Act I: Invidia

[Hal Terrano]

Exercise.

The last refuge of Hal Terrano.

In his former life he liked to keep things down to a tight schedule, everything was worked out and if you knew the man well enough you could find him upon Cato Neimoidia with naught but ease. It kept him focused, fit and most of all it kept him disciplined.

Porridge might have been gone, alongside his precious archives and not to mention the loss of companionship that came with Avalore Eden, a name that he was trying to forget due to sheer guilt.

He still had exercise though.

Over the past few months he had been afforded some extra liberties upon Prakith. For starters the collar around his neck that left him unable to wield the Force had been removed, granting him back the use of a sense that the man had been so sorely missing. After a period of time he was even allowed to leave his room, although he was still limited to the citadel, she'd had an anklet slapped on him to prevent that, Hal didn't know what it did, and didn't really care to find out either.

The last thing that he had been granted was a name.

[member="Vrag"]

He was yet to say it out loud, only having mulled the word around his mind with great caution. Even within his own head it presented a degree of fear and inadequacy within him. One can hardly forget being manhandled like that so easily.

Having already been for his standard jog Hal was back in his confines amongst the Sith Acolytes and Knights of Prakith, working on staving off the madness and guilt that threatened to consume him. This mostly involved strength training. Typically he aimed for a balanced regime, ensuring that no part of his anatomy was left out. Leg raises, push ups, crunches, squats.

Sadly for voyeurs, all of this routine was done in those black Acolyte robes, after all, it made sense to train in the garb that one would be accustomed to wearing…

...and training was the only thing keeping him sane.

 

[Vrag]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9sak0eydgok&index=8​

The beat of her heart was strangely calm, and her feet met the ground with that same rhythm as the pulsating muscle in her chest. The tap tap tap of the naked flesh slapping against hard permacrete filled her ears between each breath, long, drawn out, burning in her throat.

The air was cold that morning, like a thousand razors slicing up the tender mucosa of her windpipe, but Vrag enjoyed the scorching sensation. It reminded her that she was alive, that she was still here, when thousands, no, billions of others were not. It was… Force knows which lap it was, but a few more, and it felt like all her sins would be paid off. Every intake of breath was like a punishment in and of itself, the drag of sharp air through her nostrils and down her trachea, to fill her aching lungs with badly needed air.

Just one more.

It's what she always told herself, through ground teeth and throbbing veins to push that one last mile before her legs gave out.

With a creature like her, the condition as temporary, of course; a short rest to catch her breath and let her muscles recover before she dug in again with gusto. There was a beauty to that strain she could put on herself, that stretch just before something snapped. With time, Vrag had learned to find that exact spot before breaking, after crossing the line many times, and knew how to utilize it well both on and off the battlefield.

She still wasn't sure how to classify the training grounds for the Sith.

On the one hand, people rarely died there, but that didn't mean there weren't wounds galore. The Knight had never really suffered from those particular downsides due to her innate abilities — the dirty cheater — but the experience was there nonetheless. In a sense, the threat of real injury was an excellent motivator to spur combatants into real action during sparring.

Speaking of which…

"Hal Terrano!" her voice, perhaps slightly hoarse from the strenuous morning run, rang through the chamber. Some recognized her — most didn't — but everyone in the room fell silent nonetheless. Maybe it was the look on her face, maybe the tone of her words, but the sounds of fighting petered out as the men and women in the room stopped to watch the events unfold.

"Get off the floor, grab a vibroblade and…" she paused, her blue eyes raking over his clothed form, "strip."

With that the woman turned to face another Acolyte, sweeping her unyielding gaze over the crowd. Some averted their eyes — cowards — but some held her stare, and it was from those that Vrag picked the next contestant. "You." She crooked her finger towards a young blonde thing in the bloom of puberty, her body covered with a heathy sheen of sweat and blood.

Perfect.

"Fight her," she said simply as he gaze shifted back to the man, lips quirking slightly as a ring of Sith formed around the pair. It ought to be amusing, at the very least.


[member="Hal Terrano"]

 

[Hal Terrano]

He grimaced, hearing his name called out as if it were some accusation, and the man froze mid-repetition, caught halfway between a crunch as the room around him froze. Of course one couldn't see it beneath robes but the man managed to hold his position, muscles tensed while she commanded him.

The vibroblade was brutish enough, was there truly need to strip as well.

He didn't question it, raising queries of her decisions in front of Acolytes was hardly a decision for the wise, as if Hal Terrano had planned upon making his captor look like a fool. Could you imagine what consequences that action would reap?

He shed his robe, folding it and placing it neatly upon the ground before removing the shirt underneath and disposing it in a similar manner. The shedding revealed his robust torso underneath, covered in a mild sheen of sweat from his exercise, which only further highlighted the man's muscle definition. The trousers and boots remained. If [member="Vrag"] wanted those off, she would have had to asked further.

Out of the crowd of budding Acolytes one was chosen, a girl she was, so young. Her youth caused a grimace to spread across the face of Terrano, the very notion of fighting this young girl one that displeased him greatly.

He stood, shooting a concerned glance towards his captor, point of his vibrosword towards the floor as he waited for the young woman to make her move, as if Hal would attack first.

 

[Vrag]

She stood there, still as a statue and just as expressive as she watched the audience rearrange themselves without a single command being uttered. It was quite delightful seeing their budding sense of discipline, and it filled her wretched heart with pride as they fell in rank, one after the other. So beautiful that she nearly shed a tear.

The woman crossed her arms across her chest as the ring fully formed around the two would-be combatants, blue eyes narrowing slightly as they flickered between the pair. She'd picked the young blonde for a number of reasons, but chief among them was her pulchritude. During their little… session, all those months ago, Vrag had discovered that the man was peculiarly averse to all matters intimate, and as such pitting him against one that was attraction incarnate was likely to produce interesting results. That, and the Acolyte was one of the more promising ones, skilled enough with a blade to pique the Hand's curiosity.

Unlike the former Jedi, the female Sith held no qualms when it came to combat, and so the blonde dived in with gusto, her blade raised in an offensive guard of Shii-Cho. Vrag wondered if [member="Hal Terrano"] had ever used a weighted sword like the vibroblade now in his grasp, and how he would fare against one so well-versed in its use. However the duel unraveled, it would surely prove to be interesting to watch.

The corners of her lips quirked upwards as she raised her chin ever so slightly, blue eyes taking in every motion the two would make. Oh, was she ever eager to find out what a broken man could do when faced with the unchained fervor of a Sith.

 

[Hal Terrano]

He was aware of the weight in his hands, hands that were only accustomed to the considerably lighter feel of a lightsaber hilt.

So much about this situation filled Hal with a sense of unease. The circle of Acolytes around them gave the man a further feeling of being trapped, causing a tight knot to form in the pit of his stomach, even the girl opposite him provided discomfort beyond belief, something clearly reflected upon his face. She was young, too young to be here at the height of vitality without a grain of fear in her eyes. How many of her peers had she bested? How many had she killed?

Okay, he had the physical strength and advantage in size but beyond that the weapon was foreign to him, whereas she had assumed stance with gratuitous amounts of vigour. Combat forms would not aid him here, where a lightsaber felt like an extension of a Jedi's arm, the vibroblade felt like an anchor.

Instead he shifted his grip upon the hilt, alternating between his right hand and both hands to try and find an edge of comfort. He frowned, displeasure still very much evident upon his features before deciding upon a two-handed grip, blade held diagonally across his torso. Left foot forward he shifted his weight onto the ball, he had to imagine that the girl would be quick.

Then he waited.

[member="Vrag"]

 

[Vrag]

Lena Sarl.

A small, lithe thing that had seen perhaps twenty winters — if that! — whose eyes spoke of years beyond her age. She was human, or at least looked like it, but her skin was an unhealthy shade of pale, the blue network of veins clearly visible through paper-thin flesh in certain spots. Even her teeth were eerily white as she leered at him, knuckles gripping the handle of her vibrosword almost too tight as she started circling him.

Her deep amber eyes remained fixed upon Hal as she took small, calculated steps around him, the sharpened tip of the sword pointed at him at all times. She was judging him, taking his measurements like an undertaker might, though hopefully with less of a smile on their lips.

Then suddenly she lunged forward, no warning whatsoever, elongating her reach with a clever pass of her feet as she stepped towards him. Legs followed the arm — Vrag nodded proudly to herself as she watched — and the blonde woman grinned triumphantly as her blade sang through the air, headed straight for his abdomen.

The Knight narrowed her eyes at the attack, for it was a chancy one; on the one hand, the Acolyte could very well overwhelm [member="Hal Terrano"] with the swiftness of her assault, but she was running the risk of having her sword batted downwards if the man reacted in time. Still, by the way the former Jedi had been struggling with the opening stance, the Hand wasn't entirely confident that he was capable of such a feat.

Her mouth curled upwards, and her blue eyes watched, unblinking.

 

[Hal Terrano]

As he was being sized up by his opponent, Hal was very aware of a creeping apprehension in his soul. It was an apprehension born from disappointment. He didn't know what [member="Vrag"] expected of him here, likely just an opportunity to find out what exactly she was working with here, but the others that encircled them, the girl opposite them, they only wanted one thing:

Blood.

The rumour wagon had gotten rolling and before long the Acolytes were very aware of a fallen-Jedi amongst their ranks, and what ambitious little cretin didn't want to be the one to slice literal chunks from his flesh?

He would leave them sorely disappointed. Hopefully. From the start the man had never planned on fighting back, barely even defending, he aimed to turn violent sparring into banthafighting.

Thankfully his permanent state of sadness hadn't left him sluggish, and when she charged, he pivoted on the ready foot, ensuring that there was no abdomen there to be skewered. In such a position one might have countered, but not Hal, that was not his plan. Instead he hoofed backwards a few paces, aiming to keep some distance between them at all times.

A frown.

 

[Vrag]

Anger blossomed in those honey eyes as the man sidestepped, easy and burning as the pale girl revealed her true nature. Like so many, the young woman had let herself be absorbed by the Dark Side too hard, too fast, and now the Force was guiding her like a puppet.

A well-trained puppet, nonetheless.

Her pretty, feminine lips curled into a rictus of hate and ire as her feet found purchase against the ground, muscles struggling to keep up with the change in intent. She was still reckless, rash in her actions, but there was a fire in her eyes that wouldn't be quenched. Lena would not suffer a defeat — not such an ignoble one, surely! — in front of her voracious peers, all of them just waiting for her to stumble so they could descend upon her like ravenous beasts.

Bloodlust was thick and pulsating in the room now, and if it weren't for the Hand keeping watch of the Acolytes, the men and women would've surely devolved into uncontrolled fighting by now. It was in their nature, to bite and claw and tear with everything they had — oh, Vrag understood — but they weren't beasts. Part of becoming a good fighter was reining in that monster that would rear its head at the whiff of broken skin and weeping flesh, learning to harness its power while maintaining control.

It was a difficult balance to find, and even harder to keep, but that's why true masters were so rare. She wasn't seeking to make a master out of [member="Hal Terrano"], far from it. She merely wanted to make a man.

The blonde surged in that moment, redirecting her strike to the side as she struggled to turn her body with it. Force coursed through her limbs, grasping her like a marionette as she moved forward on its dark wings, faster than the naked eye could see.

 

[Hal Terrano]

When he caught glimpse of the young woman's contorted features he considered the scene before him.

They sat on opposite ends of the spectrum. She was powered by rage, hatred, it showed on her face, and upon her skin, the way that the Dark Side was already corrupting that nubile flesh. Offensive, dangerous, rash. A galaxy away from the blonde man, who in his infinite tragedy had not suddenly lost his calm and quiet nature. Frown aside he was a figure that radiated a certain stillness, even paradoxically while in movement. Composed, even when broken.

It was a showcase of style and theory, of the classic Sith and Jedi battle comparison.

But you are not a Jedi any more, Hal Terrano.

This time she was faster, turning with wicked speed that denied the man the simple ideology of stepping backwards. Instead the blades kissed as he moved his, still in two-handed grip to block. The force of the clash gave way to reverberations that bothered his grip somewhat, a small taster of the power that nefarious forces could provide.

From there he opted to push her vibroblade downwards towards the floor with his own, but after feeling her strength through the blow of blades he felt a niggle of doubt. Did the engine of the Dark Side outweigh his own physical strength?

Was she, a mere girl, an Acolyte stronger than him?

[member="Vrag"]

 

[Vrag]

He reacted in time, but there were signs of concern blossoming in his aura, she could see it clearly now. Fear and worry seeped into the murky blue and gray surrounding his body, and Lena felt triumph course through her veins at the thought of victory. She'd been unsure at first, seeing as the man was older and clearly stronger than she was, but it was becoming clear that for all his physical might, the former Jedi lacked conviction.

"Weakling," the pale girl spat at him with rancor, white teeth bared as she pivoted on her left foot to kick at his knee with her right. The Dark side, as ever, was on her side as it gripped the muscles of her leg, drawing them tauter and tighter than what she could ever manage on her own.

The Hand watched with arms crossed over her chest, a shadow of a smile playing on her lips. The Acolyte certainly knew passion, but Vrag knew all too well how people could get carried away when in affect. It wasn't so much a question of whether or not Hal could exploit it so much as if he wanted to. The firrerreo had learned first-hand that almost all Jedi were plagued by a notion of honorable combat — such a misguided sentiment — and [member="Hal Terrano"] was most likely among them.

I mean… just look at that constipated face.

Nobody with an expression like that could fight freely, could he?

 

[Hal Terrano]

Before all of this, the taunts of a Sith would not have phased the man. He was crafted to be ever-stoic in the face of these things after all. Before all of this if it were not for his rampant pacifism Hal may have been a Jedi better suited to send in against the Sith, being the least likely to fall to emotion in the midst of battle.

Before all of this.

Now with his Jedi shell broken and shed Hal Terrano was naught but flesh and blood, vulnerable to words, thoughts and emotions, not just the bite of the vibroblade.

Weakling.

It resonated in his skull, in his core. He went back to that white room, trapped in his captor's armoured-embrace, lips in his ear watching from her point of view as she desecrated who he was with rampant ease.

"Look at yourself, Hal," she murmured, hoarse and low into his ear. "You don't deserve her."

"Weak."

"Bent."

Given his distraction and her force-infused speed his knee caught the full impact of the kick with an audible grunt, actively taking away one of his legs in that moment as he dropped down to one knee. Not good. What he needed was space, not to be tangled up in close quarters with this violent creature.

His right hand left the hilt of the sword, palm out towards her as he directed an all-important Force push at her core. Not designed to hurt the girl, or send her blasting off at the speed of sound, but just to create some space between them.

[member="Vrag"]

 

[Vrag]

The crowd erupted into a cruel cheer as Lena's kick connected, and the imposing presence of the Hand was the only thing keeping them from swarming the collapsed man. Bloodlust hung heavy in the air, making it almost hard to breathe for anybody that wasn't as steeped in the Dark side as most Acolytes were. Vrag, oddly enough, didn't feel particularly comfortable as it breathed down her neck, raking its greedy claws down her back as it perched on her shoulders. Watching… always watching, waiting for a moment of weakness to sink those talons in and wield her like it was wielding the blonde in the ring.

She pushed the thoughts out of her head and shifted her weight to the other foot even as [member="Hal Terrano"] pushed the pale girl away with a desperate display of the Force. Whether he knew it or not, he was slowly going on the offensive. Good.

The Acolyte snarled as she skidded across the ground, recovering her balance with a poorly executed roll. As she found her footing again, Lena was obviously favoring her left arm, holding the limb close to her body as she let out ragged breaths. Loose strands of nearly white hair were matted to her forehead by a thin sheen of sweat, but the girl didn't seem to care about anything other than her opponent.

"Hal, was it?" she spat at him, eyes wide and painted amber by the Dark side coursing through her. "You're a coward," her teeth gleamed in the low light as she stared at him with a wild glare, and then suddenly her left hand jerked forward to slap him hard, courtesy of the Force.

"Fight me."

 

[Hal Terrano]

He got his distance, a moment to breathe, if such was even possible given his surroundings.

The man was trying his very best to ignore those who were at his back no matter what direction he stood. It was getting progressively harder as the skirmish went on, these Acolytes were so wild, so bloodthirsty that any hint of contact got them riled up like caged beasts. How long would it be before they lost all inhibitions and descended upon him?

It was steadily beginning to smother him, just being upon Prakith was bad enough, the thick aura of the dark side stifled his senses in every waking moment, but in the circle it was so much worse.

Hal returned to his feet, there was a throbbing tightness in his left knee that forced him to shift the majority of his weight onto his right. It was troubling. She still held her vicious Force-imbued speed and now the burden of reduced mobility was on his back.

A grimace surfaced at the notion of being a coward, yet again ringing true in his mind for all of those abandoned principles. The slap came so suddenly, snapping his head to the left, much to the furious joy of the spectators. He remained unmoving however, redirecting his fleshy stare of shame back onto the savage creature as his cheek began to redden.

“No.”

[member="Vrag"]

 

[Vrag]

Lena's angry leer faltered at the obvious change in the former Jedi's demeanor, amber eyes lingering for a moment on the Vong biots burrowed deep in his sockets. But she was a creature bred of war, for war, and she didn't know fear. Her grin only widened instead, and the pale girl readjusted her grip on the handle of the vibroblade. How delicious would his tainted blood feel against the gleaming edge of her sword? Would he bleed red, like them, or was his life purer somehow?

No way to know unless she cut him open.

"What is it, Jedi?" the word left her mouth like a venomous insult — and on the ground they trod, that's exactly what it was — eliciting a chorus of jeers and laughter from the crowd. Spurred on by the support of her peers, the Acolyte started circling her prey in a low, crouch-like stance, a predator ready to pounce at a moment's notice.

"Afraid of hitting a girl?" Another bout of snorts and snarls, like listening to pigs in a pen. "Afraid that the girl will hit you?" the growl in her voice grew more pronounced as she spoke, pretty lips curling upwards to reveal her teeth.

She would grab at the air again, seeking to slap the other cheek this time. "Show some fething spine, WORM!" Her yellow eyes were on fire now, her throat burning with the thousand screams of the Dark side as she stared at him, through him, lost inside her own mind for a few moments.

"Or did the Jedi pull it out right through that mouth of yours, Hal?"


[member="Hal Terrano"]

 

[Hal Terrano]

Once upon a time he might have been compelled to save the girl.

Of course, Hal's own former definition of saving came alongside more sterile terms, like arrest and rehabilitate as if they were addicts who could do better in life. He had never subscribed to this mass hatred of the Sith that was so often seen across the galaxy, and worryingly enough within his own former Order. A Jedi shouldn't have been able to cherry-pick who they defended or protected.

All life was to be respected, whether the robes were brown or black.

Although, this had all been punctuated with once upon a time, and Hal Terrano was no longer a Jedi, even if the girl insisted upon slinging the word at him like vicious acid.

Was he afraid of hitting a girl?

The man certainly didn't want to, that much he knew but was he afraid?

Before he could even respond another slap struck his face, this time upon the opposite cheek so that at least his face could bask in moderate red patchy symmetry. Worm. Coward. Weak. Yes, yes he was afraid of hitting her. Afraid of falling further. He was terrified that now with his Jedi principles shattered that he was vulnerable to that same darkness that came screeching out of the girl's throat.

Hal tried to find calm within his soul to quench those flames of fear but couldn't, and it was reflected upon his face for all around to see. Without responding to the wild young woman he shifted, placing his free hand back onto the hilt, waiting for her to come at him once again.

[member="Vrag"]

 

[Vrag]

An odd sort of silence fell over the training chamber as the battling pair stumbled into a lull in their dance, both faces open and brimming with emotion.

It made her smile. Oh, to think back to the same man she had ground into mud in that forsaken swamp, where he would defy her with the arch of his back alone (pride is your sin, isn't it?) expression set in stone as if he were merely a statue chiseled out of marble by the deft hands of the Jedi. On another day, the woman would commend them for such expert craftsmanship, but their precious monument to the stalwart essence of the Order had been shattered by none other than her own hands. Any respect she might have felt towards the Jedi had been spilled on the floor of that cell, pried out of bleeding sockets and yanked off of twitching fingers.

But she would say nothing today. No, Vrag wasn't the offender this time, she was merely the witness to the crime, albeit a smiling one. The name of regret would remain unknown to the woman even as she watched Lena move forward again, rage seeping out of her pores along with sweat.

The Acolyte charged suddenly, her evenly paced circling interrupted by the fast fall of feet against the mat, and then she was there, upon him, her blade coming at him in an upward strike she'd arced back mid-movement. The vibroblade would come slashing at the exposed forearm of his left arm that he had so courteously offered for the taking once more, and the delight of the pale girl was almost palpable in the air around them.

Oh, how she longed to hear the scream of slit tendons against severed flesh!


[member="Hal Terrano"]

 

[Hal Terrano]

The brief respite reserved for insults was over, and the attack resumed.

Perhaps his perspective was skewed, but the woman seemed quicker than before. It might have been a case for both. The smothering atmosphere that encircled them, those jeering frenzied Acolytes bolstering her while at the same time weakening him. His knee, feeling progressively stiffer as time went on, swollen and slower. The words that she had screeched at him reverberated within his mind, seemingly getting louder with each repetition.

Worm!

In what seemed like a second she was upon him, blade glinting, threatening. Rather than try to block Hal opted to dodge, and in his instinctive craving of distance the man tried to spring backwards, but...he lacked the spring.

A grimace, as the blade came slicing through his forearm, though not as deeply as intended. The man thought that in that moment the circle might have collapsed in upon him, swarming him in their vicious hysteria at the sight of blood finally spilled. They didn't, unfortunately, it could have been a premature end to the spectacle if they had.

The crimson fell in generous droplets that stained the floor in persistent rhythm.

Coward!

Proving her words to be ever-true Terrano still refused to strike back with the vibroblade that was now only held with his remaining unscathed limb. He couldn't do it. No, not couldn't, not as if he was incapable of doing so, but rather he wouldn't.

“Enough,” he mumbled, voice unsure, the racket of the circle doing well enough to drown out his words. He kept going backwards, still right until his back was up to the carnivorous wall that would more than likely tear at him further.

Weak!

[member="Vrag"]

 

[Vrag]

The whole room, the whole crowd, even the time seemed to stand still for a moment as the vibrating edge caught against his flesh. Red blossomed upon the toned muscle even as it continued shifting underneath broken skin, and the more experienced of eyes in the chamber would recognize the flow of venous blood as it ran down his arm and splashed on the mat.

That's going to leave a stain, the Hand noted absentmindedly as her gaze flickered from the wound to the quickly spreading rose petals on the floor. Oh, well, it wasn't like this was a rare occurrence upon the training grounds of the Sith. The very soil of Prakith was swollen, bloated with blood of countless presumptuous attackers who had sought to subjugate the world and failed time and time again, leaving the planet to gorge upon their fallen as they repelled enemy fled with their tail between their legs.

The Jedi, it seemed, were always and forever plagued by their unwillingness to strike, to deliver a proper blow even when defending their own life. It was ridiculous, almost. As if they could even hope to defy Nature.

"Don't you ever ask yourself, Hal," the Acolyte spat then, and Vrag's attention snapped back to the pale girl. "What potential lies unexplored because you're so damn scared!?" Bits of spit spewed forth from her mouth as she spoke with fervor, pale fingers sliding along the length of her sword to scoop up some of the Jedi. Her tongue peeked out between rosy lips as she tasted the taint of the Light side in the liquid, its burn almost palpable against the Force thrumming inside her.

"You can't even bleed properly!"


[member="Hal Terrano"]

 

[Hal Terrano]

Now that was a notion actually unfamiliar.

He'd never questioned potential because he'd never held ambition. He had not been his own man, his own entity. Rather he was an extension of the Jedi Order, a tool to be used in the name of peace and justice. Perhaps it was not so just to strip away a man's humanity in achieve such, however.

Was her idea of potential…

...his fear of falling?

The girl prodded further, wielding her words as if they were her second weapon, spitting fury at him that he could not block or parry. Hal could feel frustration brewing within his chest, heart beat pounding against his chest like a violent drum as she sampled his own life's essence upon her tongue and then actively mocked it.

For a moment his vexation and frustration trickled into his stare, sanguine specks filtering into his vision as grip tightened upon the hilt of the vibroblade until his hand was actually trembling.

Just for a moment.

Then it was gone, to replaced by the sickly yellow of fear and apprehension as the man realised that he had almost lost himself in that MOMENT. That was the tipping point.

“Enough!” Terrano repeated, voice actually raised as he threw his vibroblade down onto the floor with a loud clatter, leaving himself practically defenceless to her blade. What would she do? Slay him right there where he stood? Breath caught in his throat, pulse in his ears Hal raised his arms up to his side, as if he was challenging her, the blood still dripping down. Death wasn't something that he feared. Would the Acolyte strike him down in her fervour, right there when he was open and vulnerable?

[member="Vrag"]

 

[Vrag]

The crowd flinched at his sudden outburst, and the chanting died down somewhat as they looked between the two combatants, not sure anymore who was leading this dance of theirs. Some were strong enough in the Force — or simply clear-minded — to realize that the girl was little more than a puppet of the Dark side at this point, and it was doubtful that she would stop. There was something intoxicating about the power those dark tendrils could offer, whispering in open, malleable ears.

"You don't deserve to be here!" the pale Acolyte shouted at the former Jedi, her eyes nearly bulging with the anger brimming behind those amber orbs. The vein on her forehead was pulsating wildly as her hand jerked out, calling the fallen vibroblade into her firm grasp. Chest heaving with murderous intent, the woman closed in with measured steps as she lifted her weapons in a makeshift cross that would slit his precious neck.

"You are nothing but a spineless w–" her scream was cut off with a high-pitched gurgle as the Hand hit her with the flat of a sword across the back of her head. Blue eyes followed her graceless tumble as she collapsed on the blodd-stained mats, and then they left the pale girl to meet the familiar hue of yellow staring back at her.

"Pick it up, Hal," she said, her voice level, and gestured towards one of the vibroblades now lying on the floor. "You will learn to appreciate the power we offer," the firrerreo continued matter-of-factly as she assumed a relaxed stance in the third guard.

"You are human, after all."


[member="Hal Terrano"]