The Shadow of Unity (TSE Dominion of Malachor V)

[Ras'kala'han]

"No offense taken, [member="Darren Korpil"]... no, Acolyte Korpil. My judgement is thus - plain and simple - you will rejoin your troops with me. We will continue fighting,, and plunder the Silver Shadow temple for their knowledge -- consider it your first trial, and your last chance to take pleasure in the camaraderie of fighting side by side as a simple equal with your men, hm? Let it not be said that Darth Vesper is not a generous Lord."

Yes. Savor what you will have taken away from you, and let the dread or sorrow of that color your final moments. To give hope, to take it away, to give comfort and change it in to perturbation - this is the way of the Sith Masters of old. And now, I suppose, it is again my way.

"I am your master now, and I will be taking charge of your training. Your destiny now lies with the Sith Order." He inhaled, deep and rattling, regarding the man with all his senses, calling on the Force to lay him bare with his scrutinizing eyes. "...I sense a great anger burning in your heart. An injustice at the core of your being. Know this - as long as that flame is not extinguished, you will be strong. But only if the flame is fanned into an inferno will it be strong enough to burn your enemies to dust.

"Kill. Kill for the final time as a soldier, and know that it is but the slightest taste of the ways one might kill as a Sith."

 

[Baxter Weyland]

Among the mass following [member="Darth Carnifex"] was a hunched figure, leaping from opponent to opponent without pause. They were nothing, less even. The soldiers of the Silver Jedi fought bravely enough, some might've commended them for their valiant defense in the face of overwhelming odds, he would not, to Maximar they were nothing but vermin who were in his way. In their way.

A gauntleted hand wrapped its fingers around the throat of a Rodian and jerked violently, the bones of its neck crack loudly as its life was snuffed out. He tossed aside with callous disregard and bounded forward once again. He liked this, to rip and tear like this, it brought him pleasure, or more accurately an absence of pain. In the fleeting moments where Maximar slaughtered his prey and watched them die, the darkness did not set his nerves alight with agony. It was his only relief, it was all he had.

Bounding to another man he batted aside a blaster rifle, crushed the barrel with one hand and struck the soldier with the other. Blood spurted from what Gricori assumed was a broken nose among other things, but he didn't pause long enough to be sure, stooping down and dashing the man's head against a stone, spattering the rock with crimson and bits of brain. From the bandoleer hanging across his chest he drew a small knife, one of several, and hurled it into his most recent victim's ally who had only just turned to face him. The small blade plunged into the woman's neck and dropped her to the ground. He didn't bother finishing her off, opting to let blood loss take its toll.

Reaching to his side he shot forward again, dropping into a slide as a crimson blade sprung to life in his hands, taking the legs of a roaring bothan at the knees as it did. Before the soldier so much as cry out he'd already spun around and taken its head in the blink of an eye. Each kill was brutal in its own way, but the worst was saved for a twi'lek standing defiantly a mere few yards away from him, cerulean saber in hand.

Jedi.