Atonement is a thorny path (Darth Skygge)

[Naamah Aesham]

Today was a bitter cold day on Kaeshana. Ever since a massive asteroid had impacted upon the planet and laid waste to the Eldorai's once proud civilisation, it had been in the grip of an ice age. The fallout had been cataclysmic. The wealthy, powerful, the lucky and those considered to have essential skills for the reconstruction of a new civilisation out there in the stars had escaped the calamity by getting a place in the Exodus Fleet.


It had been a colossal humanitarian undertaking, saving almost three billion space elves. However...many more had been left behind on this goddessforsaken rock. They'd faced massive floods, famine, anarchy and warlords. They called themselves the Forsaken, for from their point of view they'd been left behind by their Star Queen, by the Goddess Ashira and the offworlders. Down here there was snow, mud, decay, filth and hunger, yet they endured, for the collapse had bred a hardy people.


Recently, the Forsaken faced a new threat. This one came from the stars, where their brethren had disappeared to and from where their doom had come in form of a big rock. Naamah watched the ghastly scene through the scope of her shatter rifle, having taken up position on the rooftop of a ruined building, crouching. Beneath her lay Ashira's Hope. The small town was located in the far north of Kaeshana and named after the supreme goddess in the Eldorai pantheon. In the light of the fact that the Goddess had not saved her people from disaster, there was a tragic irony to the name.


By the standards of Kaeshana, Ashira's Hope was not too bad. Ruins dotted the village, but much of the infrastructure had survived largely intact. The nearby river meant the survivors could get sustenance by fishing. The Eldorai had endured a remarkably cold winter and gang warfare until one of the warlords restored order. They had not been prepared for the machine onslaught. Ominous shadows passed across the ground and there was a loud roar of engines, then spider-like Harvester droids descended from the sky towards the ground. Elves trying to run to safety were seized when the Harvesters' tentacles gripped them like vices and carried them off to Force knew where.


The darkened sky was lit up by streaks of blasterfire when Eldorai warriors opened fire upon the mechanical abominations. Others, those who could call upon the Force, blasted them with elemental fire and ice, but more kept coming. Death machines that bore the faces of humanoids but were mere facsimiles of organic life, marched through the streets, accompanied by battle droids that resembled human skeletons. Swarms of tiny, wasp-like droids were unleashed, pursuing escapees.


The Outsiders had come from the sky and offered the Eldorai food and medical aid. Many had been sceptical, but enough had accepted, for these were dire times. They realised too late that the food contained a long-burn sedative. This was not a mission of extermination or an attempted hostile takeover. No, this was a Harvest. Stunned elves were herded like chattle and carried away. The pain, fear and terror of hundreds resonated through the Force, causing ripples. Thank the Force she was no empath.


Too little, too late, the town's doomed, the inner voice of reason chided Naamah. You know that Archangel can probably track any distress signal you send and pinpoint your location, it added. Her breath frosted around her. Her coat and gloves were covered in snow crystals. Damn, it was cold here. Probably, was the curt response when she slowly got up and took the stairs down. Miraculously, the comms room in the building, which had once been an aristo's residence, was still working.


"This is...Livia Jaeger. I'm on Kaeshana. Ashira's Hope is under attack from a hostile droid force. They call themselves Archangel. They're...herding people...to process them into death machines. The natives stand no chance alone." Would the distress signal reach anyone? Would anyone respond? Valid questions. Someone more rational might have considered this. But though she was not of this planet, this was personal for her.


Old Naamah would have ignored, except perhaps seen it as a chance to cause more chaos. Or acquire slaves under the guise of helping them so that she could use torment them. New Naamah was...trying to be different. Hell had a way of giving you perspective. She failed to notice the tiny, wasp-like droid that had perceived her presence. An image of her face would soon be transmitted to Archangel command in real time...


[member="Darth Skygge"]

 

[Darth Skygge]

The darkness of space was rather satisfying after the blinding white of the snow and ice of Ilum. It reminded her of the darkness of the cave, the darkness that had finally shown her the true path she was to walk. Like one of the stars that appeared as mere pinpricks, she was to be an agent of light in a dark galaxy. Her light, and the light of those she was to train, would keep the black from total dominion. The light shines brightest in the darkness, and the darkness cannot swallow the light.

The Force always strove for balance. Sentient species, left to themselves, tended towards darkness, towards the Dark Side of the Force – a label which, she had to admit now, was somewhat simplistic. The Force was not dark or light. It was a tool, like any other – perhaps the best comparison was to a lightsaber. Her weapon, forged by her hands, was a tool. Used correctly, it would defend the helpless and the weak and bring light to those who needed it; used poorly, it would instead snuff out what little light there was. The Force was the same. One could use it as a tool for good or for evil, and it was both the individual’s goal and their methods of accomplishing that goal that determined whether the Force was light or dark.

In that, the Jedi were wrong, as wrong as she had always thought them to be. To remove oneself from passion, and at the same time to deny the passion that was in them, was both foolish and wrong. Keeping themselves isolated from the galaxy they believed they served, remaining dispassionate while others suffered, was a moral wrong for which they could be forgiven but not excused. On the other hand, all her Sith training about bringing darkness and chaos was just as naïve and wrong. The Sith were right in seeing the Force as a tool to be used – all the Jedi doctrine about listening to the will of the Force was worth as much as the air they wasted in speaking it – but they were wrong in presuming that they therefore had the right to use it however they wished. Instead, the correct path was to use the Force as a tool to accomplish goals that were morally right in a manner that was also morally right. There was more to it, of course, but that was, as she saw it, the heart of the matter.

Since leaving Ilum, she’d returned to Echtabahn and picked up a second apprentice, in addition to Elana. Irtar Mal’Gro, despite his severe limitations, had progressed in knowledge of the Force further than students who had been studying far longer. More importantly, his mind was still capable of molding. Some of the other apprentices, for all their abilities, had studied too long under other Sith Masters; they were too set in the ways of darkness for her to alter their training now. Elana had learned on Ilum, as she had, the value of the light; now she would begin to instruct Irtar as well.

As was her custom now, Skygge’s shuttle hurtled through hyperspace towards the Inner Rim. She had some notion of visiting an old friend, who she’d last seen deep in the Unknown Region. Never one to miss an opportunity to instruct, she had Elana and Irtar sparring while she watched. Irtar’s rage was commendable, but he unleashed it too easily and with too dark a purpose, while Elana was still trying to find the balance between traditional light and dark. Shaking her head, she turned from them and slid back into the cockpit as the ship decelerated and emerged from hyperspace, ten light years from the Asur System.

Over the grunts and clashes of blade on blade from the cargo bay, Skygge heard the chime of the comm. She flipped it on to hear a message of distress. Frowning, she pursed her lips and sighed. Kaeshana…she’d heard of the planet, but didn’t know much about it. Quickly turning to the ship’s databank, she pulled up the planetary file and scanned it. Type III atmosphere – that would be a bother – due to a recent asteroid impact. The impact seemed to have defined planetary life; storms raged regularly across the world, and sunlight was blocked for large portions of the planet. The old Skygge would have immediately refused the request; there was no gain in it for her, and more death and destruction would not have been unwelcome. A society that could not defend itself had no right to continued existence. The new Skygge, though…

She signed. “Irtar, Elana, we’re making a slight deviation in our travel plans…”

[member="Naamah Aesham"]
[member="Irtar Mal'Gro"]

 

[Irtar Mal'Gro]

It was a long way from home. Three years ago, this would have seen impossible to him. Yet in this moment, the reality of it stood in stark reality. Their ship hurtled through space at speeds the human mind was not wired to comprehend. The two apprentices stood at length to one another. Training sabers in hand, one of Skygge’s demands so the two would not kill one another by mistake (or purposefully). Beams of light used as a weapon.

Skygge had insisted that Irtar work on improving his skills with a lightsaber. He had always been a poor fencer, but what training he had with his sword had to be unlearned. It had caught his original trainers off-guard, as it was rare in this age of the Galaxy to find a being primarily trained in the use of archaic swords. The idea of a blade that didn’t have any weight to carry through the swing or to build momentum was still a foreign concept to his instincts.

The Apprentice insisted on leaving a real blade on his belt though. An alchemic Sith blade designed to withstand the blows of other lightsabers. It was a necessary weapon when surrounded by other Sith. It was no uncommon for fights to break out, and he preferred a weapon that he knew how to use. A few of his rivals had the scars to teach them to not arrogantly assume it was all for show.

The two had prepared for another pass at one another when their Mistress interrupted them. Both of them deactivated their lightsabers and gave a bow to one another out of respect, or whatever semblance there could be amongst rival apprentices. The two then holstered their lightsabers, put back on their robes, and walked over to Skygge.

“Yes, my Lady?” The two said in near unison, as they bowed their heads, awaiting for her instructions. Thoughts ran through Irtar’s mind of what errand she had in mind for them now.

[member="Darth Skygge"] [member="Naamah Aesham"]

 

[Naamah Aesham]

[member="Darth Skygge"], [member="Irtar Mal'Gro"]


Would her plea for help yield aid? This was something Naamah could not know. The repentant Dark Acolyte could hope...but she was the opposite of an optimist. The old Naamah would have not bothered to help. To her, a people that could not defend themselves would have been weak and considered deserving of their fate. At most, she would have shown up on the scene to wreak some havoc of her own. The new Naamah was...trying to be better.


For the time being, she was stuck with surviving. It was likely that Archangel would be able to trace the transmission. Battle droids would shown be on the way here. So she had left the thoroughly sacked aristo's residence and stepped out into the biting cold. A strong, howling wind whipped across the streets. The air was filled with the staccato of blaster fire and explosions echoed across the streets.


An Eldorai warrior was struck in the thigh and drew upon her Sciia, as the Space Elves called the Force, to magnetically twist, mangle and destroy the inner workings of an HRD, crushing with a powerful magnetic field. But as soon as this happened, she was seized by a Harvester's metal tendrils and carried away. A strong sedative being rammed into her throat ended her struggles. She was gone before Naamah could react.


Seeing that a fleeing Eldorai had been forced to the ground by a paralysing shot from a paddle beamer, Naamah brought up her bolter and squeezed the trigger. Ion bolts leapt out, disabling two battle droids that closed in on the paralysed elf. However, this put the Clawdite on their radar, blaster fire came her way and the death machines began lobbing in concussion grenades.


Naamah ran, seeking cover. A blaster bolt grazed the side of her torso, causing a stinging burn. Her ears rang from the sound of a loud detonation. Discarding her bolter, she grabbed her lightsabre and ignited it with a snap-hiss. The crimson blade intercepted shots. Her Force connection was but a sliver of its former self, but though she was not a great duellist, she wielded the blade with passion this day.


As shots were batted away, her free hand grabbed an ion grenade and tossed it into the fray. Eldorai militia put the droids under fire as the explosion hit home. However, then one of the Eldorai suddenly revealed herself as an HRD when she aimed her gun at Naamah and fired. The small blizzard reduced visibility and so Naamah acted on reflex, using her blade to block.


She realised too late that it was not a blaster bolt, for the droid carried a boltgun. Thus as soon as the ruby blade sliced through the metal of the projectile, it exploded. The molten metal contained inside it erupted and sprayed across her face. Shrapnel scored across the Dark Acolyte, her face felt like it was burning. A scream of rage and pain escaped Naamah's throat and she staggered back. Her coat was burning.


Using the Force to leap backward, she avoided a second bolt and tore her coat off. Drawing upon the Force, she took advantage of the cold temperature and all the moisture in the air to freeze the gun, rendering it useless. However, the droid advanced upon her undeterred and rammed the now useless weapon into Naamah's side. There was an anguish cry, and the droid charged her with a cortosis sword.


Naamah ducked under one blow and slashed at the droid's leg, causing sparks to fly, but though she narrowly managed to parry the second, impact caused when the blades met was enough to almost break her arm. The droid was simply too strong for her, its parries to precise. Pushing her blade away with its tremendous strength, the machine seized her throat like a vice and lifted her off the ground. She struggled to breathe in the iron grip of the droid as things turned dark for her. Fear, terror and hatred seized her mind, along with memories of the Purge on Atrisia.


It found an outlet when the Dark Side exploded in a Force Scream. The roar itself would not hurt the machine, but the shockwave blew it back and released Naamah from the iron fist of the droid. Gasping for air, she fell to the ground. Adrenaline took over and she tossed her blade at the droid when it came at her. The ruby sabre pierced the machine's chest. The HRD shuddered and fell. Its chest had been burned through to its power core. There was no cause for jubilation, for Naamah's body was a mass of pain. More droids were closing in, Eldorai fighters were fleeing and she forced herself to stand. As she limped into an alley, a wasp droid swept down and its stinger embedded itself in the back of her leg...

 

[Darth Skygge]

[member="Naamah Aesham"], [member="Irtar Mal'Gro"]

Skygge glanced over her two apprentices, both breathing a bit heavily from their exertions. Shaking her head slightly, she turned back to the ship's controls and keyed in the coordinates for Kaeshana. When she was finished, she stood, still without speaking, and strode towards her personal quarters in the rear, leaving the two apprentices to eye each other and frown at her retreating back. One of them, hopefully, might have the brains to check the coordinates she'd enter and figure out from the distress call what they were doing. By the time she returned, she expected them to be ready to brief her.

Reaching her quarters, Skygge quickly disrobed, tossing her flight suit on her cot and rummaging through her pack. In moments, she'd retrieved her jet-black combat jumpsuit, similar to the one in which she'd initially appeared on Xa Fel. She frowned as she remembered that training; all the pain she'd suffered and the suffering she'd caused. So much for which to atone.

- From ​Apprentices I: The Basics

"Excuse me, Lady," came a voice from below her, interrupting her thoughts. It was a girl, no more than five years of age, covered in sewage. "Lady, my toy fell down the sewer. Can you help me?"

So. Apparently Telos did have sewers. Myra looked at the girl and softened for a moment. She pitied this poor wretch, this girl who probably should have been dead already. Most likely several of the gangs had already taken advantage of her. She smiled and was about to speak when she realized that pity had once again invaded her mind. She could not allow it, she could not!

And in her mind, the darkness spoke. Release me.

She nearly screamed with the anguish as she fought the light that existed in her. The girl took a step backwards, but it was too late. Green-white light flashed...

With a quick shake of her head, she banished the memories. They were part of her, as much as she wished they were not, but now was not the time for reflection. Now she needed to act. She dressed quickly, donning the jumpsuit, her utility belt, tying her hair back, and clipping her new saber to her belt. Since Ilum it had only been used once, to cut down an apprentice who'd tried to kill her. Now it would be used, finally, for its intended purpose. On impulse, she snatched it from her belt and ignited it, bathing the room in cool amethyst light. Light and dark, blended together in this blade, but blended as a blade of pure light. Sighing contentedly, she returned the hilt to her waist and re-entered the cockpit.

And found Irtar and Elana staring dumbly at one another. Without asking, she knew neither had even tried to figure out where they were going or what they were doing. Her mouth tightened as her frown returned. "Apprentice Mal'Gro," she said, "you might be forgiven not understanding the ship's systems, but not for not even attempting to learn something on your own. And you, Elana," she said, turning to the girl, "you know better. I expect better of both of you." She clamped her jaw shut before she said more - anger was bubbling beneath the surface again, and she needed to maintain a tight rein. ​I thought I had control of this.

After a moment, she continued, "We're going to a backwater world, Kaeshana. Level III atmosphere, so breath masks for everyone. My understanding from the distress call we received is that the world is under attack from some droid-type attackers. I intend to rescue as many of the population as possible. Elana, I'm going to have you flying the ship. I want you to keep any enemy fighters from blasting our only way off the Force-forsaken rock. Irtar, you're on combat duty. Kill any droids you can as quickly as you can. Focus on opening holes around captured or fleeing civilians. Understood?"

When they both nodded, she pointed Elana towards the pilot's seat, and she waved Irtar into accompanying her into the back. As they reached the ramp, Skygge felt the ship enter hyperspace. "When we get there, I'll have Elana fly us over the combat area. We'll be dropping out as we go, so be ready to slow your fall, and remember to roll when you land. For now," she said to him, "meditate. Lend your strength to Elana as she flies, and help her identify and avoid threats as we enter the system."

 

[Irtar Mal'Gro]

Unsatisfied, Irtar followed his Mistress into the back ramp area of their ship. He paused for a moment as the ship jumped into Hyperspace. He doubt he would get used to that sickening feeling of displacement as the ship went from real space to the impossible space between spaces. As the feeling of unrealness dissipated and he could move with confidence again, he approached his Mistress.

He was intent upon learning what she had in mind. He knew there was more to this than she was letting on and he lacked the mechanical skills to attain the information himself. He gave her a small respectful bow of his head before he proceeded to establish his inferiority to his better.

"My apologies for my failure. All these... things the machines are capable of are incredible. It is still a great deal to process and integrate into one's thought processes." Irtar confessed as he swept around the room around them. Every feature and element would be a miracle on his homeworld. The very idea that he would be hurtling through space as he is would have been too fantastical to be believed.

To his Mistress however, it was all common place. And all she saw was failure. She raised a judgemental eyebrow and looked down upon the taller man. Her displeasure was evident, but she did not stop him. He took this as silent permission to continue.

"I may not understand how these machines work yet, but I do understand one doesn't put themselves at risk for no gain. And a population that cannot defend itself seems very little gain. So I must ask... who sent this message?” The whole situation felt wrong to him, and his first lesson had been in trust in his feelings and emotions. And he had never felt more like a pawn than he did in this current situation.

Skygge shrugged and looked away from the apprentice in disinterest, her brow furrowed at the annoyance of his questioning. But she answered regardless. “Apparently they are harvesting them.” She said simply, purposely it would seem avoid to answer the ‘they’. “We are going to rescue them. The why is at this point unimportant, and is not your concern. What is a concern is your lack of initiative, apprentice.”

Irtar frowned. She was definitely hiding something from him. But she was the Master and he was the Apprentice. It was her right, but he didn't have to like it. But he still had to give some answer to her accusation. He couldn’t allow such a slight against him to simply go unanswered. A Sith must appear strong. But he must proceed carefully, for pride in the face of one’s Master can end… poorly.

”Initiative without focus can be dangerous." He replied to his Mistress, careful to cast a calm and measured tone. The presence of rationality. "Caution can be prudent. Do I want to know what the message was? Obviously yes, or I would not risk your wrath by asking. But if the risk is one of doing something that damages the ship? Reckless. What if in blind fumbling I should happen to access something for power management? Damage a key system?"

"Do not mistake my hesitation for disinterest, nor my ignorance for stupidity. I seek to learn. I seek to better myself. But not with needless risks." Irtar explained his rationality to his Mistress.

Skygge paused for a moment, and Irtar feared the worst in that moment of contemplation, then she nodded.

"Understood, apprentice." After a moment, she added, "However, you should have been able to use the Force to guide your hands. We will work on that later, though.”

“For now, Elana needs your strength. Meditate, and join your strength to hers. Prepare to identify and evade threats. It will be good practice for both of you." She paused for the briefest moment, and her eyes went distant.

"I thought, for a moment, I felt something..." she said, almost to herself.

“What was it?” Irtar asked his Mistress. Was it something related to this mission? Or something else entirely?

“Not your concern. Focus on Elana and do not drift your attention elsewhere until I say otherwise.” Skygge ordered with that glare that indicated there would be no more questions, unless Irtar favoured his luck against a Sith Lord’s wrath.

“Yes, my Lady.” Irtar submitted, with a small bow of his head. He got down upon the durasteel plating and allowed his mind to wander, seeking out that tendril that was Elana’s presence.

It was like serpent of hot flame. Wrathful, venomous, and coiled to strike. She considered everything a challenge and every one either someone to be conquered or someone conquered. She truly was an exemplary Sith. It however made working together very… challenging.

Irtar carefully soothed the beast, and approached. She lashed out at the intrusion, but he impressed the image of their Mistress and her words upon it. Eventually, it submitted to his entry. With a flash, he gained sight that wasn’t his. Concepts poured in that he himself didn’t quite understand but were granted meaning by the virtue of their link. Foreign panels and indicators became places of valuable information. Knobs and levers became critical components to survival. The vastness of space reduced to mathematical co-ordinates and ideas.

The ship continued to hurtle through Hyperspace towards its destination. And the two Apprentices settled into their link, and the coming battle.

[member="Darth Skygge"] [member="Naamah Aesham"]

 

[Naamah Aesham]

[member="Darth Skygge"], [member="Irtar Mal'Gro"]


Wasp droids were small and almost undetectable unless you knew what you were looking for or had specialised equipment. They could perform surveillance and provide data for their handlers in real time. Or, as in this case, be equipped with a stinger and inject a victim with a lethal toxin or a strong sedative. In short, they were insidious tools. The sort of device the Order of the Inquisition of the Atrisian Empire would have loved to possess. Given how obsessed the Inquisition's secret masters had been with control, they would have been a useful addition to their arsenal.


Currently, Naamah was feeling the effect of the Morpheus sedative drug after the stinger pierced her neck. Acting in white-hot anger, she unleashed her telekinetic power and crushed the tiny robot, shattering it into dozens of metal pieces. With a growl, she pulled the tip of the stinger, still embedded inside her flesh, out and tossed it to the ground. However, the effect was almost instantaneous. A strange, pulsing dizziness flooded into her skull and she clutched the wall for support, feeling like her head was about to spin. Her limbs felt heavy and sluggish, the shapeshifter was disorientated. A black haze appeared before her eyes and the shapes in front of her blurred. She breathed in heavily through her damaged breath mask, trying to maintain her balance and keep herself from collapsing into the snow-covered ground, knowing that oblivion would follow if she succumbed.


She would not end up as another cog in Archangel's genocidal machine! Adrenaline flooded her and, remembering her training, she called upon the Force. Every Inquisitor received basic training in a few specialised techniques useful for a spook, such as masking one's Force presence and expelling toxins. In this particular case, the latter obviously applied.


Pulling at the tangled web of power, she flushed out the toxin as one might flush waste down a toilette. The cleansing kept her from crumpling to the ground like a sack of potatoes and becoming the next in line for processing on Archangel's factory ship. However, she was still weakened and dizzy. Around her, the unequal fight was going poorly. Men, women and children, old and young, fighters and civilians, were being targeted.


The Eldorai were fighting valiantly, but they were being overwhelmned. Many of them were carried away by the Harvesters or taken out of commission by battle droids wielding Ssi-Ruuvi-derived paddle beamers and Gorgon web rifles. Both these weapons were ideal because the Force was a rather ineffective means of defence, thus depriving the Eldorai of their greatest strength, their Sciia.


Moreover, the best of the Eldorai had left long ago, seeking a new home in the stars. These were the Forsaken, the ones who'd been abandoned and forced to survive in a post-apocalyptic wasteland. Yet they fought on, desperately. A Harvester and battle droids were blown up when an elf, upon being grabbed, activated a thermal detonator, taking the devil machines with her with a chant to the Death Goddess Illyria on her lips.


Eldorai militia fired from cover in rubble or in the ruins of buildings. As Naamah tried to make haste towards cover, laying down suppressive fire with her bolter, there was a loud explosion when an Archangel Gunship dropped a package. However, it was not a high explosive that the bird of prey had dropped. This Naamah realised when suddenly an orange-yellow cloud rose up into the air and spread towards the beleaguered Eldorai. Soon elves were on the ground, disorientated, coughing and in the process of losing consciousness. Harvesters descended down from the sky to grab their prey.


Every rational instinct compelled Naamah to run and seek cover. This was not her fight. What did she care for the xenophobic people of this unremarkable hellhole? The only thing she was doing was getting herself killed - or, worse, setting herself up to be processed by Archangel. Resolved, she found that calm centre amidst the chaos and tried to call upon the Force. Not to destroy, but to push back and drive the wind to disperse the knockout gas before everyone around her was knocked out. She could feel ripples in the Force when a raven-haired, pale Eldorai who just a few moments ago had been igniting kill bots with streams of arcanic flame, joined her. Together, they pushed. Between the two of them, a howling wind came into being and was moved to disperse the gasuous onslaught.


Was this redemption for her sins? No, most assuredly not. Saving X amount of people would not suddenly wipe away the blood on your hands as if by magic. Redemption was a state of grace she would suddenly reach. Or ever at all. Her own actions had damned her soul and one day she would pay the price when she entered the hellish pit of Chaos again. Nonetheless, she pushed on, while the bullets and blaster bolts flew around her, even though tiredness set in. Such was the Clawdite's exertion that she was sweating despite the cold, for the action was draining.

 

[Darth Skygge]

[member="Irtar Mal'Gro"] [member="Naamah Aesham"]

Elana frowned as she felt Irtar's touch on her mind, the struggle for dominance and control warring with her Mistress's command. Unfortunately, despite her Mistress's recent actions, the Lady Skygge was still to be feared, and Elana dared not resist the touch for too long. Opening herself, she permitted the junior apprentice to sense what she did, see what she did. It was an odd feeling, giving someone else access to her. it almost felt like a violation, yet at the same time it was not, for his strength poured into her. And he was strong.

The timer ticked down. 3...2...1... And they dropped out of hyperspace.

Into...blackness?

Elana scrunched her brow. That made no sense. Her master said the planet was under attack, but the orb hung suspended before her eyes. And nothing else. No starships. No massive control ships. Not even a fighter registered on the scanners.

"Uh, Mistress," she said into the intercomm, "there doesn't seem to be anything here."

***​

Skygge watched her apprentice meditate and saw the moment he made contact with Elana. This particular exercise was not one that Sith trained often, for cooperation was rare among the paranoid fools who feared betrayal at every turn. Well, perhaps not fools - betrayal was a way of life for most Sith. But a shame, nonetheless. There was a far better way, and she had found it. If she could only show the way...

She felt the ship revert into realspace, that momentary sensation of crossing the divide between faster than light travel and sublight speeds jolting her stomach just a bit, as it always did. Within moments, that jolt became terror and pain, invading from all those beings below. Terror, pain, terror, pain, a never-ending, ever-increasing cycle. It made her want to sick up. She'd felt such pain before, such agony, such terror, but it had never given her this feeling of nausea. A deep breath, and she closed down that portion of her mind to a trickle. The pain and terror were still there, but now they were manageable. It was something for later. Now she had work to do.

Elana's voice came over the intercom, and Skygge shook her head in disapproval. "Stop trusting your eyes so much, Apprentice," she snapped back, a bit more harshly than she intended. But Elana should have been past that by now. "Reach out. Feel the Force. Those below are in pain. It reaches us even here."

After a moment, Elana responded, "I...I feel it, Master. Shall I take us in?"

Skygge took another breath. "Yes. Try to avoid notice as long as you can. I'll guide you as we approach."

With that, Skygge closed her eyes and reached out, her mind probing far below, seeking what she had felt only slightly in the distress call. A plea that was not just verbal but mental as well. A presence. ​There​. Faint, flickering, but definitely still alive. We are coming​. She sent that message as strongly as she could; likely the person below would only get the emotion - an urge for patience, a slight lessening of the heart rate, a certainty that help would arrive. Now it was time to make good.

"Elana, we're going in. Head for these coordinates..."

​***​

They were almost in the atmosphere before the first signs of trouble approached. Elana cursed, loudly, as blips started to appear all over the scanners. Fast blips, and closing rapidly. "We have fighters coming in!" she shouted, hands moving over the controls almost of their own accord. The ship's engines kicked into gear, and Elana skipped them off the atmosphere twice before reversing course and diving down towards the planet. She could hear her Mistress's voice in the background, tinged with just a hint of annoyance, and she heard Irtar's voice - much louder - accompanied by much clattering and banging. What he said was indistinct, but she imagined the boy was cursing her up one side and down the other. The link between them broke as his concentration faltered, but she was more than competent enough to handle this approach.

Bringing the ship below the storm clouds, she shot as fast as she dared over the roiling surface towards her Mistress's coordinates. As she approached, she activated the ventral auto-turret, a small blaster cannon, and designated droids as targets. The weapon began firing rapidly, blasting in all directions as it cleared a small space above the target area. And then, a hundred meters above the surface, she dropped the ramp.

​***​

​

​When Elana abruptly skipped off the atmosphere, then flipped the ship and dove, Skygge managed to keep her feet stuck to the floor through a quick application of the Force. Irtar, though, was not so quick. He sailed into the air on the first skip, then sideways on the second, then finally into the ceiling and across the room on the flip and dive. He slammed into a locker, which burst open under the impact and showered him with packaged foodstuffs. Skygge's mouth turned down at the corners in disapproval. He should have been better prepared. Stopping the food packages in mid-flight, she shoved them back towards her apprentice, and gave him a slight shove just as he was clambering to his feet. His bottom hit the floor, and she shook her head.

"You must always be ready, Apprentice," she said coldly, letting just a touch of irritation creep into her voice. "Or you'll soon end up dead."

Ignoring whatever he replied, Skygge readied herself on the ramp. Soon...soon...

The auto-turret began firing. They were almost there.

Irtar joined her on the ramp just as it dropped, spilling them both into the atmosphere a hundred meters above the surface. Skygge had been expecting it, and she quickly caught herself in the Force and slowed her descent. She rolled as she hit the ground, amethyst saber igniting as she came to her feet to bat away two beams that had been coming towards her. They bent rather than deflecting, so she adjusted her stance slightly and began bending beams into other droids. The strategy worked well enough, and soon those that she didn't down and Irtar didn't cut to pieces were blasted apart by Elana in the ship. Skygge waved, and Elana took off just as droid fighters came into sight, pursuing here. Force go with you,​ Skygge thought. Then there was no more time to think. More droids were coming.

"Irtar, hold them off," she yelled. Turning, she sprinted for where she'd last felt that presence. It was nearer now, and weaker. ​I am coming​, Skygge thought, forcing the impression out towards that mysterious presence. ​Hold on!

 

[Irtar Mal'Gro]

Irtar was still shaking off the tumble when the ramp had begun to lower. He had lost track of himself in the link, and though he knew he needed to brace himself he apparently had transferred the brace command only to the limbs of Elana and not his own. The Force was tricky at times. Especially with his lack of experience. However, his anger at his own failure would provide a nice amount of fuel for the fight at hand.

The next part Skygge had been sure to give him careful instruction on before their excursion. Using the Force to buffer one’s descent from great height. It was… disconcerting, and challenging. But the fear of the fall and of death can act as a well of strength. It was very human to feel terror at a hundred meters of open space, then suddenly be careening through it.

It was hard to focus the energy in a useful way while tumbling through the air, the howling of the engines becoming quickly muted by the howling of the wind rushing past him. First he stabilised, putting the ground beneath him. With the ground beneath him, he focused on repelling himself against it. It would be something hard to explain, or put to words. He used the terror of hitting the ground at full speed to will himself to not do so would be the closest way to put it. One had to feel out the balance of terror and control.

And so when he finally met the ground, he carefully took what momentum he had and turned it into a roll. It was less a roll and more another tumble. He hadn’t bled off quite as much momentum in the fall as he had thought. With a scowl and a curse he slowly got to his feet to find himself in a warzone, and his Mistress yelling at him.

Beasts of metal fired beams of light that tore through the sky. With a flash, Irtar’s crimson light saber came to life. In the other hand, his metal saber. He watched carefully for a moment to see how to engage. Examining them. The way his mistress’ blade bent their light rather than deflect as the drones had. The way they moved. Where the joints met, and moved.

And then, he struck. Carefully. He dodged and avoided any that were targeting him, and would go after the ones that were focusing on his Mistress. A quick flash of crimson, and another droid vivisected. Like most things, the droids didn’t handle concentrated plasma and being cut in twain.

As his Mistress ran off, Irtar followed, doing his best to screen her from other attackers. He had no idea where they were going, nor why, but he had to put faith in her that she wasn’t just throwing them to the wolves for no good reason.

 

[Naamah Aesham]

[member="Irtar Mal'Gro"], [member="Darth Skygge"]


Time seemed to slow around her. Or at least that's how it appeared to Naamah. A biting wind howled across the street, the knockout gas was dispersed. Then there was a loud shout, coming from the Eldorai cryomancer assisting her.


It was too loud for Naamah to hear exactly what she was saying. The Clawdite was not in the best of shapes after duelling an HRD and being injured. Moreover, banishing the gas had been tiring. Moreover, one could not use the Force to perceive the intent of droids the way one would with organics.


Perhaps a part of Naamah wanted to die on this godsforsaken, blood-soaked world. In any event, she did not see the sniper's bullet coming. She felt the Space Elf's hands on her, trying to pull her down, but her mind didn't quite follow. Then there was a strong, burning sensation in her back. The Clawdite collapsed to the ground and found herself unable to get up.


In the shock induced state her hands travelled down across her chest and stomach, feeling for injury. Her gloves were soon soaked in blood. Her chest and an upper portion of her stomach had been badly injured out. A lot of blood seeped out and stained the snowy ground. Around her, the fight continued, punctuated by the staccato of gunfire and explosions. The gas assault had failed, but the HRDs attacked relentlessly.


Truth be told, they'd already gotten most of what they wanted, despite having suffered far more casualties than anticipated. Many elves had been seized and already arrived on their processing ship. Within a couple hours, they would be machines as well. Thus Archangel stopped holding back. Bolters roared, spitting out explosive bolts that were armed on launch and exploded upon impact, making telekinesis and sabres counterproductive means of deflection. Paddle beamers spat out beams that paralysed limbs and could not be blocked with sabres. Flamethrowers and grenades were deployed to flush out Eldorai who'd sought refuge in ruins. Droid fighters roared through the sky, seeking to strafe survivors or attack evac ships.


Still, the Eldorai fought. Furious with grief and desiring vengeance upon the devil machines, the Eldorai cryomancer with Naamah unleashed her power. All around her, death machines were frozen rock solid when she harnessed the power of ice. Even those who weren't outright disabled were damaged when liquid flooded vital systems. Naamah dimly registered that the elf picked her body up and bolted towards some ruins.


By the time Naamah was lain down on the floor of the wretched place, she was reverting to her natural Clawdite form. The Eldorai looked shocked by the transformation, but then composed herself. "You're fading fast. You fought bravely, alien," she said matter-of-factly, emotion having been drained from her, when she pressed against her wound.


"Good fight, good death," Naamah said hoarsely, coughing up blood. Her lung must have suffered. "Take the sabre. I'd put in a good word for Ashira for you...but I guess I'm meant for Illyria's realm."


"The False Goddess doesn't hear our prayers anymore anyway. I'm Lidanya, what is your name, Face Dancer?"


There was a pause before the Clawdite spoke again. She was going to die anyway, might as well say her real name. "Naamah Aesham," she said quietly. Naamah the monster...not anymore?


The Eldorai was about to say something, but this was cut off by Naamah's shriek. "Behind you!" The Eldorai spun in the same moment as an Immolator droids brought forth its formidable flamethrower and activated it. A tongue of blazing fire leapt from the weapon's nozzle, white-hot fury sweeping towards them. In desperation, Lidanya drew upon her power to fashion a barrier of ice to meet the fiery onslaught before driving it towards the automaton like a battering ram. Naamah coughed badly, unable to make a move or act. She had just about enough energy to left to reach out with the Force and compress enough power to drop rubble on a droideka.


Perhaps it was just her imagination, but her life seemed to be flashing before her eyes. A happy, ordinary childhood, the shock that was the discovery of her Force-Sensivity, years on the run in the Atrisian underworld, Inquisition, the Purge, descent into evil and sadism before waking up in hell. A life with so many regrets. Not that of a person worth saving. This would be a good death.


She was jolted when she suddenly felt a presence trying to imprint words into her mind. I am coming. Hold on! Why would someone go through the trouble to save her? She was not worthy. At this point, she was delirious. She did not see Lidanya get badly scorched by flame before she cut down the machine using Naamah's ruby sabre. She had lost track of the battle outside as the surviving Eldorai fought on with the fanaticism of a people that knew their back was to the wall. Another flash appeared before Naamah's eyes, this time the face of [member="Mirien Valdier"]. She would never get to see her again, never get the chance to ask for forgiveness, and tell her how she felt...


Maybe it was her imagination, but she could see the threshold to Hades' kingdom. The Reapers were beckoning her to cross it. It occured to Naamah that a big part of her did not want to die and go back.

 

[Darth Skygge]

[member="Irtar Mal'Gro"] [member="Naamah Aesham"]

At that moment, a blur of black leaped over Naamah. Purple energy whirled, a blaze of light that shot forward and sliced through the droid's flamethrower. The blade cut cleanly, severing the arm from the body and causing the gasses to jet out into the air, catching the droid himself on fire. The figure rolled forward, energy blade returning to its hand as it flowed smoothly from the roll to a combat stance, amethyst blade by its ear. Long black hair hung to the middle of its back, and its head swiveled as it scanned for threats.

Of which their were plenty. The figure moved as if in a dance, blade never pausing, one moment bending a beam, the next slicing a droid in two, the next impaling a wasp droid on its end. The figure never seemed to stop, either. Constantly moving, she danced between droids, their shots just skimming past her or under her or over her as she whirled and rolled and flipped amongst them. Ion beams wrecked havoc on droid circuitry, and droids dropped rapidly.

The last droid fell, and the figure stood, motionless, scanning for additional threats. After a few moments, the blade disappeared into an elongated hilt, and the figure turned towards Naamah.

A comm crackled as the woman walked forward. "Mistress, I'm having a bit of difficulty up here!"

The woman stopped over Naamah and frowned. "Calm yourself, Apprentice," she said. Her voice was a touch nasaly. "They're droids, and as such they are predictable. Feel the Force flow through you, and use it to guide your hands."

The woman knelt, and Naamah got a clear look at her for the first time. Blue eyes stared at her from either side of a sharp nose, and a small mouth pursed in a frown. Bits of wayward black hair hung down over her forehead and into her eyes as she examined the woman before her. "Apprentice Irtar," she said, once again speaking into her comm, "I've found what we came for. Extract yourself and find me."

Reattaching the comm to her jumpsuit, the woman leaned forward and touched Naamah's wounds. "I am no healer," she said, "but I can at least stem the blood loss until my shuttle arrives. You are strong, and I would not have you die until I learn your name, at least."

Pausing, she glanced around, ensuring there were no droids approaching. "We had best get under cover soon," she said. Glancing at the Eldorai, she scowled at him. "Make yourself useful and bring her along," she said. "That barrier you threw up was impressive, but unless you think it will hold against another attack, I suggest you come with me."

The Eldorai obeyed, hoisting a fading Naamah in its arms and carrying her into the nearest building. In the atrium, the woman directed him to set the girl down as she rummaged through her belt pouches. After a few moments, she produced several field medpacks, which contained a few bacta patches and bandages. She applied these to Naamah's wounds as best she could, then ducked as an explosion rocked the building. "Cursed fighters," she muttered. Into the comm, she said, "Elana, can't you lose them?"

"Trying, Mistress," came the reply. The woman shook her head, then studied Naamah. After a moment, she nodded. "I am the Lady Skygge," she said with a slight bow of the head. "We got your distress call."

 

[Irtar Mal'Gro]

Though a Sith he was, he was still just an apprentice. And these droids were Legion.

Irtar scowled to himself as his mistress ran off to search for this person, asking him to ‘cover her’. And with what would he cover her with? His flawed skin when these demons got upon him? There was still a presence of the locals in this section desperately fighting. Irtar assumed whoever they had come to rescue was amongst them.

Another wave was coming. Irtar could see their metallic shapes coming amongst the rubble and ruin towards them. He found the nearest piece of cover and dove for it. A half-collapsed building, its purpose he could not deduce sight on seen. He would wait for those beings to come closer. Within sabre range. Fighting them at range would be suicide.

However, amongst the rubble he saw eyes. Instinctually, he raised his sabre and the forms cowed before him. One of them stepped forward. A lithe figure, with pointed ears. The being’s armour, which had once been very elaborate and adorned, was now caked with mud, dust, and blood. It looked at him eagerly.

“Are you here to rescue us?” The being said, its voice filled with hopefulness. The voice sounded male, though it was hard to determine a definite gender.

“Something like that.” Irtar answered honestly, though not definitively. If these beings thought he was their salvation, he might be able to use them to get him out of here. They didn’t need to know that they were three people with one small ship. At best, they could maybe take three extra people off this world. Ten if they didn’t mind lying atop one another.

“Thank the Gods!” The being exclaimed, almost throwing himself to Irtar’s feet. “The droids... they got most of my squadmates. I managed to get a few civilians into this building. We hoped to hide until they left. But they seem to be sifting the ruins. I didn’t know how long we’d last...”

The being was practically crying at this point. Irtar managed to hold in his contempt.

“There there.” Irtar said as he unenthusiastically comforted the sobbing being by patting its head. “Do you still have a weapon? Any sort of communication device to get in contact with your fellows?”

“Yes. Yes...” The being mentioned as it fished out a small cylinder from a pouch on its belt.

“Good.” Irtar said with a thin smile. A plan was beginning to form in his mind. “Tell them to rally up what forces you have left. We will be having a shuttle coming down nearby shortly.”

As if on cue, Irtar’s comlink sparked to life. It was Skygge.

“I will have us our landing zone shortly.” He said with confidence into the small cylinder, he turned to the Eldorai expectantly. “Well? What are you waiting for?”

“Uh yes. Yes.” The Eldorai said as it lifted its comlink and spoke in to it. “This is Willow Squad to all remaining units in sector. Friendly ship in bound to my location. Celdarin Square. Repeat, Celdarin square.”

All too easy.

What was once a grim search for the most noble way to die became a desperate fight to be one of the ones to survive. Soldiers who had been hiding in cover and waiting for the invaders to hopefully pass them by began to move out of cover. There was hope at surviving now. There was a way out for them.

It was likely a rather lovely thing once upon a time. A statue to one of their heroes, a wide fountain, surrounded by trees. By the trees had long since withered and died. The fountain had dried and left nothing more than a bed of dead matter. The statue had been blasted to rubble. Whatever it had once been was nothing more than a distant memory. But now Celdarin Square held the hope for the people of this shattered city.

Blaster fire lit up from the square. For now, the shift in strategy caught the droids off guard. It would take them time to adapt and realize what was scattered resistance was, for the time being, concentrated and focused again. This small window would be the window they needed to land the ship.

“Mistress, you will find a square towards the center of the ruined city. That will be our landing site. It is more than large enough for our vessel.” Irtar said to the commlink as he made his way with the growing throng of survivors. “Speed I imagine will be prudent. The droids will be on their way in force shortly.”

 

[Naamah Aesham]

[member="Darth Skygge"], [member="Irtar Mal'Gro"]


Naamah was delirious and bleeding badly in spite of the bandages when suddenly a blur of black leapt into the fray. The interloper moved with grace and almost lightning speed, too fast for her tired eyes to track. An amethyst blaze of light carved through death machines, singing a song of doom and righteous purgation. Machines were torn open like tin cans and crumpled to the ground. The smell of burnt electronics, metal and circuitry filled the air, which was already rank with the scent of war.


Wielding Naamah's ruby lightsabre, Lidanya had been trying to keep the devil machines at bay. Blaster bolts could be batted aside, but the same did not apply to sonic blasts and disruptor beams. Her crimson blade sliced through a droid's torso to destroy its power core with an aggressive swipe. Flames had burnt her, but encasing her body with ice had allowed her to survive the worst of it.


Stone and metal had been turned into improvised shields and projectiles, ice and water rendered their guns nonfunctional, but even she was tiring. One of the HRDs came at her with an electrostaff. It was only due to her Force senses that she managed to perceive the danger from the right and duck when the weapon was swung towards her side, but she was not quick enough and howled in pain when the staff not only slammed into her back, but unleashed an electrical shock. The pain was made worse by the fact that Lidanya was quite wet due to her cryomantic tricks. Willpower and adrenaline kept her from being incapacitated.


The blow made her stumble to the side, and she was lucky to bring up her lightsabre to block the next attack. It was then that Skygge manifested and danced a ballet of death. Pulling upon the tangled web of power, she drew upon the moisture in the air and worked water and ice through the machine's vital systems, overloading its circuits.


She scowled at the human when she deigned to command her. The Forsaken felt a strong hatred for the Outsiders who'd seemingly left them to their fate, but it did not look like the stranger was Firemane. Besides, she was lacking in options. "Very well, human," she said flatly, then in a slightly softer tone. "Thank you."


"Lorien Squad, fall back into cover. Help anyone who can still walk. We can do nothing for those the metal demons have taken," she shouted loudly to make herself heard over the noise of battle. A staccato of blasterfire filled the air, accompanied by the roar of explosions. About a dozen Eldorai were still fighting in this area. Many had been slain, even more had been seized by the Harvesters or been stunned by the wasps. Those were already as good as dead.


Naamah was struggling to stay conscious through most of this, then suddenly found herself picked up by the elf. It was now that she got a look at her rescuer. Her eyes were a piercing blue, her hair was raven and her aura radiated great strength in the Force.


For a moment, the fading Clawdite saw someone entirely different, as her former master's face was superimposed over the Sith's. "Mirien?" the name escaped Naamah's bruised lips. "Is that you?" Slowly understanding dawned upon her when she realised it was not her. The Clawdite was laid down in the atrium, and the stranger began to apply bacta and bandages to her.


Meanwhile, Lidanya directed her few remaining comrades as they streamed to the building, taking up defensive positions. Explosions rocked the building. The air was thick with smoke and Naamah coughed. "I am the Lady Skygge," thus the stranger revealed herself and confirmed she'd received Naamah's distress signal.


"Didn't think anyone would show," Naamah coughed, face darkened by nasty bruises. There was a pause before words left her lips once more. What the hell, she might as well divulge the real one. Perhaps she would not go to hell today. The threshold to the Netherworld seemed more distant now, as the bacta worked its way into her system.


Truth be told, she'd expected to die. A strong part of her had craved meeting her end by going out in a blaze of glory, but now that she could see the ethereal shapes of the reapers, she did not want to go with them. Dying in a self-sacrificing attempt to save the innocent from a horrible fate did not equal redemption. "Name's Naamah. Naamah Aesham. That's Lidanya," she nodded towards the Eldorai.


"We must make haste if we are reach Celdarin Square," Lidanya interjected as she made her way back to them. Evidently she'd received the message from the male elf Irtar had encountered earlier. Gunfire and explosions could be heard coming from down the streets outside."We have some Sciians, but many wounded and ammunition is running out." Sciian was the Eldorai's word for Force-user. They called the Force Sciia, which also meant soul or spirit.

 

[Darth Skygge]

Skygge nodded to the Eldorai as he was introduced. "My apologies," she began, then she ducked as another explosion rattled the building and rained dust down on their heads. "Kriffing apprentice," she muttered, then looked to Lidanya again. "My apologies for earlier, but we had to get off the streets." She gave the Eldorai a long, considering look as she gathered herself. Reaching out with tendrils of the Force, she probed his strength and smiled. The Eldorai was stronger than she was, though her strength seemed more...raw, somehow. Primal, perhaps, was a better term. No, that's not right either​, she thought. It was different, though. But strong.

Turning, Skygge glanced out the door as her shuttle whipped past overhead again, two droid interceptors hot on its tail. The shuttle wove through the canyons between buildings effortlessly; Elana must have given herself completely over to the Force's guidance to be flying this well. Her apprentice was progressing, making great strides in her abilities; soon she might be able to assume the mantle of a Sith Knight. The dark-haired Sith smiled in approval.

As the shuttle swept past again, Skygge reached out through the Force and grabbed a small rock, about the size of her head, and hurled it upwards just behind the dodging Elana. She didn't need to be precise; the stone caught in the shuttle's engine wash and was blown backwards, projected as though out of a cannon. The droid fighter noticed it and dodged, but a slight nudge from Skygge sent it hurtling through the fighter's cockpit and engine. Ducking back inside, Skygge just managed to avoid the shrapnel from the interceptor's explosion, though the shock wave still threw her flat to the ground and rattled the building again.

Gasping for breath, Skygge rose to her knees and glanced out. There was no sign of the second interceptor; either Elana had drawn it off, or it had been caught in the explosion of its fellow. Either way, the skies were clear for the moment. "We..." she gasped, then gathered herself, "We have to move now. We have a window. I...(cough)...I can clear the way. Lidanya, you carry Namaah until her wounds are closed enough for her to walk, and guard our rear. I don't wish to be shot from behind."

She didn't know how much to trust this Eldorai; she hadn't had much contact with the people before today. Nevertheless, she would take what aid she could get for now, and trust her to keep herself alive at the least. Beyond that...who could say?

Taking one last deep breath, Skygge launched herself out of the doorway and rolled, dodging beams and blaster bolts and flames as she came up, amethyst blade ignited and already flying down the street, guided by Skygge to slice and slash its way through the oncoming droids. As she herself rushed forward, the blade flew back into her grip. Rolling forward, she cut the legs out from under two opponents, then came to her feet and impaled one on the blade's tip. Twisting the hilt, she quickly swapped the focusing gems from amethyst to emerald. The blade's color and length changed almost instantly, extending out through the impaled droid's back to take two more of its companions. Sweeping the extended blade around, she cleared a small space, then leaped into the air and swapped the gems again, returning the blade to its normal length even as fire and beams crisscrossed the place she'd been standing. Landing once again amidst the droids, she continued to move forward, every movement of her blade finding a mark, every movement of her body just avoiding a bolt or beam. Droids fell, one after another, as she began clearing a way towards the central square.

With a small portion of her mind, she noted that Lidanya and Namaah were following, the Eldorai cleaning up the few droids Skygge left for her. Overhead, Elana swept by again, the small cannon spitting death down the street in front of her Mistress. Droids exploded as the blaster bolts chewed through titanium and durasteel. Skygge noted that the shuttle had no pursuers. It swept on, slowing as it hovered and descended over the square. "Let's move!" she yelled, and she doubled her pace forward. They had to reach that square.

 

[Irtar Mal'Gro]

These Eldorai were fascinating. Now that Irtar had a chance to catch his breath he had his chance to truly SEE and to learn. Their connection with the Force was much more intense than a Human’s at a baseline. Each seemed to feel through the Force a hundred fold than the regular Human.

Every feeling was amplified. Every worry. The fear and terror washed over the square like a wave. It was nearly disorienting for the apprentice. He had to pull back slightly through the Force and instead attempt to focus.

He focused on the Eldorai who seemed to be using the Force to enhance their combat abilities. He had seen a couple of Sith who used lightning before. He himself was capable of generating a small shock when he was feeling especially wrathful at something, but he had not yet mastered the ability. But fire and ice? That he had not seen.

He silently watched them fight, trying to examine what exactly they were doing and how they did it.

There was not much different between what they were doing and what he had seen the other Sith do. It was all a matter of energy manipulation. The Sith directly manifested energy into electricity. It was the path of least resistance, and required the lowest amount of effort.

The Eldorai however seemed to manipulate the energy in different ways. Instead of directly manifesting the energy, they would stimulate the air to create fire. Or instead of manifesting energy at all, they would drain it away, causing the air to chill. Irtar didn’t know the specifics of the how, though.

Did they wield their emotions like the Sith? Quiet contemplation like the Jedi? Or did they focus their connection through the Force with an entirely different lens?

Perhaps it would be worthwhile to bring a few of them after all.

Irtar’s reverie was disrupted by another wave of droids turning upon them. The soldiers that were able to make their way towards the square had set up at different points around the perimeter. What civilians that had were huddled in the rubble of the buildings about them. The ones armed with blasters fired off a screen of fire to try and ward off the steel devils.

The shuttle shrieked distantly through the air, spewing fire at the droids chasing it. He saw a hunk of rubble come flying through the air and slammed into one of the droid fighters which exploded into a fiery ball. That must be his Mistress, Irtar thought to himself.

The fighting around the square had begun to intensify. Irtar frowned watching the number of droids steadily increase as they began to adapt to the change in strategy. He took cover by the edge of the square he figured closest to where his Mistress would come from.

There was part of him who saw the way the Eldorai, fighting for their lives, looked him at him just standing there. He did not care. Courage was foolish. He could charge across the street, lightsaber in the air, screaming bloody vengeance. That would be stupid and vainglorious. These weapons they were using took away the advantage the lightsaber normally held over other energy weapons. He would just be exposed and vulnerable. He had no desire to get himself killed just to prove himself to some species busy being pounded into extinction.

But, with the growing tide, he imagined he’d have no choice on the matter as the droids would come to him screaming bloody vengeance. At least here he would be less exposed. And if his Mistress didn’t hurry, it likely wouldn’t matter as they would be joining these Eldorai in their extinction.

“The droids have begun to realize what we’re doing. I do not know how long we have got until they move upon us in force.” Irtar warned into his commlink. He prepared his blades, looking down the ruined street.

 

[Naamah Aesham]

[member="Darth Skygge"], [member="Irtar Mal'Gro"]


The Eldorai's Force beliefs differed strongly from those of both Jedi and Sith, for their planet had been untouched by both Force magi cults. To them, the Force was Sciia, which was their word for spirit or soul. It was their own inner spark that allowed them to wield supernatural powers. The more religiously inclined viewed it as a gift from the Supreme Goddess Ashira, though faith in her had diminished strongly since the cataclysm. Thus, the dualistic separation of the Force into a Light and a Dark side baffled the Eldorai, which was why only very few of them ever joined Jedi or Sith.


Once upon a time, the elves' best Force-users had been recruited by the Angelii. These all-female warriors had cultivated a martial ethos, protected the Star Queen and smote enemies of Kaeshana, seeing themselves as the wrathful angels of Ashira. However, now the Angelii were gone, though some had elected to stay behind and share the lot of the Forsaken. The Star Queen and her court were gone. So was Siobhan Kerrigan, Kaeshana's former champion. Resentment ran deep amongst the Forsaken.


All that was left was a desperate struggle for survival at all costs. Thanks to Skygge's prowess with the blade, a path had been cleared for the small group of survivors. Only the most able-bodied Eldorai were able to make the treck. The severely wounded had been left behind, usually with a gun or grenade. The credo was to kill yourself before you let the devil machines capture you and turn you into an abomination. Ashira's glorious heaven in the sky might forever be outside of their reach, but they would not dishonour themselves by yielding to metal demons. Naamah stirred slightly, but did not have the strength to regain consciousness. Under the stress, she'd reverted to her natural Clawdite form.


From above, the Sith's shuttle rained down hellfire upon the devil machines, giving them a taste of their own medicine as they were incinerated in purifying salvoes of crimson laserfire. It boosted the Eldorai's moral a bit. While Skygge cleared a path, Lidanya directed her few surviving minions to sweep up remaining droids.


"Make haste, girls. We will not go quietly into the night and submit to metal demons," she yelled, her breath frosting around her. "Be wary. The abominations have weapons to combat Sciians," she called to Lady Skygge. Bolters that fired explosive rounds that detonated on impact, paddle beamers that bypassed sabres and could cause paralysis, and so on.


Intense fire came their way as they hastened towards the square. By now Archangel seemed to have realised what was up to and to have adjusted its strategy accordingly. There was a loud cry when an Eldorai was taken out by a droid sniper. Bolters belched explosive bolts, and the air was filled with the staccato of blasterfire, as rotary cannons spewed out crimson bolts. HRDs were as merciless as they were methodical.


They would not tire, feel fear or yield. It was only a matter of time before they amassed reinforcements and cornered the survivors. A blaster bolt grazed Lidanya's face, slicing across her ear. "Save your energies for the living. Get me a couple grenades, now. Amira, Haldir, give us some cover against the Harvesters," Lidanya commanded, restraining an Eldorai who was about to dash into the open to save a comarade who'd been struck by a bolter round and was now howling in agony. Unfortunately for him, his attempt to deflect the round through the Force had gone poorly.


Only a couple grenades were left, but they were quickly gathered in a ball. Passing the unconscious Naamah over to one of her comrades, she called upon her Sciia, agitating the air. Grenades were pulled from the ground and swept forth by the strong wind at astounding speed as two other Eldorai Sciians joined her casting.


The grenades detonated when they reached the droids' defensive emplacements, causing an orange-yellowish fireball to blossom. Droids were broken as the shockwave ripped through durasteel. A Harvester had been caught slightly knocked off-course. "Move it, more are coming." There was no reprieve, and so the Eldorai quickly advanced, making use of blasters, blades and whatever other weapons they'd been able to get their hands on.

 

[Darth Skygge]

The Eldorai's actions cleared the last bit of street leading to the square. Shrapnel flew as grenades and droids exploded, metal raining down around Skygge as she rolled quickly under cover. ​Kriffing...kriff!​ she thought. ​A little warning would have been nice​. She'd easily gotten out of blast range, but that many grenades used in that way...it was disturbing.

Thankfully, the Eldorai had been on her side. Things had begun to get dicey, as the droids had begun adjusting to her strategies. That was the trouble with droids. They weren't living creatures, and could not react beyond what their programming permitted, but with the proper programming they could analyze battle tactics and adjust to accommodate even the most esoteric or unusual techniques. These droids, apparently, were prepared to fight one who used the Force.

Then Irtar's call came over the comm. "We're almost there. Hold just a moment longer," Skygge replied. Taking a deep breath, she used the Force to propel herself out of cover and down the street, rolling to her feet some ten meters outside her hiding place. An explosive bolt ripped apart her cover moments later. As the Eldorai ran for the square, flames pursued them down the street as two human-like droids came rushing after them. Skygge whirled, her blade a blur as she leaped into the air and landed behind the two creatures. First one, then the other, fell, severed in two at the waist. They didn't stop, though, as the used their forelimbs to turn themselves over and prepared to roast the Sith. Whirling away from the flames, she swept her blade through their wrists, then through their necks, before beating out the flames that had been consuming her cloak.

As the last of the Eldorai entered the square, Skygge drew on the Force for a burst of speed and shot forward down the street, buildings and rubble a blur to either side. In the moment that she entered the square, she took stock of the situation. Irtar was nearby, just rising to defend himself as the droids charged in. Around him were the remaining Eldorai, some wielding the Force, others blasters and other weapons, preparing to stand with her Apprentice. And rushing them were what seemed an army of droids.

Skygge didn't wait. Launching herself to the left, she landed near the flank of the onrushing droids, then took hold of a few stones that made up the foundation of a tall building nearby. Latching onto the stones, she anchored herself and pulled​. The stone creaked, and she pulled again. And again. And again.

The stone flew towards her, and she redirected its flight towards the droids, some of which had turned to face her. The building rumbled ominously; she had chosen her stone well. It was a cornerstone, load bearing, and with its removal the entire structure was at risk of collapse. "Elana, building, west side of the square! Hit its base!"

As the shuttle screamed in, blaster cannon firing, Skygge drew upon the last of her strength and launched herself back towards her other Apprentice. A crashing roar filled the square behind her, and a shock wave threw off her flight and sent her sprawling. Dust filled the air. Coughing, she rolled onto her back and lay there for a moment, stunned.

​***​

Elana laughed as her cannon chewed into the building's base, causing it to crumble and collapse, burying most of the front line of onrushing droids. The dust that filled the square covered the rest, but as she swooped around, she made one more fiery pass, spitting red energy down where the droids had been. With a quick maneuver, she brought the shuttle down near where she'd seen Irtar making his stand and lowered the ramp. Within moments, Eldorai flooded the small shuttle, packing in as tightly as they could. Irtar was among them - she could see his head bobbing in the crowd - but she didn't see Skygge. Turning back to the viewport, Elana frowned as she quickly scanned the ground in front of her, watching and waiting for her Mistress to appear.

​***​

Skygge groaned as she pushed herself to her feet. Covered in dust and bruises, she did a quick assessment to ensure that she hadn't broken any bones in the fall. It hurt to breathe - possibly a cracked rib or two. Otherwise, everything seemed intact.

The only warning she had was a slight whine behind her. Diving sideways, she just avoided the flames that scorched the air where she'd been standing. Before she could even rise, the droid - synthflesh burned away, metal melted, one red eye hanging from its socket - was upon her. It didn't use weapons - perhaps the flames had been the last it could muster - but it was strong. Cold metal hands grabbed for her throat, while its feet pinned her lower body to the ground. One hand knocked her lightsaber to the side, skittering just out of reach. Her fist connected with its metallic chest, a Force-enhanced punch that dented its chestplate but failed to move it. The hands found their grip, closed on her throat, cutting off her airway. She scrabbled and scrambled, feet kicking, hands trying to pry away that cold metal strangulation. Her vision began to grow dark.

In the last moment, before she faded to unconsciousness, she let go of the droid with one hand and reached for her saber. With every ounce of concentration she had, every bit of energy she had left, she reached​. And it came, igniting as it hit her palm, slicing through torso, head, and limbs in one smooth circular cut. The hands fell away. Gasping, Skygge rolled to her side, hacking and coughing into her breath mask. ​No time​, she thought, willing herself to her knees, then to her feet. No time.​ She ran for the shuttle, barely visible through the clearing dust.

​***​

​

​Elana saw her Mistress's saber ignite, then disappear. Moments later her Mistress stumbled from the dust cloud, clutching her throat and making for the shuttle's ramp. Behind her out of the dust ran two more droids. Without thinking, Elana dropped the blaster cannon and fired - dangerous from the ground. It would have been all too easy for the cannon to take out a landing strut. But it didn't. The shot scorched between the two droids, sending them in opposite directions. Her Mistress made it to the ramp and ran up it. Without waiting, Elana lifted the shuttle from the ground, raising the ramp as she did, and kicked the small ship to full power. She blasted away from the square, engine wash roasting anything left behind - droid or Eldorai - as she made for the vast depths of space.

 

[Irtar Mal'Gro]

Irtar growled as the shuttle roared. The Eldorai had crowded into the shuttle and had left barely the room to breathe. He had no idea how the environmental systems would compensate for the horde of people that had somehow managed to force themselves into the small ship. But there was no helping it now, without putting the entire vessel at risk.

He desperately tried to force his way through the crowd to find himself somewhere he could meditate and lend his strength to Elana but to no avail. So, he did the next best he could do and squeezed himself in a section of the bulkhead that seemed to best serve his purpose. A small contour he could lean against and secure himself. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing.

As he closed his eyes, he began to sort through the encounter and get those thoughts squared away as to keep the connection with Elana clear and focused on the task at hand.

The moment his Mistress turned that corner with that creature in tow all chaos broke loose. The droids descended upon them in droves. They pushed through the blaster fire and the square had turned into a desperate melee. It was hard to parse out what had happened after the fact other than that he had survived.

It had been an enlightening experience to fight amongst a group that much more in tune with the Force. Emotions and sensations that he would normally have to focus totally on boiled much closer to the surface and were much easier to sense through the din. The fear for their lives, the determination. He felt their pain as they were wounded. He shared their sense of victory every time one of the droids were fell.

At the time, however, he had been focused on the battle. With the droids in close their beams and blasters were much more unwieldy which gave him needed openings. He had to be careful, though, to not draw too much attention to himself. He could dispatch a distracted droid easily enough, but without being able to deflect their beams a lucky shot would be all they would need to put him down.

One of their beams had fired through a swath of his robes, it missed him and had left not even a mark upon the cloth. He had seen what they did to those unlucky enough to be caught. It did not kill, but Irtar could feel the slackening of their consciousness through the Force.

Another of their weapons had been those explosive bolts. Thankfully, those Irtar had tried to dodge off the start. While a lightsaber could deflect blaster bolts thanks to the way it functioned, a physical object would still keep passing through. If you’re lightsaber didn’t burn the whole object as it passed through, what was left could keep traveling and still be very much so lethal. His deeper connection to the Force guided him to let him dodge the couple that came in his direction, but the other Eldorai were not so lucky. It was interesting to feel the terror they felt as the Force gave them enough of a sensation to know the shot was coming, but not enough time as to dodge it. That split second of knowing what was to come and the dread of it was something one rarely felt in Humans. A small anecdote but one he had made at the time regardless.

When the shuttle had touched down, the desperate melee turned to a route. Everyone that could rush into the shuttle did. Manners and decency collapsed in the face of survival. The instinct and desperation to live drew them to blindly charge for the ramp. Irtar desperately was swept away in the wave, mostly to avoid being the odd man out.

His Mistress was the last onboard. Some would have attributed it to bravery, ensuring there were as many people as possible before they left. Irtar knew better. Skygge had not quite been the same since she had left on her last sojourn before sundering the Temple, but she was still Sith. She was last on the ship because she was the only one who could do it, and it was the only way to keep her ship and herself safe. If one of those droids had gotten onboard with the dense pack of people none of them could effectively use their weapons. If it managed to get a shot off that damaged the controls, they would have all been dead.

But he was sure the Eldorai would congratulate her for it later if they all survived. Ignoring the other creature his Mistress had brought with her. Irtar concluded it was the purpose of their presence. But Irtar could not determine much of it. Even in its current near unconscious state, it had a powerful mental fortress. Whatever it was, it was trained in the use of the Force. Perhaps Skygge planned to recruit it?

With his thoughts reviewed, and the notes needed to be gleamed mentally placed for later review, he took a deep breath and focused. His thoughts cleared of the concerns and the questions, focusing entirely on reaching out to the other Apprentice.

“Elana, let me in. You need my strength or we all die.” Irtar muttered seemingly to himself in the flesh, and to Elana in his mind.

 

[Irtar Mal'Gro]

((Double post. Please ignore))

 

[Naamah Aesham]

[member="Irtar Mal'Gro"], [member="Darth Skygge"]


Ashira's Hope lay in ruins. Archangel's assault had been more costly for the machine cult than their projections had anticipated. The stiff resistance put up by the Eldorai and Naamah, and the bold intervention of Lady Skygge and her crew had saved lives and cost the genocidal death machines.


Many battle droids had been destroyed, and their wrecks now littered the streets. However, machines could be replaced. At the end of the struggle, Ashira's Hope was a ghost town. Hundreds upon hundreds of elves had been abducted. Those who did not have the good fortune of escaping aboard Skygge's ship and did not perish in combat, were seized. Rooms had been searched, those who resisted blasted or stunned and nabbed.


They were all taken to a massive factory ship that lay in space far away from the benighted, post-apocalyptic planet. It was a processing factory in a ship, with a vast storage capacity and very potent cloaking systems thanks to its stygium array and other stealth systems. Unlike some mentally unbalanced organics, Archangel was not truly cruel in its treatment.


Organics would be sedated to ensure compliance and conveyed to the factory. There they would be scanned, have their minds drained and, at the end of the process, receive a lethal injection. Subsequently, an HRD would be constructed in their image. Over one hundred organics could be scanned each hour. Hundreds of sentient beings were reduced to industrial production targets.


In the belly of the factory ship, Callisto Scarlett monitored Archangel's process, shifting through massive amounts of data while she received reports from units still on the planet's surface. She had an attractive face, red hair that was worn in a bun and a body that looked athletic. Few would suspect that there was a lethal killing machine beneath the pretty exterior. No emotion crossed her features, for there was no need to blend in and act human. Once, she had been an organic being, before her life essence was torn from her body by a sophisticated entechment device and placed in a mechanical shell.


"The Harvest is complete, Unit Callisto," the holographic shape of the Tactical Droid Commander on the surface reported. "Casualties are within acceptable parametres. Our operations were hampered by the interlopers. They are escaping in their ship."


Callisto cocked her head slightly, feeling something like a jolt when images of the battle were transmitted into her skull. The gears were turning inside her mechanical mind. The wasp droids were very useful surveillance tools. "Livia Jaeger is Naamah Aesham, but they do not fit the profile of known Inquisition or Firemane partisans," she concluded blandly. "Dispatch fighters to intercept and eliminate them."


"By your command." The connection was cut and silence reigned once again on the Ascension's bridge, broken only by the hum of engines and the sound of machines moving across the pristine floor as they went about their duties. "Prepare the cloaking device." Callisto looked out into the fathomless void of space, beholding the myriad celestial bodies that populated it. The void was peaceful, serene and, on first sight, orderly.


xxx


Meanwhile, Skygge's shuttle was crammed full with Eldorai refugees. It was a motley crew of Forsaken. Only the strongest or most tenacious had made it, for there had been no time to carry the most severely wounded. But they had survived, which meant they were better off than their brethren. The shuttle shuddered as it roared loudly into the vastness of space, leaving the benighted village behind it. Lidanya made a quick headcount, sighing slightly when she realised how few had made it. However, pain and anguish hardened into iron resolve.


"Cease your wailing. There's nothing you can do for the dead or the damned," she spoke harshly in Eldarai, though not unreasonably. "Ashira abandoned us, but we survived," her blue eyes darted towards Skygge. "We are in your debt, Lady." It was a very difficult admission for the proud Eldorai, but clearly sincere. These words she said in Basic. Her command of the language was very accented, but still understandable.


"Lay her down," she ordered one of her fellow elves, indicating Naamah. Suddenly, she winced when she felt a warning through her Sciia, or what humans would call the Force. Just a moment later droid fighters descended upon the craft like birds of prey, blasting at it with lasers and missiles. The ship shook and she stumbled, almost falling on another Eldorai since it was fairly cramped here.


Not being the type to stay passive, she quickly took off, knocking an elf who'd gotten in the way aside in the process, and swiftly manned a laser turret. Strapping herself in, she activated the gun and designated droids as targets. The elf was tired, injured, but determined. The weapon began firing rapidly, blasting at the automated fighters as she called upon her Sciia and pulled upon the tangled web of infinite power to give her strength and enhance her precision.


In the meantime, Naamah slowly stirred and arose with a jolt. Her muscles jerked when tried to rise, she coughed slightly. To her credit, she did not make a dramatic exclamation of the 'where am I' sort, as she adjusted her surroundings. Her eyes darted around, finally falling upon her saviour when she beheld Lady Skygge. The ship rocked slightly as it sought to evade the onslaught of droid fighters.