a ringing sound.

[Master Demonius]

a very good chapter i have no complaints so i cant wiat to read the next one

[Diego Varen]

Originally Posted by Master Demonius

a very good chapter i have no complaints so i cant wiat to read the next one

I agree. There is nothing that needs changing, unless someone points something out.

[Lord Spitfire]

Thanks you for the comments! I'm glad all of you liked it.

Next capter should be up soon.

[Lord Spitfire]

Okay, I have done my best to edit this, but I cannot help but rush . . . . man, I'm damn eager!

Chapter Five: The Citadel

“You already know. You have seen it in those who travel with you. They echo you.” Rang a voice through the darkness. There was a figure. A man, standing in front of a garden, a monument from the ruins. He was a man with slightly dark skin, black hair, and grey robes donned on his body. His eyes betrayed everything. They were of anger, of hate, of guilt, and . . . of doubt.

Three figures were in front of him, as if judging him, putting him on trial, at the edge of fate itself. “You are a cipher. A whole that must be filled.” Black fog trickled over the scene, and there were voices. After a few seconds, the same scene was there, except another of the three men were talking.

“You were deafened.”

A voice – a cold and mysterious voice – was said through the chamber, through the planet, through the echo of the Universe.

“At last, you could hear,” it spoke.

“You were blinded.”

“At last, you could see.”

“You were torn.”

“And . . . at last, you were whole.”

Everything went black.

Sweat poured down Jayarede’s face, dampening the pillow. It was a dream, it was all a dream. And yet as the glowering lights drove into him, enveloping in an intense warmth that was almost soothing in the cold ship, he reluctantly opened his eyes and sat up. He found himself in a cold room – just like the rest of the Ebon Hawk – the healing room, just behind the projector room. He sat in bed, topless, with only a black cotton pant on him. He ripped off the blanket, and just then found Bastila and Drendellean rush into the room.

“What happened?” inquired Drendellean, with a little more curiosity than concern.

“What- what are you talking about?” demanded Jayarede, his mind a fumbled mess as he tried to gather his thoughts.

“You were screaming in your sleep,” replied Bastila, a little worry in her voice, “we could make out a few words, but they were mostly just a jumbled mess.

Jayarede blinked – his mind being orientated again – as he strode over to a footlocker and grabbed a thin white half-sleeve shirt that he slipped on his topless upper body, tucking it under his pant. He then slipped on a long gray shirt that fell to his knees, after he put on two packs at his thighs. “It . . . it’s nothing,” assured Jayarede as he buckled on his belt, showing that the long grey shirt was actually the torso of a robe. The torso was almost gray leather, and it matched with his black pants as he put on his socks, shoes, and his boot on top of that. He then slipped on his black gloves, slid his double bladed lightsaber in his robe, and he was fully dressed in his Sith Assassin Robes. ‘Strange,’ he thought to himself. ‘I am a Jedi Watchman, and yet I wear the robes of my exact opposite.’
“Where are we?” he asked Drendellean, changing the topic.

“Well, we’ve made it out of the Core Worlds,” he said while scratching the back of his head. “We’re right now floating in space. I was waiting for you to give the order on when to stop next. The Mandalore system’s too far off, and we don’t even have the coordinates yet. So, where should we go?”

He walked past the two of them until he was in the Projector room. “First off,” he said with a little bit of a devilish smile, “I need to . . . reactivate an old friend.”

Drendellean cocked his eyebrow. “A droid?”

Jayarede wordlessly walked through the projection room, and opened a door to a small room. And in the middle was a shut down, rusty assassin droid. “No.” stated Bastila simply. “No way in hell are you going to reactivate that assassin droid! No way!”

Jayarede gave a small smile as he pressed a concealed button at the droid’s neck. It immediately lit to life.

It’s – his – eyes flickered when he saw Jayarede. “Statement: HK-47 ready to serve, Master!” he said in a plain, yet mischievously savage voice.

“Who’s this?” asked Drendellean.

“A bloodthirsty, psychotic, homicidal assassin droid,” stated Jayarede simply. “His name is HK-47.”

The droid’s eyes flickered until they landed on Bastila. “Interrogative Declaration: What is the Jedi Princess doing aboard here, master?”

Jayarede almost smiled truly, but he gave another smile devoid of almost any emotion, just as any smile he had shown in a long time. He looked at Bastila. “Jedi Princess?” he asked with a cocked eyebrow.

“Don’t ask.”

“I see. Well, this is the Jedi Princess, and this is a bounty hunter we hired. You can call him the Shabby Meatbag, though,” he said to HK, who nodded simply.

He turned to the four of them. “Drendellean,” he said simply, “I want you to get to the cockpit and plot a course for Telos. Bastila, go to the camera room and make sure all systems are green. T3, work on your repairs around the ship, and HK, go to the garage and work on upgrading our weapons at the workbench,” he ordered as all four of them went off to do their jobs.

And Jayarede stood alone in the projector room. After about a minute of just standing there, he made his way to the cargo hold. He could feel the sound of his boots clipping against the metal on the way, and when he got there, he closed the door and sat in the middle of the large room, centering himself . . . separating his mind from everything around him, and reaching out to the force.

He felt the currents of the force, bringing to him everything that it touched. He could feel the currents of light and dark, binding themselves together to form the power that flowed through his empty body; devoid of the force. The currents came through him and flowed out, as power of the force enveloped his mind, and he was immersed in it. The dark side was fueling his focus and concentration, and the light side steadying him.

Ever since he became a Jedi Watchman, he could feel the force more clearly, and began to understand it more. He made himself a man of both the light and dark. He was not a Jedi, though that was his title, as ‘Watchman.’ Jedi used the light side. He was not a Sith. They used the dark side. And he was not a Gray Jedi, in a way. A Gray Jedi used neither, but used the balance of all things and turned it for their own use. He used both the Light and the Dark, and so he was a . . . different kind of Gray Jedi.

And he used the power that coursed through him to reach out his mind to the farthest depths of the force, until he was finally in a state of total concentration, feeling the past, present, and future as one.

He saw a ragged battle field. Tortured skies enveloped a huge kaleidoscope of different colors as explosions and grenades blasted, mixing with the color of the black, rocky terrain. The screams of the dead tore through the battles all around, and a lone man about twenty years old ran through the bloodbath. He was running through a black valley, through heavy scores of blaster fire, dodging the warriors in full-body armor plating that fell from the sky in their parachutes, trying desperately to gun the lone man down.

The man – knowing that the two lightsabers, one short blue one and another normal-sized silver one in the main hand could not deflect blaster fire anymore – did a superhuman jump to the gap between two black rocks, watching as rows of Republic troops fell continuously. He took out a small disk from inside his Jedi Knight robes, and laid it on the ground. Suddenly, a hologram figure appeared.

The figure wore black robes around gray chest armor, and a hood came over his face, concealed by a mask.

“I can’t hold on much longer!” screamed the man to the hologram. “We have to retreat!” He looked up to see arrays of capitol ships blocking most of the sunlight. It was true. Not only could they not hold out much longer, but he couldn’t. blood was sprawled all around one side of his face – most of it his – and his own blood had already messed the robe from the inside. His hand had been slashed by a vibroblde, and his legs buckled, begging him to just collapse and rest his legs for just a few seconds. But he couldn’t.

“Wait!” said the man in the hologram. “We are close, so close! The MSG is almost operational. Then, we will let these Mandalorians taste the wrath of Revan!”

The man outside gave a ravaged cough, rage emanating from him. “All they are tasting now is the joy of slaughtering our soldiers! The Mass Shadow Generator will not only destroy our enemies, they will destroy us!”

“Which is why I am sending for a transport, so that you can get off the planet,” replied the hologram simply.

“And what about the rest of these men here? What about them?” asked the man, somehow already knowing the answer.

“They will die!” hissed the hologram. “And they will die for the Republic. Now get to your post, and hold on! Just a little bit longer!”

The hologram disappeared. Tears rolled down the man’s eyes. It was necessary. There was no other way, and he knew it.

With one last battle cry, he leapt into the heat of the fray, going into a frenzied fury, cutting each of the heavily-armored Mandalorians down with only a single stroke of his lightsaber to cut through their armor. He nearly broke vibroblades in two. But there, in the heat of battle, a power blast hit his already heavily wounded body at the side.

With a scream, he fell to the ground, his mouth tasting the poison dirt that the battle had done to the once rich soil only days before. Blood was everywhere on his body and he could slowly feel the tendrils of life leaving him.

As he forced his head up, he could see a woman, with a lightsaber, fighting over her general’s almost dead body.

He almost smiled as he watched her – and about two other Jedi – surrounding his fallen body.

But then he saw the two Jedi fall – and then the woman with a vibroblade sticking out of her back.

He gave one last rasped breath as a few medics pulled him onto a stretcher and brought him to a ship. The ship flew away from the planet, away from Malachor, away from the graveyard it was about to be.

Jayarede fell back to the floor. ‘No!’ he thought to himself. ‘I don’t want to live through it, ever again!’ But he got up again, and easily picked up where he left off in the currents. ‘To know the back future, one must understand the past,’ Jayarede corrected himself. He felt the flashback again. He needed to feel life as it truly was, through the past. But the memories went through him, and he suffered again – memories of his exile, memories of what he felt as he faced trial – in the council chamber on Coruscant and then ten years later of Dantooine. They were enslaving him, killing his will. He could find to escape from it – and yet, he could not understand enough to feel the future. He knew it, but he did not fully understand it.

He pulled away from the force, and ended up knocked back towards the floor. ‘They haunt me,’ he thought to himself. ‘They haunt me to no end. I will never understand it – not until many years time, and yet they still enslave me. There is no escape. I need the Force to flow through my empty body, fueling it. But I must feel the pain. Hunger for it. Manipulate it.’

Pain. Hunger. Manipulation.

He used it to fuel him.

Peace. Serenity. Compassion.

He used it to steady him.

He truly was a master of the Force.

But only a servant of himself.

He calmed himself as he got to his feet, hearing footsteps in his direction. He brushed the black hair out of his eyes as he saw Bastila standing in the doorway only moments later.

“All systems are green,” she said simply. “We have already made the jump into hyperspace and should be on Telos in a around four or five hours.”

* * *

We’re taking her in for a landing,” announced Drendellean as he landed the Ebon Hawk on the pad in Citadel Station.

After he did, all five of them gathered in the main projector room, where Jayarede stood, waiting for them all to arrive. When Drendellean walked in, Jayarede began to speak.

“Alright, this is the plan. We’re going to stop on Telos to get some supplies and recuperate and get some repairs for the ship. Once we’re back, it might take a few days to install those repairs to both the turrets, shields, and basically patch this ship up. It may not look like it from the inside, but the ship won’t last long in this state, if you look at how it is.” ‘I’m just lucky it didn’t lose half of the entire ship after it crashed on Malachor!’ he thought to himself. “Anyways, I will meet with Lt. Grenn, and Bastila and HK will accompany me. Drendellean, you and T3 stay on the ship and try to break the Navicomputer code.”

Drendellean looked puzzled. “Why? What’s so good about the Navicomputer?”

“It has a record of the previous owner of this ship – Revan – and his plans for the coordinates that he would use. If you can trace those coordinates, then we – as in Bastila, I, and the droids – will have a clue to where Revan is, after we pay you for your services and you go on your way after we get to the Mandalore system,” he explained patiently.

“Well, I don’t like sitting here and trying to break a computer code, but I guess I will.”

Wordlessly, Jayarede walked towards the loading ramp, with Bastila and HK following behind him.

As they entered the docking bay and through the Entertainment Module 081, they got nods and salutes along the way which were directed to Jayarede. It had been five months, but it would be a long time before Telos would forget the day that the Jedi Exile led Telos to victory over the startling Sith numbers that nearly destroyed the planet . . . again.

Telos had been growing ever since, and the barren wastes were rapidly deteriorating with Czerka finally banned from the project after their attack on the Ithorians. But Citadel Station would always be on Telos’s surface, even when the planet is restored to its glory. It would be a main government province, even when many cities prosper past it. He almost subconsciously walked to Lt. Grenn’s office, where he sat at his desk, reading a datapad. He looked up, surprised to see the three of them standing in front of him.

“Oh,” he said, not knowing what to say. The door to his office closed behind them. “I did not expect you. I had not yet received news that you have docked . . . But anyways, what brings you back to Telos?”

“I need you to do us a favor,” said Jayarede. “Besides, you owe me for saving your planet.”

“Fair enough,” replied Grenn, “what is it you want?”

Jayarede took a seat in front of Grenn’s desk, Bastila sitting in the chair right next to Jayarede, and HK standing behind him. “Well,” he proposed, “I need your help finding . . . contacts. Did you know that there is a Jedi here? I thought not. He disguises himself well, I know that much. Hell, he doesn’t need to. When people think of Jedi, they usually think of the young, heroic – or not so heroic – type. Anyways, I need you to set me an appointment with the one who lives in apartment C4 in Residential Module 37. If I am correct, that is only about ten kilometers from this Entertainment Module, right? So I won’t need the Ebon Hawk, just a small shuttle for three.

“And the second things I need are the coordinates for Onderon. That will be our next stop, and I have accidentally deleted them from my Navicomputer – stupid, I know. But those are about all I need.”

Grenn blinked. ‘There has to be catch,’ he thought to himself. But still . . . “Are you sure that is all? I was expecting a request of about eighty thousand credits!”

“I’m not that low, Grenn,” said Jayarede seriously. “I didn’t save a planet only to dismantle its budget. No, what I said will be all I need.”

“Well, alright then, I’ll get the appointment and get you the coordinates.”

Jayarede smiled. He was one step closer not only to getting to the Mandalore system, but for unlocking the key that could turn the tide in the war.

[Bee Hoon]

The Ravager was actually a Republic ship... Mandalore said that it bore the mark of Mandalorian guns. There's still some word choice errors such as blood does not "sprawl" on a person's face. I still don't really get the blank eyes thing... Do his eyeballs vanish? Or are they merely devoid of expression? The "held no loom over his face" is pretty awkward, and yet another word choice thingie. But I like where this story is going.

Pain. Hunger. Manipulation.

He used it to fuel him.

Peace. Serenity. Compassion.

He used it to steady him.

He truly was a master of the Force.

But only a servant of himself.

I really liked that!

[Diego Varen]

Good chapter once again, but I noticed something. From Post 21, the Post's title is Chapter Three: The Front Lines, yet on the Post, it is Chapter Four: The Front Lines. It is the same with your latest chapter where the Post's title is Chapter Four: The Citadel but the Post itself has Chapter Five: The Citadel. You may want to correct that. Looking foward to more.

[Lord Spitfire]

Thanks for the tips. I'll try to edit as soon as I can while working on the next chapter.

[Lord Spitfire]

This is the next chapter. It will be awhile until CH.7, as I will edit the past chapters before moving on.

Chapter Six: Meeting

“This is the apartment where you will be meeting in, Sir” said a TSF soldier. She had blonde hair that was tied up in a ponytail laid back on her back, blue eyes, light skin, and she stood about eight or nine inches over five feet. Overall, she looked in her early twenties. She had an attractive body, and she had this cheerful look about her. However, she now bore slight signs of weariness. She was suspicious. No, not suspicious, curious. Or was she both? All she knew was that some importance had to be in the meeting.

“Thank you,” said Jayarede flatly without even looking at her, as his eyes were fixed at the door.

The door slid open, but closed as soon as it did as the three of them rushed in. That was her chance. The soldier quickly took a small pen-shaped white object and placed at the door, listening intently.

In the room, the three of them entered. In front of them stood two Jedi. “Visas,” said Jayarede with a nod. He then turned to the other Jedi. “And, Master Bindo.” He was wearing Jedi Master Robes with his cloak, and a hood revealing only his beard and dark skin.

“Yes, yes, we’ve been expecting you. What took you so long?” said a gruff, yet strangely wise, voice behind the man’s hood.

“Jolee?” asked Bastila towards the man, “I thought you were in the polar caps in the hidden academy. That’s where you said you were going only a few months ago.”

The man took off his cloak and laid it on the bed, while all five of them sat in chairs, with only HK standing up, just behind Jayarede. “Well, I just arrived on Citadel Station a few days ago,” replied Jolee. “I got a message from Visas, here. She’s the one who contacted the Exile and brought all of you here.”

“How are things going on there?” asked Jayarede.

“Pretty well. Atris is making progress in training Padawans and restoring the order. She now has about twenty Jedi in training.”

“That’s good to hear,” said Jayarede with no emotion. “But that’s not what I came here for. You said you had information on Revan and the True Sith.”

Outside the door, the soldier’s heart skipped a beat. ‘THE Revan?’ she thought to herself. ‘Why would these people be talking about Revan. He left the galaxy over five years ago and wasn’t seen ever since. The public reports were that he had been murdered.’ The soldier brought her ears closer to the door, trying to catch every word.

Back in the room, there was a silence, and Bastila shifted a little.

“Yes, that is why we have called you here,” said Visas. “We know of Revan’s plans. Mandalore has contacted us. He and his fleet will have arrived on the Mandalore system in about two weeks. Unfortunately, after they gather their troops, the True Sith fleet will be arrive two or three months after Revan arrives with a fleet of the old Rakatan Capitol ships from the Star Forge. The bad news is that we have figured that the True Sith have information. They told the Mandalorians of an opportunity for galactic domination, and they took it, thus weakening the Republic. Their plan was to then take it over, before Revan turned on it, was captured, became a different identity, killed Malak, then reclaimed his identity and became Revan again. They know about you, too. But now they will launch a full scale war. The Republic must be ready.”

Jayarede frowned. “Ah, yes,” he breathed to himself, as if in deep thought, trying to fit all of the pieces together. He then looked up, finally having found the answer. “That’s it! Revan plans to gather us all at the Mandalore System. From there, when we, the Mandalorians, and he and his army are grouped together, we can construct a master plan in this war.”

“Exactly,” said Jolee.

For the first time, Bastila spoke. “So, he will have the leaders of the Jedi, with me and Jayarede, the leader of the Mandalorians, and his fleet together, but what of the Republic? Do they lie in the shadows in this movement?” she asked.

“I’m glad you brought that up,” said Jolee. “Admiral Onasi has been informed of this, and he plans to meet us here in Telos, at the Ebon Hawk in a few days. He will come with us, while General Dodonna will be taking the place of Admiral in his absence.”

“So that is where we will all meet,” finished Jayarede. “The Mandalore System.” It was an answer, not a question.

“And we will follow,” said Visas. “Jolee and I will accompany you.” We will come with you now.”

Jayarede simply nodded. “Very well,” he said. “Bastila, HK, you get back to the Ebon Hawk, and fill Drendellean in on everything. Yes, EVERYTHING. Even the part about Revan and the master plan. He has a role in this war bigger than just getting us to the Mandalore System. Besides, we shouldn’t have more than three people exploring at the same time. So, Visas, Jolee, come with me while we buy repairs, while Bastila and HK go to the ship.”

That was all the soldier had heard before she quickly took out the object and ran out of the set of apartments, and into the main hallway, where a few Telosians were walking buy. She found herself panting as she realized that she had rushed out.

But she was shocked. Here they were, four Jedi and an assassin droid talking about how Revan – THE Revan, the man who had mysteriously disappeared – was going to come back with an entire army of these new Sith on his tail! And they were talking about everyone meeting there and devising a plan for the Republic, Jedi and Mandalorians to team up and fight them. She half didn’t believe it, but she knew that these Jedi were right. Somehow, deep inside, she knew it. She didn’t know what to do. She needed time to think. Should she report them to the Telosian government? No, they would think it is a scandal – or she was crazy. But Lieutenant Grenn, he would believe her. He and the Exile were the ones who saved Telos, after all, and he would know him. ‘I have no idea what to do! Could he believe me? Or is this too much to be common knowledge?’ Thoughts were racing through her mind, which was now an explosion of emotions and thoughts.

She walked back into the row of apartments to see the woman and the assassin droid pass her and head for their ship, as she had heard. In front of her stood an old man with a shaven head and dark skin, a woman with a cloth over her head (she guessed that she was a Miraluka), and the Exile standing in the door. “Do you wish me to take you back to the shuttle, Sir?” she asked nervously.

Instead of answering, the door behind her slid shut and she could hear it lock as the Exile waved his hand. “You’ve been eavesdropping on us,” he said coldly.

Her heart began racing. ‘How did he know that?’ She took a step back and tried to open the door back to the indoor streets of Telos, but it was locked.

Jayarede gave a cold smile. “After you went out, your thoughts were exploding all around your mind like a bomb, and once we followed the signs, the three of us could easily read everything you were thinking about.”

She didn’t know what to do. Would this Jedi kill her? But a Jedi wouldn’t do that. Her thoughts all but left her. Without thinking, she drew her twin vibroblades and lunged at Jayarede, not taking any chances. Besides, she was an extremely skilled swordsman.

However, Jayarede simply pulled out his double-bladed lightsaber, but ignited only one side as he cut the vibroblades in half seconds into the combat. Before she could react, he used the force hold her up and pin her to the wall.

“How much did you hear?” asked Jayarede. The soldier remained silent.

“How much did you hear?!” said Jayarede, now in a much louder and more threatening voice.

“I . . . well . . .” the soldier said desperately. “Everything!” she finally managed the courage to say.

Jayarede studied her, then frowned, as if in deep thought.

“I say we modify her memory and let the kid go,” said Jolee calmly behind him. Jayarede kept on thinking.

“That could risk killing her,” he said. “But is it worth the risk? No one can know, let alone a simple soldier! Tell me,” he said, looking at the soldier, “what is your name?”

The soldier looked around. She had no choice. She had to tell them. “Deale, that’s my name,” she whispered.

Before Jayarede could do anything, he felt his concentration of the Force waver for a second, causing him to let go of Deale.

‘What happened?’ he thought to himself. ‘It was like my entire command of the Force was just hit by lightning!’ Before he had time to center himself and use the Force again, Deale disappeared in thin air.

Jayarede scoffed. A foolish attempt. He used all of his senses to find Deale walking slowly towards the door in order to unlock. But before she did, she found herself sprawled on the floor, with a deep gash along her left arm and right leg, rasping in pain.

“Wait! I didn’t do that!” whispered Jayarede. He looked around.

“OH, ****!” he swore as he drew the lightsaber from his robes along with Jolee and Visas. But for the first time, he disconnected the two part of his Double-bladed lightsaber, creating twin silver blades as he got into a different lightsaber form.

Suddenly, seven figures appeared out of nowhere in the room. Six of them wore the same robes that Jayarede did. ‘Sith Assassins!’

“Ah, yes, we have waited for you to gather,” said the seventh figure. Instead of wearing the same robes, he wore slightly different ones, with a long cape, and black cloth hanging from his belt; A Sith Lord.

“Who are you?” hissed Jayarede, his lightsaber raised, with Visas and Jolee circling the group.

“Who am I?” asked the Sith Lord. “I am Lord Raul, Dark Lord of what remains of the Sith!”

“You mean the Dark Jedi,” said Jayarede. “The True-“

“I am very well aware of the True Sith!” hissed Darth Raul. “And . . . yes, the Dark Jedi.”

“The Dark Jedi are in tatters!” scoffed Jayarede. “Barely a hundred of them remains, no doubt.”

“Oh, and that is a little more than what remains of the Jedi.”

“Why are you here?” said Jayarede.

From the corner, Deale was watching in shock. She just figured out about THE Revan and his master plan, turned out the heroic Exile knew him, and now a Sith Lord just appears on Citadel Station!

The Sith Lord smiled. “Me and my men snuck in. We were stowaways. And as you know, these row of apartments are completely empty, but we were staying in one right next to your friends’ actually.”

“And what would you gain from killing me?” challenged Jayarede. “I call myself a Jedi, yet I am not one; I am a Gray Jedi, neither Sith nor Jedi. If you know about the True Sith, then you know that we are the Galaxy’s last hope.”

“You don’t understand,” said the Sith Lord. “You see, a long time ago, Naga Sadow, a True Sith, Made an alliance with us and the Sith. We are forever bound by blood. The blood that pumps through our veins is the same as the True Sith. Whether Dark Jedi, or Sith, we will always be the same; an alliance. The only Sith Lord not in line with the True Sith was Darth Revan, and he was not a real Dark Jedi. The Dark Jedi have made an alliance with the True Sith, and for the first time since Exar, we will unite against the Jedi, against the Galaxy!”

Jayarede couldn’t believe it. This was how the True Sith knew, how they manipulated everything. Through real Sith like Lord Raul and Exar Kun, not like Traya, Sion, Nihilus, Revan, Malak.


Deale watched all of this from the corner, unsure whether she was right to call the TSF for backup. As if on cue, the door blasted open and a squadron of twenty TSF officers rushed into the complex, taking their places around the room. In a second, Darth Raul and his Sith Assassins disappeared, leaving the room with only the soldiers and the Jedi.

“What the- A Sith Lord!” exclaimed Grenn.

Jayarede growled in frustration. One more enemy was allied against them. “It is nothing, Lieutenant, just a rogue Sith that wanted to kill the last of the Jedi.”

“But that means he’s still on Citadel Station!”

“No, he used the force to transport back to somewhere else, preferably his base of operations, or a place of the Dark Side.” Jayarede then looked at Deale. “Your soldier will fill you in on everything, Grenn, and this is for you only to know. You and Admiral Onasi.”

Without a word, the three of them strode out of the door, leaving a dumbfounded Grenn, Deale, and twenty TSF soldiers.

[Diego Varen]

Good chapter as always and not writing anymore chapters to edit the ones you've already written is a good idea. Take your time and I'm looking foward to more.

[Sabretooth]

Well, this one is quite good. Some spelling and grammar errors here and there, but it's a great fic otherwise. I'll try and follow it, if I can.

[Lord Spitfire]

Thanks for the comments Topsite, SaberTooth.

I am 'renovating' the past chapter, as I thought it was wavering and it wasn't very well layered up. I won't change the story, though I will edit and revise - as in like add a duel between the Sith Assassins and the three of them, things like that.

Anyways, it'll also help my grammar and spelling, and as Saber said, there are mistakes since my Keyboard gets stuck. I'm just too eager to edit before I can post it.

And the next chapter should start after I'm done editing.

-Lord Spitfire

[Bee Hoon]

I read the most recent chapter a while back, but was too lazy to review till now=p Sorry! I felt that Jolee and Visas were kind of OOC... Jolee wasn't being his usual funny self and Visas wasn't doing the slightly creepy "Master" thing.

Here's a slight contradiction:

The only Sith Lord not in line with the True Sith was Darth Revan, and he was not a real Dark Jedi.

Through real Sith like Lord Raul and Exar Kun, not like Traya, Sion, Nihilus, Revan, Malak.

Still some grammatical errors, but ah well

Deale's reactions were absolutely hilarious, lol. "THE Revan?" Heh.

The Dark Jedi were just a little too eager to reveal their plans, and I'm pretty surprised as to why they left, and how the Exile knew where they went.

Jayarede's characterisation is great though. He might not be totally dark, but in a way, he's like Revan; he'll do whatever it takes.

[Lord Spitfire]

Originally Posted by beehoon

I read the most recent chapter a while back, but was too lazy to review till now=p Sorry! I felt that Jolee and Visas were kind of OOC... Jolee wasn't being his usual funny self and Visas wasn't doing the slightly creepy "Master" thing.

Here's a slight contradiction:





Still some grammatical errors, but ah well

Deale's reactions were absolutely hilarious, lol. "THE Revan?" Heh.

The Dark Jedi were just a little too eager to reveal their plans, and I'm pretty surprised as to why they left, and how the Exile knew where they went.

Jayarede's characterisation is great though. He might not be totally dark, but in a way, he's like Revan; he'll do whatever it takes.

I'm glad you liked it, and glad that you took Jayarede's character the right. This chapter, a new character is introduced (the main antagoinist, in fact), and I'm trying to make his characterization so that he's no exactly the cardboard bad-guy.

About the contradiction, in the second post, I stated that Revan wasn't a true Sith/Dark Jedi. I guess you mis-interpreted it.

And about Joleee being OOC, I do think he has the sense not to be too humorous when there are overly erious topics. He was still gruff though. And with Visas, I'll try to create the "creepy 'master' thing" in the next chapters.

Anyways, here's the next one. It's been on hold for a while due to my other fic, but I'm ont going to abandon it! Enjoy!

Chapter Seven: Sith

Lord Raul stood in the hall of black marble, lit by torches lined across the wall.

He was at Ziost, capitol of the True Sith. He waited nervously before the huge door that led to the Throne Room, where the Sith Emperor Zenius sat on his throne, with the twelve Sith Lords on top of the twelve balconies that lined the top of the room of black and white marble. The Sith Lords were the leaders of their respective clans.

Raul sighed as he thought about the Sith tradition. Young boys and girls known as Civilians would be taken in for training once they turned thirteen, thus becoming Sith Apprentices. Once they finished their training, they would be promoted to Sith Knights, and then to Sith Masters. The system was almost exactly like the Jedi. Except after the Sith Masters, were the Sith Lords, leading their clans, and of course the Sith Emperor Zenius himself ruling the entire race.

‘It is too much of a democracy,’ thought Raul to himself. One of the twelve balconies lay empty in that room – his. He was the Lord of the Dark Jedi, which were now considered a Clan of the True Sith.

He opened the huge gold door with both of his hands, and found himself in a room of black and white marble, with a golden throne at the end of the circular throne room, and the twelve balconies arrayed across the top of the walls.

And in the Throne sat Zenius, leader of the Dregord clan and of the Sith Empire. He – as all other True Sith – were humanoids, only different by his red skin, deep blue hair, completely blank golden eyes, and definitely pointed ears. Zenius’s golden eyes almost sparkled a little, reflecting his power. His skin was perfect diamond red, and his long blue hair strode gallantly almost an inch past the beginning of his spine. His ears were even a little more long and pointed than most Sith, and he had an evil, dark aura about him in the Force, though he seemed like a quite calm and normal man in his mid-twenties. His gleaming red body-plating made him look like a Proud Knight, and the red diamond crown gave him a great sense of power.

“I see you have arrived, Lord Raul,” he said in an inhumanly hoarse and rough, yet peaceful and calm, voice. “Take your seat on the balcony. We were about to talk about our . . . situation.”

Raul walked over to below his balcony, and used the Force to jump up to take his place on the balcony, now facing Zenius.

“Now,” began Zenius, looking at the twelve Sith Lords, “I have called this meeting for a simple announcement which you all know. Revan has taken his armada out to his side of the galaxy. This means one thing; war is coming soon to the Republic. And to us. It is now time to gather our armies and do what we have been waiting to do for over fifty years now; launch a full-scale invasion on the Republic.”

The room was silent as his last sentence hung in the air. Suddenly, the Sith Lord to Raul’s right spoke. “And these were the words your father spoke would happen after the Mandalorian Wars, and he ended up being murdered by Revan at the Trayus Academy! And all he ended up doing was alerting Revan of our expansion, and making us wait another ten years! But now, when the Republic is strengthening by the second and the Jedi are rebuilding, they are going to give us a real war; a war that if we lose, might mean the destruction of our race! And Revan has done damage to us. Not physically, but has given the Republic the time it needs! We must wait, and build our forces!” announced the Sith Lord. His hair was more of a grayish blue, and wrinkles lined his red face. His golden eyes were dimming, and all in all he looked quite old.

There was a loud murmur now between the Sith Lords, before a booming, “Silence!” cut them off. All eyes rested on Zenius. “And what will happen if we wait?” he spoke, signs of anger starting to slowly breach his calmness. “They will become stronger, and even if we win, we would have already lost. The Republic is in tatters compared to our organized fleet and government! But the moment Revan takes over and strengthens the Republic, takes command of their fleet, and bolsters their forces; they will match our firepower and stability. We all saw it during the Mandalore wars; Revan can take a mess and corrupted army and turn it into an unmatchable force! And it doesn’t help that the Exile has come out of hiding. We must strike NOW. And I mean NOW, as in we will start to organize a full-scale invasion. We will follow Revan’s fleet to wherever he is going, and the war will begin, and the Republic will have no warning or provocation.”

There was another murmur, but much softer this time. For the first time, Raul spoke up. “I agree with the Emperor. We Dark Jedi have our own plan of attack, and it will not be effective to you Sith if it is delayed. Everything fits into place,” he proclaimed.

The next rising murmur was cut off before it began as a Sith with shorter blue hair and darker red skin spoke to Raul. “You have no say in this, human! Your petty Dark Jedi betrayed us long ago! I am wondering why Zenius has even let you into the council!”

Zenius stood up from his seat,, his silence – and his patience – finally broken. “You will address me as LORD ZENIUS, or EMPEROR ZENIUS! And, if you haven’t noticed, Dreshelgr, the Dark Jedi are the only ones that cane influence this war from inside out, and sabotage the Republic itself!” stormed Zenius. Everyone in the room started to notice that Dreshelgr’s body was floating in the air, his arms spread wide, blood spilling out of his mouth, and his eyes blank as the sound of deep crushing emanated from his chest. “Dart- Lord Raul, you will be given a mission; kill the Exile! Make sure that nowhere he walks will he be safe from you. If he dies, then the damage to the Republic will already have been done! And, I give you another task; destroy the Jedi gathered on Dantooine and Telos! Kill them all, every singly one, and consider the Dark Jedi redeemed of their betrayal if you do!”

Raul nodded, taking time to absorb everything at once. ‘Zenius asks the impossible!’ he thought to himself. ‘The Exile is extremely difficult to kill!’

“But there will be help,” continued Zenius. Raul just now realized that while he was trying to make out the information, he had loosened the defenses covering his mind. He turned to Zenius again. “The Dark Jedi that you command will assist you. But there is one thing; save the Exile for last. Kill the Jedi first, for he feeds on the Force powers of others, of within a certain place. He is a hole in the Force. And after you kill the Jedi, kill his companions. His will would be broken. And if you find that you can not succeed in your task: come back! Don’t sacrifice yourself in your stupid ‘loyalty.’ I can’t afford to lose an entire clan.”

Raul simply bowed. Though some were rasped and even half-whispered, there was a huge weight and effect behind Zenius’s words that gave Raul the impulse to agree with him. He had only seen such power and charisma in one other person his whole life. ‘Revan . . .’

Zenius gave a smile that might have had the underlying basis of something near a smirk. And for the first time, he looked his age, but for only a second or so. He was much for a man of about twenty-three.

‘And that was about how old Revan was when he started his crusade against the Republic,’ thought Raul to himself. Almost immediately, he could match the two of them with ease. They were almost the same (take away Zenius’s red skin, pointed ears, and blue hair).

Zenius cocked an eyebrow. “What are you waiting for?” he rasped with his voice bound in a whisper-like aura. “Go now. Leave Ziost, and do not come back until you either succeed . . . or fail.”

* * *

“Zairass Kehon Naheen! Fdragr’ari, mujeu tandeh raas! Kehon mehon lahain! Markartsalva, grondaga! Grendfa thera nalain. Gredra thera nalain! Mura Giara, grendred farsaa mecon, bfecfordlsalalaasanai! Muhana kai SITH’ARI!” hissed Zenius, as he stood in front of a Sith Holocron, chanting its hisses along.

These were almost exactly like the ones that a Jedi – her name slipped Zenius’s memory – stole and brought to her academy on Telos. His eyes grew to the purest gold that the eye could ever behold, as he felt the fires of the Force burn throughhim, etched in his blood.

He continued the chanting – or more like nasty hissing - in the ancient Sith Language, as was the custom.

His clothes were simply. He wore a tight leather black pant, no shoes, and his entire upper body was laid bare, showing his blood skin.

“Zenoi marrrrraaas kean. I am power,” he whispered. The final three words were spoken in a cultured and heavily accented (and which a normal person would call ‘nasty’ and ‘hissed’) Galactic Basic.

He ignored the figure who entered the room. After it got closer, the presence was so strong that he had to turn to it, and saw that it was a woman that was standing behind him.

‘Nelntane.’ He sighed. “What do you want?” he whispered, not even turning around to see a silent Nelntane.

She had long blue hair that was spread all the way past her shoulder gracefully. She was about two or three inches below six feet, and her red skin was brighter than most. His golden eyes were also a little brighter than most, though dulled a bit by her tired senses. She wore black robes. Sith Assassin Robes. “What happened . . . in the council chambers? Something happened, I felt a tremor in the Force, and it was directed to you.”

“You’re the last person I would trust with this information,” he said, still not looking at her. He took in her pain and underlying fear and fed on it, making himself even stronger.

“Stop doing that to me,” hissed Nelntane, though it was barely noticeable in the Sith Language that she was speaking in. “And why would I be the last person you trust with this?” Her voice was steady and somewhat cold, though it was laced with some softness, though masked in a way that if someone tried to find it, they would not be able to.

“Why?” mocked Zenius, almost laughing. “You know nothing of the Sith, or power. I don’t trust you with this information because I love you, Nelntane. You truly are ignorant the ways of Holocrons . . . and that is why you are not yet a Sith Lord. I don’t trust you because I do.”

Nelntane sighed and let his harsh words pass her by. “Perhaps you are right, my love.”

“I am very well damn right, not ‘perhaps,’ right,” he growled.

“Well, if you were not being so influenced with the holocrons, then maybe you would know WHAT is right, not your foolishness,” hissed Nelntane again.

“ANYONE can chant and read the holocron, but how you interpret them is based completely on wisdom. You are the ignorant one. You know nothing of war, of power. But that is one of the reasons why I respect you.”

“Sometimes, I don’t know half of the words coming out of your mouth, and I doubt you know ant, ‘My Lord!’”

“To know power, one must know themselves,” he said in Basic. “Do you know who said that?”

“Let me guess, one of the old Lords and their ‘wisdom.’ Ludo Kressh? Naga Sadow?”

“No,” whispered Zenius. “The greatest of them all. Revan.”

Nelntane was so shocked that she took a step back.

[Diego Varen]

I like the look of the new enemies for this Fan Fic. Interesting names too. Looking foward to more.

[Lord Spitfire]

Next Chapter is up. This isn't as hueg plot-wise as the last chapter, but it gets the flow of the story going.

Oh and, can someone please reply to my KotOR1 fanfic. I won't continue the next chapter until someone does.

I say this always and always will: Well . . . Enjoy!


Chapter Eight: Fire Siphon II

Jayarede, Visas, and Jolee climbed up the loading ramp to the Ebon Hawk, and found that the four of his companions were all standing in the middle room.

Everything seemed in check. But as Jayarede’s eyes fell on Drendellean, he noticed something that he had not noticed before. Drendellean had dark circles beneath his eyes, and they were almost black just below them. His face now became even paler than it already was, and now it was almost completely white. The presence unsettled Jayarede a bit, as at that moment he figured out what Drendellean was.

But he didn’t care.

As Jolee and Visas walked in, Drendellean lifted an eyebrow. “Are these the Jedi your friend told me about?” he asked Jayarede, who nodded in turn. Drendellean scoffed. “I was expecting a little more than an old man and a blinded woman, but I guess these will have to do.”

Jolee was about to spit out something nasty to lighten the mood, but thought better of it. Now was not the time.

Drendellean walked up until he was facing Jayarede straight. “Your friend told me about Revan’s plan; and why you were going to the Mandalore System. Well, I’ve got some news for you. Once we get there, I take my credits and leave. I have more people to kill,” he said gruffly.

Jayarede smiled. “That’s the plan,” he said, even though he knew Drendellean would not do that. He then handed Drendellean the coordinates. “We’re going to Onderon next, but we’ll have to wait here for about a week; we need repairs desperately. After my fateful crash, The Ebon Hawk is a piece of metal. Until then, you are not to make any notice among the community at all. Am I clear?” he ordered. He loved doing it/ It almost flowed through him, to lead. He spoke to his troops’ passions, not their sense, but once he did convert their sense, they would be his entirely. There were a few nods.

Drendellean shrugged and headed to the camera room to check the systems. HK went to the garage and shut down; Visas went to her normal place at the Starboard Dormitory, Jolee went to the medical bay (Jayarede guessed that was where he stayed when Revan owned the Hawk), Bastila went to Kreia’s old quarters, and T3 went to work on the Hyper drive.

As Jayarede stood there, doing absolutely nothing, he found out something about Drendellean; he didn’t know why, but he somehow reminded him of Atton. Sure, they were both apathetic and witty rogues, but there was just something about Drendellean – some darkness about him that reminded him of Atton. But Atton had only traces of that darkness; as if it were hidden away beneath a shadow. But in Drendellean, Jayarede could see the darkness at its full, not being hidden.

Drendellean’s life was the same as Atton’s, concluded Jayarede. Just two chapters behind.

* * *

‘It siphons the fire of the force. This ship is one of the Rakata’s greatest creations,’ thought Revan as he looked over the bridge of his flagship, the Fire Siphon II. It was a near exact duplicate of the Leviathan, and all the other Rakatan Ships, only it ******, though not noticeably. The only prominent difference it held to the Leviathan is that bridge was not on top of the ship, but it was right in the middle of the space where the two huge claws covered. At was at the very back, so out the observatory window, Revan could see the huge claws arching above them and below them, yet still being able to see straight ahead. He always thought that it was too vulnerable to put the bridge on the top.

But it WAS a complete duplicate of the Fire Siphon, Revan’s flagship during the Jedi Civil War; it was destroyed by the Leviathan after Bastila was able to take his body out of the ship.

‘Bastila . . .’ he cursed himself for reminding himself of her. She was his only weakness. He needed to keep concentrated at the task at hand. ‘But it has been almost five years . . . I . . . I miss her,’ he confessed to himself.

‘I am pathetic, hiding behind this Mandalorian mask, behind this great black and gray robes and armor. But I know that behind that lies a weak, broken man. Mortal. Weak,’ he confessed finally. He could hide behind his own mind no longer. He was not a God of the Force. He was not the Force in human form. He was mortal.

He sighed again as he looked out the window. Past the claws, he could see a great blue vortex enveloping his entire fleet of 100 capitol ships, all in hyper space, the Fire Siphon II in the middle. To ensure no ship got off course, the entire fleet worked on one source, so wherever the Fire Siphon II went in Hyperspace, the Capitol Ships would automatically follow. The only way of getting to another capitol ship was by taking a freighter. But if any freighter flies out of the vortex, the space and time continuum would destroy them.

He opened his eyes as a man approached. “Commander, we have already crossed seventeen light-years. We should reach our destination in about fourteen days,” said the Admiral. He had very dark skin, a shaven head, and a gray mustache. He reminded Revan of Ronald Wan, the Republic diplomat on Manaan. He almost smiled at the memory.

“Very good, Admiral,” he said behind his mask. His voice was inhumanly deepened and metallic.

The Admiral – Admiral Oran – nearly jumped. Revan grinned behind his mask. “You find my voice intimidating?” he said, amused. “I’ve made new modifications on the mask. As a result of these upgrades, it amplifies the voice.”

Oran relaxed a little bit, but was still slightly edgy. He finally asked, “Are . . . are you alright, commander? You’ve been standing in the same spot for nine hours, now.”

Revan raised his eyebrow behind his mask, though he did not turn to look at Oran. “Has it been nine hours? Hmph, I’ve lost track of the time,” he said. His attempt at mild humor sounded out of place under the intimidating voice that the mask made out. “What track are we on?”

“The coordinates are 6.87493, 7.4398537, 10.48572038,” answered Oran. Revan calculated the numbers in his head in about thirty seconds of silence, an inhumanly short time.

Revan turned around and walked past Oran. As he was walking, he said, “I am going to my room. No one is to disturb me,” he ordered.

Oran simply nodded as Revan walked out.

* * *

His room was like any three-man bunk, except it was only for him. There was a large window on the side that showed the two claws shooting out, except the top one was better seen than in the bridge. In fact, his bunk was a few stories above the Bridge. There was a queen sized bed in the corner, a plasma screen into the wall for communications, and a desk with a pad on the end of it. A hologram pad.

Revan collapsed to his knees once he had completely taken off his armor, revealing his windbreaker, black gloves, and track pants. That had been the look of the Scoundrel, Kale Chaal. But Revan could not think about that right now. Even though it was quite cold on the ship, sweat was pouring down his face uncontrollably. His ears started to crackle until he finally fell onto the cold, hard, metal in his room.

* * *

Revan groaned as he lifted up his head. The sweat continued to pour down his face, but it was cold, no, cool. He raised his head, hen half of his body off of the ground until he stood on his knees in his bunk. It was cold, as was it always in space travel. Revan shivered a little bit as the cold bit at the lines of sweat trickling down his face.

He moaned as he got to his feet. He staggered like a weak, drunk man and had to use the wall for support.

He breathed heavily as he wiped the sweat off his face, finally sitting down on the bed. He was used to these sudden collapses. They had been happening almost weekly over the past month. ‘But why is it? Perhaps we are crossing uncharted territory that are filled with black holes of the force? They siphon my power, my will. I can always regenerate them, but . . . something is happening to me!’ concluded Revan to himself.

He felt the tendrils of power slowly slipping away. He could easily grasp back at them, so he wasn’t really losing anything. But it was as if the whole sector of a Force Hole. If he tried, he could dominate them, make them avatars of the Force instead of Holes. But the greatness of the Force that swirled around him could do nothing to stop from the siphoning power that could grip his will and weaken him temporarily.

He was afraid. Afraid that at any time, his power could be sucked, and that it would take time to refuel his body with the binding, no, bound, power. He felt powerful and good as the power regenerated the empty hole that had struck him.

He sighed and stood up, pacing around his room. He finally sat at his desk and brought in his galactic coordinate plane. As he turned it on, he could see that they were coming close to the Mandalore System. He laid back in the chair, staring at the roof. Whatever was going to come next, it would be long. It would be epic, this next great war with the Republic and the Sith, probably the greatest war ever, and ever will be.

But deep down, he knew it would cost him his life. He didn’t care. He didn’t care if the Republic would spit his name, he didn’t care if he would have to give something more valuable than even his own life; his heart. He didn’t care if a planet died. He didn’t care if all those he loved died. But as long as the Republic – no, not the Republic. What the Republic STOOD FOR survived, and it still ran strong; he would be satisfied.

* * *

Jayarede walked into the Camera room, where Drendellean sat in his chair, scribbling down notes on a piece of paper with pen – there was no need to use a datapad.

“Any luck yet?” asked Jayarede as he sat down next to Drendellean, looking at the computer scene.

“Well . . . I have figured out that the system is layered with a variety of matrixes, all looping back on one another. If we are able to hack through one, it goes back on itself and the layers of matrixes form again,” said Drendellean in his raspy voice. “Lot like you Jedi would know anything about computers.”

Jayarede scoffed, ignoring Drendellean’s comment. He examined the system for a second, trying to subtly work out the holes in the matrix. “But,” he said softly, his eyes fixed to the computer screen in front of them, “If we hack through the matrixes in a certain pattern, won’t the code contract on itself, making the data cracked?”

Drendellean looked at him, impressed. “I guess Jedi aren’t all that dumb,” he muttered under his breath. He then turned to the console. “Hmm . . . well, you’re right, but in order to work through the matrixes, it seems that there needs to be some vibration in the air, some bend of certain waves that can run through the matrixes,” he concluded finally.

“So basically, it’s voice-locked.”

“Exactly,” finished Drendellean. There was a silence. “But . . . who?” asked Drendellean.

“Revan, of course,” said Jayarede. “He WAS the previous owner of this ship.”

Drendellean let out a huge puff of breath as he leaned back in his chair. “How are we going to get a sample of Revan’s voice?”

Jayarede rolled his eyes. ‘I’m tired of this!’ he roared in his mind. ‘Just what’s the damn code?!’ “I don’t know; let’s go ask him for some of his voice, shouldn’t we?” Jayarede gave a frustrated, sarcastic answer.

There were almost thirty seconds of silence before Jayarede’s face snapped up. “I got it!” he muttered silently under his breath.

He went to the door, but instead of going through it, he went to the console just right next to it. He pressed a button, then spoke into a speaker, “HK-47 please report to the camera function room. Thank you,” his slightly gruff voice echoed throughout the room. He smiled slightly. ‘I’ve always wanted to do that,’ he thought to himself.

As he walked back to the seat next to Drendellean, HK went through the open door, which closed behind him. He then walked until he was standing right behind Jayarede and Drendellean, who were both now seated in front of the console. “Interrogative Declaration: Master, why have you interrupted my work on your swoop bike to call me here?”

“HK, I need you to give me a sample of Revan, your previous master’s, voice,” stated Jayarede flatly. Both he and the bounty hunter turned to HK, whose ‘eyes’ dulled a bit.

“Avoiding Distraction: Master, why would you like to know something like that?”

Jayarede simply said, “Just tell me. If you don’t, I’ll re-install that pacifist package.”

HK took a step back in horror. “Hasty Statement: No, please, Master! Not the pacifist package! Alright, I will tell you my reasons for what I am doing. Irritated Explanation: Master, Revan’s voice is something that has been erased in my memory. It has blended in with many different things. I think that I have it now, but I have orders – not programming orders, just orders with the thing you meatbags call trust – Not to give the information to ANYBODY.”

Jayarede pulled out a drawer, and closed it as he turned to HK, holding a computer datapad. The pacifist package. HK almost jumped back in fear. “Hasty Statement: The answer to the voice coded lock is; ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh,” he randomly gave a sound of Revan’s steady voice. The computer screen flashed.

[True_Avery]

Great fic so far, keep going!

[Diego Varen]

Originally Posted by True_Avery

Great fic so far, keep going!

Agreed. Perhaps the reason nobody has replied to the KOTOR I Fan Fic is that even with differences, it seems to different, but I'll try to critique either here or Fan Fiction Net. Also, I wonder if I should do my own Fan Fic version of the games? Anyway good Chapter as always.

[Lord Spitfire]

Thank you for the commetns, and I am happy you enjoyed this chapter that took me SO long to revise.

And Tops, I really think you should start your own fic about one of the KotOR games. I myself was going to do a KotOR2 to go with this Fic, but it was after I started my KotOR1 Fic(which I might close, BTW). You should really do something like that.

[Lord Spitfire]

Ello' mons.

Well, chapter nine is up. This chapter is very short, it's probably the shortest one in this fanfic, and the shortest one there will be in the fic. I tried not to russh it and make it flow smoothly . . . did i succeed?

Well . . . Enjoy!

Chapter Nine: They Will Always Betray Each Other

Deale moaned as she leaned back in her bed, letting her blonde hair flow freely. After the ‘incident,’ the soldiers that had witnessed it – including her – were not to speak of anything on punishment of the death sentence. It had been two days since then, but the traumatic day had not left her mind.

‘A Sith Lord. Revan gathering an army,’ she thought to herself. She had managed to take all the information in somewhat in the two days. But there was still a shock, this voice in the back of her mind that told that she was walking into something big; and was no longer the innocent bystander.

She sighed as she took off her uniform and just threw them on the floor; today was a tough training session. She had to spar against elites in the Telos military force; the scary thing was that she won most of her battles, though only with heavy bruises.

She just let her sleeveless undershirt hang on her. Her arms were muscled, especially packed at her shoulders, which held quite a bad bruise, contorted somewhat by the muscled skin. She did not mind her hair hanging loose below her eyes. She just wanted to sleep as long as she wanted; she was off-duty tomorrow, anyways.

Just as her eyes were about to slide closed, she heard a wavy noise, and then footsteps on the ground. Fear immediately gripped her. She instinctually grabbed the blaster on her bedside, rolled off of the bed, and got into a shooting stance, one of her knees on the floor, pointing at the intruder.

Her heart quickened.

There, right in front of her, stood a man garbed in black robes, with flows of cloth hanging past his belt, and a cloak. His hands were gloved in black, and his large boots held the same color. “Hello,” he said in an inhumanly raspy voice, though strangely calm and laid back.

Deale gasped. The man who stood in front of her was none other than Darth Raul.

Except, he wasn’t wearing a hood, and his face and hair was visible. His grayish black hair was worn in a Gothic Style, a few bangs hanging loosely on his left eye, the right side of his hair the same length and just as jelled, yet they stayed sideways up until almost his ear. The air was combed back and landed about an inch before the tip of his hood. His face was pale, almost paper-white. His irises were a piercing, powerful golden, reflecting a gleam of fire, of intensity, as streaks of blood red outlined his eye and strode down to their edges. Black eyeliner stroked across the bottom of his eye, and his eyelids were a chilling shade of purple. He wore slight stubble across his face, and bore a terrible smile as cold as ice, enough to freeze your spine to the very core. He didn't really look much older than her.

Without thinking, Deale fired upon Raul a power blast to his neck. But he simply sidestepped it with ease, snaking out his hand in the form of a cup, thus combusting Deale’s blaster, forcing her to drop it. She stared vehemently at Raul. “What do you want?” she hissed as she backed against the wall.

Raul’s smile widened slightly. “You’re strong in the Force,” he said ominously.

Deale blinked. “What do you want from me?” she asked with steel in her voice.

Raul gave a rough laugh. “You have resolve. You have iron. You have strength. You have skills, and most importantly, you have power,” he rasped softly.

Deale was breathing heavily as he stood now barely a meter from her. He breathed softly. As Deale felt the soft tentacles of his breath waft to her, her mind suddenly felt light, and she found her strength seeping. ‘Whas happenin’ to me?’ she thought to herself sluggishly. She finally fell limp to the ground, though she remained a hundred percent conscious. She just felt like she drank five thousand bottles of Tarisian Ale.

Raul crouched down next to her body. “It’s a wonderful thing, to have a spy,” he whispered in her ear, knowing full well that she was able to comprehend them perfectly. “But as a spy, the first thing you learn is betrayal. Betrayal for those you spy to, and spy for. And before you know it, you become a triple agent,” he continued in her ear.

“But,” he continued, “having a spy watching a spy when they both work for the same cause is the greatest strength. They will always betray each other. One of you will always with me.”

He brought out his curved crimson lightsaber and ran his hand through the intricate and sleek metal.

“What . . . what are you talking about?” hissed Deale, fighting the effervescence that Raul had laid on her.

Raul frowned as he brought his hand to her face, brushing hair out of her eyes and starting to softly caress her cheek. She grunted in pain, almost as if he was channeling torture into her. “You are stronger than I thought,” he mused with another light yet terrible smile.

“What do you want with me?” she rasped, refusing to be taken by her poison, or be influenced by the pain he was channeling to her.

He smiled again. “What do I want with you?” he whispered. “I want to use your resolve, your strength. I have seen it only two days ago. To have subconsciously blocked out my efforts to knock you out; I have rarely seen such power. And so, you will be a fine edition to my collection, once I break you.”

Deale shot her eyes up at Raul. “I . . . will . . . never . . . bow down to . . . to a Sith!” she rasped as she gave a last, troubled breath as her head fell limply onto Raul’s hands. He smiled as he picked up her relatively light body and carried her past the door. His plan was unfolding nicely.

* * *

Jayarede sighed as he sipped his ale, watching the twi-lek dancers in the Citadel Station Cantina. The music flowed through his ears, somewhat relaxing his tensed nerves. He was still waiting for there to be repairs on the Ebon Hawk before he could go.

He almost closed his eyes to rest when he heard footsteps behind him. “Hey, Kid. You might want to see this,” said a gruff voice behind him.

“What is it now, Jolee?” he moaned.

“Remember that Sith Lord, Raul?” asked Jolee. Jayarede suddenly jumped off of his chair, locking eyes with Jolee.

“What?”

“Follow us,” said Drendellean. They walked through the door, past the pazaak den, and into the lounge. They took a seat on sofas in front of the holonet screen.

On the screen, a female twi-lek was sitting down on a blue desk, wearing fine garments, having a sheet of paper in front of her. On the headlines read, ‘Sith Lord Sightings on Onderon.’

Jayarede’s eyes widened. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Several witnesses in the merchant quarter of Lean, an Onderonian city quite close to Izis, have confirmed the claims of a Sith Lord and about twelve of his assassins rampaging through the quarter, causing mayhem and havoc, and then mysteriously disappearing in all the confusion.

The screen immediately showed a city square, with bodies littered all across the ground and smoke and fire everywhere, some buildings burning down to embers. There was a man in Onderon Garments who stood in front of the camera. He looked tired and worn out. “They were coming from all corners, killing everyone in their path with their terrible purple and red lightsabers!” he exclaimed. “They were blowing up the buildings with grenades; there was no end to the destruction!” The screen flashed off.

Jayarede stared at the empty screen. “Raul,” he rasped softly.

Drendellean frowned. “What, you mean that Sith Lord you told me about that attacked you? He might not be behind this,” he observed.

“No, of course he is behind this!” retorted Jayarede. There was a murmur of the other patrons who saw the news. Jayarede sighed. “Onderon was our next destination, and it just so happens that Raul attacks there. He must have known that we were going there. But, how? And why would he attack one of the suburban cities?” Jayarede’s eyebrows met in deep thought.

Jolee scoffed. “Bah! You know these Sith! They wreck havoc and mayhem wherever they go,” he offered gruffly, though knowing that the words he spoke were not true.

Jayarede shook his head. He reached from his robes and grabbed the hilt of his lightsaber. The double-bladed one that he had created with one of his companion – Bao-Dur’s help was sliced in two by Raul. Instead he took out his old, traditional saber.

It was the normal size for a single-bladed saber. The only difference was the intricate design of a golden circle on the side of the hilt, with a pattern of triangles fit in the inside beautifully. There were golden stripes that widened down to the edge of the hilt, which was shaped slightly like an hourglass, though one would have to look twice to make it out. There was a long, narrow slot that ran through the other side of the blade, where the crystals were kept. At the bottom, there was a slightly curved golden side, smooth. This was the saber he had created at the age of twelve. It had taken him nine months, but he came out with the outstanding lightsaber in the end. Atris had given it back to him after he had defeated her on Telos.

He ran his hand through the smooth metal. It helped him think better. He sighed as he put it back in his robes.

“We have to tell Bastila, Visas, and the droids of this,” concluded Jayarede.

He could sense Drendellean shift uneasily from behind him, but he shrugged off the gesture.