Act IV: Ira

[Hal Terrano]

As his former Padawan and current Master engaged in the beginning of battle Hal fought in his own personal war upon the saturated temple ground.

That urging came again.

Get up.

That was hope. That was real genuine hope that could have only been provided by the presence of Lira Dajenn. He might have never been able to call himself a Jedi again, might have never been able to drape those once bold shoulders in brown robes but could he stand up? Could he do it for Lira? Not as a student, but as a friend?

Yes.

No.

All the mantras of old had been destroyed, stripped away and replaced by things like, I won't, I don't know and most of all I can't.

It was that same helplessness that swallowed him whole with the man in the dungeons upon Prakith. He had done nothing, and he would do nothing again, and again! BECAUSE HE WAS WEAK! The very thought of it made him feel sick, sent that bile spiralling up his throat, Hal Terrano had stood there and let a man…
“...I...can't…!”

The man was so steeped in struggle with his own demons that he scarcely realised that he had exclaimed his pained doubt out loud.

GET UP!

The voices of inner-conflict screamed at him. Lira's life was in danger, how could somebody that he, a failure, had taught face off against the beast that was Vrag? There was too much doubt. So much hopelessness, and yet still...that heartbeat, that moment before she emerged from the flora, there was hope.

Slowly and still trembling Hal Terrano managed to lift his head off of the dirt, to look up at the ensuing duel.

---

[member="Lira Dajenn"] [member="Vrag"]

 

[Vrag]

And then the coil around her gauntlet dissipated into nothingness, the thin white glow disappearing into the darker grey hues of her thermal vision. Feth.

There was no time for anything more elaborate as the Sith realized she'd been tricked, the whip springing back to life some inches lower — and well below her guard. Her repertoire of expletives was indeed broader, but that one, evergreen feth was all she could manage before causality caught up to them both.

The wayward coil of light snapped at her boot like a rabid animal, and Vrag was once again grateful to Makashi and the footwork so particular to it; Form II was one-handed, its stance putting the weight on the front leg, and that was the one thing that kept her from meeting the ancient stone at a rather faster pace than she would exactly like.

Instead the armored warrior merely stumbled forward, her balance distraught but not lost completely. Rather than try and regain her footing in a scramble of speed, the woman moved forth into a forward recovery, refusing to give up the precious momentum and tempo of their bout.

The firrerreo stepped out of the Jedi's line and to the side, counting on her superior footwork to outpace her quickness, as she pulled back her initial strike, redirecting it at the back of the Jedi's knee with an upward, almost sideways arc. The manipulation of the blade was swift, all the work done by her skilled wrist as she sought to incapacitate her opponent.

[member="Hal Terrano"] | [member="Lira Dajenn"]​

 

[Lira Dajenn]

@Vragypoops @Hall Terrapoops

The stumbling fall that the force pull had nudged her into drew Lira off kilter, it didn't help that the shouts of her Master forced her head to turn.

She let out a yelp, a screech as the neared the Sith. A crimson slash of the woman's lightaber fell, and Lira tried to push herself off and away, silencing her lightwhip and trying to hop away. She turned herself, half jumping away as the lighsaber sliced through her thin armor and into the back of her thigh. Flesh burned away, and the Knight let out a loud yelping screech as she tumbled onto the floor.

Panic set into her heart, her facing twisting.

Both her hands came up as she righted herself on the ground, turning within in the dust and bringing both of her hands up, one still grasping the hilt of her lightwhip. A powerful force push, the strongest that Lira had ever managed, surged forward from her palms.

“Hal!” She cried out in her panic. “Help!”

The young woman struggled to breath, anger, fear, emotional highs mixing inside of her chest. Heart thundering in her ears.

 

[Vrag]

The Skerr Kyrric, like its owner, reeled and seethed, its sharp legs clenching slightly as the aroma of burning meat. Sinew, muscle, blood, a hint of bone, perhaps? Vrag couldn't smell it, but the crab very well could, and it spurred them both on.

Her lips peeled back behind her skull, a skull-like leer that nobody could see as she brought her feet back into stance, drawing sharp breaths even as her heart beat with eerily even thrums. After having seen so much carnage — and, more importantly, being the cause of it — Vrag had become as used to the cold proximity of death as a mortal could ever hope to be; it was a double-edged sword, that familiarity, but in that moment, the Hand of the Dark Lord was wielding the right blade.

Her muscles flexed again, sending her across the uneven terrain as she moved to finish the prone Jedi. The hiss of the lightsaber was drowned out by the screams of them both, ringing loud and empty across the jungle long abandoned by its inhabitants. The fauna had followed its instincts, fleeing the site of battle as soon as conflict erupted across the ancient Temple grounds.

Before she could impale the woman on her blade, however, the armored Sith was met with forceful, desperate resistance. With a grunt, Vrag faltered in her advance, all breath leaving her lungs as she took a few steps backwards. Her nostrils flared, but she swallowed the anger, licking the salty sweat off her lips and crossing the remaining distance with a swift balestra, her red blade moving like a blur through the stillness as she sought to sever those audacious hands with a decisive upwards slash from the tierce.

[member="Hal Terrano"] | [member="Lira Dajenn"]​

 

[Hal Terrano]

It wasn't the best time to look up.

Of course, when it came down to the plains of battle, the monstrous woman known as Vrag wasn't one to indulge in distractions. The moment that this fight had started any notions of Hal Terrano being there was wiped from her mind, the focus set upon Lira like the finest point.

On the other hand, Lira Dajenn wasn't so callous. So while on the floor, shuddering and shouting he had given his former Padawan a slice of ill-timed distraction, leading her to being physically wounded. She was a Jedi, she couldn't simply just switch off and not care about the weak, and those who were in need of defending. That was him.

Then she called his name.

Still steeped in his conflict of screeching thoughts, Lira's voice rang louder than the rest of them. The biots that sat in the place of eyes shifted somewhat, that inky hopeless black being speckled with notions of blue, like the galaxy was hidden within Hal's gaze.

A little hope.

You can't save me now.

The broken man rose to his feet, stance still wounded, check still reddened from the backhand before, expression still sallow and pained.

But you can save yourself.

Vrag of course, still pressed the attack, there was no respites in her repertoire, just hard aggression from the get go. He had to do something. If not for him, then for Lira. She was in danger because of him. Inactivity now would have been the true nail in the coffin.

“LIRA!”

Hal Terrano charged, with feet fuelled by purpose for the first time in so long.

“RUN!”

Not that she would take that advice, of course. Which would have explained why instead of barrelling towards Vrag, he ran at his only former student. It wasn't cohesively thought out, it was all on instinct and gut and with arms outstretched he opted to violently shove Knight Dajenn away from both Vrag and himself.

---

[member="Lira Dajenn"] [member="Vrag"]

 

[Lira Dajenn]

@Vraglerock @Hal Spicerack

She felt a press, a push.

A wild shove that sent her rolling away from the Sith Lord. Her breath caught, her heart thumping as she tumbled. The after-image that her holograms projected seemed to blur slightly, moving at a quickening pace as she tumbled down a small inclined step of stone.

Her eyes closed, and instinct took over for half a second. The muscles in her body strained, her back jerking and her knees coming up. Her open hand shot down against the ground, lifting herself back up to her feet in one smooth motion, fire burning down her right leg as the bite of missing flesh sang to her. Tears streamed down her face, her lip dripping blood from sunken teeth fighting the pain.

“Master!” She called to Hal, her lightwhip exploding out again and flicking forward.

The coiling serpent of a blade shot forward, not aiming for the Sith but instead seeking to wrap around her lightsaber and pull it away from Hal. At the same time her free hand unclasped the small leather strap at her side, grasping the long hilt of the saber-staff and pulling it free from the small pouch.

 

[Vrag]

The next interruption came from where she'd least expected it; another attack from the Jedi would've been her first guess, and even tripping on a stone had been more likely in her mind than a charge from him.

Hal Terrano.

Once a man chiseled from stone, now a motley patchwork of organic tissue barely holding together under the pressure of guilt and misery. A golem of flesh that she'd sewn together with hard work and determination. All that remained was the last step; infusing it with a will of its own. It was that which had proven to be the most daunting of all tasks.

What makes a man?

She still couldn't say.

Her blade found clothes and skin instead of armor, and again the hiss and pop of singed meat filled her ears. Instead of finishing her strike, the Sith turned off her saber to save his life, her left hand shooting out to wrap around his neck in a vice-like grip.

It would be so easy to kill him then and there, to squeeze just a little tighter, feeling him spasm against her as his body struggled for breath. Muscles flexing uselessly as no air passed down the trachea, tissue going into necrosis as the oxygen never arrived. What color would those galaxies turn then? Would he even see anymore?

Too easy.

The Hand of the Dark Lord would use him as a shield to protect herself from that lashing coil of light. The Jedi would never hurt her Master, former or not. They simply weren't made of the right stuff.

[member="Hal Terrano"] | [member="Lira Dajenn"]​

 

[Hal Terrano]

The red blade met flesh, but it wasn't Lira Dajenn's. Upward slash bit into the flesh of Hal's side and his back as he twisted mid-shove to try and afford some protection. With naught but simple cloth to protect his skin from the burning fury he released a pained shout…

...that was swiftly cut off by a forceful grip around his neck.

Finally having some purpose in the Galaxy after months of utter hopelessness Hal found new use as Vrag's human shield, and was now being used, unfortunately against his former student.

Lightwhip lashed out and instead of meeting its intended target, struck Terrano in the ribs, inflicting deep burns across his torso. Naturally the Jedi Knight pulled back the instant it struck her former Master but the blow still elicited a more silent variation of pain, with the blonde man bucking against his captor's grip.

Hal Terrano, however, could survive physical pain.

It was the distinct lack Lira Dajenn's fleeing form that left the man in a state of real anguish. She wasn't running. This was the perfect avenue for the woman to flee and yet she didn't. A strangled croak tried to urge her once more but the hand of the Hand cut that option off. Why wasn't she running?!

It was a question with a very simple answer.

All one had to do was look at Lira Dajenn's Master.

---

[member="Lira Dajenn"] [member="Vrag"]

 

[Lira Dajenn]

[member="Vrag"] [member="Hal Terrano"]

She gasped.

Her hand immediately flicked back, her thumb fumbling against the off switch of her lightwhip as the blade grazed across her master. Tears streamed down her face, and a soundless cry tried to escape her throat. She looked out, her hands snapping to her sides and her feet pushing back in a defensive stance.

“Hal!” She said the same word over and over again.

Madness was taking her.

What was she supposed to do? Could she win this? Could she beat a Sith Lord?

She had done so much, but had never faced something like this. Her heart thumped in her chest, her mind raced to find a solution. Her lips turned down, and her armor buzzed silently as the phantom clones besides her seemed to move to comfort her, closing in around her.

Lira waited, trying to think of something.

 

[Vrag]

It was Hal's soul that was weak, not his body, and Vrag had to grit her teeth as she held him in place, the hard edges of her living armor digging into the soft flesh of his neck. The flex of his muscles as he struggled against her grip could be felt even through the crab and the armorweave, surging tenfold still when the Jedi's whip hissed along his skin.

The dead red sockets of her skull stared at his former Padawan, her fingers twisting the extinguished saber the palm of her right hand as time seemed to slow between them. Moments stretched into what seemed like an eternity as she watched the coil of light hiss out of existence. In that one split second of her opponent's fear and hesitation, the Sith made her move, pushing Hal towards the armored girl with a powerful, bodily shove.

Counting on the ingrained instinct of the body to intercept a potential danger — moreso when it was one's Master — the firrerreo used that same push to cross to the left, her saber arm shooting out as she flung her lightsaber towards the Jedi in a low arc aimed below her belt. The girl had already received a scorching kiss of her red blade to her right thigh, and with that her ability to dodge fast enough would be severely diminished.

Enough, perhaps, that the hungry plasma would cut straight through those nimble legs.

[member="Lira Dajenn"] | [member="Hal Terrano"]​

 

[Lira Dajenn]

[member="Vrag"] [member="Hal Terrano"]

Panic rung through her, and her mind raced. In the aching moment of time, that passed Lira scrambled for a coherent thought. She tried to think of something, of anything that she could do. As Hal came barreling towards her she let out a deep breath.

“Sorry.” The hand which held her lightwhip came up, the force surging from her palm directly at Hal. Her fingers curled slightly, and her arm waved to the side.

She tried to be as gentle as possible, tried to be careful, but she knew that her Master would be flung to the ground because of her actions.

At the same time her right hand came up, one end of the Saber-staff igniting in bright blue, her arm locking into place and swatting at the bright red blade that swept towards her knees.

 

[Hal Terrano]

Struggling against Vrag's grip was ultimately futile but at that moment in time he possessed no concepts of futility, such things overshadowed by instinctive desperation. Hal could feel the armour easily disregarding cloth and digging into his upper back and neck, he didn't care. Could feel the sting of laceration as his hands tried to grapple at the one around his throat, he didn't care.

Any further harm inflicted upon himself was of no great concern. His captor, tormentor, his Master had worked tirelessly and systematically to break him down so that she could build him up again in her new image. Yet to be built however he was still broken, not care about himself, his well-being or even his life...but...

...he cared about Lira, who was presented before him eyes brimming with tears, mouth muttering his name over and over, unsure of what to do next. That was worse than anything that physical pain could bring to the table.

Suddenly he was pushed, large frame sent flying towards Knight Dajenn with far too much momentum for him to stop on his own accord. Thankfully his former student was quick on her feet, pushing him aside with the Force and knocking him once more to the sodden ground.

Still she stood. Still she fought.

Terrano, with his back to the battle staggered back to his feet, blood dripping from his hands, tricking down his neck and staining the torn cloth that covered his back. A wavering deep breath was sucked into his lungs as Hal released a bellow to his former Padawan.

“RUN!”

---
[member="Lira Dajenn"] [member="Vrag"]

 

[Vrag]

The firrerreo never stopped moving, rushing in after her spinning red blade as she reached to the small of her back for Chom-Huun, the not-quite-lightsaber of the Vong. The orange beam sprang forth from the creature as her fingers squeezed the 'hilt', and then she was upon the Jedi.

Her chitinous boots found ample purchase on the rough stone of the once proud Temple as the Sith desecrated its grounds with each step she took, her teeth bared behind the skull in a hungry leer. The beast in her chest was awake and eager for more blood now that she'd spilled the first drops. (Well, not actually spilled, since burning plasma cauterizes the wounds, but artistic license and all that.)

The Hand of the Dark Lord would end the girl quickly, out of some inborn respect she held for all fighters who would dare oppose her, and because the Jedi had, in the end, done her a favor. She had spurred Hal into action. Broken his stupor. Dragged him kicking and screaming out of his stagnancy.

Her lips twitched into a twisted shadow of a smile as she stepped out of the Jedi's line, bringing her blade towards the exposed hand and hilt in a deadly sideways slash as she sought to pass the Knight and move to her side. Even if the girl somehow blocked, Vrag would utilize her superior strength in the narrow measure, crushing her inside that tin can of hers.

​

[member="Hal Terrano"] | [member="Lira Dajenn"]​

 

[Lira Dajenn]

[member="Vrag"] [member="Hal Terrano"]

The lightsaber sliced through armor and flesh like butter.

Lira had never designed her armor to be impervious to lightsabers, had never though it would have mattered. She was supposed to dance around opponents, move and weave about them in quick successive hops. Like a Nexu, circle, then striking.

Yet here it hadn't worked. She hadn't been fast enough, smart enough, present enough. Seeing her Master so beaten down, watching him at deaths door, suffering and used like a ragdoll by the Sith Lord. It had been too much for her, too much to witness, too much to bare. Hal had been her guiding light, the one who had picked her up out of misery and given her purpose again, and now...he was broken.

She screamed.

It was a hoarse scream of pain and agony, her nerves and skin cauterized in the instant that they were severed. Her hand dropped, still holding her lightsaber. She reeled, dropping back and clutching her stump, grasping at the now lost appendage and letting her lightwhip fall.

 

[Hal Terrano]

He turned, at exactly the wrong time.

Hal turned to witness the orange blade cleave through the wrist of his former student, to watch, to hear that agonised scream rip out of her throat. As the severed appendage fell to the sacred ground the man rose, the bloodshot whites of his eyes shown as he looked upon the scene in absolute horror.

Once more Terrano charged, body fuelled by fear and adrenaline.

There was no point in trying to push Lira out of harm's way, she wouldn't run, she wouldn't leave him behind. The Jedi Knight displayed every stubborn bone that he had instilled in her and it was going to be that which killed her.

He had to try. He couldn't let her die because…

...because of him.

Again he moved with reckless abandon, not caring for the physical consequences, with no fear of Vrag's Skerr Kyrric's painful spikes.

The galaxy had drained from those wild irises, replaced once more by that familiar tinge of yellow fear. As he charged, the man let out an almost feral shout, the full force of his physical mass on course to impact with Vrag, to try and tackle the imposing woman's midsection.

---

[member="Lira Dajenn"] [member="Vrag"]

 

[Vrag]

But the Jedi wasn't fast enough.

Her strike was true, the heated blade severing the offending hand with near-surgical precision as the firrerreo stepped past the Jedi. There was no spray of blood, but at least there were screams; throat-tearing cries of agony as the girl was finally met with the harsh consequences of meddling in the affairs of the Hand.

Oh, the irony.

Vrag twisted her upper body to flow from one attack into the next, simply continuing along the initial trajectory to finish the matter and carve through the chest of the Jedi. Her blade would cut right though that fluttering heart behind her ribs, putting a blissful stop to the pain roiling off the girl in waves.

It would be mercy.

Would.

Her strike would never be complete, however, interrupted instead by the charging form of the Jedi's former Master. [member="Hal Terrano"]. Defiant again.

She would have to thank the girl later, if she was still alive. At the moment, though, Vrag was too busy hitting the cracked stone below to ponder on such details, breath escaping her lungs with a tight grunt. She rolled back with the force of the blow, her shoulder protesting slightly even as she pulled her legs in and then upwards in a powerful kick aimed to throw him off. She spared the man no quarter and the Vonduun did neither, most likely leaving deep, bleeding scores in his flesh even as he chitin-clad boots rushed up to meet whatever part of him that would offer purchase.

[member="Lira Dajenn"]​

 

[Lira Dajenn]

[member="Vrag"] | [member="Hal Terrano"]

She lay on the ground screaming.

It was all she could do, all she could think of. She had never lost a limb before, had never sustained a serious physical injury. One didn't just wave off losing a hand, even with the force. She was only twenty years old, barely out of her teens. She'd never been taught or trained how to handle this kind of pain, had never been told what to do in this situation.

Sure she could work through hurt.

But this?

This was something else entirely.

Her free hand tore at the cauterized stump, phantom fingers curling and grasping at nothing as she screamed. The seals on her helmet hissed, and silvery white hair blossomed forth from beneath her helmet as she tore the metal free, the strange after images disappearing around her.

Lira continued to scream, her yell turning into hoarse sobs of pain and agony. She tried to summon the force, tried to pull forth the void to help her, but as she desperately scrambled for help, as she tried to pull crucitorn within her, all she found was more pain.

 

[Hal Terrano]

A twinge of satisfaction raced down the man's spine as he clattered into Vrag.

Not so much for the feeling of knowing that he had spared Lira Dajenn from death in that moment but rather the gratification that came from the impact. In the entire time he had been under the monstrous woman's heel he had not once opted to attack her, managing to stick to his pacifistic core.

Until right now.

They went down together, crashing into the temple's once hallowed ground. Her accursed armour bit into Terrano's flesh at every point it could, but it wasn't terribly likely that the broken and bleeding man would start to care about that now.

Not with Lira's screams piercing his mind.

His head turned back to look to her, face twisted into a mask of pained grief and as he did Vrag's feet found purchase upon his stomach, successfully kicking him off of her.

Hal didn't resume his offence upon the armoured woman, instead choosing to rush over, half-crawling to Lira, whose unrelenting screams had transformed into haggard and pained manic sobs. Given the crippling injury she had sustained it was understandable, it would have been doubtful that Hal himself in his prime would have been able to withstand the pain and shock of such a wound.

With utter desperation in his movements he wrapped both of his arms around his former Padawan's form, picking her up from the ground and enveloping her in an unyielding hug. He wouldn't let her go. He wouldn't. A large hand gripped the back of her head, pushing it down into his chest.

Frantically he tried to shush Lira, but it was all completely futility with no coherent words escaping his cracked lips. She wouldn't run, he knew that now. So all that Hal Terrano could do was cover her with his own body, practically on top of the woman so that if Vrag wanted to hurt her, she'd have to pry him off, or hurt him too.

---

[member="Lira Dajenn"] [member="Vrag"]

 

[Vrag]

The weight was lifted off of her, and she took a deep breath, her lungs expanding with the filtered air as she inhaled. Vrag lingered not a moment, pushing back on her feet without so much as a sound. Her shoulder was still sore from the impact, but the adrenaline coursing through her veins drowned out most of the sting. By the time she could feel it the injury would probably be no more than a mild annoyance, and certainly nothing to be worried about at the moment.

She licked her broken lip, tasting the familiar copper and salt as she stalked towards the pair on the floor. They were a pathetic sight, both riddled with the overpowering stench of fear and helplessness, soaking each other with their tears.

As if it could help.

Her nostrils flared in disgust and anger as another scream rang though the swamp, and her fingers flinched around the Chom-Huun as she approached. With her free hand, the firrerreo would grab Hal by those blonde locks and jerk him to the side with the Force, rough and heedless of where he landed. There was a small, nigh imperceptible a crack in her control, and she would see it swell with the blood of the girl before another minute passed.

The orange blade would hiss out of existence, the creature scrambling out of her hand and holding onto the Skerr Kyrric as the Hand of the Dark Lord reached forward to cradle the woman in a perverted imitation of Hal's protective embrace. Her fingers would close around the silver strands of the Jedi's hair as she would grasp the back of her head, digging into the soft flesh of her scalp.

She'd grasp her precious little chin with the other hand, and then snap.

Every life comes to an end.

[member="Lira Dajenn"] | [member="Hal Terrano"]​

 

[Lira Dajenn]

[member="Hal Terrano"] | [member="Vrag"]

The snap rang out like resounding thunder.

It seemed to echo throughout the clearing, bouncing of the trees, the stone, everything. One moment Lira Dajenn was grasping her stump, wailing and crying, sobbing in the arms of her master. Then the next her chin was gripped by a Sith Lord, her hair pulled, and a whimper passing her lips.

That was the last sound that was heard from Lira.

A soft, pathetic whimper.

It was followed by that crack, that loud echoing wrench that saw Lira's head nearly twisted off of her body in a fierce, smooth, motion. It was so harsh, so quick, so sudden that nothing more could be said for it, nothing more could be done.

The girl died within the arms of the Sith, died within the arms of a monster.

Her body went limp, her form sagging, arms dropping to the ground and away from where they had been held. The Sith let go of her. Silvery white hair fell ragged over the corpses head, blood and mud smeared face crashing into the ground with a loud thud. Her armor crumpled, and her body lay there in silence.

There was no becoming one with the force.

No echo of power.

Only a dead girl who wanted to help.