Junction [GA/SO] Unhallowed Front | GA/SO Junction of Yvara & Epica

[Jonyna Si]

​

Objective: Hunt the Hunter
Tag: Vazz​

So the Assassin fled. He could not fight her head to head. In place of him he left another copy. A solid illusion, one that could fight as he did, even physically interact. It wouldn't last long, especially since she was the better duelist.

But he was aiming to get a different shield first. He found a perch above as he found them. The people she'd been protecting. He grinned wider still as he hopped down like a shade, hiding within them. These would be a better shield than the zombies.

To the Cathar, she could only keep fighting. It felt like the only option, her mind focused solely on defeating the threat in front of her. She snarled, charging forward at the figure in front of her. Sword bared, the Denik went to slash at the wolf's chest. She needed to finish the fight. Needed to end the threat. Needed to win.

She needed it. She needed it. She needed it.

...right?

 

[Makai Dashiell]

Celanon | Myra Arceneau Dashiell
​

Makai quickly went through powering up the Aurora Dawn,intent in getting out as quickly as possible. He was unsure of the locations of Thirty-Seven and El-Three, but Thirty-Seven had acknowledged his message, so he was assuming all three were still on the move.

Flipping through sensors, he was trying to get a read on where exactly the bombings were occurring. If he could just exit the planet far enough away form the military action and go anywhere from there it would be a win.

First though, he only had to go across the block, an easy enough task. Makai kept the ramp down as he did so, not seeing any undead on the rooftops, knowing it would allow Thirty-Seven and El-Three to just hop on board.

Makai hadn't seen either droid or Ellie yet, but he was confident they would be along soon enough. Aurora Dawn was set down carefully and he decided not to leave the controls. Speed was going to be paramount in leaving, just in case the droids were being followed.

"Thirty-Seven, El-Three....I've set down. Ready and waiting."

 

[Myra Arceneau Dashiell]

Celanon

Trade Consortium

Objective: Escape | Interacting with Makai Dashiell Rolin Voss

Enemies : Zombies | Allies : Not Zombies

"Thirty-Seven, El-Three....I've set down. Ready and waiting."

The pair of protocol droids were in the midst of conducting a morbid undead dance side step in the sky bridge entrance connecting it to the tower. Thirty-Seven gave a spin of his wrist, twirling the electrostaff in a 360-degree arc before it crashed against an undead's head.

El-Three was ducking and swerving to avoid the shuffle of what appeared to be a tourist attempting to lurch at Myra, whom he held in his arms. Thankfully, it didn't move too quickly, allowing THirty-Seven to dispatch the first zombie while lifting his metal foot to dropkick the one attacking El-Three.

Covered in head to toe with blood and bits of flesh, the droid uttered in a pleased tone, [ Thirteen. ] He gave a nod of his head, and El-Three replied, [ Well done! I particularly enjoyed that last move for dispatching. May I advise attempting to punch one through the head? ]

[ I shall endeavor to execute such a splendid recommendation ] Thirty-Seven replied. Clearly, he had been programmed with Makai's Dashiell tendencies towards violence when necessary.

Looking for a lift, Thirty-Seven spotted signs indicating maintenance and tower access for the landing pad. It appeared the roof of the tower was used for VIP landings. Moving swiftly, the pair made their way to the lift.

Just in time, five more undead had shuffled out of the nearby entrance at the sound of their arrival, rushing towards the lift. The door hissed open, and the pair stepped inside. With a button push, the glasteel door slid shut mere seconds before the undead slammed their bodies against the door. Their growls and grunts permeated the area.

[ We are at the lift and heading up towards the roof access, Sir. ] Thirty-seven announced, sending the message to Makai.

 

[Makai Dashiell]

Celanon | Myra Arceneau Dashiell
​

Hearing the sounds of the undead over Thirty-Seven's message, Makai left the cockpit of the ship to greet the two droids and Ellie, just in case. Ion paddle was still in hand as he walked down the ramp, eyes keen for the undead.

Feet touched the rooftop and he walked along towards where the the turbolift would open. There wasn't much on the rooftop, some access doors, equipment such as massive cooling units and the like.

Walking past one of the units, undead arm grabbed him, darting out. He immediately turned and pulled back at the same time, other hand pulling up to smash the head down of what used to be a maintenance worker.

At that moment, turbolift doors opened, revealing the two droids and a passed out Ellie in El-Three's arms. He rushed over, glancing back to ensure he wasn't being followed.

"Is she alright?"

[ I had to dispatch Mistress Arceneau in order to move quickly. She will awaken shortly. ]

Makai nodded in reply as they moved towards the Aurora Dawn quickly, all of them eager to get off Celanon.

"It was probably for the best El-Three, she wasn't in a good position. Go ahead and put her in bed so she can rest and awake on her own."

"Thirty-Seven, take the helm of the Aurora as co-pilot. You and I are working on getting out of here."

[ Of course, Sir. May I suggest we make a run for Ord Radama? It will give a chance to provide any care Mistress Arceneau may need as well as getting our bearings. ]

"Start calculating the course Thirty-Seven. Be mindful of military activity in the area."

Once inside, Makai immediately lifted off, not needing any stragglers grabbing onto the landing struts or to be blown out of the sky. He worked quickly, eager to check on Ellie but also knowing she was in good hands with El-Three.

[ Sir? ]

"Yes Thirty-Seven?"

[ I have reached a new personal achievement ; I have killed thirteen sentients in one day. ]

Hands never left the controls but his head turned briefly, a little shocked. What the hell was Thirty-Seven's old personal record?!

"That's....I....I'm proud of your achievement Thirty-Seven....."

[ Thank you Sir. ]

 

[Vestara VII]

Location: Field Lab, Yavin IV
Objective: I - Yavin IV
Dialogue Legend: “Galactic Basic” │ <”ur-Kittât”>
Direct Engagement: Katherine Holt

The beetle swiftly died after gorging itself on the prisoner’s flesh—crushed by a simple manifestation of the dark side as Vestara drew in closer to watch the scene play out. Satisfied that the creature had fulfilled its purpose in injecting the strain that she had so rigorously crafted, the strand-cast did not tolerate its presence for any longer than necessary. In much the same manner, the Marine’s defiance was crushed as well, pained grunts and moans leaving his lips as his features turned an angry shade of crimson while blood spilled out from his mangled left eye.

All the while, Vestara set her mind to work as she began to record her observations. While the strand-cast had hoped that the strain would have an instantaneous effect, there was no sign that the virus was taking hold yet. However, the lack of immediate effect did not constitute outright failure of the experiment. Instantaneousness had been an extremely optimistic projection to begin with.

However, there were still far more factors in play that threatened to ruin and thus, fail, her experiments.

On cue, Vestara’s gaze widened as her ears registered a strong force beating at the surrounding air.. On cue, she glanced up, but only a moment too late as a white-winged, armored figure came crashing through the dense canopy, before slamming right into the middle of the holding cell, kicking up a cloud of dust and dirt in the process.

A Dark Valkyrie? Here, of all places? What did the Valkyries want with her experiment? Why would they-

That thought process was swiftly severed when Vestara registered the woman’s grotesquely incandescent presence in the roiling currents of the Force, her gaze widening in realization as she did. There was nothing dark, pure, or holy about this Valkyrie.

“Interloper.” Vestara hissed, her pale Hapan features twisted in malice as she pulled her electro-whip from its place on her thigh with her left hand, before uncoiling and igniting the wire in a bluish sheath of searing electricity with the press of a button. Then, with an ear splitting howl, the strand-cast moved to attack. Stepping forward with her left foot, Vestara threw her electro-whip in a high, crosswise slash from her own left-to-right, aimed to strike the light-corrupted Valkyrie straight across her face.

Spoiler: Loadout

• Black Cheongsam - w/o Eye Mask
  
  • Force Artifacts
    
    • Spirit Anchor
    • Amulet of Many
    • Jin'Wodasir (2)
  • Utility
    
    • Shock Collar
    • Supernal Infusion
    • Excluder
• Electro-Whip
• Gun Works Shock Pistol

 

[Myra Arceneau Dashiell]

Celanon

Trade Consortium

Objective: Escape | Interacting with Makai Dashiell Rolin Voss

Enemies : Zombies | Allies : Not Zombies

As the Aurora Dawn's engines flared a cerulean hue with the added thrust and lifted the ship gracefully into the atmosphere under the careful guidance of Makai Dashiell and Thirty-Seven, El-Three gently cradled Myra's unconscious form towards the rear of the ship. The door slid open with a silent hiss as the droid stepped inside.

[Andromeda, play Crashing Waves and Sunny Beachside playlist for the mistress], El-Three requested, his ocular sensors flaring momentarily before dimming.

[Now playing Crashing Waves and Sunny Beachside playlist ] The soft, soothing voice of the ship's AI responded over the speakers. The soft, relaxing sounds of crashing waves were specifically recorded off of Dac and other familiar childhood scenes that had been identified as soothing, relaxing background noise for the heiress.

The ship was equipped with an internal AI to assist with verbal commands, although not as sophisticated as Thirty-Seven and El-Three's personal programming. There were talks of a potential upgrade to provide a ship assistant droid that could link into their programming for ships where needed.

With gentle precision, El-Three laid Myra down on the bed and began removing her accessories, mindful of her tendencies to be restless in her sleep, especially after triggering nightmares. His programming dictated creating a calm environment, anticipating that Myra would benefit most from waking up to Makai's presence. He carefully took a thick, soft blanket from a nearby wall cupboard, then draped it over her slender form.

After El-Three initiated his standard anti-anxiety routine of aromatherapy and calming sounds; he retreated to the cockpit with Thirty-Seven and Makai Dashiell .

[Mister Dashiell, I advise that you allow Thirty-Seven and I to handle flight control while you focus on the mistress' recovery. Your presence will significantly aid in mitigating her post-traumatic stress by forty-six percent], El-Three recommended, emphasizing the importance of Makai's support for Myra during this vulnerable time.

 

[Vulpesen]

She'd heard of him. He supposed he should be flattered. But yet, there she was, still standing against him. Though perhaps his reputation was that of a philosopher, after all, he had destroyed more more than one sith with nothing more than a silvered tongue, turning them away from the path of darkness. "There'll be plenty of time to talk once I've cuffed you up, miss Djo."


He watched as the darkness rose up around her, his tail flicking back and forth while he focused himself on securing his hold not only on his daggers, but on the earth around them. Each flittering blade was a ghost of an afterthought, their flight being so practiced it was instinct for him. Her challenge a smile to his face and he gave his saberstaff a swirl. "I thought you said you'd heard of me."

He met her assault head on, his weapon swirling into a protective orb to bad aside her blades. Tendril and bladed feather clashed again and again, testing each other's defenses. Before, she had caught him on the backfoot, forcing a disadvantage on rusty skills. Now, he saw her coming and that rust had been shaken off. He might not have started striking back at her yet, but he no longer retreated, holding his ground while he sent his feathers in from the flanks in a constant barrage to try and pierce past her ring of tendrils. "You've got skill for your age. A shame you've decided to waste it on, what? A lust for power? The delusion that control is an absolute virtue?"

Lina Ovmar Darth Carnifex Zark San Tekka Thurion Heavenshield Sarlow Zambrano

 

[Lina Ovmar]

Engaging: Vulpesen
Allies: Sarlow Zambrano Darth Carnifex
Enemies: Zark San Tekka Thurion Heavenshield​

Lina gave a snort of derision.

"For one who has walked the path, you have a limited view on what it truly means to be a sith." They were a flurry of iron and shadow, gold and red blades spitting each time they clashed. The advantage Lina had originally held was gone, as he held fast against her attacks, still she pressed, seeking a gap, a hairline crack would do well enough for her to get past.

"Power and control are simply tools to be utilised to become whatever it is I choose." She could feel the fatigue beginning with aches in her muscles. She needed a resolution and soon. She thrust her hand forward, a telekinetic shove, intended to give distance between them, grant her a brief respite, but it was not kinetic energy that left her hand.

Fire erupted from her hand, uncontrolled the blaze obscured Vulpesen completely from view. Lina jumped back from it, a shout of surprise escaping her. Nausea washed over her, and the world span briefly. She sank to a knee, dropping a saber as she tried to douse the flame that no engulfed her hand. She forgot the fight, staring in disbelief as the fire settled. How?

She had never had that ability, so where had it come from. Another wave of nausea washed over her, realisation dawning on her as her eyes slid towards Sarlow. Of course it would come to light now, here of all places. Panic rose in her chest and she snapped her eyes back to her opponent, caught between the fear of consequences, should she withdraw from the fight, and fear of fighting on and risking the life of the child growing within.

 

[Darth Malum of House Marr]

His surprise was tempered by two simple facts, perhaps three if one desired to be pedantic on the matter. The first, he knew from the very beginning to not underestimate Valery Noble , after all, one did not attain the rank of Grandmistress of the Jedi Order, by simply resting on one's laurels, and though she was a step below the immortal tyrants, so stagnant, so desiring to live and rule in times and era that were not their own, just like with Kaine, just like with Empyrean, he was not so bold to think her not a threat, a grievous threat that would, and could, cut him down.

Her Order's ideology might be false, and her own philosophy might be wrong, yet that did not make her any less dangerous.

In fact, perhaps it made her even more so.

Then the second, not too surprisingly, he knew much about Valery Noble, it was difficult to go anywhere in the Galaxy with what he was, and not know of the exploits of Valery Noble, and as Tsis'Kaar, it was their sworn duty to know, all there was to know. So he had known much, he had known to be cautious, he had known not to make mistakes or to be distracted, and he had a fragment at the back of his mind informing him of things he did not know, all had been invaluable in surviving the first blows.

And the third, though he did not know the means, that if the Shield was here, that the Sword was there.

Against Trayze.

Still, he could not help the widening of his eyes, as where there was once a smirk and a wink, mocking words, were replaced with... still mocking words, yet another type of confidence entirely.

So she could use his power, they could swap places entirely, and they could hear what the other heard.

That narrowed very far what this could be.

Yet he had little time to think of it further, for his cousin, his kin, his family was in danger.

And this man before him was standing in his way, locking him in place with his lightsabre.

His eyes glimmered with emotion, knowing, exactly what he would need to do.

" Kahlil Noble , I have always wished to converse with you, unfortunate it is in these circumstances," He pushed both blades against his lock, mind scrambling to figure out a plan, and settling on one immediately, "Whether I fight in the shadows or the light is irrelevant, all that will matter is that I win," He did not react as the waves were repelled, they had done all they had to, the undead were advancing, "If at some point you wish to discuss your father, I would be more than willing to talk, unfortunately," One of his blades broke from the deadlock, the other attempting to hold him in place, as the first moved with a speed aiming at his shoulder, "What is better is not running from who you were meant to fight," A feint, both the incoming blade and Malum disappeared from view entirely, as he lept back away from the man, and he pulled for a moment, zombified corpses experienced flight, as Malum hurled as many as he could manage in short order toward the renamed Zambrano.

He needed to hope, needed to pray, that Trayze could survive.

But there was little chance of that, such was the purpose of hope and prayer, he supposed.

He willed the Force around him, forcing it to his bidding, as he extended his hand, his eyes flame in an eery alien orange glow, from the ground dark tendrils emerged, quite some many extinguished by the light that seemed to exude out of the man, yet others were able to take root still, surrounding him, formed into a net, raising higher, and higher.

As it fell, aiming to cover him.

To cut him off from the Force.

To drain his strength.

Only then, could he save Trayze.

Trayze Tesar

 

[Teresa Zambrano | Darth Pellax]

Spoiler: Equipment

Outfit: Training Clothes, Dark Valkyrie Armor*, Blood infused Liquid Laminanium Bracelets
Weapons: Svikin Hjörtu, Ancient Lightsaber, Old Owners Lightsaber, Fathers Lightsaber, Trandoshan Jedi's Lightsaber, Bag of long fused Thermal Detonators

Tags -
Engaging: Tracyn Ordo

Epic Score - Hell Rains Down

Her own blood began to run over her eye from the clashing blow of the jedi's headbut. It looked black, with no trace of red left, it could be compared to a glossy oil it was after all the true colour of a sith's Ichor. Teresa snarl through her teeth, growling like that of a vicious animal, the pain she felt was wonderful, the pain she caused beautiful, yet this one twisted her fun.

The next blow came with sharp dizzying pain, the taste of copper and Laminanium washing over every taste bud. It knocked her back some nearly enough to make the woman topple. She flung both blades back from the Jedi's reach as the Valkyrie recoiled her eyes though blurred vision blinked hard a few times for it to restore. For a moment each hand came to her chin, then brushing over her cheeks. They had become so uncontrollably flush even in rage.

More was going on underneath those hands as they continued over her eyes wiped the blood away. There was a sound of bone crunching emanating from, the woman's skull that lasted only a moment. As her hands moved now seen was the shape of Teresa's mouth, it had became wider with a sharp toothy grin with blood drooling the side the hilt struck. The thickest veins bulged slightly with dark ichor and finally as her hands fell away revealing eyes, six of them. Those golden orange orbs surrounded by black sclera practically glowed in the shaded light under Yavin moon's thick canopies. How those once round pupils now thin pitch black slit looked on with such wrothful intimidation.

Both blades snapped to her grasp and sliding the off hand blade into the sheath. Taking in the wider view around, she'd not be caught by a sneaky feint like that again. The swirling concoction of chaotic emotion and sensory feeling felt like a drug to her connection. Passion, pain, pleasure, rage so much damn rage. Lips parted making way for her tongue to slither out licking at the blood.

The woman's stance changed to suit the single blade. Both hands gripped the hild above the left eyes and about a fist's distance from the forehead. Her left foot points forward while the right foot and body is angled at 45°. Slowly the Blackened Valkyrie began to circle like a predator facing another over territory. Assessing her opponent, feeling his anger too, the fight was still enjoyable at least in that they had pissed each other off. She felt a great hate for this one and Teresa herself took it personally, it was the right time to push herself past her limits. After few steps and closing the distance she dashed in with a straight leap forwards.

First the blade came down towards the opponents head, leased it seemed that way till fluid movements changed direction flicking it to go for his left. The gauntlet was more a threat than the saber that could decapitate. Her attack had one more layer to it. One both sith and jedi alike agreed in their disapproval of use. Timing her strike, the blade flickered. It did not simply turn off and on, rather a mechanism inside turned cycling the blade's focus crystal. The red glowing hue dissipated for a cold black and dropped a dark mist from. Its sickly aura was similar to that of the undead behind.

 

[Vulpesen]

Each deflection followed through into the next, as Vulpesen held his own against Djo's onslaught. Djem So was a power hungry style, quick to wear its users out. All he had to do was survive and keep her at bay, riding the easy lax movements of makashi until he had a chance to strike. As for his views on the sith, he had been around long enough to see the wheel turn over itself. She could preach about her desires all she wanted. It all went the same in the end. "The power to be whatever you choose. And you choose to be a nightmare."

Her hand thrust off and Vulpesen smiled as he prepared to thrust through the push, knowing that his cloak would absorb any push she sent forth. Except, there was no push. His vision flared and Vulpesen turned away as flames battered against his armor, heating his flesh beneath to elicit a pained growl until he managed to lift a wing to ward off the blaze. Even through the pain however, he could sense her fear and confusion, the natural wards that force users placed on themselves dropping away as the anomaly manifested.

He didn't hesitate. He dove at that fear, driving his consciousness against hers to grab the advantage, to learn its secrets and... and... his saber dropped to his side and the feathers zipped back to his wings, finding their places as he stared down at the sith woman. Behind his mask, a combination of pity and frustration. The code rang in his head. He could take no life when the life of an innocent would be risked. "Take it from a father and a son. The sith and families don't mix. They tear each other apart. And children fear nightmares."

His saber remained at his side and his ears flicked around, surveying his surroundings to alert him of any additional dangers. But he was done with her, the thrill of the fight sucked away by its new stakes. Victory was not always worth the cost to one's soul.


Lina Ovmar Darth Carnifex Thurion Heavenshield Sarlow Zambrano Zark San Tekka

 

[Sarlow Zambrano]

The cacophony of the undead horde filled the air, creating a grim symphony as Sarlow clashed blades with Master Jedi Zark San Tekka. The Panathan Prince, initially somewhat dismissive of the Jedi's spear-wielding attempts, found himself struck on the shoulder as he diverted his attention towards a sound from Lina. A bestial roar escaped him, and his eyes, those of the Panathan Wolf, locked onto his beloved.

Abandoning the skirmish with Zark, Sarlow's gaze shifted to the winged creature Vulpesen. "You!" he bellowed, addressing Vulpesen, "Take the old man and flee before these hordes overtake both of you."

Turning to his attention toward his father and Thurion, Sarlow closed the distance between himself and Lina. "Thurion has contended with my father for ages; he'll manage quite well on his own. For your sake and his," he spoke towards the aging Jedi Master, Sarlow's gaze focused on Lina, "flee from this world. Your people will return, as always, to cleanse it."

Kneeling beside Lina, despite his wound, Sarlow lifted his beloved into his arms and summoned his strength to rise. The Wolf of the Reach instructed his beloved to call for his personal guards, the Red Maw, to organize their evacuation. The shuttle swiftly arrived, its rampart lowering as Sith troopers descended to secure the area. Sarlow carried Lina aboard, and with the rampart sealed, the shuttle departed Yavin IV and its besieged system.

Once inside the vessel, he gently set Lina down on a nearby chair. Sarlow issued orders to the pilot, and the shuttle swiftly distanced itself from the chaos left behind on Yavin IV.

Opponents: Zark San Tekka | Vulpesen | Thurion Heavenshield
Allies: Darth Carnifex | Lina Ovmar


/thread exit\​

 

[Thurion Heavenshield]

​

Thurion dodged the swing of Kaine's sceptre with a swift backstep only to lunge back into the fray when the Dark Lord left himself open for a counterattack. He thrust Anarion forward, but the gleaming blade pierced nought but shadow where Darth Carnifex had stood. Just as he'd adjusted to his opponent's relocation, he was beset by a makeshift creature of crumbled stone and mortar: a vast, inanimate serpent sculpted and puppeteered by the Dark Lord.

Quickly realising swords would be of little use, the Lion sheathed the Sunlight Blade and lept out of the massive serpent's way as its jaws opened wide to devour and crush him, destroying part of the improvised bridge. He grabbed hold of whatever he could as a great rift was created between the two, pulling himself up just as the stone serpent reared for another assault. Thurion put his hands together and closed his eyes, focusing on slow and steady breathing.

The immobile Lion held his ground when the inanimate creature lunged at him a second time, betraying no hint of stepping out of the way. The moment he was about to get crushed, his hand shot out and struck the serpent in three key points, disintegrating the entire colossus in the blink of an eye. Ancient stonework was instantly turned into fine dust, light enough to be carried on the gentlest breeze. He'd unmade the material itself.

Kaine's booming voice filled the chasm once more, drawing Thurion's eyes to the other end of what little remained of the tower-turned-bridge. His gaze was then drawn to the dark skies far above their subterranean battleground to spot several Alliance ships evacuating to be replaced with an increase in Sith vessels appearing in the planet's atmosphere.

The hand that had gone for his sword for a renewed assault loosened its grip, while his outstretched left arm recalled his shield to his side, bidding that it disengage with the Sith blade. By all accounts, the battle was all but decided. His ears perked up at the faint sound of distant bugles as the first flakes of snow appeared, one of which melted in the palm of his hand.

"Know this, Dark Lord of the Sith: Before my time in this world is through, I will look you in the eye as true fear takes hold of that blackened heart. You will not escape the righteous vengeance of a million souls. The Force demands justice, and I am its instrument."

The Lion bowed in honour of their test of strength.

"Until next we meet, Kaine of House Zambrano, Butcher King of Panatha."

Thurion gave a nod before turning towards the wintry scenery that arrayed itself before him, taking one step before fading into nothing, leaving only a handful of whirling snowflakes in his wake. He would reappear at his home on Midvinter, bruised but not beaten and surrounded by his family, all of whom were relieved to see their patriarch alive and safely returned.

He sought out his grandchildren, clutching them to his chest as the warnings of the Dark Lord lingered on his mind.

Allies: Zark San Tekka Vulpesen
Enemies: Sarlow Zambrano Lina Ovmar ​

 

[Trayze Tesar]

OBJECTIVE I - YAVIN IV - ASSAULT ON THE TEMPLE (PVP/PVE)

---

CURRENT MISSION - Improvise. Adapt. Overcome.
Immediate Goals -
1: Ensure the Jedi pay.

BLUFOR - Darth Malum of House Marr

OPFOR - Valery Noble Kahlil Noble

TARGETING ACTION(S) - Valery Noble

---

Trayze knew that the Jedi Shadow was, by its namesake, a slippery karker. Tricks he was fine with, deceit and antics, certainly. But karking teleportation?! That was a step too far in the eyes of the Acolyte.

So once again he tried to forget, to push away the din of battle and focus on the Force - his Force, his Passion - to overcome the Jedi once more. But reality doesn't care for passion, for will, or even the Force, for once the two blades clashed, the Grandmaster's and the Acolyte's, it was the last sputtering gasp of the crimson blade.

Despite the smoke and the suspicious smell of seared flesh, it would not activate despite it seeming to be stuck to Trayze's hands.

She passed through him, panic now becoming a swift addition to the rage he had felt further contributing to the mania that had now overtaken the Kiffar in the battlefield. With a pantherine yowl, he whirled and helplessly used the very hilt of his lightsaber to block the oncoming strike.

He knew it would not be enough, for the Jedi would no doubt cut him to ribbons, but still the Acolyte clawed to his very depths as every limb and vein in his body cracked and sputtered to grant him more pain, more adrenaline, more energy to outlast and counterattack the Jedi.

It would be for naught.