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Thread: Survivors of the Jedi Purge (epic)

  1. #1

    Open Thread Survivors of the Jedi Purge (epic)

    The morning dawned red, which excited the villagers. Serena Laran finished tying her long red hair back and pulled her robe on over her long tunic as she tried to listen to the chatter outside the door. Feeling anxious, she tugged at her obi, trying to settle her emotions. A Jedi feels... nothing. Or, at least, doesn't feel worried. The Jedi Knight tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

    A white helmeted trooper poked his head in. "Ready miss?"

    She drew her lightsaber to her with the Force, and clipped it to a ring hidden cleverly on her wide cloth belt. "Certainly Captain Kata. We have a lot of work to do today."

    "Yes." He backed away and held the door for her. Serena ducked under the lintel and looked up at the blood red sunrise. Villagers were clustered in groups around the hut that housed her. As the Republic's emmissary to the Outer Rim world, Serena stood tall, but she felt unsure of herself. At twenty-four she had matured beyond feeling like an awkward teenager, but all these people were depending on her.

    She had a simple mission - to survey the damage wrought by a space battle over the planet, and supervise the doling out of relief supplies. The Republic had lent a squad of Clonetroopers to assist her. The area affected was small, but the people there had been devestated. They all looked to her to save them - but she was only one girl.

    Back ramrod straight, she held herself with almost a regal bearing, cool green eyes betraying nothing of her feelings. "What is it they are saying, Captain?"

    The trooper didn't move. "Red dawn. They fear it means more death."

    Serena mentally sighed, motioning over the translator droid that had been assigned to her. "Tell them that the war is over here. I heard last night that General Kenobi himself was searching out General Greivous. There will be no more battles in the skies over this planet. The Republic is very close to victory."

    Five hours later the villagers were distributing a crate of emergency foodstuffs as Captain Kata and Serena trekked into the forest in search of an even more remote village rumored to have been completely wiped out by a strange sickness that came out of dust. It sounded like a ship's reactor might have fallen into the middle of it, and the Jedi couldn't leave without making sure the rumor wasn't true. And, if it were true, she would have to make things right.

    Captain Kata held a branch back so it wouldn't fly into her face, and Serena climbed up the hill slightly behind him. "We should be there soon - Jorna said it wasn't more than a three hour hike."

    "If it is the site of a reactor breach, the dust cloud should have been visible when we arrived." Kata turned his expressionless mask towards the Jedi.

    She chuckled a bit, pulling a leaf from her ponytail. "So, my good captain, you doubt the story the villagers told us?"

    The trooper might have shrugged, but with all the armor it was hard to tell. "A sickness may have many causes, Jedi."

    "Indeed. Which is why we are traveling to see exactly what it is we're dealing with." They topped the ridge, and looked down into a densely forested valley. "There..." Serena pointed toward the far western side where a thin trickle of dark smoke drifted lazily into the air.

    "I see it. Doesn't look like enough for a whole village."

    "Could be hidden in the trees. It looks dense there." Serena swiveled around, looking back the way they'd come. The horizon was layered with smog, the consequence of a Trade Federation Droid Control Ship crashing into a mountainside. It was also the reason for the bright colors in the sunrise. "Don't you think so, Captain?"

    The Jedi Knight looked forward again, studying the trickle of smoke in the distance. "Certainly doesn't look like a reactor meltdown. Captain Kata? Shall we?" She smiled, looking over at the trooper who had his back half turned to her. For a moment it looked like he was recieving a message, and then he turned towards her.

    He shot her high in the chest, the smell of burnt linen scorching her nostrils as her robe smoldered around the hole the blaster bolt made in her skin. The Jedi Knight gasped in a ragged breath of fire as her eyes widened in shock. Captain Kata leveled his blaster rifle at her again, black and white gloved hands tightening on the trigger. The Force gave her no warning, and she could feel no malice in his thoughts or actions. She felt a numbness spreading from the initial fire and pain of the wound. Her arms and legs didn't seem to work, and she wobbled as her good arm brushed ineptly against her lightsaber.

    Serena fell off the ridge, tumbling down the steep incline into the valley, Kata's second shot booming in her ears. Elsewhere, the Emperor cackled as Order 66 was executed with extreme prejudice.

    there is no passion; there is serenity
    there is no death; there is the Force

  2. #2
    Clea Darkrunner

    Clea and the Purge - Pt 1.

    Clea approached the Temple on foot, her steps lagging and reluctant. Street rats weren't normally seen this high up on Corescant, but she was a rarity - a successful street rat. Her career was fairly under way as a singer, and she'd be off planet on tour soon. There was only one small matter to clear up..............

    Why she'd been left for dead in the first place............

    She no longer gave a frell why nobody had rescued her. They were Jedi, for Ghu's sake. Jedi didn't care, from what she'd seen at the lower levels. Jedi were above caring, the smug ..........

    She cut her thoughts short. Several years spent surviving on Corescant's lower levels had honed her survival instincts. She'd worn dark clothes, unlike her flamboyant stage self, for this trip. Now it served her in good stead as she dodged into shadow and hid there thinking, "I'm not here...... You can't see me...... I'm not here......You can't see me...... I'm not here.............." as calmly as she could. It was a prayer that she had learned, living down in the depths.

    The dark-clad man at the head of the Clone Troopers did not glance in her direction as he led them across the plaza and up the steps, but she shivered as though a cold wind had come her way. His face was familiar to her; but like most of her past it only brushed her face with the promise of memory, and then flitted away.

    She didn't wonder about the Clone Trooper Legion following the man until she heard shots being fired within the Jedi Temple, and felt something - impossibly - die within her.

  3. #3
    Clea Darkrunner

    Clea and the Purge - Pt 2.

    The shooting receded into the distance before she moved. At first she could hear the sound of blaster bolts being somehow - impossibly - deflected, their regular cadence disrupted. The disruptions grew fewer, then ceased. And she knew, somehow, that people had died, their defenses not designed for betrayal, nor from an attack from within, led by a man many of them trusted like a Master.

    Who the dying people were, she did not know at first. Compelled by an urge she could not name, she finally crept up the stairs. She kept to the shadows, a habit of Coriscant-Under. She had crossed the first broad hallway when she saw the first body.

    Familiar with dead people from her home turf, she did not mistake him for the bundle of clothes others might have initially thought. His Jedi robes were stained with his own blood, centered on a large blaster hole in his back. There would be, Clea knew, an even larger hole where the charge had exited him in the front. She had not needed to turn him over to check, yet somehow she did - and gasped to see a face familiar from a dream. A friend, she had felt in the dream. It saddened her that she did not remember his name. Gently she closed his eyes.

    There were others - familiar, half-familiar, unfamiliar - that she saw as she drifted deeper into the Temple, called into peril by something she could not name. Faces familiar from crumbs and scraps of memory. Some seemed to be friends, others acquaintances or rivals. All were dressed in Jedi robes, since the Temple was not generally frequented by outsiders at this late hour.

    She paused, hidden in a shadow, as a squad of Clone Troopers bustled past. "You do not see me," she gently whispered, and they passed. The late hour - and yet she had been sure she could enter - and not be turned away. The thought chilled her, and a second shock arrived as she realized that she herself had sent the Clone Troopers on their way.

    The first small child came as another shock, deep within the Temple. A young Twi'lek, he was curled on his side in a chair as if asleep. She cautiously crept near him. As she got closer, she suddenly gagged. Half of his face was gone, smashed to a bloody pulp by an impact with the chair's arm. She closed her eyes, swallowing hard.

    Her head snapped around as she heard several small children scream, and she went running without thinking in their direction. A lightsaber flew from by its dead owner's side, and she accepted it into hers without question, as she passed silently running. The screams stopped, abruptly, and she jerked to a halt, suddenly and uncomfortably aware of the unfamiliar weapon in her hand. Finally, she shrugged. A weapon was a weapon, and she tucked it into her belt-sash.

    She came on the group of young ones in a few minutes. The area looked like a dormitory, and a bloodbath. Recently slaughtered, their bodies still bled from dying hearts. She checked them all, unable to believe the evidence that someone - armed with a LIGHTSABER - had killed children. A few of them had been simply picked up, their small brains dashed out against the wall. One small blond girl, her hair neatly braided, had apparently had those braids used as a sling. One had ripped loose before her skull had been crushed, and lay on the floor, kicked next to her body.

    She found the small boy behind several larger children. His muffled whimpers of pain drew her like a magnet. She moved his friends' bodies, hoping that he - at least - had been spared fatal damage. It was a vain hope, and she could only hold his hand, whispering comfort to him, until he died. When she stood up, her face was grim, and she drew her blaster and her holdout.

    Someone, she decided, would pay for these children's deaths.

  4. #4
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    "You're mad."

    "Am I?"

    A thunderous roar of laughter filled the garish tent, its' owner leaning back, resting an elbow on a gold-embroidered maroon pillow. The luaghter died in his throat to be replaced with an angry snarl. "I am deadly serious. A barter; for your life."

    "I have nothing to give you."

    The one who had laughed looked his captive up and down, scrutinizing her to the very last detail. His men had ambushed her, taking her by complete force. It had been a startlingly hard battle, as the offworlder put up more of a fight than expected; five of his soldiers lay dead beneath the moons and seven others had been terribly wounded.

    "Then I suppose you will have to find something useful to satisfy me."

    "And if I can't?"

    "Then you die."

    A snort. "I die?" bound hands rose to display the chains that held her, "I'm already dead."

    At this, the man leaned forward. "If you are dead, then why am I looking at you right now."

    "Your perception of death and mine are very clearly different. My soul is empty, I have nothing to live for; hence why I came to this planet. Loss of the flesh means little to me."

    "And yet you are willing to barter for your life?"

    "We all have our own contradictory mannerisms."

    There was a silence between the two, as the Cathar mulled over her words. Finally, he spoke. "Tell me, Little One, why someone such as yourself is so jaded at life at such a young age."

    "In return for my life."

    Another booming laugh. "Sly you are. Very well, I will let you live."

    "And return to me my pakka and my belongings."

    A chuckle as he drank from a silver goblet. "Perhaps; if your story pleases me enough. For now, it will only buy you your life.

    "Now sit, and tell me of your tragedy, Little One."

    She bowed her head, shoulders sagging as she placed one foot before the other, stopping only to lower her slight frame down to the floor. "Very well. But first, tell me; have you ever been so close to someone - someone who you regarded as a father and in the highest light - that you could feel the pain he felt, and feel the piercing knife of his death as he gave up the ghost?"

    "I have not," he answered blandly while idly cleaning his nails.

    "I have. I felt as though my own arm had been severed; I could even feel my flesh cauterized... "


    Lok s'Ilancy hit the wall behind her with a jarring crash, clutching her arm as a phantom pain seared through her mind. Something had happened; something terrible. Master Windu - something had happened to Master Windu. She felt as if her arm had been severed, and the sensations of cauterized flesh fired through her nerves as her fingers tightened on the imaginary stump left behind. Hot tears formed in her eyes, and the Lupine cried out once more. She doubled over in pain suddenly as the unforgiving pain of electricity washed over her body. An arm flailed out, knocking a lamp from the nightstand beside her bed. Curling into herself, s'Il managed a whimper. She felt weightless then, as though she were falling. Eyes wide, she gasped in shock. With one last cry, the Lupine felt darkness overcome her.

    It was the pounding of footsteps that roused her, but it was the terrified cries followed by blaster shots which brought s'Il brutally to the present. Her arm ached in remembrance, and residual tingles ran over her body. She could almost smell charred flesh. Screams suddenly silenced one by one accompanied her as she stumbled groggily to her feet, shaking her head in confusion.

    Master Windu was dead, taking with him a large part of her.

    She could hear doors being kicked in, and the unlucky occupants drowned in a flury of blaster bolts. Ever closer the sounds came, until it was unmistakeable that the room beside hers was being entered and purged. And she would be next... unless...

    The door to her rooms burst open, and a flood of white-clad clonetroopers stormed inside. Blaster rifles at the ready, they swept through every room.

    -click- "Place is empty; no one here, sir." -click-

    -click- Roger that. Move on. -click-

    The angels of death marched through the door and back out into the corridor to continue their bloody mission. The last trooper to leave stopped in the doorway, turning to send one last look into the empty quarters before following his comrades.

    And if he had chosen to look up, he would've seen one of the many targets of his mission, flush against the ceiling; arms and legs pushing against the narrow walls of the entryway to hold her up.

  5. #5
    Serena lay quietly, the side of her face reddened from the close proximity of the blaster bolt that had been meant for her head. Her fall had saved her life, if only for a moment. As she lay in the underbrush near the base of the cliff she could hear rocks falling as Captain Kata made his way down.

    Looking for her to make sure he'd killed her, she assumed.

    Her chest burnt and perforated, and one lung collapsed, she was in no shape to take out a clone commander. And he would find her. Her breath wheezed slightly as she struggled with each inhalation, pulling herself up into a sitting position. Her hands trembled as she struggled to undo her obi, pulling the wide strip of cloth away from her slim body.

    It took too long to wrap her chest and shoulder with the belt, but if she dripped blood everywhere she went Kata would have no trouble finding her. Serena tucked the end of the long obi into itself, satisfied with the bandage. She pushed herself into a crouch, and froze into stillness as she heard the crunch of footsteps in the undergrowth.

  6. #6
    Jeseth Cloak
    On a beautiful forest world, not more than a few hours hyper-space travel from Coruscant, Jeseth waited amidst a field of towering ferns. The horizon was alive with arcs of blue light, wave after wave coalescing in the distance, bright enough to rival the planet's small moon. The air was rich with gas and water vapors, the result of a millennium of decay. Jeseth labored to take another breath - something was terribly wrong. His heart pounded, and his rib cage flexed to it's limits. He felt a hot flash come over him. Had he been poisoned by one of the ferns? No, this feeling was... purely emotion. Betrayal. Terror. His large wings twitched nervously.

    He reached out to the thoughts of the clone troopers behind him and felt... nothing? The armored soldiers behind him raised their blasters, level with his back. His eyes went wide for a moment as a sudden realization came over him. Without a second thought, he leapt into the trees. Only the faintest sound of his robes breaking against the wind was heard. The troopers lowered their weapons, not having had a chance to fire a single shot. "He's gone," cried out one of the troopers, "find him!"

    Jeseth closed his eyes, sweat dripping down his hairline, jaw and chin. The drops of moisture fell to the clearing directly below his safe-haven (a gnarled mossy tree-limb). He would not die here. He could not die here.

  7. #7
    SW-Fans.Net Poster
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    Wyl Staedtler's Avatar
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    The Wheel
    Years later she would remember two things very clearly: the scorched smell of sapir leaves and the startled face of her best friend, Jedi Knight Mekgan Trallalli. Everything else was run together and fuzzy, everyone else, but the large silver eyes of the Mon Cal Jedi Knight always shone sharply in focus like two ever-luminous moons.

    How she hated those eyes.

    * * *

    Lolling on the soft grass in the Temple gardens was always a favorite pastime among the older Padawans and younger Knights; it was an activity too distinctly boring for the younglings and too distinctly undignified for the older ones of the Order, which effectively guaranteed that there would always be empty space on the tranquil grounds in which to lounge.

    One such spot was to the left and back a long ways, a nearly invisible little glade surrounded by fragrant green sapir bushes and carpeted with a soft blanket of grass. It got just enough light to be cheery, had just enough shade to be cool, and was just enough of a hassle to get to that it was almost constantly undisturbed.

    “You know,” Jedi Knight Mekgan Trallalli said as she looked at her steaming cup of sapir tea, “There’s something rather wicked about drinking sapir tea around sapir bushes. It’s like eating children soup in the crèche.”

    “Don’t be ridiculous.” Oa Umi’u grinned over the rim of her mug. She took a large gulp while looking at her friend. “The bushes are probably overjoyed to see that they’re being put to good use. They long to be steeped into tea and served to Jedi heroines.”

    Mekgan coughed and looked away. “I’m hardly a heroine Oa. I did my duty, and poorly.”

    “It was your first solo mission Mek, and all things considered you did very well.” With a concerned look she questioned the young Jedi, “Are you not feeling well yet?”

    The mission had been going as planned, with peace terms being settled upon with as much amicability as was expected of two warring nations. Then somewhere it had taken a wrong turn, and Mek had taken ill from a native plant poisen slipped into her tea. The Knight had managed to make it back alive, though weak, and had spent the last week with the Healers confined to a bed.

    Mek waved the concern away. “I am. Well… physically. It’s just… I should have known something, Oa, I should have sensed that something was wrong!”

    Oa sighed. “How could you have? The Jedi aren’t infallible, and you had greater concerns on your mind. You can’t honestly keep blaming yourself.”

    “But I should have known! The Trandashi leader had been acting strange for days and I didn’t even pick up on it! Normally,” Mekgan shook her head,“I don’t know, it’s… it’s just that everything seems a little blurred. I’m uneasy, but I don’t know why. Or I’ll be meditating and then I’ll lose my concentration.” She shook her head and lay back on the grass, toeing Oa with her bare foot. “Maybe it’s just that I’m worried about your leaving. You don’t have to go, you know.”

    “That’s what my father said.” Oa joined her friend, easing herself onto her belly and gripping a handful of grass with one aristocratic hand. “But it’s time. You’ve all grown up and are going off on missions now; I can’t stay and work in the crèche forever. I’ve got to grow wings too.”

    “Have you told Celen?”

    “Of course.”

    An awkward pause. Mek nudged Oa again. “And?”

    “He wished me the best, and then said he had an appointment elsewhere.”

    Even now she winced at the ramrod-straight back of the retreating man. Celen Orms, Mekgan Trallalli and Oa Umi’u had been in the temple from birth, sharing every class, going on every adventure, and scrubbing every floor in the Temple together; it was unheard of for any of them to shut another out like the Knight had when she’d told him of her plans to strike out on her own.

    “Oa?” Mek interrupted the young woman’s thoughts. “You understand that he just doesn’t know how to feel about it? He’s worried, but he doesn’t want to say so.”

    Oa nodded. “I know.” The two sipped their tea in comfortable silence. Then, “Are you sure you’re feeling alright?”

    Mekgan rubbed her forhead and nodded. “Yes, it’s just a headache. Tell me what I missed while I was gone.”

    “Not much, you know,” Oa chatted quietly, filling in her friend on the daily goings on and they laughed, enjoying each others company in the dim light of evening. Suddenly, mid-laugh, the Knight froze. Oa smiled.


    “Shh! Did you…” The Jedi trailed off, uncertainly. Oa was about to comment when Mek’s eyes widened. “By the Force—” Mekgan bolted up, followed by Oa’s frightened gaze.

    “Mek, what’s wrong?”

    “I don’t know!” She turned and hauled her friend up by the arm. “I don’t know, but—”


    Oa screamed as her friend collapsed, a smoking hole in her forehead, something white and glistening breaking through the brush and into the clearing. Primal instinct kicked visciously within her, and before she knew what she was doing, the woman turned and ran in the opposite direction as fast as she could.


    A fiery red bolt whistled over her shoulder, grazing her skin.

    Behind her, a sapir bush smoldered.

  8. #8
    Jeseth Cloak
    His pulse had quickened, and his blood now burned as if it were fire flowing freely through his veins. Oh, how, thought Jeseth, how could I have been so blind? His faith in the Jedi Council had been his weakness, and possibly his undoing. The branch below him creaked as he shifted his weight. A barrage of blaster fire lit the sky, drawn upon the sound. Leaves charred instantly, smoke filled the air, and Jeseth leapt to another branch as the tree he had perched upon was laid to waste. His eyes flashed with the after-images of blaster trails.

    His muscles tensed as he balanced himself, trying to avoid flexing the branch. He reached down to his saber and took another painful breath. His heart was wrought with conflict, and battle had never been his strong suit. He doubted his ability to fight through the hundred troopers awaiting him below.

    He heard the hard-plastic clicking of their armor below him, he knew his time had run out. With one fateful hiss, his brilliant blue saber burst to life. A second later, the forest lit up a vibrant shade of red, and smoke filled the air.

    Jeseth had never, not in all his years as a Jedi Knight, seen the sort of carnage that was flashing before his eyes between the swings of his saber and bursts of blaster fire. With every violent pulse of light, vaporized blood filled the air. The smell of crisp flesh and burning plastic snaked up his nostrils. He would have choked on it, if only he could have afforded himself the moment. If he was to die… he would do so valiantly. His hands were slim and delicate, but they held onto the hilt of his saber with a white knuckle grip that was the familiar hallmark of conviction everywhere.

  9. #9
    Clea Darkrunner

    Clea and the Purge - Pt 3.

    Like a cos-cricket in a book stack, Clea crept forward. Hardened to the sights of Corescant-Under she was but this slaughter sickened her. The bodies were piled in clusters and groups, some with their wounds still smouldering.

    By now she had reached the Atrium, and the Hall of a Thousand Waterfalls. The flower scent could not disguise the smell of burned flesh, nor the waterfalls the sound of blaster rifles echoing there. Small bodies bobbed in the decorative pond, and down the winding stream. The water was reddened, washing around the reeds on the edges, thinning and bleeding downstream.

    Picking her way cautiously forward, Clea heard a faint gasp. A small head had just poked its way up in the reeds. The young girl looked around warily, then started to ease her way out of the water. She was bleeding from a blaster hole in her right shoulder. She froze as she saw Clea, and tried to akwardly ignight a lightsaber lefthandedly. It showered sparks, and did not switch on.

    "It's O.K." said Clea softly. "I'm a friend."

  10. #10
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    She waited until they had left the hall, and even then the young woman waited longer. The sounds of blaster fire and the resulting cries burned in her ears. The smell of burned flesh was already reaching her flared nostrils. Her physiology only heightened her awareness of the two senses, and s'Il had to choke back a latent sob.

    But it was the loss of her mentor, of Master Windu, that hurt the most. Her arm still ached with the ghost-pain, and as she relaxed her body, she let herself drop to the ground. Bare feet smacking almost daintily on the marbled entryway, she fell into a crouch.

    Survival was all that mattered now - her grieving would have to wait.

    Something unimaginable was happening all around her, and s'Il had no recourse but to run. Answers would be left for later; the preservation of life was more important. The only undeniable fact she had though, was that the clones were her enemy - and the enemy was everywhere.

    Blinking away a single tear, the Lupine madly serached her rooms, intent on gathering what supplies she could. One hand grasped her sabre, another reached for the small shoulder pack she would normally use to carry datapads and hardbound texts to her classes. Its' contents were rudely dumped onto her bed to make way for now much more important items. Items such as torches, a rebreather, an old jacket rolled up, and a few pairs of socks.

    Her boots came next, and s'Il buckled the latches with hurried hands, not wanting to wait around for any 'clean-up crews'.

    The pack slung across her shoulders, she stuffed the sabre hilt into the back of her pants while scrambling up atop her desk. The vent grating came away easily, and without ceremony the Lupine snaked her way up into the ventilation ducts.

  11. #11
    Joda Cardgage

    It was a beautiful planet, full of peace, of life, of vigor. Small creatures scurried here and there, in search of food or shelter. It was raining - raining softly, but still raining.

    There was peace and tranquility here.

    In the distance, sudden violence broke the silence. It began as a single blaster bolt, immediately erupting into full-scale battle.

    "Sir, we have them on the run!"

    "Good job, stupid!" The Jedi, known only to his troops as 'Mr. Bad,' held up his gloved hands, moving his shirtless body in an awkward - and quite humiliating - song and dance. "We got 'em on the run - Boys! We got 'em on the run! We got 'em on the run - Boys! We got 'em on the run!" After he finished his song and dance, the Jedi - his head concealed by a large red mask - raised one hand into the air, igniting the lightsaber held therein. "Time to take out the enemy radar dish!!!"

    Igniting the saber clenched in his other hand, he ran head-first toward the army of droids opposite him, screaming the whole way there. The clone troopers followed suit, blasters firing randomly into the droid battalion.

    Raising his sabers into the air, Mr. Bad caught a super battle droid right at the top of his head, slicing through it as if it were nothing more than melted butter. A few feet away, his battalion of clones was turning the droids into mince-meat, and they were beginning to back away.

    "Sir, they're retreating!"

    "Oh, really, Captain Jor? I never would have guessed that!"

    He looked at the droids - the were, in fact, retreating.

    "We can't let 'em go! This is the Jungle Caper - we can't screw up the Jungle Caper!!!"

    He raised his sabers in the air again.


    With no warning, the entire droid army stopped moving. Instead of turning to return fire, however, they merely dropped to the ground, as lifeless as the sign that marked his childhood playground or the tire that lived there.

    "Uh... Good job?"

    He looked back at Captain Jor, who nodded - but not at him. The clones must be going crazy - the droids were controlling their minds, or something - because, with no command from him, the entire battalion raised their blasters.

    "It's time to go, 'Mr. Bad.'"

  12. #12
    (hope you dont mind if so or you dont feel it fights with your thoughts for this story just send me a message really like this story though)

    Jolar's pale blue eyes snapped open from his force trance as he felt the force cry out to him. Then he heard screams....of younglings followed by the sound of many laser blasts. He tore out of the dark meditation room looking down both ends of the hall wing. He raced down the hallway and turned a right corner to see a fierce battle at the end of the large corridor taking place. Several young padawans were cut down by the laser fire as they ran. Jolar's eyes opened wide at the horror to see who held the blasters, republic soldiers. A young jedi knight that he knew well, Tor Anran, ran to him as the jedi defense faltered, "Run Jolar get as many out as you can the Republic soldiers have turned on us, get as many out as you c....." he was cut off from a laser blast to his spine. Jolar whipped out his own lightsaber blocking the next blast aimed at him then the next he returned to its owner. He turned and ran back down the hallway he had to find warn the temple knights.

    Turning the corner he ran into three approaching clone soldiers. Without hesitation he placed his foot squarely in the first ones chest sending him flying back and then with the momentum launched himself in a backward flip lightsaber out wide. The Ataru saber training Master Urun Sai Shun had taught him took control. He landed in a crouch taking the legs from the soldier to his right in a sweep of his blade. He came up quickly cork spinning his body to the left and bringing his foot snapping the second soldier's neck. He landed charging the last soldier who tried to recover from Jolar's kick shoving his blue saber into the clone's chest. Hearing the footsteps following his retreat he continued on to search for help.

    As he raced through the massive temple he came across many scenes of horror, many bodies littered the walkways many that of younglings and padawans, some of those his friends. He shoved those horrible images and his own fears and pressed on. Coming to the second floor tier ,overlooking the main hall, he searched for a sign of hope but what he found was a large tight column of clones entering the temple. But what stunned him the most was what or who he saw leading the force a dark cloaked figure wielding a blue lightsaber. Jolar felt the dark energy coming from this person the fear gripped the sixteen year old padawan. Jolar watched as the man cut down several charging jedi knights and throwing others aside without breaking pace. He was awoken from this scene of disbelief as a bolt grazed his right cheek. His blue lightsaber ignited deflecting the following barrage as a group of clones came up from a side stairway. Jolar found his best bet was to retreat and let the force carry his feet beyond human ability down the adjacent hallway.

    He came to another cross section debris flew everywhere as a grenade exploded in the hallway to the left, smoke blinded Jolar for a few seconds before it cleared to the sounds of blaster fire and the hum of lightsabers. A gentle hand grabbed his own and pulled him from danger. As he emerged from the cloud of smoke he saw who was pulling him the beautiful Arana Senul, padawan of the twilek master T'zila Nerun. "Follow me," she said turning to him her beautiful green eyes assuring him. He knew where she was leading him to, the hangar bay.

  13. #13
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    I ran along with three padawans I'd met only minutes before. The main entrance was blocked, so we had to find our way on another path.

    One turned a sharp corner right, and got cut down in a shower of blaster fire. We all three had our sabers up and ready to take 'em on.

    The clones kept pressing on, and drove a wedge in us. The other padawans went their separate ways, and I found myself in a turbolift, mashing down the button to close a door that was taking it's time.

    I felt a fear in me that was deep and hungry, like one I'd never felt in all my life. Not a one of my teachings could console me against it, and as the doors slowly began to shut, a white-armored hand dove through the gap, confirming them all.

    I brought down my blade to sever him at the elbow, but a stray shot clipped the guard of my saber guard, knocking it from my grasp. I kicked hard against the soldier's hand, spilling the weapon out, but that caused the door to jar open again.

    I fell back, the clone fell in, and the door shut behind him, sealing us in a prison cell on a highway to hell.

    It was his strength against mine, and he'd been trained well. The pauldron on his shoulder made sure of it. As the lift tumbled down the chasm to the abyss of the temple, we began our desperate ugly dance. I bashed his helmet free of his head, and it clattered on the floor. He drove a suprise left cross over my eye and busted my head open.

    We tumbled to the floor amid the grunting and the screaming, never quite within arms reach of the saber or the shootin' iron. I bit a finger off his gloved hand, and he bled the same colored blood as me, a moment of perverse comraderie shared between us.

    He headbutted me and loosed one of my teeth. I glanced down to look for it, and found his vibroblade instead.

    He saw me see it, and we grappled for it for an eternity. My muscles screamed against his, and our sweat poured in the lift's tight confines.

    I straddled him and got the higher ground, but he wouldn't give up. He pressed hard against me, but gravity was on my side. The knife edge of the blade inched down on him like a glacier.

    He bowed his back up hard in a second effort, but it was six inches too late. I kept pressing on, and the knife started to break skin below his jawline.

    He kept fighting his losing battle. I kept leaning on in. I heard the sound of flesh surrendering. I smelled the sweetness of his blood. He looked at me, and I looked at him, and his eyes asked me please. I hated those eyes for begging, and I wished I'd never saw 'em. Was easier when they all wore helmets.

    I pushed the knife the rest of the way, and those eyes glassed up the way they should. I fell against the dead body, and wished my role was reversed.

    He wasn't my first blood. Just the first one that bled my heart. From that point on, I was a dead man.

  14. #14
    Dark eyes stared out into the infinite blackness of space as the custom converted Naboo Transport travelled on auto pilot to it's next destination. The caleidescope effect of hyperspace coerced the pilot into a trance-like state. Memories of a day long ago began to resurface.....A memory he wished he could forget.

    Youthful hands hung at his sides as the fifteen year old padawan waited patiently for his master to emerge from her quarters. Ezra was always early, too early at times Master Quan-yin had told him in gentle reproval. The Mirialan Jedi master often chastised the teenager with a calming and serene voice. Never did she raise her voice in anger nor disappointment. This rather worked well for the padawan as it made him strive to be better.

    The door opened and she smiled as her deep blue eyes connected with his of a chocolate hue.

    ” Good morning Ezra. Either you’re early once again, or I am late.”

    The teen smirked and cast his glance to the floor for a second. ” I am early master.” Quickly his face beamed and came up from looking downward. ”I cannot help it. I’m very excited about going before the counsel.”

    Master Quan-yin clasped her hands together and rested them against her abdomen. Smiling, her deep blue eyes stood out against her olive skin. The patterned markings down the bridge of her nose and chin stretched slightly with her skin. ” Yes I know.” Quan-yin replied more motherly than as teacher. But that quickly changed as she took on a more serious expression and looked deep into her student’s eyes. ” Remember to mind yourself and what I have taught you Ezra. Coming with me on this mission can be revoked as soon as it was given.”

    The teen nodded and did not lose his grin. ” I will not forget Master… I will not disappoint you.”

    Master Quan-yin touched his shoulder and smiled once more. ”I believe you won’t.” She confirmed and gestured for him to follow. ” Let us go. We have a Jedi counsel waiting.” The pair walked off to the counsel chambers where the Masters waited to discuss the mission at hand.

  15. #15
    Belay Nisi
    A bright nature shrouded the boy's vision. It was his lightsaber, a symbol and weapon of a true Jedi. Numerous before the youth had held something similiar, with formats nearly synonymous. The grip was different...the color was different. There was always a point in a Jedi's career that there was hope, possibility, chance to become a civilizan. The very person who would look upon the symbol of a Jedi and believe they were all the same. However that chance had died long ago for the young Belay Nisi.

    The grip was slender, but the crevices and bulges were a worlds different to others before and after. It was in that fact of his delicate architecthure that made himself a symbol of the Jedi. He was a dedicated youth. A lad of tremendous potiental and it showed in every last lightsaber he made for the destruction of the foolishly driven droids and enemy who stood before his comrades in the war. Even though he knew the true objective was peace, it was hard to block the anger from his mind. Out, beyond the Temple wall, was a world of insolence that festered in war. People stabbed each other in the back and walked away from the intelligence of the order, such as Count Dooku, to become nothing more than a puppet to darkness.

    Belay couldn't comprehend it, no trained Padawan could. None of it made sense and it was that which drove him in his studies. And so he stood, his clutch on his unique ignited sword, and swung. The two-hand grip allowed a full control that had been taught since the early days in the Bear Clan. Even at the smallest step or notion the memories splurged back into his mind as his body ached from repetitive usage. The training had gone on for about an hour in the padded and glass room. It was in these chambers that others had mastered their supremely conservitive or suprisingly aggresive attacks.

    A barley harmful blast fired from the wall at a twitching pace, only to be deflected by the superior speed of Belay's arms. Sweat trickled slowly down his evenly toned caramel skin. For a moment, his mind took a side-track and his eyes followed. The sweat was an indicator...the practice was working. Earlier his arm was always a second late, but now as his body tire his mind took control. It was in his head that many Jedi Knight that watched him believe he would push his body to levels that Jedi Masters only grasped.

    It had been a long wait, and Belay's body told him this. Stings had run a long every limb from the slightly harmful blast. He had already lost count over the hour how many times the shots had hit the same spot repeatidally. There was no need to keep up with it, for it was certain that it'd only amplify the lull pain. Switching in step, Belay took back his eyes on the situation afoot. Another blast had been fired and instead of moving his arms needlessly to his backside for another agonizing miss, he backflipped.

    A smile came to his face as he dropped down from his acrobatic display. Before him was a burnt spot where he once was...the blast definately missed.

    "Done for now." He said. "Finally."

  16. #16
    Several long moments ticked by as Serena crouched in the undergrowth, her thighs cramping almost immediately from the awkward position. She used a suppression technique to control her breathing as she tracked the position of Kata with one eye. He was behind and to the side of her, and she could barely see him through the brush out of the corner of her left eye.

    He was facing the other direction, scanning the area quietly with his helmeted eyes. The Jedi slowly extended her fingers towards the hilt of her lightsaber, barely brushing the smooth metallic skin of the weapon. Just a bit more...

    Kata's arm beeped softly, and he lifted it to recieve a holo transmission from one of his lieutenants. He was close enough that she could hear every word clearly. "Have you taken care of the Jedi?"

    "Yes. I am checking for the body - she fell down a cliff."

    "No one could have survived a fall like that."

    "She is a Jedi." Reason enough to check for a body. The transmission ended.

    The captain turned towards Serena's hiding place, a gauntleted hand holding the blaster he'd shot her with on the ridge. The bushes were scant protection. With only a moment to prepare, the Jedi snatched the lightsaber off her belt with her left hand, right arm dangling uselessly. Nerves screamed in her legs as she shot to her feet, igniting the saber and turning towards the clone trooper.

    He shot at her again, the blaster bolts whining with one continuous sound as he sought to finish her off just as hard as she fought to live.

  17. #17
    Clea Darkrunner

    Clea and the Purge - Pt 4.

    The girl studied her for a moment. Clea's nerves shivered at the impact of those dark, untrusting eyes, old in such a young face. Finally, she nodded. "I don't know why you've come back, after being gone for so long, but I won't turn down any help right now. They shot Master Tyrsus, and tried to kill me." With her left arm, the child pointed at the body of an older man, holes blown in him from blaster-rifle fire.

    "You know me?" Clea started to say, then stopped, hearing the rattle of approaching booted feet. "C'mon!" she whispered urgently to the girl. They raced for the cover of a clump of trees and bushes, sliding on their stomachs underneath the arching boughs of the nearest just as a squad of Clones marched into the area.

    The girl, Clea noted, was silent as they quickly wiggled deeper in the bushes.

    They had almost passed the grating before it registered. Extending her arm, Clea stopped the girl, silently. She pointed at the grate. The girl shrugged, and indicated the lock. Clea grinned at her, and pulled out her 'pick kit. Within minutes, the grate was silently open, its hinges oiled for silent movement. She motioned the girl to go first, then slid in the tube after. Turning on the ladder, she quickly closed the grate, and went down to meet the intersecting tunnel.

    Small cleaning droids skittered past them quietly as they walked down the bending tunnel warily, Clea's blaster at ready. When they had gone far enough, the girl motioned to the lightsaber stuck in Clea's belt. "Why don't you use that?" she asked.

    "I don't know how," said Clea simply.

    The girl stared at her in open disbelief, then asked, "May I use it then?"

    "Yeah," said Clea. "I don't know how to use this Jedi stuff."

    The girl looked at her and snorted. "Nice try, Jedi Knight," she said sarcastically. Clea looked at her. "Yeah, YOU!" the girl snarled.

    Clea's hand shot out, gripping the girl's uninjured shoulder, tightening. "You know me," she stated through clenched teeth.

    "Damn straight......." snarled the girl back.

    The sound of booted feet behind them broke the deadlock, and they hurried off again, each with her own thoughts, searching for an exit.

  18. #18
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    It was a bit harder going than she had originally surmised, and s'Il ground her teeth in frustration as she pulled herself up through a vertical vent shaft. Every so often she could hear the sound of blaster fire beneath her, and it was in those times that the Lupine fell still.

    Her eyes shut tight, she listened as the sounds of blaster fire echoed up into the duct, followed closely by the screams of fellow padawans. s'Il choked back countless sobs, a hand coming up to swipe over her face in helpless grief. Shaking her head to drive the sounds from her ears, the Lupine waited for them to pass before moving on once more. If only she could make it to the top of the temple...

    Ten minutes of determined crawling through upper vents went by. It seemed as though hours had passed however, and her brain seemed to always be playing tricks on her. After what seemed like an eternity, her efforts looked to have payed off, and she paused to rest. To her best estimates she had travelled a fair distance - hopefully far enough upwards that she was at least close to the upper levels of the temple.

    The noises from below had died away, leaving s'Il to contemplate the tragedy that had befallen the Jedi this day. It was unthinkable, and she let herself settle a little bit more for the time being. Her arm still tingled, and that same feeling from before overwhelmed her emotions; such loss and pain in such a short amount of time. The suddenness of it was almost overwhelming, and s'Il couldn't help but curl into herself to try and fight off the raw emotions threatening to take over her mind.

    How long she lay there she couldn't tell - it could've been a minutes, it could've been thirty minutes. It was the echo of a blaster carbine that shook her from her thoughts though, and the Lupine was brought back the shattered reality of the events unfolding before her. A cursory look ahead showed that another vertical duct lay before her, and tightening her pack, she started forward.

    It seemed however, as though what luck she'd had previously was nowhere to be found, and with a terrible groan, s'Il felt the vent beneath her begin to give way. Not a sound passed through her lips as the panel buckled, dropping her into open air.

    Body twisting as she fell, the Lupine instinctively balanced herself before landing on the marbled floor in a tight crouch. The panel had clattered noisily off to the side, but the Lupine made no move to vacate her position - there really seemed to be no need.

    After all, there was really no point in doing so, as the startled clonetroopers across the room were already raising their firearms, taking aim.

  19. #19
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    The Wheel
    She hadn't thought it was possible for limbs to function without a brain, but even as she felt herself slipping into a frenzied shock her legs had become winged creatures with minds all their own. They carried her at breakneck pace through the garden, fronds wipping her face violently and the warmly distilled air still echoing with blaster fire.

    When she finally came back to herself, Oa realized she had sprinted to the uppermost section of quarters. Dark eyes skimmed over lumps on the once-smooth stone floors, not understanding what they were until she nearly stepped on a pale hand.

    Bile rose in her throat and Oa had to scrabble for a wall to keep from doubling over. With a hand pressed to her mouth and terror blooming in her belly, Oa gingerly maneouvered around the dead to the end of the hall. She stood outside Celens open door for seconds that felt like years before she slowly stepped inside. Out of habit she pressed the pad on the wall to whoosh the door shut. Somehow the quarters felt all the more vulnerable with the exit firmly sealed, and Oa tried to ignore the loud silence. When she spoke, calling a hushed, "Celen?" into the empty room, it was rough and not at all her voice. Oa cleared her throat but didn't repeat herself; she didn't want to hear no one answer. Instead she began to walk through the small living room towards the sleeping quarters, vertigo staggering the walls fiercly.

    When the corner was turned, and the crumpled form found, Oa recognized him by the crescent scar on his right hand, and the constellation of freckles that looked like Cygnus on his arm. A high cry sounded from somewhere. She fell to her knees then, pulled the weight of his body into her lap to press against her breast. There was an awful scent on the air, harsh and electric, the smell of metal before a lightning storm and lingering menacingly under it was the deep burn of cotton and meat.

    This was not happening.

    This was not Celen dead in her arms, fallen silently in a dark space like a common alley criminal.

    This was not his room, datapads scattered on the floor and a creeper plant overturned by the shattered lamp.

    This could not be their all, their end. Not this way.

    But even as she tried to reason everything away, Oa saw that this indeed was it. The fate of all who would survived flashed clearly through her mind, and she saw her own future there. This was the place they would remain until their own ends came, with the pressure of grief like a storm against their ribs, clawing at the delicate skin of their throats to thieve all words. There would be no more tranquility after this, but they would charter trails carrying the weight of emptiness, confined by a loss so unfathomable it made Oa dizzy, creaked loudly behind her knees.

    The footsteps seemed to come from a great distance.

    With tears sliding down her neck to pool in the hollow at the base of her throat, Oa stiffened. The clicking of boot on stone was not the gentle, familiar cadence of friends. It was heavy and cold and suddenly she was angry--furious--at the audacity of the sound in this holy place. Her hand slid down Celen's corpse, found his cold hand and felt the hilt of his lightsaber against her palm. The weapon was weighty and awkward in her hand but there was absolution in it too, shrift in the slick grip of the handle, penance in the foreign drag as she swept it in front of her, repentance in the low hum of the blue blade as it sprang to life.

    The rustle of her tunic was punctuated by the dull sound of Celens body hitting the floor as she stood and moved to the door, pressing her back to the wall. The bootsteps were louder now, nearing quickly. In the wash of light from the saber, Oa's eyes looked very stark. There would be an absolution today; her hands gripped the weapon all the tighter.

    With an ominous hiss the door to the quarters opened.

  20. #20
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    "Master!" The young padawan tumbled into the cockpit of the freighter, dark brown hair cut short except for a small section that was grown into a narrow braid. "Is it true? Master Kenobi has killed General Grevious?"

    A'na Eldhil turned away from the controls to smile gently at her impish padawan. "Yes, Lilly. Now please contain yourself and go back to your concentration exercises. A Jedi feels excitement no more than she feels fear or pain."

    "Yes Master." Despite Master A'na's solemn words, the eight year old skipped down the passage to the living quarters. The war was over! Better yet, they were returning home to the Jedi Temple in time for her naming day. There would be no celebration, but Lilly liked to spend the day alone in the Temple gardens high above the rest of Coruscant. Among the flowers she liked to pretend that her birth parents were visiting her.

    They were proud of her, that she had been chosen to train at the Temple to be a Jedi. Lilaena did not remember them as she had been a baby when Master A'na had brought her to the Temple to begin the training. She had graduated from the youngling classes only a few months ago. At the end of her first mission with her Master, the padawan was trying to be studious and thoughtful, but her joy at returning to the Temple and at the news of the end of the civil war was hard to contain.

    In the cockpit Jedi Knight A'na Eldhil picked up a transmission on a Jedi frequency. There had been some sort of emergency and all Jedi were being asked to return to the Temple as soon as possible. They were already on their way there, with only two more jumps before they arrived in Coruscant space. The Jedi's forehead creased with concern. Something was terribly wrong.

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