Session export: The Sith Immortal Part 2

The door clicked open, Cole Farrow stepping into the room. He’d intended to arrive with Sofila but she had gotten distracted by something and yelled at him to go ahead so the Human had complied. So long as she didn’t get lost, he doubted she’d be long.

Cole was already fully geared up, his rebel marine armour set up with Urban Camoflague. Whether or not that was the right camoflague he hadn’t known but it was better than nothing. A Scattershot and a Sniperrifle were slung across his back, a hunting knife on his hip. All blacked out where they could be.

He glanced over the room and other than the Chiss, presumedly Anders who was briefing them, and a BD-unit perched on his shoulder, there was nothing of interest. Or concern, at least.

“Sofila will be here in a minute, we were delayed arriving less… narrowly on time.”

They’d been waiting for this moment. Upon receiving the coordinates of the rendezvous point, Savran Has wasted no time in collecting their gear and securing travel to Arx. Seeing Eos City, the real Eos City, after helping storm the Children’s cheap knockoff instilled in them a sense of relief. They had no intention of ever returning to that wretched place.

Shortly after Cole’s arrival, a light click and hiss heralded the arrival of yet another member of the team. Savi was dressed in their typical attire: the sleek robes manage to accentuate the subtle curves and lean musculature of their figure without sacrificing the maneuverability that they considered paramount. The robes were a mix of black and dark blue colors to reduce their visibility in low light conditions. Although they kept an assortment of weapons on their person, the most notable of them were the flyssa secured to their hip, and the Relby V-10 draped across their back.

Usually, Savi kept their face and hair covered in briefings, but today they let the mane of multicolored feathers flow freely. Upon entering, their slitted eyes focused on Cole. Seeing him here was no surprise given their last conversation. The saffron-colored Shani approached him and even extended a hand to offer a handshake. “Cole.”

The two were by no means friends, now, but they were united by their mutual interest in keeping Sofila safe. Knowing that she had no intention of sitting this one out, they both understood that the best way to do that was by watching her six. And her twelve. Force knows that they were going to need a full squad to ensure that the Mirialan woman, as injury prone as she was, walked out of this one with as few injuries as possible.

Cole accepted the handshake with a firm grip, nodding the Shani.

“Savran.”

It was strange to be on a first name basis with them but being on the same page for the first time in their, short, mutual history had had that effect.

Savi held the grip for a bit before taking a step back and scanning the room.

“Sofila get distracted on the way, I’m guessing?”

“Perhaps it was the mess I forgot to clean up.” A crimson clad figure hissed their way into the room. As they moved however, the crimson seemed to drip off at random points, leaving a spattered trail from the doorway to the kitchenette.

Clearly not noticing to whom he was speaking, Titius removed his helmet, dribbling ichor in a pool around his feet. “Suffice to say, I didnt get the information I needed. Nautolan have such large arteries…” He trailed off as he started up the caf machine, more efficient than previously.

“Friendship is important!” Sofila answered the Chiss. The Mirialan practically wrapped her arms around Titius. “Hiiiiii thank you for saving my life.” She was grinning from ear to ear. No one would know because of her helmet but they would be able to detect the joy in her voice. Then she noticed the blood.

“Aw, Kark! Are you okay? Do I need to heal you-“ then she reeled back as some of the blood got on her Mandalorian armor.

“I just got it cleaned! Suns!”

Then she saw Savi.

“Savi!” Focused the Force on her feet, she leapt over the table with the help of Force and attempted to tackle hugged the Shani. She was so glad that they had made it through the war.

General Bes'uliik had spent his time on Arx following the Brotherhood’s assault into the Ethereal Realm doing just what Anders predicted; shoring up military and non-military assets of the Brotherhood from the main seat of The Exchange - the donut-shaped Mattock Station. Although he had begun to loathe the station’s design for its Imperial roots, known as some of the best shipyards the galaxy had seen, there was no denying that it served its purpose dutifuly. It ensured first and foremost that the Seven Clans had timely repairs of their biggest starships and acted as the main hub for The Exchange’s - and by extension, those of the Brotherhood - business dealings across known space.

Had he and The Council purposely restricted the sale of larger shipyards to the Seven Clans in order maintain the feudal system that had been in place for decades, ensuring continued reliance on The Council and The Council on them? Yes - but such was the way of things, and that feudal system had ensured the survival of the Brotherhood throughout numerous conflicts.

Although it had only been a short amount of time since the return of the Brotherhood’s forces to this realm, it mattered not to the Dathomirian-Mandalorian as whatever Exchange matters that needed attending to, he was sure that Thran could deal while he took a short absence. For anything else, the rest of The Council. Word of this “mission” and the previous encounters reported had piqued his interest, so he expressed that interest in kind by attending whatever wild-ride the group was going to go on.

The Mandalorian General arrived a few moments after several other members of the entourage, the door sliding back open for a fourth time to reveal his heavily-armored frame - armor that had been inspired by the Manda'lors of ancient legend. The Elder carried an assortment of weapons and gear on his person per usual… Weapons were part of his religion, after all. With the matte-black painted Advanced Robit Companion (A.R.C.) resting on one of his large pauldrons, he strode confidently and calmly into the room, immediately stepping in the sticky ichor dragged into the room by another member of the team. He looked down at his sole of his boot for a moment.

Fantastic. Does Idris not clean this place?

Shaking his head almost in disbelief, the Dathomirian took up a position on the right-hand side wall of the room, scanning and monitoring the others. The man covered in the same substance he had stepped in had caught his eye. The perpetrator of the mess, it seemed. He was less annoyed with Idris now. A.R.C. remained silent on his shoulder, his photoreceptors watching the other BD-unit Backpack Droid.

Zxyl was grossly unfamiliar with every member of the team currently present, except for Anders; while he hadn’t yet met the Chiss in person, he was aware of his status as an Equite residing within Taldryan. The Regent was currently on shaky ground with his “home clan”. Although a named Scion of Taldryan, a Taldrya, the Dathomirian-Mandalorian did not support its current structure as a clone of the Old Galactic Republic and was actively but secretly working against it with a group of forgotten military personnel on the Chyron System moon of Ostara. The Old Galactic Republic had been laughingly and easily manipulated into becoming the Galactic Empire, and the Empire was responsible for the Night of a Thousand Tears. There was no forgiveness, and the Iron Beast of Mandalore predicted that Taldryan’s Republic would fail just the same. It would make taking any mission from the Chiss precarious, with his dealings on Ostara requiring the highest levels of secrecy.

The Regent’s armaments were meticulously perfected, as was anything the highly skilled artisan crafted. He had begun growing quite the reputation for forging unique sets of Mandalorian armors for his peers, among other things. His custom triple-phase lightsaber hung from a forward position on his belt, joined on the left by a custom-chassis WESTAR-35. A gravity hammer was attached to his heavy jetpack. On his right wrist resided a simplistic looking vambrace, in actuality a hidden dual-phase lightsaber pistol, while his left heralded a much more traditional Mandalorian Vambrace. Two sets of throwing weapons, a shuriken kit and set of throwing daggers, were carefully attached and hidden on his right thigh by his interesting cloak-robe.

Throughout all interactions and further interactions as part of the mission, the General would work - as he usually did - to consistently conceal his Force-sensitivity. Nobody knew of the powers that he had unlocked, most particularly his skills in Sith Sorcery and Magick, and he intended to keep it that way as long as possible.

“Thats Specialist to you, Administrator, though you may be right.” Titius dribbled his way to the locker rooms down the hall, caf in hand.

Cole watched her tackling Savi and shook his head, taking a small step to have his back to a wall and glancing over the other newcomers. A very heavily equipped.. Mandolarion. Interesting. The equipment was expensive and well maintained.

The blood covered Human was concerning but Sofila hugged him so that was something.

“Hello there,” came just as curt of a reply from the Mandalorian’s helmet modulator.

Even their precognitive sense, as refined as it was, failed to alert Savi to their friend’s intentions until it was too late. They had heard Sofila’s voice and turned to greet her only to see the mandalorian soaring through the air … headed straight for them. Managing only to raise a hand in mild protest of her antics, Savi bore the brunt of Sofila’s tackle-hug-thing, which hit her with enough force to cause her to loose her footing. A curse in Mando'a flew from the Shani’s onyx-painted lips as they hit the ground, only for them to soften into their friend’s embrace with a gentle smile.

“Yes, yes, it’s good to see you too, Sofila. Now get off of me.”

One hand found its place on the mirialan’s face to push her away in the same comical way that the two had grown accustomed to dealing with one another. Savi’s amber eyes flicked over to see if Cole was watching. How embarrassing.

“…and now Im out of caf, kaaaaaaaark” Titius announced his return. Clad in new armour thankfully devoid of ichor, he stalked back to the caf station.

He was. Yet other than a slight smile, there was no real reaction from the Human who was paying far more attention to the Regent. Now named, the particularly high-end gear made sense.

The Regent was talking to Anders however, and Cole was never partial to actual small talk. He remained in place, glancing to the door and wondering where the others had gotten to.

Sofila laughed softly when she was being pushed away. Her hand clicked the clasp and she removed her helmet. Her curly purple hair was back in low ponytail. Hopped onto her feet, she placed her helmet onto the table and noticed the heavy clad Mandalorian was standing there.

Whoa. Shame. Buir isn’t here for this.

“The mission hasn’t started yet,” interjected Savi, who by now had risen to their feet and dusted themselves off. “This is the first time we’ve seen each other since the start of the war, so her excitement is to be expected.”

Sofila glanced over to Anders. Wait. Why does he seems familiar? Right! He was the Chiss that told her about the gravity during war. Then her lips curved into a frown at Anders bringing up that she was stabbed and possessed at their last mission. Savi chimed in as Sofila shook her head and smiled to show she was okay.

“Yes, it happened. But what did you expect? For me to be in the corner and crying my eyes out? Nah. One, I’ve been learning and training since. Two, I can emotionally flipped when needed. I can be very serious but the best part, it’s not right now!” Sofila beamed at Anders. “Wait, unless this is your way of saying you need a hug? Anders, would you like a hug? I would be happy to give you a hug!”

Cole looked as if he wanted to say something but wasn’t exactly sure how. He wasn’t in the best position to try and meet her eye and warn her away from pissing off the guy who was giving them their mission briefing.

Sofila noticed the body language from Cole as she mentally scoffed. Instead, she quietly sat down on one of the chairs by the table and waited.

Zxyl remained mostly unmoving throughout the interactions going on around him, eventually putting his back against the wall and leaning against it with one foot against the wall and arms crossed. A.R.C. hopped onto his arm, keeping an eye on BUDD-E.

The Regent wasn’t really one for small-talk either. He was a very to the point individual, and was curious as to who remained to join them. He was pleasantly surprised that other Mandalorian individuals had heeded the call. While none of them were under the Mandalorian General’s command nor part of his covert, he was willing to give them the benefit of the doubt and maintain confidence in their abilities so long as they adhered to the principles of the Creed throughout their journey.

Sofila glanced over to Anders, “I understand.” She was direct. There was more than just training she had been doing. But it was for hers to keep. Sofila cooed at the droid, his little dancing legs on the spot. “Aw, how cu-” She looked at Anders in surprise when it seems that the droid wanted a hug.

“Oh! Of course!” Sofila laughed as it landed into her arms as she cooed and nuzzled her face onto the droid. “Who is a good little droid huh? Whoooooo is such a goooooood little droid!? You are! Yes, you are!!”

‘The Brotherhood truly is quite bizarre.’ Hector Von Ricmore mused to himself. Eos City was one of the most important locations to The Council but the Kiffar could not recall having ever been in the city outside of War time. His time in the ethereal realm had changed him. The encounter his team had with the crystalline Nexu had stolen his ability to cloak himself from sight. But he had learned from it. Learned how to weaken, to disrupt the connection to the Force. He was certain it would be an invaluable skill in the hunt for Scimitar.

The Force user strode into the Interrogation facility, his droideka rolling beside him at a matched pace. Within were a collection of being. Hector was familiar with some and less familiar with others. While facing his fellow Mandalorian Zxyl the Kiffar raised one arm over his heart in a respectful salute.

With some of the pleasantries out of the way he thought it was time to get things moving. “I apologize for my lateness. May I ask what you have called us here for Anders?”

Ellisyn Kendis quietly walked into the room, her steps eerily silent as usual, and found a nice wall to leam against. She let out a sigh, her helmet thankfully covering her frustration. She was too late to say hi but she could at least listen to the briefing.

Zxyl watched as fellow Mandalorian Ricmore walked into the room, but was irrevocably and immediately disgusted by the type of Beskar armor he wore. A heinous act, bearing the design of the Imperial remnant that had taken Manday'aim as its own, mutilated its resources and the armor of fallen Mandalorians for its own Imperial design. He was so perturbed that he hadn’t even noticed Ellisyn also walk into the room. As the briefing continued, Zxyl turned his attention back to it. His displeasure was high, and he would have words with the Vizslan when the time was right.

Once Anders mentioned Dathomir, the Regent’s focus became singular. He opted not to answer the High Inquisitor’s question, remaining attentive with both arms crossed at this point. The Mandalorian General was Dathomirian, but had not seen that planet of death since he was a boy. It was a graveyard for his fallen brothers and sisters.

“Passingly, yes.” Cole answered from his position toward the back of the group.

It had been a point of interest for more than enough conflicts and events. Enough that hed never had reason to go there, especially not if the whisper about the rancors there was true.

The door opened, revealing a small slim dark cloaked figure, along with a sleek black coated vornskr, who slipped silently into the room with their master. Bright sulfur-yellow eye’s quickly accessed the room in front of her, while listening to the voice of the Exarch that had filled the room having everyone’s main attention. She leaned against the wall behind most of the teammates she recognized, taking quick note of the two newest people in the room. The Regent, she mused as she remembered the little bit she had seen of him at Sundari station while there with her brother. Looking at the Golden Envoy, she was about to let him know she was there, till a very familiar red planet appeared. Sithspit, of course it had to be Dathomir.

For a moment she thought about staying silent, but Zuska gave a low growl that echoed her anger. “My late Master had me study and train there for a period. So yes, I’m very familiar with it,” her tone was even, with an undertone of dark distain.

Savi nodded in response to the Chiss’ question, though they didn’t elaborate further. A willingness to share information about their personal history to a complete stranger. They’d gone through enough trouble to eliminate any traces to their past and they intended to keep it that way.

Sofila grinned when Hector entered but sighed as she remembered she should be serious.

For now. The hugs and gratitude can come later. She released her hug on Buddy when Anders called for him. Sofila sighed at the Brotherhood’s attempt to subdue Scimitar at Eternal Realm. Then a chill went down her spine. Was … was it him that she felt at the Realm? She figured the place was just full of agnoy, pain, and grief, she never occured of another evil lurking.

Cole’s voice pulled her out of her funk and brought her back into the room. She looked over to him and smiled at the sight of Tahiri which disappeared as fast when she seem not happy about the planet they were being shown.

And it was where the second artifact was at.

“Has anyone scouted to pinpoint exactly where it is? Do we know what to expect besides possible higher defenses from Scimitar?”

She flipped her hood back, and nodded to Anders, “My apologies for being late. My brother kept me at the hospital for a bit.”

Zxyl turned his head, arms still crossed, in Sofia’s direction, addressing her directly.

“Advanced scouts would be moot, if the High Inquisitor before us did send them. This "Scimitar” chose Dathomir for a reason… assumingly, for its connection to the Dark Side off the Force. If he’s located the nexus that lies there and tapped into the planet’s ichor, things are going to be much more difficult. For all of us.“

“I can speak from experience and say that the Nightsisters are not as dead as the galaxy would have you believe.” Hector solemnly stated. “During my time in Naga Sadow we had a nightsister survivor amongst our members. There are surely others who exist.”

“Dathomir, while not the source of the magick my people have mastered, allows those steeped in its knowledge of greater powers and abilities. It is a different breed of harnessing the Force, and given how it works, I nigh imagine he has managed to use its abilities to much effect. That makes it dangerous. My sister, with all her talents and consistent training, has not yet mastered its arts.”

Zxyl was content leaving out that he too, was versed in Magick.

Sofila glanced towards Zxyl and listened. She remained quiet and still.

Dark side.

Her heart was beating wildly. She did everything she knew to keep her emotions at bay and her face gave away nothing. She gave him a nod of thanks for answering her question.

Hector brought up Nightsisters and the Regent added more. Well. They got their work cut out for them that was for sure. Scimitar needed to be stopped. Destroying those artifacts was the only hope that lingered.

“I can only assume with evidence we found last time that Scimitar was once a child’s horror story, he had centuries of time to …” She paused for a moment, trying to find words on her distracted mind.

“Obtain and master the powers and abilities you speak of.”

Cole looked at the back of Sofila’s head, shifting forward to be closer to her side.

She hesitated. It was a subtle thing, but he knew her well enough to pick up on it. The mercenary didn’t mention it, nor speak about it. It would add nothing to the conversation so he just stood to be beside by her. She wasn’t alone.

He did however speak of the mission, “Theyre likely working underground then. Dark artefacts and rituals, itd make most sense for them to be working out of easy notice from the surface. Especially with so many factions functioning around them.”

“It is logical to assume that Scimitar’s abilities have ties to the Nightsisters. But the survivors of the attack have long since dispersed since the Clone Wars. How is it that we are certain Scimitar has ties to Dathomir specifically?” Hector inquired

Cole was unflinching to the display, looking over it and then glancing toward Sofila before the cultist once more.

There was a large chance Anders was right. When one’s expression had deterioted like that, there was often little left to break.

“Tsk, you Force users have no class when it comes to information procurement. Reliant on your powers instead of learning a real art. Although, the end result is impressive. Are they still available for examination?” Titius tilted his head, birdlike in his curiousity.

Sofila listened as Cole spoke up. Underground. This wasn’t good at all. She can only hope that this wouldn’t come all crashing down on them. Cole also sounded closer. Her eyes darted over and noticed he was standing by her side. Surely, he didn’t notice.

Has he?

No matter.

Hector brought up a good point and the moment the projection was pulled up, Sofila stared at the feet of the victim instead of his face. Or body. She knew and understood perfectly well that sometimes, to obtain information, one would have to go far.

It doesn’t mean she would have to look.

Eight. Cole’s voice cut in her mind. Quickly, she pushed it aside and still hyperfocused on the victim’s feet. Titius voice was faded away and started to sound like a background noise. The cultist garment colors flashed as she removed her hands from top of the table of underneath.

Zxyl frowned slightly beneath his helmet.

Savi folded their arms across their chest when the temple’s image appeared on the holo. “How charming,” they said dryly, “Do you have any idea how far the scouts got before you lost contact? Any data they collected on the temple complex and surrounding environment would also be helpful if we’re going there.”

Cole leaned forward toward the image. There wasn’t any blatant entrances though that made sense for a single flat image.

However…

“Traps. You can see the indentations of them along here.” He gestured toward the entrance, outlining one of them, “It might be why the scouts aren’t responding but either way, getting in and underground is going to be its own challenge.”

“If theyre driven by anything explosive, they will be of no concern” Titius chimed in. “Entry will be even easier.”

“Unless the old stonework temple collapses in on itself. If everything is underground, they don’t need the temple to be sturdy.”

“I’m more worried about the Cultists attempting to collapse the entire underground and the Temple to bury us with his second artifact. It would be safe in the rubble considering fire is the only way to destroy it. We have seen the Cultists sacrificing their lives for him, so they can pull this off to please Scimitar. It’s what I would do.”

Sofila paused for a moment. Did she just say that?

What are you planning, Scimitar?

“Regardless, we have our mission. He needs to be stopped. I’m assuming we’ll get the map into our datapad?”

Savran made note of the particular phrasing that Sofila used. Although she said nothing, she glanced over to Cole to see if he’d noticed it, as well.

He met their eye for a moment, before looking back to the holo.

Savi nodded. “I was thinking the same. It being lost doesn’t serve him well, either. Especially if someone happened upon the wreckage and claimed it as their own.”

“How will extraction work? Are we taking our own shuttle or being picked up and dropped off?”

Zxyl remained unmoving, contemplating the comment - which he was treating as a subtle request. Whatever vessel they were on needed to be quick in case things deteriorated quickly, yet have enough room for the lot of them. The Exchange’s flagship Corvette Eternal came to mind - mostly because it was his go-to primary mode of transportation - but it would draw too much attention, and finding a suitable landing zone could be problematic.

A Xi-class shuttle would do the trick, yet would be rather cramped. The Dathomirian-Mandalorian scrapped that idea. He pushed off the wall, dropped his hands, and addressed the room.

“The Exchange is willing to loan a Reaper for transport, provided it is returned in adequate condition or repairs to return it to service are paid for,” the Regent offered, referencing a TIE/RP Reaper Attack Lander, “It’s of adequate size, but not too small, and it’s agile. With the right pilot at the helm, it’ll do nicely.”

“I also offer my own ship. A customized U wing with a quad laser turret attached to the door hardpoint. My passengers will not be defenseless against any threats we face.” Hector offered. “It can carry 8 of us, and has a droid pilot installed to ferry us to the location.”

“Perfect,” Zxyl said somewhat relieved, not wanting to risk assets of The Exchange in the first place, “Where are we parked, Ricmore? It’s time to go home.”

Tahiri had felt herself drawn in when the image of the temple came up, moving in much closer to everyone, till she was on the other side of Sofila. While she took careful note of all the information everyone was mentioning, the Togruta glanced briefly down at the Mirialan, noting of how she spoke about the cultists, before turning her attention back to the temple, and it’s map.

Tahiri stood there, her jaw set with a fierce look of determination, arms folded, as she seemed to stare through the projected images rather than at them. Even as the images faded from her sight, she could still ‘see’ the images, seeing the faint symbols that she wondered if anyone else had seen. The Elder was brought out of her personal musings as Anders exited the room. Hearing the discussion of a ship to use, she quickly added, “If whom ever is providing the ship doesn’t mind a varactyl, then I’m good.”

Then, glancing at both the Regent and Hector, she smiled, “Also, I’m glad there are others here besides myself, who have connections with the Nightsister’s. Through my time training there, and through Bril, a Zabraki friend of mine, I know a few. Their magick is nothing to be trifled with.” Then adding her own bit of knowledge on the subject, “That being said, from the looks of it, the faint symbols on the temple itself and the underground map, it quite possibly either used to be a Nightsisters’ temple, or at least used by them at some point.”

Relaxing a little, she reached her right hand down to pat the head of her vornskr sitting beside her, she flashed a bright sincere smile, offering, “On our way there, I can see if any of my connections has any information on this temple or it’s history.”

“Sounds good.” Cole commented, while mentally noting to sit as far away as Tahiri and her Varactyl as possible. Well. The creature more.

“I guess it depends on how big your Varactyl is. If it’s a newborn, it might fit. If it’s of average size, the math is literally impossible unless he’s riding underneath.” Zxyl answered Tahiri’s concern.

Zxyl was prepared to leave whenever the man wearing the heathen beskar armor was ready to show them the way to his U-Wing. Just in case, he did a mental check.

Triple phase lightsaber? Check. Hidden lightsaber vambrace? Check. Pistol? Check. Hammer? Check. Mandalorian vambrace? Check. Throwing things? Check. Jetpack? Check. ARC? Check. Armour? Obviously.

With a single nod to himself, he motioned for ARC to climb onto his shoulder. The droid did so, and Zxyl was resigned to patiently wait until they headed out.

Cocking her head slightly, she thought about it, “Keraathol is a hybrid, so she’s slightly smaller than a normal varactyl. If that’s the case, then I can take my Star Courier instead, and meet you all there. Of course if anyone wishes to ride with me, they are welcome to.” Looking around room again, she gave a small bow of respect toward the Regent, “It is a pleasure to finally meet you General Bes'uliik, and an honor to work along side you.”

Turning to the man standing on the other side of Sofila, “I don’t believe we’ve officially met, I’m Tahiri Kahn Drakon Night-Thorn di Morte Tarentae, and di Plagia.”

<@432543120635461643>

“Cole Farrow.” The Human introduced himself, bowing his head slightly to Tahiri but not otherwise moving closer.

He vaguely recognised her but couldn’t remember why.

It seemed things were being wrapped up so she got up from her seat. “TAHIRI!!!!” She smiled as she practically tackle the Torgua and hugged her tightly. “Hiiiii” She grinned and was going to offer to ride with her on her ship, but she knew Cole wasn’t … comfortable around animals.

Speaking of which!

“I didn’t forget you boy!” She squatted down and petted Zuska and gave scratches under his chin. “Who is a good boy!? You are! Yes you are! You is a good amazing handsome boy!”

Ellisyn watched as introductions were made and transport plans were made. She had paid attention to Anders’ briefing with rapt attention. Just her luck. An underground temple. She was ready to be frustrated but was taken aback by Sofila’s sudden affectionate outburst towards the animal in the room. A stark contrast to the established mood of the room.

“Huh”

Tahiri bowed her head as well, before being tackled by Sofila. Laughing, she hugged the Mirialan back tightly and then released her, “Hi Sagi… I mean, Sofila. I’m very glad to see you again.”

Zuska stayed properly sitting, although his deep eyes looked from the Sofila to Tahiri. He gave a small whine, which made Tahiri chuckle, “We’re not on the mission yet, Zuska. You are fine to relax.”

With that, the vornskr’s whole demeanor changed as he pushed his head into the Sofila’s hand, and then gently licked her cheek. A length of his tail thumped against the floor as his barb wagged back and forth

The Dathomirian-Mandalorian returned the bow with a nod before they all left, accepting the gesture. He wasn’t one for formalities, but he did believe in respect, and he doubted that they’d stop even if he asked.

He sat in the troop area of the U-Wing alongside… Whoever else, as the ship exited hyperspace and the blue streaks bled away.

Dathomir…. Home.

Zxyl exhaled lightly, his fingers tensing on the seat or bench he was sitting on. It had been so long since he had been here, this wretched world, but even from space he could feel the planet coursing within him. The ichor that lied within. The Regent had no doubt this trip would be perilous for them all, and prepared himself for the task at hand. He would deal with this Scimitar person quite harshly if there was any defilement of his resting places of his brothers and sisters.

After getting confirmation from her own Nightsister contacts, along with a message from Bril that he would see if any of his contacts would have any info, she unmuted her side of the commlink between the ships. “Alright everyone, I’ve made contact with the Nightsister’s I know, and my friend will get back with me when he can about his contacts.”

Pausing for a moment, as she uploaded a set of coordinates to the main computer from her datapad, “I’ve asked them to meet me, and Max was helpful enough to have already found a suitable location to land, a short distance from the temples location. Hector, I’m sending you the coordinates in case you wish to land there as well. Max says it’s a wide enough area for both ships to land in, though I will be having my ship leave to orbit while we’re on the ground.”

<@476595775187451913>

Cole had strapped into his seat in Hector’s ship. It was better without the animals but not any thought of such minor discomforts were long gone.

They’d lost control. The Human held onto the harness straps holding him in and braced, eyes finding Sofila in hope that she was sat down as well. This all went wrong a lot sooner than he expected it would, kriff.

“Max, can you get control of the ship already!” Tahiri had grabbed Zuska and managed to strap herself to her seat before they got to badly injured. After the initial turbulence, Kera used her toe pads to secure herself to the wall, although she gave shrill warble of fear.

“I’m sorry mistress, I’m trying my best. But this is unnatural.”

Sending calming thoughts to her pets, Tahiri turned her attention to the green ichor surrounding her ship. “Is everyone else ok? I’m sending a message to my contac…” another shudder of the ship made her catch her breath. “To the Nightsister’s. I’ll see if they can help us.”

Zxyl smirked from beneath his helmet. He called it.

Dangerous.

With a crash CLEARLY coming and no way to ensure survival should they hit the ground, Zxyl did what any reasonable person would do once he retained his footing. Or at least any reasonable Mandalorian. He quickly approached the side hatch of the U-Wing, threw open the doors, and leaped as he fired his covert heavy jetpack at max thrust, conjuring his own Magick to try and free Ricmore’s ship once he was clear, trailing the U-Wing down towards the surface.

Sofila was not seated. She didn’t like to be seated but after the first sudden turbulence, she grabbed the harness of the closest empty seat and pulled herself onto it.

She slipped her arms underneath the straps and gritted her teeth as her stomach lurched.

This is karking why I jump!

Her head snapped towards the roaring wind from the doors being opened, she thought Zyxl had a similar idea but no- she was wrong.

What the-

“EVERYONE STRAP IIIIIN” Titius cackled, pulling explosives out in a frenzy. Ripping several apart, he reached beneath his seat and fiddled for a second.

Looking out the window, he mumbled some calculations and waited with a detonator switch in hand.

“Hope Ive done this right. Glory to the Empire.”

Hector Von Ricmore was oddly at ease despite the urgency of the situation. The Nightsister magick had wrestled control of the ship from him and his droid brain, but it did not affect any other systems. “You really don’t need to jump ya know.” He confidently stated. “Strap in and you’ll be fine.” Flipping a few switches he deactivated the hyperdrive and weapon systems, allocated the power to his shields. With this amount of shields he was confident the ship could survive a few capital ship turbolasers. With the added armor crashing would not be an issue.

Titius was either failing to hear or was ignoring Hector.

“Toodles!” he cried, punching the detonator. The cabin filled with smoke as the hull blew itself outward, followed by a seat propelling itself out of the ship. Seconds later, the ship impacted.

The landing was not pleasant. Titius bounced off the ground before landing precariously in a dead tree.

The Mandalorian General watched in… Man, he didn’t even know how to feel about it… As an explosion rocked the U-Wing moments before impact, and Titius flew out on one of the ship’s seats into the dead tree - instantly ending his usage of Magick to conceal his abilities as the lost-cause U-Wing smacked into the ground.

Beep beep beep. Hector ignored the door alarms as he wrestled with the controls. No matter what he did, the controls would not respond. “Sith hells.” Hector muttered. He reached out with the Force, grabbing ahold of the steering column with telekinetic force. A cocky smirk spread over his face beneath his helmet. “Let’s dance witches.” The Force ebbed and flowed; invisible energy warred against the corrupted, sickly, ichor. The Kiffar could feel himself regain control of the vessel. Perhaps they did not need to crash after all. “Toodles!” echoed throughout the ship. Glancing over, Hector saw Titius leap out of the ship, activated detonator in hand. “WHAT THE FUCK TITIUS!” Hector bellowed as his world was engulfed in white and sound. The ship armor was rended, peeled open by the force of the explosion. The Force user was torn from his seat, the straps tearing from the weight of a Beskar clad individual accelerating. His body slammed head first into the cockpit, spiralling off and flipping to the floor. His leg caught on the supports of the seat. Metal shrieked and groaned as Beskar scraped against durasteel, slipping behind his knee armor and tearing into his left leg. All this occured unbeknowst to Hector, who had fallen unconcious at the first impact.

Tahiri saw the ground coming up fast, her mind having flashbacks, but she pushed those back down immediately. This is not the karking time for that. Hearing a sudden explosion, she glanced over at the U-Wing, whispering under her breath, “May the Force be you, my friends.”

Knowing there was no way to stop without crashing, she secured Zuska a little closer to her, and looked at her pilot droid, “Max, do whatever you have to, to keep this ship intact. Use the shields and the breaking thrusters.”

“Roger that. However, I would just suggest putting everything into shields first, then once we make impact with the ground, I can use thrusters to keep us upright at least, mistress,” without waiting for any the droid immediately and methodically began to flip switches and punch a few buttons in rapid succession.

“Good. Do what what you must, Max,” concentrating on keeping both Zuska and Kera calm as she was felt the first skip the nose of the Nocte Drakon with the ground. Both of them were thrown forward, the harness straps saving Tahiri from going face first into a control panel, the Togruta barely kept a hold of the whining vornskr in her lap.

Sofila looked at the four of them, “Stay put, I can-” Titius had a whole other idea. “Don’t yo-” But it was too late. She had NO time. Quickly, the Mandalorian cleared her mind and exhaled as a bubble big enough to engulf Savi, Cole, Elly, and herself. The force from the crash shattered the barrier easily but it took most of the brute force before it was gone.

Those not wearing armor would experience soreness from the harness keeping them seated. Sofila groaned as she rose her head and looked at, now, the three of them. “Everyone okay?”

What the kark with the team abandoning each other in moment of danger?!

Bes'uliik landed with a heavy thud outside the crashed U-Wing transport, his covert heavy jetpack disengaging its thrusters on H.A.L.‘s commands.

Such a good little A.I., mused the Regent.

A.R.C. almost instantaneously jumped from the Dathomirian-Mandalorian’s shoulder pauldron, heading inside to scout out the damage to the vessel. It was extensive.

The Regent of the Brotherhood entered a moment later, first gauging the status of those in the back - who appeared no worse for wear, all things considered, praise be crash webbing - before peeling the unconscious Vizslan’s motionless body out of the cockpit and hauling his ass outside to lay him flat on his back. The General returned inside the ruined ship immediately after, helping free the others should they be unable to, before kneeling beside Ricmore.

“We need a medic!”

Cole was on his feet as soon as the ship was down and he.. wasn’t.

He just moved out of the way so if there was a medic they’d be able get through and instead walked to the exit of the ship, still open from Zxyl’s department.

He couldn’t do kist inside the ship, so the least he could do was act as sentry.

She didn’t have long to know if the others were okay as she heard Zxyl shouted for a medic.

Kark! Already!? She was gone from her seat and ran out of the other end of the ship and saw them. Hector. Oh. Kriff. The Mandalorian ran over to his side and knelt down on the ground. The Force gathered underneath her hands as she focused on his wounds. Sofila felt calm. The Force engulfing the two of them while Hector heals.

The Kiffar lay still, chest slowly rising and falling with each breath. His left leg was bent at an unnatural angle. Bone fragment protruded from his armored leg as blood continued to drip and pool around him.

The healing energy surrounded the injury. Bone fragments fused together and burrowed back underneath skin. The wound closed and the bleeding stopped. But the leg still remained at the unnatural angle, a break that refused to heal. Green Ichor misted around the limb, interfering with the process and preventing the healing from being completed.

Begone. Begone. Begone. You are not welcome on Dathomir

A chorus of distorted, overlapping voices echoed through the crash site.

As Sofila worked on Hector, the Regent General returned to his full height. He scanned the area for Titius, completely ignoring whatever voices may or may not have entered his mind.

Once he and H.A.L. had successfully located the Palatinean, stuck in the Dathomiri tree, he pulled the triple-phase lightsaber Duraanir from his belt. The subdued purple blade with a faded black core crackled into existence with the push of the activation button, and the thrusters on the Dathomirian-Mandalorian’s jetpack ignited once more as he headed directly towards the man.

One thing that Savi noticed was that with this team, when things went wrong, they tended to go wrong quickly and astongishly so. Despite this, it came as no surprise that their arrival arrival was met with fierce opposition from Scimitar’s forces. Sickly green ichor coalesced around the ship and seized it in an ethereal grip that made it lurch in midair. When the sounds of the ship’s hull creaking hull pierced the air, Savi knew they were in for a rough landing. The Shani strapped themselves into their seat and gripped the rail to their left to give them additional support. As the ship began its rapid descent, Savran had an idea: if they calmed themselves with the Force, relaxed their muscles as much as possible before they crashed, their odds of avoiding serious injury would be lower. And so they tried, but the complete tumult of the situation made it too difficult for them to muster sufficient concentration to complete their task.

Impact.

In a daze, Savi found the latch for the harness that secured them to the ship’s seat and released it. They landed on the floor with a muffled thud, groaning as they forced their muscles to obey and just lift them up already. After exiting the downed ship, Savi found where Cole was standing and approached him while rotating their Relby V-10 around to their chest in case they needed. Ellisyn, whom Savi recognized from a previous mission, was nearby, as well. Hopefully, she wouldn’t go running off alone this time.

“Keep your heads on a swivel,” the shani addressed them both while looking around, “Wouldn’t surprise me if they’ve already dispatched a team to eliminate us before we regain our composure.”

That’s what they would do, after all. And the cacophany of malicious voices that echoed throughout the crash site were evidently their attempt at unnerving them, though it didn’t amount to more than a slight annoyance for the saffron-skinned femme.

They couldn’t wait to shoot someone in the face.

“Thats the plan.” Cole responded shortly, not glancing away from the murky surroundings yet.

“Just go talk to them. It’ll help to at least know a little about them before everything goes to hell,” Ellisyn thought to herself, a pensive look adorning her helmet-covered face. What harm could it possibly do?

Elly had only just opened her mouth when the color green decided it would be a good time to cuddle with the transport ship, forcing it to quake around the group. Immediately, her hands found themselves securing her straps before gripping onto her seat in preparation for whatever was about to happen. She watched in mild disbelief as the Regent went and opened an exterior door and leaped out of the ship, saving himself but leaving an opening for debris from their inevitable crash to join the party inside the ship.

The next to pull something was Titius. The moment he blew a hole in the ship and escaped himself, endangering the rest of the gang even further, the Kendis knew she’d be relying on herself for this mission. But it seemed Sofila was set on proving her wrong when the Mirialan projected a force barrier around the last of the passengers, not unlike what the lawyer’s aunt had done for her the last time she was in a shuttle crash.

The landing was rough, to say the least, and a bit of a blur. The mechanisms securing the large woman were working overtime to keep her in place while Sofila’s shield worked in tandem with the ship’s own to save her from any significant injury.

With the ship now on the ground, Elly finally released herself from her seat and stumbled to her feet. Who knew what could be out there waiting for them after a crash like that. She found herself joining both Cole and Savran outside the ship, looking out towards the signature Dathimiran landscape.

“What do you two need from me?” She asked bluntly, “I’m not exactly prepared for open spaces.”

“Well this was unintended” Titius sighed, “but not the worst result”. Peeling off the straps, he scooted forward to look below. It was a short drop, but would hurt a normal humanoid.

Launching his body forward, Titius fell from the tree. The ground rushed up as he threw himself into a forward roll.

The sound of lightsabers and jetpacks came at him rapidly. Turning his head, he identified the Regent flying at him, clearly not in concern.

“Are you just stupid or blinded by your rage? I have enough explosives on me to leave a crater and I doubt your armour is that hardy. Now put away your glowstick and be useful.” Titius then knelt down to rummage in his pack.

Zxyl stopped the exact moment he saw Titius fall out of the tree as he was approaching, promptly deactivating his lightsaber and disengaging the jetpack.

“The point was to free you, you explosive-happy oaf. I wouldn’t intentionally risk the ire of the Justicar by cutting you down,” the Regent huffed, placing his lightsaber back on his belt, “You have marooned us here, damage that would have occured from the crash not-withstanding.”

The General promptly returned to Hector and the others, leaving Titius to himself.

“Damn witches.” Hector muttered as he gazed upon the mixture of cultists and Nightsisters. He shifted positions, trying and failing to stand as a sharp pain shot up his leg. Gritting his teeth, he glared at the ichor preventing his leg from healing. “Let’s even these odds.” The Kiffar declared. The Dathomir air chilled rapidly; Darkside Force energy condensed around the injured Force user.

“We dedicate this death to you Lord Scimitar! Bathe in their blood!”

A half dozen of the cultists rushed forward. Most held melee weapons and a single cultist drew back the string of an energy bow.

5 cultists blitzed forward, speed amplified by the Force running through the bodies.

They howled and screeched as the animalistic bloodlust took hold.

The bow user let loose a shot, energy bolt aimed directly at the fatal opening at Hector’s neck.

The Kiffar let out a grun of pain as he twisted, deflecting the bolt with the Beskar of his shoulder armor.

He cut loose with his wrist blasters, slamming shot after shot into the archer until she ceased to move.

The bloodlusted pack was nearly upon him, momentarily frozen as they passed into his sphere of awareness.

The loss of their Force enhancement was a shock, buying Hector enough time to grasp his lightsaber pike with the Force and to hurl it straight through the chest of another cultist.

Rage overcame shock as the group once again barreled towards the downed Force user. They dipped and dodged his blaster bolts, jumping onto him like a pack of kath hounds.

3 Nightsister sickles and blades scrapped ineffectively against Beskar. But the fourth carried an alchemical blade dipped in poison. The sword cut through the Beskar like butter, gouging a line across the already injured left leg.

“Raaah!” Hector roared in a mixture of pain and fury as he fired his wrist blasters into the nightsister’s face.

The Dathomiri flew through the air, raggdolling upon the ground, as her sword tumbled to parts unknow.

Sweat began to drip down Hector’s face. His nerves were on fire. He dropped his Suppressive aura as he prepared to fend off the poison coursing through his veins.

The Dathomirian-Mandalorian stood defiantly, his “spidey senses” tingling as foes, including sisters, rushed from the mist to attack the group. As six charged towards him the General drew Duraanir from his belt and extended the emitter for Rang'kad from its shell on his right vambrace, preparing for battle. The deep purple-hued blade with a faded black core blade of his triple-phase lightsaber hilt sprang to life, completely silent.

As each of the enemy combatants targeting him took a swipe at him with their chosen weapon he parried their blows, eliminating their weapons from the equation through force as he retaliated with stun bolts fired from the dual-phase emitter of his hidden lightsaber vambrace. Each of the targets went down, leaving their bodies surrounding the Regent relatively unharmed but unconscious nonetheless.

After dispatching them, he observed the others delivering their fatal massacres, somewhat disappointed. He knew not whether the Dathomiri here had been poisoned in the mind by this Scimitar character, and refused to lethally dispatch any of his biological people until he knew otherwise.

Rest easy, sisters.

Six enemies were trying to flank him. There were more but there was enough of them. Cole focussed, raising the sniper rifle he’d drawn in paranoid preparation that proved true.

He planted his feet, shouldering the weapon that usually he’d prefer to mount but still firing with deadly precision. It took more than five shots, one striking it’s target directly through the eye while the others were less accurate. They were closing in and a precision rifle wasn’t ideal. Kriff. Accuracy was reducing and-

The last shot missed, the cultist swinging round behind him. Slowed by the large weapon taking up his arms, Cole felt their arm wrap around his neck. Tight. He couldn’t breathe.

Kriff.

Elly was quick to crouch to her knees, bringing her beskar vambraces up in front of her to absorb whatever purple bolts might come next. When nothing came, she looked over her arms and saw the attackers charging as opposed to keeping their ranged advantage. Things seemed to be looking up for the vigilante. She jumped to her feet and ran towards Scimitar’s henchmen, studying their weapons as she approached. This was going to be cathartic.

The brawl started with a flying knee to the nightsister holding a rather large sword, sending them onto their ass, her kneepad aiding in cracking their jaw. The panicked, dazed expression they gave Ellisyn was fuel to the Firrerreo’s internal flame.

Next came a pair of sword-wielding fanatics, the first of which slashed horizontally, aiming to slash across Elly’s throat. The woman crouched down below the swing and threw two rapid punches into the man’s stomach, earning a pained groan. She used the momentum of her punch to fire and whip a fibercord from her vambrace, tangling it around a sickle-wielding nightsister’s ankle. She ripped her arm back, tripping up the woman while elbowing the ignored cultist’s abdomen and forcing him to double over like his companion.

Quickly, she detached the cord from her vambrace and sprung up to her feet, where she grabbed the two cultists’ heads and slammed them together, letting go and watching them crumple to the ground. She spun around and raised her left forearm just in time to block the limb of a nightsister’s bow. She followed with an uppercut with her right, slamming into the woman’s jaw, which led to a rapid left cross that sent the woman to the ground.

The last standing cultist charged right as Ellisyn had finished her attack and was met with a few swift punches ending with a spinning kick to the head. The moment she landed, a chain wrapped around her armored forearm from behind before the blade of its sickle companion tore through the flesh of the vigilante’s left bicep. A cry of pain escaped her mouth as her nerves reacted to the metal intrusion, followed up by a vicious growl as she turned to the final nightsister to attack her. Elly grabbed the chain with both hands and ripped it up, lifting the woman off the ground and into a knee to chest, her ribs cracking from the blow.

As the firrerreo looked around at the various fights, she became acutely aware of the sickle embedded in her arm. She hissed out a groan of pain but chose to endure it while searching for a place where she could help

“Mmm…green mists. Shame mines better.” With practiced motions, Titius racked and launched several wave of projectiles into the clouds. A series of pops sounded as the green mist seemed to thicken and react.

The coughing started. Sickly choking sounds as the fog twisted further. Bringing the weapon to bear, Titius peered through its scope to see several advancing figures crumple. Except for one.

“Oh, kark this.” Laserfire ripped into the figure. It stumbled then rose again, breaking into a rabid sprint towards Titius. “Oh, KAAARK THIS!”

Once the breaking thrusters kicked on, and the Star Courier had finally skidded to a halt, Tahiri relaxed and let go of Zuska, letting him drop down from her lap to the floor. The vornskr shook himself and looked around, immediately sniffing the air, and then going back to check on Kera. The varactyl warbled a little and began to preen her tousled feathers.

“Max, damage report.”

“Nothing too existential, mistress. Several systems show they are operational, including life support, thrusters and the engine drive itself. However, the hyperdrive is offline currently, and there is substantial damage to hull that we were unable to avoid, even with the extra power I delegated to the shields.” The pilot droid tapped a few buttons and looked at the lines of code that ran across the monitor, “However, I do believe I can get the hyper drive operational again. It’ll just be power and the damage to the hull that will determine whether we would survive a jump or not. As is now, there is a small percentage that we would not survive.”

“Alright, thank you, Max. Do the best you can, but we may need a quick evac, if not off world, than at least to somewhere on the opposite side. So focus on getting as many of the systems back up and running as possible, then make an assessment of the hull,” Tahiri finished unbuckling her harness and had gotten up to stretch and shake off some of the adrenaline.

“Roger that, mistress. Do you have need for anything, before you leave with the rest of the team?”

“No thank you, Max. I’m fine. I just need to get Kera and Zuska off the ship for a bit and see how far I am from the others. Once I make contact with the rest of the team and, hopefully, the Nightsister’s, then I’ll be on comm silence. I’ll call to check in or if we need an evac.”

“Noted, mistress. I will have a report when you call. Do come back in one piece, please.”

Smirking, the Togruta just shook her head and exited the cockpit, quickly double checking she had everything, before disembarking the ship with her creature companions. Getting her bearings, she saw the U-wing several hundred yards away, however she only caught a glimpse of some members of the team, before the green mist floated in and surrounded the entire area, obscuring her view of the others.

The familiar coldness caused the Elders’ spine to tingle, the Dark side evident in the very air itself. Taking a deep breath, she held it a moment in anticipation, and then slowly exhaled as she readied her body, muscles tensing and flexing while she let her hands rest lightly on her lightsaber hilts. Halfway through the exhale was when it happened, as the mist swirled around her, the light crackling giving her enough warning as two bolts of purple raced toward her through the fog. Smiling, she crouched down in time for the bolts to sail harmlessly over her, before seeing the fog violently swirl around four incoming assailants, rushing towards her.

Out of the four rushing towards her, three she could clearly make out as cultist, while the other was a Nightsister. Stands to reason the two firing the bows could be Nightsisters as well. Well then, bring it on. Sending a quick mental thought for Kera to just evade and stay back, she then told Zuska to stay on alert and only attack if she was in danger. These ones are mine. Letting the Dark Side seep in to her very being, she sprinted forward, flipping over a couple more bolts, sabers igniting just as she clashed with two Cultist at the same time.

“For Lord Scimitar!” they screamed at her as they swung their blades. The Sith alchemy swords may have clashed with her sabers, but they were not prepared for fiery sulfuric eyes that stared at them from the petite Togruta they were attempting to kill.

Silently, she expertly dodged, ducked and flipped, then at a key moment with both sabers locked with a cultist’s sword, she extinguishing her growling shoto saber, her arm falling forward past his guard before he realized it. The only thing he felt next was a searing hot blade through chest, using him as a quick launch pad, then she twisted and flipped, evading a swing from both the other cultists sword and the Nightsister’s chain sickle blade. Vaulting over them, she cut another cultist down before landing in a crouch.

Standing and backing up a little she smirked, “I spit upon your ‘Lord Scimitar’s’ name. Kriff him!” The screams from all four of her opponents, as they all rushed at her now, the two Nightsister’s forsaking their bows in favor of the blades they wielded, while the other swung her sickle blade, the cultist brandishing his blade before rushing her. Crouching down, she pulled on the energy around her, letting it seep into her legs muscles strengthening them. Just as her assailants closed in she launched herself, twisting and flipping through the air, narrowly missing the blade of the sickle as it was thrown up at her body in an desperate attempt. Landing, she quickly retreated several yards away, before skidding to a stop and turning to face them while clipping her Rune saber back onto her belt, making her opponents advance on her all from one direction. The taunt worked, let’s finish this… Now!

Stretching out her right arm, the Togruta’s finger tips crackled with energy. The reddish white lightning sprang from her fingers, hitting the cultist square in the chest, stopping him in his tracks. It didn’t stop there, as three branches of lightning hit each of Nightsisters instantly as well. All of them stopped and their bodies convulsed with the energy Tahiri had let loose. Ceasing her lightning attack, she sprinted forward, beheading the cultist, and then turned her attention to the Nightsisters who had collapsed and were screaming in pain on the ground. Tahiri pulled out her dagger and flipping it around swiftly knocked all three of them out. Standing up she listened carefully through the mist, hearing the sounds of fighting nearby. Mentally calling for Zuska, she raced to help her friends and teammates.

“I have a request,” boomed Zxyl’s voice, amplified by his armor’s helmet vocoder, “Please aim to disarm or incapacitate any Dathomiri we come across until we know whether they are being mentally swayed by the one we seek. Dathomir has lost too many of its children already, and they may have simply lost their way.”

The Dathomirian-Mandalorian was sure most, and at the very least none, would heed his request… But with his species in unknown numbers, previously decimated, he felt it prudent to at least try to get them to be less… genocidal in their efforts to reach Scimitar. Afterall, their main target was Scimitar, not the Dathomiri that may have unwittingly supported him.

The Regent kept his triple-phase elder lightsaber in one hand and the emitter section of his hidden elder lightsaber vambrace engaged, applying pressure to press the inner-most portion of Duraanir’s activation switch. In a split second the blade of his weapon disengaged, re-engaging as over a dozen small but long electrified tendrils of pure energy and turning into a lightwhip. The tendrils shared the same aesthetic as the solid blade they replaced, with a purple outer glow and purple lightning core fading to onyx-black the further they were from the emitter matrix.

He was more than ready for the next engagement, whenever or wherever they may come for the Brotherhood team.

Sofila looked over to Hector. “Ah kar-” In a fluid movement, she jumped over and grabbed one of their necks.

‘I have a request.’ Zxyl’s voice broke through. Now? In middle of a karking ambush?

Sofila gritted her teeth at the near distraction and stepped back from the other two attempt to harm her while the one was gasping for air and clawing at her armored arm.

‘….lost their way.’

Ah. Kark! She angrily bashed one of their head against the ship to knock them out. Why didn’t he say so earlier!? With a huff underneath her breath, she grabbed the second one and put them in a choke hold as they snarled, yelling something about Lord Scimitar, and failing against the tall Mirialan’s hold.

The third one had ran.

“Got a runner!” Sofila shouted into her comm as the one she was holding had went limp and their muscles relaxed. She let go of the hold and gently laid them down before looking over to Hector.

Cole wasn’t keen to acquiese to the request, struggling with the sniper desperately against the cultist as he was. He’d try.

He couldn’t get the efore definitively deciding kark it and dropping the sniper. Sofila had had him in locks like this before, all he had to do was-

The Human shifted, it hurt his throat but it gave him room to sharply jab his elbow backwards into cultist’s crotch. They gasped, grip loosening as they instinctively buckled and Cole grabbed their arm, twisting round and slamming them into the floor. The blow shocked them enough that he could straighten up, slamming his foot onto their neck to pin them down.

They made a wheezing gasp, clawing at the armour on his leg.

Cole panted heavily, teeth gritted but resisting making any pained noises. He wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.

Elly let out a slightly relieved sigh. With so much going on around her, the opportunity to help more was very welcome. “I’ve got it!” She shouted, without time to grab her communicator.

With pain and adrenaline fueling her rage, she made an admittedly stupid decision. One she’d come to regret. Quickly, she unwrapped the chain from around her arm, tore the sickle’s blade from her bicep, and began to spin the chain. She wasn’t very familiar with the weapon, but she was rather competent with most things. How hard could it be?

The vigilante released the chain, the bladed farming tool soaring through the air, but to Elly’s horror, it didn’t hit his legs. The blade had lodged itself in the cultist’s skull, forcing him to the ground in a bloody and limp mess.

Slowly, the chain slid from her hand, landing with little fanfare. Her heartbeat stuttered as the realization of what she had just done overtook every active thought in her mind. The battle around her nothing but a silent noise in the back of her head.

Hector Von Ricmore struggled to stand. Legs shaking, limbs twitching as the poison ravaged his body. He could deal with that later. He wanted, no he needed, RETRIBUTION.

The Force sang with joy as his body filled with hatred. How dare they. How dare they. Titius was his ally. Yet was so eager to target his comrades. He would make a fine Sith if he could learn to truly see the galaxy from behind his Force blind eyes.

And these cultists. Nameless pissants. Worthless suicide soldiers sent to die in droves. The audacity of it all. It galled Hector. Almost as much as his own weakness. Here he was yet again. Dependent on the help of others to survive.

No more.

Trembling hands lifted his helmet from his shoulders as the Kiffar made eye contact with the cultist struggle in Sofila’s grasp.

“SUFFER.”

Hector’s voice distorted, overlapping tones echoed. Sulfuric yellow eyes bled red as the Fanged God howled in joy. This hunt had come to a close.

The cultist stared before it began to twitch. Eyes dilated, tears rolled down its cheeks, and it frothed at the mouth.

The being ceased its frantic movements, laying completely still, comatose.

Hector’s eyes returned to their yellow tone. He stared at the comatose cultist. It had been easy, natural even, to call upon the Dark Side to spread terror. The Kiffar was aware of the fact that Dathomir was a nexus for the Dark Side. But he hadn’t considered what that would mean. Ill intent flowed naturally through the Force; he had to be careful not to lose himself in his impulses or the bloodthirsty demands of the Living Force of Dathomir.

Although Savran was mildly impressed that the sickle-wielding woman was able to injure them at all, that silent recognition of her skill did not in, in any way, assuage the desire for recompense that smoldered within them. No one landed a blow on them without being repaid in kind … not the Nihil, not Tirga, and certainly not this nameless schutta who cut her face.

Consumed by the thrill of battle, the Tekuani exuded a wild and predatory energy that contrasted starkly with the tempered, remarkably precise movements of their body and blade. A nigh-complete mastery of both swordplay and martial arts allowed them to weave in and out of the pocket as their assailant did their best to cut them to ribbons with her sickle. But they didn’t allow that damned blade to come close to their saffron skin again. Sustaining the blistering pace Savi forced their opponents to fight at was a tall order for any combatant, and that showed when theirs overextended herself on her last strike.

It’s over.

Savi parried the sickle with a hanging block and before the metallic clamor of their weapons’ collision dissipated, they rotated their force-imbued blade’s tip end-over-end to execute a diagonal cut that peeled downward across the woman’s throat. Exposed flesh split in twain, ejecting a jet of blood that Savi narrowly avoided. They turned back and drove the heel of their boot into the woman’s chest–a sidekick that sent the nearly decapitated enemy tumbling backward across the dusty ground.

The Mandalorian General quickly regained his footing, staring down the Alpha Nydak from behind his helm as he got himself into an open combat stance just a few meters from each other. The two circled each other for a moment, never breaking visual contact or opening up a weakness for the other to exploit. The Regent’s triple-phase lightsaber was already at the ready with the lightwhip phase engaged and active. He brought his right arm up a bit, before shooting it directly downwards in a smooth motion. As it stopped, the open emitter matrix on his vambrace activated, a widenned and shortened lightsaber blade springing forth.

The Alpha Nydak roared with it’s piercing voice, before charging the Regent. The Mandalorian bent his knees and gave a small burst from his jetpack, pushing off the ground and twisting his body as he brought the energized whip backwards - clearing the Dathomiri predator. As the creature passed underneath, the Regent brought the hilt of his lightsaber back down and flicked his wrist once the tendrils of energy were almost fully extended. They wrapped around the Nydak’s neck as it continued its charge, but was stopped as the Mandalorian pulled with all his might backwards upon landing firmly back on the ground.

As the monstrous form came reeling backwards off-balance, the Regent dove forward and shoved his vambrace’s black lightsaber blade through its spine near the bottom, reefing his arm upwards once the blade was firmly in. It sliced through the Nydak’s hide and disintegrated the organs in the blade’s path from the lower to upper spine. The Nydak’s body convulsed for a moment as the tendrils around its now burned neck loosened and fell back to the ground. It collapsed to the ground, defeated, the red tinged Dathomiri dirt kicked up into a light and low cloud of dust.

Heresy, the Dathomirian-Mandalorian thought to himself of the Magick conducted on the Nydak Alpha. This was much greater mastery of Magick than the General expected this Scimitar character to have. Someone had taught him.

The Scion of Taldryan kept his vambrace’s blade and electrified lightwhip tendrils activated and surveyed the rest of the battlefield, prepared to jump in where he needed to.

“Raaaaaaaaaah” yelled the cultist. Throwing aside his rifle, Titius drew himself to ready as the cultist ran full tilt at him.

The sickle swept toward Titius’ torso. Casually reaching out, he caught the wrist and bicep of the cultist. A gristly crunch was intermixed with a howl as Titius brought both into his knee, dislocating the elbow between. The sickle thunded to the dirt followed by the deflated cultist.

Titius casually palmed the sickle and drew it across the cultist’s throat turning their howls to a sickly gurgle as they bled out.

Hearing the screaming, roaring and the voices of her friends and teammates made her heart skip a beat. No matter though, she had to stay calm within the thick green ichor mist surrounding the whole area, as the Elder made her way to the Hector’s U-Wing. Kark it all. We skidded further than I thought we had, though maybe it’s just the effects of the Magick. I’ve know it to cause other’s to simply wander, but it doesn’t feel like that effect.

Zuska stalked around her protectively, making sure to be ready to warn her of any approaching enemies. However, in her heightened state of awareness, the Force signaled to her the incoming danger and from what direction it came from. Igniting her two sabers again, she blocked a couple of the bolts, while expertly dodging the others. Her body screamed for her to attack head on, but her mind held the urge back. As much as she wanted to rush to the aid of her teammates, she had be smart, and make it through her own battles first. She was no good to them all, if she was wounded, or worse.

Replacing her Rune saber to it’s place on her belt, gathering more of the dark energies around her. Standing her ground she waited for the over zealous cultists, and brainwashed Nightsister’s to advance on her. However, as the green mist swirled, there silently emerged a half dozen Nightsister’s, half of them with their energy bows drawn, the others with their Duskblades ready to defend.

“Sister Tahiri Drakon?” One of the Nightsister’s lowered her bow.

Pausing, the Togruta squinted, as she slowly relaxed her stance. “Sister Zesi Nevra? Is that truly you?”

“Yes. We received your distress call, and came as soon as we could.” Most of the Nightsister’s relaxed, a few of quickly taking positions to lookout. “You weren’t joking when you said that this was serious,” Sister Zesi paused and looked around. “I thought you said you would be with your team? Where are they?”

Tahiri had put away her shots saber, though she couldn’t let her body fully relax. Pointing, her tone having a sense of urgency in it, “They were on the second ship that crashed. I heard them battling, and was headed to meet up with them again.”

“Lead the way, we will follow you.”

With a nod and a small smile of gratitude, Tahiri led the Nightsister’s toward where she had last heard the team, the fog only beginning to lift.

“Agreed. There was no need to kill them. I believed these sisters to be under some form of control, but I was unsure,” Zxyl noted, deactivating his weapons. He crossed his arms, waiting for everyone to get ready to go. He sure as shit was not going to render aid to anyone who did not heed his very loud verbal request to the group. He’d make sure they didn’t die, but any wounds they sustained were on them to deal with.

“These ones,” he motioned to the group he had taken down himself, “are simply incapacitated. They will be fine.”

“Is anyone other than Kendis and Ricmore injured?” Cole called out, voice creaking slightly but still projecting enough to be heard.

Zxyl simply returned the curt nod. This was the first time he had actually met another Nightsister other than his sister, Izrina, and Rian’s ally.

“I can heal!” Sofila shouted out as she lightly tapped Hector’s cheek.

“Hiya. You back with us?” He would hear the smile behind her voice.

“I can tap into the Force to regain my energy so please, let me heal, including any Nightsisters,” Sofila offered to the team. She felt bad. She took down two before hearing Zxyl’s request but there was nothing she can do about it. At least, she didn’t after hearing his request.

Turned her head back to Hector’s injury, she focused and started to heal him.

Now that the air was clear, Tahiri pointed towards her ship, “There are three more sisters that are incapacitated near my ship. I thought I recognized them. Sister Zesi, how long has this been going on here? And how long has your sister, Terzas been under Lord Scimitar’s control?”

<@837236610684813342>

Cole was still standing on the neck of the one below him. He hadn’t suffocated thr man to death quite yet, but they were barely conscious.

Cole didn’t much feel like moving just yet, standing stationary and watching the movements of the group with caution.

The Kiffar felt the healing energy wash over him. The insidious magick ceased to gnaw at his leg. Bone finished mending and the wounds upon his leg closed. They would certainly scar, and his body was sore, but he was whole once again.

“Thank you.” Hector earnestly addressed Sofila. He was truly grateful for the aid.

“The fact that you have not shot me on sight lends credibility to your offer.” Titius tossed the sickle aside. “I am fine unlike those…” He made a vague gesture at the corpses.

At the press of a hidden control, a red spray shot from the bottom lip of his helmet followed by a sharp jet of air.

Sofila grasped Hector’s shoulder and patted his shoulder a few times.

“Of course.” She got up and went to find Elly. When she does, “hey! Going to heal you, okay?” Elly gave her a short nod as Sofila frowned behind her helmet.

First things first, she feels the Force flow through her as her hands glowed and she was healing Elly. When she was done, she grasped the woman’s forearm and her hand would be touching Sofila’s forearm. It was up to her to return the grasp or not.

“Are you okay?”

<@301514304845381632>

Tahiri face hardened, a slight growl emminating from her throat. He possesses and then nearly takes Sofila’s life, and now is enslaving the minds of others to do his binding. He has to be stopped! Standing as tall as her stature would allow, she looked Zesi in eye, “Sister, I swear to you that this monster will pay for he has done to your clan and everyone else he has enslaved.”

Looking to the rest of the team as a few of the Nightsisters helped them heal, while the others gathered their fallen or incapacitated kin. Note Titius’ comment, she realized that she had not introduced the team or her contacts. Promptly clearing her throat, “Sister Zesi, I thank you for helping our team with this endeavor. Also everyone, these Sisters are my contacts from my training days here. Sister Zesi, is in fact the one who taught me much.”

The Mandalorian General had watched Titius’ exchange from a slight distance away, eyes trained on him and left hand hovering precariously close to his blaster. When it was clear the Palatinaean was not going to engage in an unnecessary assault and do more harm to these supposed allies - an idea he took with a grain of salt - he eased.

Zxyl simply bowed his head a little to Zesi before lifting it again, speaking in Dathomiri tongue, “Well met, sisters. It is a pleasure to meet other children of Dathomir, let alone a group. My sister Izrina will be pleased to see our culture has not been completely lost. ”

He expected no such respectful response in return, even with the dire straits all children of Dathomir faced. Males were slaves, warriors, and used for reproduction in their culture, reduced to common rabble fighting each other for the pleasure of the sisters. It was a greatly malnourished Zxyl that had somehow made his way off-world to the planet Nau'ur, and joined the Mandalorian culture in Clan Bes'uliik.

He had ascended beyond anything he would have become had he stayed on Dathomir. A Mandalorian General, the Bes'uliik be Manda'yaim - Iron Beast if Mandalore - and Mandalorian Armorer, a Son of Taldryan, and Regent of the Brotherhood. While he respected his biological culture, it was his adoptive one that defined who he was as an individual. He was no Nightbrother, he was Mandalorian.

Zxyl nodded at Zesi’s apology, but it was not enough. Respect was one of the tenants of the Creed, and that was his religion now. He approached the Nightsister that spit at his feet and insulted him, standing directly in front of her and leaning in as he addressed her behind his helmet - of course with his arms visible and down, as to not pose an immediate threat.

Cole had overheard the comment, watching with some concern.

There was a reason his gang never kriffed with beskar. Never messed with the Mandos. It just was not a good idea.

Sofila grimaced behind her helmet. She glanced over to where Cole was and whistled to get his attention.

When he looked over to her, she signed some things to him.

He continued speaking in Dathomiri in a low, almost growling tone as he kept anger at bay for the moment and recounted his story, “I have every right, sister. Dathomir and its children abandoned me as a child to starve. Cast me to the side, deeming me a useless piece of meat. The Mandalorians of Nau'ur took me, not of their culture, in as one of their own. They treated with me respect. Raised me. Helped me hone my skills, and become more than I ever would have here. My successes have come not from being a child of Dathomir, but from being a Mandalorian, and the drive they instilled in me. I respect the ways of the Dathomiri, and hold no ill will, but the facts are the facts.”

Bes'uliik returned to a fully upright position, looking down on the woman, “I am a Dathomirian-Mandalorian. I am a success of two eviscerated people decimated by the orders of a single, dark soul who sought to bend the galaxy to his whim. This helmet comes off my head when I am dead, and I assure you, I will eliminate any threat to remove it before then.”

He returned to basic, “This is the Way of the Manda'lor.”

Cole responded in sign, hands moving slowly as he kept his focus on the Mando and his.. ex? Brethren.

Yes. Yes. Hoping Mando doesn’t go mad over insult. More mad.

Sofila gave him a nod before she exhaled and sit down on the ground.

“Going to gather my energy.”

Her eyelids closed as she focused on her breathing and feeling the Force engulfing her like a warm blanket on a cold day.

Savran was content to remain in the background while the scene folded.

Cole jolted slightly but carefully released the pressure off of the… probably still living person underneath him. He took a step away, muttering some form of thanks.

At least the probable fight had been broken up. It was calm for the moment. That could change at any moment but hed take it for now.

Titius watched the tense scene, unconsciously sliding a fragmentation grenade from his harness and thumbing the arming switch. In a bare whisper, he hissed to the Dathomiri beside him.

“If you dont mind, make it clear to your sister that if they spit at us again, I will make it so youll be burying dust indistinguishable from the dirt on the ground.”

Disarming the grenade, he bent to pick up his rifle.

Hector twitched upon seeing Titius pull out a grenade. His right hand grabbed his lightsaber. He held his finger over the activation and watched Titius warily. It was difficult to fight his insticts. Titius was a threat and not one that was easy to reason with. For the safety of them all, Hector should strike him down here and now. But the troublesome being was a member of the Brotherhood and there would be consequences if he did.

The Kiffar’s inner conflict was interrupted by a metallic scraping sound. Turning towards the noise he witnessed his droideka roll up to the group.

“Ah. Welcome my friend. It is excellent that you were able to rejoin us after being separated in the crash.”

Well, wasn’t that ominous as kark.

Cole spotted thr same marks as before on the doorway, pointing them out. Just in case.

“The trap. It might still be active. Or active again.”

Hector studied the doorway. Much of his study at the Shadow Academy had focused on Force rituals, artifacts and traps. The markings seemed familiar…

Aha! It was a gas trap. If only he could recall where the mechanism to deactivate such a trap would be.

“The trap is gas based.” Hector announced. “I recognize the setup. The moment a life form passes by it spits out a deadly vapor. There should be a way to deactivate the trap so keep your eyes peeled.”

While Hector rambled, Titius took his own survey of the hazard. Following a line down the frame, he happened upon a stone that didn’t quite match the façade of the temple.

Without waiting for approval or instruction, Titius pushed the stone inward. A pair of vents appeared above the doorway and began to emit an obnoxiously loud peal of flatulence that continued to sound for several minutes. Titius began tapping his foot and muttering youcanbedoneanytimenow As if in response, the sound became moistened and deeper in tone as condensation from the poison sitting in tanks for several decades finally released.

Cole had flinched initially as Titius just pressed a karking stone but it quickly became clear as to what was going on.

After a long pause, he filled in the silence, “Right. That’s sorted at least.”

“The Trials … of Scimitar?” Savi repeated with an incredulous expression on their face.

“And how do you know all this….” Sofila was weary about the thin man before them.

Should she just punch him?

“Shall I restrain him?” Elly asked the group at large, not much caring if the man could hear her

Cole had his scatter-gun in hand, watching the man with immense caution. He was a threat, even if he hadn’t shown how yet.

Yet.

“And how do we know you are not leading us into traps?” Sofila asked as she gently placed her hand on Elly’s arm as if to say ‘not yet’.

Elly tensed, fists clenching at the sudden touch. She took a moment to calm herself, relaxing her muscles with a deep breath

Sofila focused and glanced to her team. “I used the help from the Force.. something is weird from him but I think he’s not trying to deceive?”

“Worst case scenario, I use his nose as a boring tip on a thermal lance and we’ll do this fast and loud!” the party could hear the wide grin underneath his helmet.

Savran’s eyes narrowed at the gaunt fellow standing before them. This so-called temple-keeper had already proven himself to be a nuisance and they hadn’t been with him for longer than a few minutes. Once he had outlived his usefulness, they had every intention to use him to satiate the predatory urge that had smoldered deep within their core since their arrival planetside.

Holding their Relby V-10 in their hands while they followed, Savi stayed farther right of most of the group. In a temple likely riddled with traps meant to ensnare or maim graverobbers or wayward travelers, they figured it wiser to avoid being bunched together lest they all fall victim to the same trap.

Although their laconic disposition was most common on missions such as these, Savi was notably even more silent than was usual. This detail, of course, would only register on the radar of the shani mercenary-turned-Arconan’s two friends: Sofila and Cole.

Zxyl opted to follow along quietly this entire time, remaining mute and keeping any thoughts or reservations he might of had to himself. They were, afterall, on a mission - and that required a level of seriousness. He certainly did not trust Tahiri’s “contacts” though, no matter how close the Sith was with his biological culture. He had played nice, opted to incapacitate the sisters that had attacked him, and still their disdain for males got the better of them.

Such insults were not acceptable to real Mandalorians. Respect was met with respect, disrespect was met with… well… a beating by invoking the Mandalorian Code of Combat, Their mission may have taken precedence, but the Regent did not forgive so easily.

Sofila sighed as it seemed like they do not have a choice.

“Got my back?” She knew her strengths and her weakness. She also knows Cole’s. Savi, she was learning. When Cole confirmed, she took the lead in following the so called Keeper of the Temple, her eyes glanced around and her muscles tensed.

“So… what does Trails of that bas-” She cleared her throat. “What does the Trials of Scimitar require and what are they?”

<@837236610684813342>

Zxyl had his arms crossed as he listened to Rich'ard’s explanation, and his patience was wearing thin.

“Let’s get this over with,” he declared, uncrossing his arms.

Cole glanced to the rest of the group, eyes snapping to the Regent on that deciding declaration and just nodding. Despite how much he’d rather just kill this idiot and let the nightsisters outside work out how to clear away the ichor instead.

Hector needed to know more before engaging in the challenges. He closed his eyes and opened himself to the Force. He stumbled forward, overwhelmed by an onslaught of emotions. He could feel the echoes of the massacre of the nightsisters, generations of hatred from the enslaved nightbrothers. And power. Above all, power. The Darkside nexus threatened to steal away his focus once again.

The Kiffar clamped down on his emotions, forcing himself out of the ethereal state and returning to reality. It appeared that he still had yet to acclimimate to Dathomir. Sense and Psychometric powers would be out of the question until he did so.

“Shall we each go through a trial?” Hector inquired with the group.

“That seems like the best option,” intoned Savran, who took a moment to look over the rest of the group.

“Seems to be the point, and better than one person already tired or hurt doing multiple.” Cole chimed in.

Sofila grimaced. She didn’t like the idea of them being separated.

“Yes.” She said to Rich'ard and gave Hector a nod in agreement for each of them to tackle a trail. She was going to talk to Rich'ard for her to go first. But then she remembered.

She needed to communicate with her team.

“I would like to go first. If… something happens to me, it gives me time to heal and to channel the Force to be ready to heal any of you, physcially at least, when you guys come out.”

Tahiri had stayed back a bit, quickly thanking the Nightsister’s for their help and asked that they help any of the team when they come out. Leaving Kera outside with the sister’s, Zuska stayed close to her side while she took careful note of the temple walls as the team followed the gaunt Temple Keeper. Seeing that Rich'ard was true to his word in leading them to the artifact, she still watched him with wariness, remembering the info Sofila had gleaned through the Force. She decided to reach out with her mind through the Force to see if she could obtain any further info from any surface thoughts.

The Elder reached out to Rich'ard’s mind, connecting with it briefly, hoping to see if there was anything useful she could gather. The moment of connection however, the only feedback she got was static. Pulling back, she thought about that for a moment, before perking up to the eight trials, and the Keeper’s warning.

“I’ll except any challenge put in front of me,” determination elevated Tahiri’s voice as she straightened, before nodding to the rest of the team. Then turning to Sofila, she flashed a gentle smile before going serious again, “If that is your wish Sofila, just be careful.”

“I will be careful,” Sofila promised to Tahiri. She’ll be careful but will she succeed?

“Hands. Off.” Sofila snarled towards the keeper as she jerked her wrist back. Usually, she won’t mind but they were on a mission and she doesn’t know if he’s an ally or an enemy still. The group followed him, ascending, descending, and turning. Kriffin’ suns. Maybe it’s a good thing they didn’t attack him or they would never find the karkin’ so called trails he brought up.

Though… if no one returned alive?

She was a bit worried. As they stood before the ominous door, she grimaced at the name of it. Of course. Karkin’ fear.

Kark me.

Though no one can see it, wearing her helmet had it’s perks. Sofila pushed Rich'ard’s hands away from her shoulders.

“Touch me one more time, and I will punch you,” Sofilta threatened. She didn’t want to linger any longer outside of the door, the fear, ironically, would start to eat up on her. And she didn’t want to hear what her teammates may have to say. It might cause her to back out.

Sofila stilled her mind, grasped the handle and twisted it open. She took a step in and closed the door behind her.

Zxyl made his way to the edge of the room they were in, leaning against it. He would have preferred he gone first, but it was what it was. Now it was a waiting game.

The trial of fear. Cole… wasn’t sure if he wanted sofila to go first but she was trougu the door long before he could voice that worried.

He glared down the so called keeper of the temple before coming up to thr window to look on the inside of the room.

Suns.

Sofila grimaced at the strong stench. Holy suns. It was almost overwhelming. She looked around the room and see bones everywhere. Kark. How many people tried this trail? Did anyone succeed this trail? Her heart started to pound into her ears. She went to go look at the words. Were… they dug in by- Sofila jumped when she heard Rich'ard’s voice chime in. She glanced back down at the floor. She can see hints of the ritualistic circle. Move the bones, where?

The Mirialan continued forward, soft crunches underneath her boots as she boots as she gently pushed the bones aside and the circle started to look more clear. This felt disrespectful to the dead. When done, Sofila glanced around again before she stepped into center of the circle.

Hector could feel the unnatural darkness from inside the room. Within was a Force power he was quite familiar with, Force Terror. He would need to focus to aid Sofila from so far a distance. The Kiffar knelt down and immersed himself in meditation. He focused on Sofila’s signature in the Living Force. He took a deep breath, held it for 4 seconds then released. His eyes closed in concentration as he began to weaken the unnatural Terror which clawed at Sofila’s mind. He lacked the strength to eradicate it completely, but at the very least he could lessen the potency of the power affecting her.

Sensing the shift in the aura Sofila projected through the Force after Hector’s intervention, Savran followed suit. They’d be damned if that bastard took control of their friend again. “Hey, I need you fight him,” they began, their voice stern as usual but carrying a threat of tenderness. “You’re among friends, people who care about you. Focus on them. Focus on what completing this mission would mean. What it would mean to rid the galaxy of this blight once and for all. You’ve got this.”

Cole couldn’t feel thr shift in the Force like the others. Sofila had just frozen in place, to him. Yet, from the reactions of the group it was immediately obvious what was happening. What was being used against her. They’d picked the wrong fear, good.

“You’re stronger than that schutta. You’ve proven it once already Sofila, you know you can do this.” He kept his voice steady, calm. As worried as Cole was at the potential of what could happen here he didn’t let it seep in, focusing on what they’d worked on together.

Zuska growled and the whimpered as he pawed at the glass, wanting to be with Sofila. Hearing that dark voice again, made Tahiri’s blood boil, as she looked around the room, before her eyes came to lock on Sofila herself. As she felt the energies shift, Tahiri glanced at Hector, and then heard both Savi and Cole’s words of encouragement, the petite Togruta calmed herself. She then sent calming thoughts to Zuska while kneeling beside him, smoothing his raised hackles.

“You’ve got this, Sofila,” Tahiri smiled warmly, not sure if the Mirialan could even see her. “We’re here for you, no matter what. Finish this trial and we’ll be one step closer to our goal.”

A gush of wind roared in her ears. Sofila gritted her teeth to refrain from crying out when she was arched back and felt the scar on her chest reopening.

Then she could hear him.

‘What do you FEAR most, child?’

Alone. Abandoned. Her rage.

She quickly pushed that thought away and focused on the pain, he can’t know her other fears. Her jaw hurt from the tension as wet liquid started to trickle from the stab wound. Then a familiar pulse in the Force.

‘Hector?’

The gripped had weakened and it felt like it was enough for her to karkin’ breathe. Savi’s voice cut through.

‘I’m trying but I’m tired Savi. But… you’re right. He needs to be taken care of.’

Her fingers twitched as it felt like her skin was being ripped from her bones, caused her to whine a little. With a sharp inhale through her nose, she stilled her mind and fought against Scimitar’s grasp around her. She straightened her posture and her hands was over her chest. It hurts. She can feel the liquid soaked her clothing underneath her armor. She started to tremble as she was still struggling against his grip but it was much weaker.

Cole’s voice.

‘Cole…’

Then Tahiri’s.

‘Yea. They’re right. I got this.’

“Trying the same trick, Scimitar?” Sofila called out, laughing as she pushed the dark energy out and the Light Force started to grow and vibrated. She stomped her feet and a gush of lighteness blazed through the room, brittle bones turned to dust and pushed to the edges of the room. The pain faded. The room felt lighter and brighter.

Especially with Sofila in it. She’s a karkin’ beacon and it’s time for her to act like it.

“Not my master and go kark yourself,” the Mandalorian snarled.

Zxyl was rearing and ready to go and get this over with, pushing off the edge of the room and addressing Rich'ard directly. “My turn.”

Sofila reached out and grabbed the crystal. She looked over it before turned and headed back into the room.

The Mandalorian General looked down at his vambrace as the… Keeper of the temple? grabbed his wrist, and then attempted to march the Regent down the hall. They took no more than a couple steps before Bes'uliik swiftly brought his right arm, popped out the blade emitter to his elder lightsaber vambrace, and just as swiftly brought it back down on Rich'ard’s wrist as the wide black core blade activated - cleaving his touchy touchy hand completely off.

“Hands. Off.”

Cole took a step toward her as she came out, placing a hand on her arm and squeezing lightly for a moment. He withdrew, strangers and threats all around, this wasn’t the place for such displays, but he still murmured to ask.

“You ok?”

Zxyl went through the door without saying another word.

Sofila was going to answer but then jumped at the high pitch scream and turned to look what happened. Her eyes narrowed and she was going to yell at Zxyl that they needed the Keeper but he went through the door.

“No.” She finally answered Cole as she removed her helmet and placed it on the table alongside with the crystal. She looks pissed. Her lips were pursed, her brows were down and her eyes had a glare aroma. She went to remove her Mandalorian chest piece and checked the wound.

“It healed.” Sofila’s words were short and curt. She put her chest piece back on and grabbed her helmet and the crystal as she made her way to the window to encourage Zxyl.

If he even needed it.

A soft click can be heard as her helmet locked back in place.

Cole had nodded, watching as she checked the wound and giving it a glance himself. It wasn’t an illusion but it hadn’t remained open. It was enough.

He followed a step behind her to watch Zxyl’s trial.

Zxyl approached the pedestal, wary and cautious, examining it closely. He didn’t bother taking any of the other weapons - he had plenty of his own. He searched for any clues, a way to activate it, etc.. but was keeping in mind this was a Dathomiri temple and he might have to invoke his Magick to activate or trigger it.

Zxyl looks for any other digits on skeletons that’ll fit into the hole! He’d sacrifice a finger if he absolutely had to since Aisha could just… Clone him another one, but he’d rather not.

Zxyl reaches up under his left pauldron, and rumages around for a second… before pulling out his mother’s Nightsister talisman, holding it in the hole from above by the slim chain attached to it. It has tremendous value to him, so he was keen to not lose it.. but he was doing what he had to.

Lets see if that works.

He waits for something to happen, and if nothing does… Just lobs off one of his horns from above his helmet, tossing that in.

Zxyl does indeed lob off one of his horns, then.

Sofila grimaced at the altar.

“Hey, Zxyl. I remember this altar. They were placing those that were willing to give blood to him and … mine. You may have to give it your blood,” Sofila called to him from the window.

“Fantastic,” Bes'uliik muttered as he replaced the talisman back under his pauldron.

What a waste.

The Mandalorian grabbed one of this throwing knives, and used it to cut a slice in his right palm, allowing the blood to flow down into the altar. He could stop the bleeding later.

Hopefully it was enough!

Sofila gritted her teeth and wait, the window was open.

“Near and far… Near and far…”

The keeper said they can’t STEP inside, so can she….

“Kark, I think he needs more blood?”

Cole watched, a frown on his features. Near or far…. His icy gaze found the discarded hand of their host for this karking cursed kistshow and walked over to it, picking it up by the thumb and walking back over.

“He does.” Cole tossed the hand into the room, as close to Zyxl as he could land it.

“Blood you say? Does it have to be fresh?” Titius finally felt useful after effectively being instructed to sit on his hands.

Sofila snapped her fingers at Titius for him to stay put. After his stunt at Hector’s ship, she wasn’t sure if she can trust him at the moment.

Even though he was the reason why she’s still alive.

“Not yet, but we may need more body parts.” She turned her head to Rich'ard.

Zxyl refused to give up. It wasn’t his way. It wasn’t the way. He continued on for a short time, feeling the effects of the Magick take its toll on him, before he decided to invoke his own and reveal himself, to his own chagrin and disappointment. He dropped his concealment, letting his full abilities and strength come to bear.

“Enough of this ridiculousness!” the Dathomirian-Mandalorian outstretched a hand towards the… hand.. on the ground, green tendrils of magick ichor flowing from them and coalescing around the severed body part. It lifted, zipping quickly over the hole, and then as the Regent clenched his own hand, the floating appendage squeezed and crumpled, bones cracking as the telekinetic pressure surrounding it reduced it to a tiny ball, blood oozing out as he did so. When the last drop finally left its veins he dropped it in the hole for good measure.

Provided that was enough blood to satisfy the pedestal and provide enough room to fit the crystal out of the cage, he ripped it to his hand with the same green magick ichor and annihilated the pedestal.

<@837236610684813342>

Zxyl left the room immediately, even with a lil’ hussle, raising his concealment once he was out of the room. He tossed the crystal to whomever was ready to receive it.

The Regent looked down at his bleeding hand, tearing part of his cape and wrapping it. Could he have just healed it with the Force? Yes. Did he want to use his abilities anymore than he already had? No.

After wrapping his hand, the General returned to the place he had been leaning before, sliding down it slightly and resting with his knees bent. He was sorely disappointed he did what he did, but it was the quickest method for them to be free of this place. For him to be free of this place. He understood now why he had never bothered venturing back to this shell of a planet.

Kark it all.

At least now nobody would ever be taking that test again.

Tahiri watched the General carefully, before glancing over and nodding to Sofila, then she walked over and stood just off to his right in front of him. Extending her own right hand, the tone of her voice filled with understanding, and a hint of concern,

“General Bes'uliik, that was impressive what you did in there. You have more than enough understanding of Magick than you’re credited for. I can see that you’re a a proud Mandalorian, and I’m glad you didn’t forget your roots. Please allow me to give you something to help heal, we may need more of your unique abilities later on.” Glancing over at the Rich'ard and lowering her voice a bit, “Especially if there is anything after finishing these trials.”

<@260640060775464960>

The Councilor glanced up at the Togruta by his side.

“I am not credited for my abilities because I have told no one. I was intending to keep my Force-sensitivity a secret for as long as possible, Lady Tarentae… and I will deny any accounts of it by any member of our entourage. I prefer to rely on my natural abilities than the magick of my ancestors in all circumstances, even if it puts me at a disadvantage.”

He offered his sliced hand to her for teh healingz.

Nodding her head, as she gently took his hand and poured about a quarter of her energy through the Force into his body. Keeping her voice quiet, sincerity in her tones, “I can respect your discission to keep that a secret, and I give you my word that nothing of this will come to light, or be spoken about outside these temple walls. I’ll admit that even I myself, rely more on my natural abilities, especially since the war and entering that place.”

Tahiri gave him a small smile, “Also, if there is any information that I can provide about what Dathimiri tribes remain and their status, I would most certainly be willing to tell you. If you are curious that is.” She left it as a offering statement, in case the Mandalorian wished not to answer, feeling that it may be a bit of a touchy subject, due to the exchange she had witnessed with the Nightsister’s.

Sofila wanted to give them time and space, she noticed the nod from Tahiri. Did… she want her to stay put? Come over?

Her gaze went over to Rich'ard. She was still angry abut the whole situation. And when she’s mad, she’s snarky.

“I guess you’re pretty handy after all, Rich'ard.” She made her way over to the pair. She gave a single nod to Zxyl and Tahiri.

“Would you like me to aid in the healing?” Sofila offered.

“Go for it.”

“Yes, please.”

Cole took the moment to look toward Rich'ard.

“Can we get a name for next the trial before we pick someone?”

<@837236610684813342>

Sofila slowly and silently exhaled as she focused. Her hand gently went over Zxyl’‘s. Her hands and his wound started to glow. It would feel warm and maybe even intense just like her personality and energy. With a smile that can be heard through her voice, “There we go! We got this guys.”

Elly, the lady who had been extremely silent this whole trip, softly mumbled something to herself. “Better now than later…”

She took a step forward “I can do it.”

Elly looked to her party of companions and just stared for a few moments, her helmet hiding the expression underneath. Time prove herself. She stepped on into the room, ready for anything.

Ellisyn put her hands to the sides of her helmet as if to cover her ears, completely on reflex. “Who said that!?” She said, looking at the sea of soldiers in front of her, searching for the source of the voice.

The first piece of fruit slammed into her chest piece, confusing Elly even further. Surely they had actual weapons they could use. She activated the shields on her vambraces and used them to cover herself from the flying fruit, trying to form a plan.

Though her planning would have to wait. Any focus she had on the situation was ripped away from her as the sight of her eldest daughter forced her to freeze in place.

“S-Sulla…?” She stuttered, fear in her voice. Surely this couldn’t be real. Scimitar couldn’t have known she was coming and taken Sulla in advance, could he?

Whereas Sofila had her chest literally ripped open, Ellisyn was in the middle of having her own figuratively torn asunder. The words coming from Sulla’s mouth shook Ellisyn to her core. Nearly every night, the Firrerreoen woman tried, and failed, to convince herself that Darrio leaving wasn’t her fault, and hearing Sulla ask the same question invoked the same pain when he left her and their two children.

A relatively hard piece of fruit slammed into her helmet, pulling her out of her own head. Whether Sulla was real or not, she couldn’t take the chance. She dashed towards the opening made for her, running past the mess of soldiers. Once she was close enough, she dropped to her knees and slid the rest of the way to Sulla until she was right in front of her.

She reached up to her helmet and almost tore it off, carelessly tossing it aside. “Sulla, Jellybean, I’m sorry.” Tears were running down her face as she internalized the multitude of insults thrown at her. As much as she wanted to ignore them, it was as if they were echoes of her own thoughts. “I don’t know why Daddy left, I don’t know,” she tried to reach out and pull Sulla into a hug.

It was hard to maneuver for a bit with crystals in her hands but she managed. Once she was done healing, she gave a nod to Zxyl, “Is it better?” Her helmet turned to look at her comrades and noticed Rich'ard was staring at the crystals. Not her, but the crystals. Her hands closed to keep them in her palms. Then off they go to follow Rich'ard.

Kark. Hopefully he won’t be anymore handsy or they will be lost. This looked like bridge of some ship. She doesn’t now ships so she has no idea which one this one belonged to. How did it get down here? Underneath the temple itself?

Trial of Hate. Sofila was glad it was not her. Elly chimed in that she can do it. Meanwhile while Rich'ard wished Elly luck, she crossed her arms, her fists still clenched to keep the crystals safe. She wanted to sign to Cole but her hands were full at the moment. And he doesn’t know Mando'a but there was someone who possibly does-

“Zxyl. One hand man keeps watching the crystals when he has a chance,” Sofila pointed out in Mando'a and waited for a sign of understanding. Lately, too many people had the Mandlorian armor and did not . She didn’t want to say Rich'ard’s name or he would know that she was talking about him. She shifted her chest armor and the cloth beneath it few times before having the crystals settle in middle of her bra.

It was uncomfortable but it will have to do and free her hands if needed.

“Cole,” then she signed to him, “One hand man watch C-R-Y-S-T-A-L-S.” The more her team knows about this, the better. Then she heard a screech and quickly made her way over to the window to help Elly.

Cole’s gaze had snapped round from the window when Sofila called his name.

Great, the karker was going to try to steal the crystals or something. Cole adjusted how we was stood, angling himself not only to give Sofila space at the window, but to keep Rich'ard more properly within his line of sight.

The situation inside the window was beyond his help this time. There wasn’t a clear answer to how to win this.

The Regent nodded affirmatively at Sofila’s question, raised himself back to his feet, and then followed along with them to the next trial with arms crossed. He was pretty sad he had lobbed off a good chunk of one of his horns. Now he’d have to wait for it to re-grow..

He watched the fellow Mando stuff the crystals in her chestplate, raising his eyebrows for a moment. That was new. When she started speaking Mando'a, he responded once more with an affirmative head nod, and decided to keep an eye on the one-handed fool. It appeared as though he hadn’t learnt his lesson.

The conclusion of these trials was going to be interesting. He watched the Taldryanite’s trial with interest. She was, afterall, the sister of Koda.

“How dare he used Sulla!?” snarled Sofila. Elly would’ve heard her. “That is not your daughter! Your daughter loves you! She talked to me about Angel! Your daughter would not say those words! That is not your daughter! Get mad Elly, he is using your daughter against you, he is wrong. Your daughter is amazing, kind, smart, and sweet just like her mother! Think Elly, what would you want your daughter do if she was in your shoes!? GET. MAD.”

Three words. Just three words were all it took to shatter the lone mother’s heart. It wasn’t the first time she had heard that. Of course, Sulla had been through a lot of trauma for a girl her age, and she was prone to lash out from time to time, but it didn’t make it hurt any less.

A silent sob escaped Elly’s heart, followed by another. She knew none of this was real. It couldn’t be. Thanks to Sofila mentioning her wonderful mother, she was able to apply at least a bit of logic to the situation. She doubted Scimitar would take the time to fight through three Jedi and a gaggle of war-hardened soldiers just to torment her.

After a few sniffles, she balled her hands into fists, the leather of her gloved creaking under her crushing grasp. She reached down into that dark place her mother had warned her of, a case of anger and rage that was never to be touched unless she truly needed it. She unlocked it, scooped up some of the rage, and proceeded to shame that imaginary case closed. There’s a time and place for everything, but not now.

Using her gathered rage, the Firrerreo released a feral growl and turned to the soldier holding her pride and joy and didn’t hesitate to slam her armored fist directly into their temple, putting an excessive amount of force into the strike and knocking the man directly onto his ass.

She deftly caught Sulla before she could be dropped and embraced her, holding her in her arms firmly. “I love you, Jellybean,” she said to her daughter’s facsimile <@837236610684813342>

Elly reached towards the crystal and snatched it out of the air, tears still streaming down her face. She knelt down and retrieved her helmet and slid it back onto her head, waiting for it to click into place.

She exited the chamber, grateful her expressions were hidden. “That sucked.”

Sofila let out a loud whoop in victory as she ran over to Elly and brought her in her arms. “I am so karing proud of you. You did it. You kriffin’ did it!”

“What are the other trials called?”

Cole looked over from his spot still near the window of the trial of hate.

He raised an eyebrow, “Why?”

Elly didn’t hesitate to wrap her arms around Sofila, a quiet sniffle escaping her helmet “Thank you…” She mumbled

“You… explode?” Cole said slowly, then shook his head, “Sure. So we free you by completing all this kist as well I assume?”

Sofila’s grip tightened as it was warm and gentle. Then she pulled away and squeezed her upper arms. She stayed quiet so she can listen to Cole and Rich'ard.

Explode. What the actual kark.

No wonder why he was so handsy. He was lonely. Going crazy.

Kark, she can’t imagine never feeling the sun or the water on her or -

Her helmet turned to look at Zxyl and then she sighed while she gazed over to Rich'ard, “Well. I’m.. sorry about your hand but I’m sure some of us know some good cybernetic people that can help with that.”

“I’ll do the damned trial. You guys explain.” Cole walked toward the door, stepping in and letting it close behind him.

Sofila blinked. Oh. Right. Oh boy, she was about to blow his-

“Col-” But he was already in.

“Uh, let’s talk about it when we finish the trials and get you free, okay? But as of right now, do not touch anyone. Touching is more for friends or lovers. Sometimes friends actually, some friends are not okay with tou- You know what, after the trials.”

Zxyl didn’t respond or move when Sofila looked his way. He stood by what he did. You don’t try and drag a complete stranger somewhere… especially this Mandalorian.

Cole grimaced but continued through, looking at the pair of platforms.

They were identical. Identical positioning at opposite sides of the room, identical sizing and colouration. No discernable differences that would make it important to pick one over the other.

He had a feeling the room was more likely to drown him than anything in relation to these. It felt wrong to just pick the one closest to him but kriff it, it’d have to do.

Cole stepped up onto the platform, the bottom of armour dripping water over the no-longer dry surface.

Well. That wasn’t exactly what he expected. Cole looked at the image of himself, unsure of what to do. Did he need to do anything? The water wasn’t rising.

Hm.

“Do I just shoot you or something?”

Cole drew his own blaster on instinct, tense. Watching. The Others gaze went to Sofila and his eyes narrowed.

“Leave her out of this.”

Would it be worth taking a shot? It was just an illusion of him, to kark with him. But then it was just an illusion made of dark magiks. Would it even hurt it?

There was nothing more scary than watching his carbon copy face her and aimed his blaster at her.

Again.

Sofila quickly went for the dodge but she didn’t move out the way in time as she cried out in pain. Her hand went over her chest.

“What the kark?!” She was not expecting it to hurt and it does. The damage was evident on her armor as she grimaced. Second time he aimed his gun at her.

Only this time, he squeezed the trigger.

That wasn’t Cole, Sofila reminded herself and steadied herself.

“Stay away from the windows,” Sofila warned the team.

Cole raised the blaster as the illusion did, finger finding the trigger with practised ease.

It was too late to stop it but he still fired. If it was destroyable he’d find out now.

It came out of nowhere. One moment he was looking for the crystal or the next threat and then-

He couldn’t think.

Cole was in the water, on his knees. One hand kept himself from faceplanting while the other gripped the side of his head, the taste of blood in his mouth as he coughed, dragging it up. It felt like he’d been shot- Droplets of blood peppered the surface of the water.

He managed to withhold from passing or screaming. It was better than nothing.

“Oh for-” Cole wheezed slightly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and shifting to stand up. He took it slowly. This had done actual damage and he couldn’t tell what exactly it was. Once Cole was steady on his feet, he took a moment to glare at the platform behind him before getting back up on it.

Violence wasn’t the answer apparently.

Us? Weird wording.

“If you’re trying to be me, I usually keep the commentary internal.” Cole sighed, hooking his thumbs on the hip section of his armour. “What are you?” Illusions being destroyed didn’t usually cripple people, this wasn’t a simple exercise in.. whatever.

Cole wasn’t risking that knife feeling real considering the blaster shot had actually struck Sofila.

He raised his hands, aiming to grab the illusions wrists and keep the blade away. Working out what the kriff to do from there was a when they get there problem.

Not that he could say the illusion was wrong.

“Its what I was taught.” Cole growled through gritted teeth.

What the kark.

Cole pushed lightly, letting go after forcing the illusion a few steps back. It wasn’t much space but it was something.

“You’re.. me?” Cole raised an eyebrow, still tensed, ready to fight again if need be. “Okay.”

This other him was angry. Uncontrolled but… willing to do whatever it takes. No hesitation, kriff not even bothered. It was almost an ideal version if the schutta hadn’t shot at Sofila.

“What now then?”

But it had shot at Sofila. Without hesitation. There was anger but no care. The gears were moving in his head.

“I said to leave her out of this.” Cole glared, raising his head as the rifle aimed at him. If he shot the illusion then.. well this was a lose lose situation anyway.

Wasn’t like he hadn’t tried to shoot himself a few months ago anyway.

“I never forgot that.” He spoke evenly, making eye contact with himself. Kriff that was weird. “I have my weaknesses but if you’re me then so do you, no?”

She was a weakness. Sofila brought out everything he did his best to conceal. He didn’t really like that being aired out in front of her or anyone really but he tried to remain focussed. There was more to do here. Too much to do.

Sofila listened and she was glad her helmet was on. It wasn’t him but it was him. The voice, the mannerisms, it’s catching up fast.

It still hurts. Everything she worked for, to help Cole, the other one was destroying it all.

They were going to go in circles forever if Cole wasn’t going to face it. Her fingers went over to turn on the shield bracer in case she gets shot again. But she made no movement to be by the window. She was torn. Torn to help him face what he really needed to face but respected him immensely knowing that he doesn’t want any of that be aired out.

Not even to her. Her head went back and hit the wall as she decided to wait a bit longer.

But she was selfish enough to want him to be out alive and damn his karking pride and his kriffin ego.

Damn his father even more. Screw it.

She saw the rifle aimed at her again. She was ready this time and managed to block it.

“Stop running, Cyr'ika.”

Zxyl took a quick moment after Rich'ard’s question to raise his two hands in front of them, inspect them, and then show them both to the temple keeper.

He was good.

Titius inclined his helm from his seat on the floor. “You dont happen to have washrooms in this temple do you? Or a cafeteria? Maybe with some decent caf?”

Cole grabbed for the other him’s arms, it was a weak motion but hopefully enough to at least draw attention away.

Stop running. He didn’t how. She was right. Kark.

“It might be weak but the rest of me is real too.” It was painful to say. He grimaced but stepped forward toward the other with intention to close the gap. His voice dropped, losing the cold edge he usually tried to maintain, “We’re tired.”

It was an appeal as much as it was honest but it.. it was honest.

“I brought my medical pack for a reason” mumbled Titius. The lack of concern was palpable.

Sofila let out a blood curling wail as she flinched back painfully.

“Cole!” She removed herself from the window and made her way to the door…

Cole didn’t have time to stop himself, he reached forward and then- He was on his knees again, everything hurt and kriff- He hadn’t made any progress had he?

He growled, smashing at the surface of the water with his fist before forcing himself to get up. He stumbled, blinking to try and reclaim his vision. Just.. stay up. Sofila had screamed.

There was enough guilt in her finding him about to do it, to see… Kark. Kark.

“Kark this kisting schutta…” He muttered, getting back onto the platform once again.

Confronting one’s own inner demons was dangerous. Much more so when the Force was involved. While it was up to Cole to overcome it, Hector was not opposed to aiding his ally in his task. He gathered the Force within him, strengthening it with his own will.

You have no power here spirit

This thought resounded through the gathered Force. The energy was shaped into a pulse. Invisible but quite real.

Hector closed his eyes in concentration. Dathomir often made even the simplest tasks require more effort; at least those aimed at not causing harm.

The Kiffar unleashed the pulse at the apparition. The image of the false Cole wavered, like a holo communication losing connection. It reasserted its form into reality, but lost much power doing so.

“This trial is up to you Cole. Overcome your weakness and reforge yourself through this toil and trauma.” Hector stated.

“No.”

The illusion flickered and Cole looked toward the window. The group.

His gaze landed back on the illusion and it was him this time that stepped forward toward it. Careful steps, unsure if stepping off would get rid of the illusion but it didn’t. Right.

He crossed through the water, in pain but confident in what he had to do at least.

Cole spoke quietly again, at the edge of the illusions platform. He was vulnerable here but it was right. “There’s more for us than this. She proved that. Even if its hard to believe. It’s always been survival. We forgot- Kriff, we never learned how to live.”

“Oh no you don’t” Elly was quick to grab Sofila from behind, wrapping her arms around her firmly

Not everyone. Just one. He could feel the presence now, glaring. Weakness. Cole closed his eyes for a moment, steadying himself but stepping up onto the platform with his other self.

“Then.. maybe its time to open the cage then. I don’t know how yet but… It’s time. We can’t keep going like this.”

“No.” Cole let himself frown, pinching the bridge of his nose for a second as he tried to think but no. There wasn’t a solution that wasn’t a pain to do.

“Do you think you can give me time?”

Sofila tensed when Elly grabbed her as she let out a breath that sounded shakily. Her jaw remained tight and tense. She made no move to fight against Elly’s grip when it was clear from Rich'ard that Cole would fail certainly if she opened the door.

Kark.

“I won’t” Sofila hissed. Her muscles were tensed as she brought her hands up to show Elly she wasn’t going to go through the door. At the same time, Sofila was closely listening.

Ellisyn knew full damn well that grabbing Sofila like this was a violation of boundaries and that she probably ended up accidentally burning another bridge, but she felt the need to anyway. At least that’s what was going on in her head.

Slowly the Firrerreo released the woman and took a few steps back, both her steps and voice silent

Sofila turned her head to the sides and gazed over to Elly through her helmet. “Thank you.” Her voice sounded sincere. If Elly didn’t stopped her, she would’ve gone through the door without a moment of hesitation and mess up everything else. She stepped away from the door and couldn’t bring herself to look through the window anymore but she stood by it, to listen.

Elly nodded, a small weight lifted off her shoulders.

Cole had always been a fighter, a killer. A torturer. A man covered in scars that he’d always thought of as earned. Proof that he was more. That he was a Farrow. The weight of a name that he wanted to encompass but hadn’t ever been able to. Maybe because it was the wrong name to focus everything on. He didn’t know for sure but it finally clicked what this damn thing wanted.

“I’m still the fighter I’ve always been. I’ve killed in cold blood and as long as things threaten my family I’ll do it again. But I’m not.. going to turn my back on the new life ahead of me. There’s a chance here, for change. I’ll fight as long as I have to but she’s worth it. I’m Cole Farrow and no one will take either name from me.”

He exhaled hard, “I don’t care what you say otherwise. I’ve ignored the paranoia and I can ignore you telling I’m less than what I can be.”

In a way he had to be more. If he wasn’t then he may as well pulled trigger when Sofila walked in those months ago. He had to try.

Cole didn’t expect a smile. He’d expected adversity. Be better.

His eyes hurt from..whatever the kriff damage the damn thing had done to him so the blinding light wasn’t helpful but once he’d recovered he picked up the crystal and waded out of the room. It was hard to not feel somewhat humiliated by that being as public as it was, passing the crystal between his hands once he was out and the door closed behind him.

Sofila quickly went to Cole’s side and had to fight every single nerve in her body to not pull him into a hug. “Are you okay?” Her voice was low and hushed. He would notice there’s some shakiness behind it.

“Let me heal you, please.”

Cole didn’t speak but he stepped toward her, arms wrapping around her. He was shaking, he realised.

Then Cole’s legs finally gave way from under him. He clutched onto her, not wanting to fall and still trying to press himself to stand though despite not having the strength.

Without the Force, the point blank attacks both physically and mentally were too kriffing much. He could still taste blood.

Kark he hated how familiar the metallic tang was. And more so he was sick of her having to see him like this. But the words couldn’t come.

Sofila’s breath caught as she wrapped her arms around him and held him.

“I got you,” she whispered. Her hands started to glow as she focused on healing him. He would notice that she was shaking.

She exhaled sharply, knowing he wasn’t going to like it but she’ll have to deal with it later. She slowly squatted down and sat down on the ground. Cole was in front of her. Being careful with Cole while she attempted to focus on the healing.

He’d be unhappy about it later if he remembered to.

Cole settled with his legs angled out to the side and just leaned into her.

He whispered back after a pained moment, having to know his mind that they were okay, “Strings..?”

Sofila’s shaking had stopped. She felt calm and at ease. She closed her eyelids to refrain from cussing him out.

Didn’t work.

“Of course, you karkin’ bastard.” Then her voice was softer. Cole would know she was smiling from the uplift of the tone. “Strings.”

The healing worked but Cole remained in her hold for now, just shifting his arms to pull Sofila a little tighter against him.

He nodded, “Okay, okay..”

They were exposed but kriff it. For once he just let himself be comforted by the hug despite where they were.

Sofila was surprised but did not complain as she hugged him tighter. Sofila glanced over at Rich'ard and sighed.

“Am I usually that loud?” She asked Cole while helping him get up if he needed it.

She glanced around when they arrived. What magik was this place? She grinned at seeing the sands, “Did I tell you about the time over at-” She stopped when the Dark Side was strong here. Sofila hissed under her breath.

Kark.

Chills went up in her spine.

“There’s a rock, for you to sit on.” Sofila gestured the rock to Cole.

The Dark Side of the Force smothered the area like a shroud. Even without actively sensing Hector Von Ricmore could feel the energy source.

The Kiffar strode towards Rich’ard.

“I’ll take on this trial. What does it entail?” He inquired

Instinct said to protest but no, she was right. He settled down, onto a rock, resting his elbows on his thighs and settling to watch.

He did nudge Sofila, not wanting to interrupt but signing, Heal his arm. Burn will infect and gesturing toward Rich'ard.

“So be it. Sith Magicks and the binding nature of the Dark Side can be vile things. Do not torment yourself over what you can not reveal.” Hector reached towards the door, touching it.

He closed his eyes and immersed himself in the Force, seeking visions of what came before.

Sofila glanced over to him and blinked. Oh. Right. She never considered infection. She knew there was no bleeding concerns. Kark. How could she forget about that?

Wait until Hector goes in, Sofila signed back.

Death. What a vague yet frightening concept. When did one truly die? Was it when the physical body ceased? Or when all memory of a person faded, their deeds and actions lost to the annals of history?

Steeling himself, Hector Von Ricmore opened door number 5 and entered the Trial of Ignorance.

Sofila approached Rich'ard, “Will you let me heal you? To avoid infections.”

Hector glanced around the room. A memory bubbled up unbidden.

“There is no ignorance, there is knowledge.”

A fragment of the Jedi code. Something he had not heard often since his days in Naga Sadow. Ironic that he would recall something from the few Jedi in a clan of Sith. But would it lead him to salvation? Or damn him within the darkness if he were to act on it?

Hector found his feet taking him forward, towards the tome. He watched warily, unsure if the dangerous that awaited were mental or physical in nature.

His eyes were drawn to the Sith statues. They appeared posed deliberately yet in quite a strange fashion. His previous experiences with Sith architecture in Naga Sadow clashed with what he saw before him. Sith statues were typically posed stoic, dignified, and in some cases regal.

These statues clawed at various parts of their body, their faces emoting a deep pain.

Something was not right here.

The question was an interesting one. On the surface it was simple, yet it was entirely possible that the answer could be complicated by specifications or a pedantic riddle master.

2 potential answers emerged from Hector’s mind. Slaves or droids. Either could fit each line of the riddle. But he could argue that a droid was merely a type of slave. So that would have to be his answer.

“The answer is a slave.” Hector Von Ricmore declared to the tome.

Hector warily reached for the pen. Grasping it in his hand he brought the utensil up to the tome and wrote “The answer is a slave.”

Sofila was taken back by his swinging of his amputated hand.

“I have faith in Hector and the rest of the team,” Soflia smiled behind the helmet. But if he wasn’t going to let her heal him then she wasn’t going to push it. She joined the others watching out towards him.

She flinched. Was… his feet turning to stone?

“What the kar-” He was looking at some tome. The statues there looked awful. Wait. If his feet was turning to stone and those statues are so lifelike- oh kriff. Kark. Suns up in the ars-

“Hector?” She called out, not getting to why he’s being quiet and writing in a tome. She looked over to Rich'ard, “What is he doing?”

Hector Von Ricmore stared pensively at the tome. Pain was an old companion, practically a friend at this point. Pain was good. It meant that the foul magicks could be overcome. There was hope and a way for him to push through it.

Of all the words Hive and Villainy seemed to be the important ones. Yet it could still refer to several things.

The Mos Eisley Cantina and Spaceport had been referred to as a hive of scum and villainy on multiple occasions. Yet did the riddle refer to the location or the people inside?

The Kiffar pondered the riddle. His time was limited so he would need to make a decision. Ultimately, it would have to be a location. As the riddle said the answer was filled with people and a living organism could only fit so many living and dead humanoids inside of them before they burst.

Holding the pen with a tight hand the Force user scrawled

“The Mos Eisley Spaceport Cantina.”

It was too quiet.

Cole shifted off of the rock, crossing over to the window and leaning onto it instead. Kark- Hector was half kriffing stone was in the stars-

“Hector. What’s the puzzle?”

Hector looked at the tome before reading the words aloud.

‘I live amongst several hives, Filled with people dead or alive, It is within my ability, To commit the worst of villainy…’

Cole pondered it for a moment before calling out.

“Did you try scum?”

“Why not.” Hector proclaimed. Reaching to the time he wrote

“Scum”

“Don’t forget to tell us what the riddle says.” Sofila called out to Hector. She didn’t know the answer to that last one and was grateful that Cole did.

Not the first time I’ve struggled to breath

Hector reminded himself. A smattering of lightsaber wounds and body switches had stolen his breath away over the years. He had to stay calm. Keep focused.

“The tome…it says…I am a scourge…of every person…destructive and…undignified…I infect…the bodies…of others…where….I…make them…feel dead….inside.”

Cole struggled to contain his concern as he watched the effects encroach on Hector’s body.

He looked back to <@260640060775464960> and <@375384499770359819> “Can either of you suppress that, or something, slow this kist down?”

Before turning back to Hector, calling out, “The only thing I can think of is disease.”

With trembling hands Hector scrawled one word “Sickness.”

He couldn’t breathe. His vision faded in and out as the pen rolled from his hand and fell to the floor.

Sofila let out an exhale she didn’t know she was holding. There was a small clang sound as her helmet hit the column near by her.

Karkin suns…

Tahiri had shaken her head at Cole’s question, keeping her eyes locked on Hector. Knowing he had to be the one to finish answering the riddle, she had been preparing herself in the event she had to do this trial, however, seeing the flash and Hector being able to move again, she smiled.

It was a relief to see him ok. Turning her head to where Sofila was, her tone serious, but also somber, “Sofila, be sure you recharge after healing Hector. There is no telling what the next trials to come will do to the rest of us.”

Kneeling down, she mentally called Zuska to her side, since he had been continually patrolling the area, keeping an eye on everything, including the strange stick man. In Togruti, Tahiri spoke to him as she petted him and nodded towards Sofila and the rest of the team. “I do not know if you can come with me, but do what you must to protect the pack and get them to safety.”

Zuska looked around and gave a small whine, before gently licking his pack alphas face. He huffed, and then looked between to metal clad female and back to his alpha. A physical nod and smile, along with a mental nudge, gave him all the permission he need, as he leaned his head forward to touch his alphas and once their foreheads touched, he held there for a moment, before giving her another lick and then went back to patrolling the area, sticking closer to his bright haired friend.

Standing back up, Tahiri looked determinedly to Rich'ard, “Once Hector is out, tell me what the next trial is.”

Cole looked to her, keeping his hands close to his chest but nudging her with his foot and signing.

We’ve got this.

He wasn’t as confident as the words implied but it felt like a necessary comment all the same.

Sofila nodded to Tahiri, “Of course.” She glanced over to Cole and gave him a nod.

Yea. They got this.

While they wait for Hector, she blinked at the assistant.

“I volunteer. However, I will say, not anyone who didn’t do a trail yet because we may need their strengths and … mental as well emotional capabilities to face their own trails.”

“And you’re the only healer here who can replenish their stores.” Cole pointed out, hesistant to just… watch her go in again.

“I’ll do it,” chimed in the Regent as he stepped forward from the rest of the group, uncrossing his arms. His expressionless face was hidden by his equally expressionless helmet, but he was anticipating just getting all this over with and moving on.

Hector Von Ricmore emerged from the room, crystal in hand. Aside from the words carved into his skin, his flesh was intact. But his armor had been reduced to piecemeal. What once covered his whole body was reduced to shoulder pads, a helmet and half a breastplate.

“Before we begin the next trial, I’d like to take a moment for us to recover.”

Sofila went to his side and was going to help support him but stopped herself.

Right. She’s suppose to ask.

“Will you let me heal you, Hector?”

The Kiffar reached into the Force, calling upon the energy to heal him. But he was so tired. It slipped from his grasp.

“I’ll take you up on your offer.” He replied to Sofila.

“Take your time. The Elders have the watch,” he said as he made his way into the room, waiting on Tahiri.

Sofila took in a deep breath and pushed everything she had seen today down further. Her hands glowed while she rested her hand on his chest and started the process of healing him.

Cole, as much as he was leaning against the window, drew his blaster rifle and at least stood sentry.

He didn’t expect any threats but it felt wrong to not overwatch as well.

Tahiri saw Rich'ard’s offered hand, and was about to take it when Zxyl offered to help. The hestitation in the gaunt man’s body to stop himself from hugging was something she knew all too well. Kark it, this might be serious. But if something happens, then I’d rather give him something to keep hope than let it die.

She stepped forward and took his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze while opening her arms a little, letting him make the move for a hug if he wanted.

<@837236610684813342>

Giving Rich'ard a gentle smile, the tone in her voice gentle as well, “Thank you.” Before turning towards the door, her stride full of determination as she followed Zxyl through the door. She was thankful he had volunteered, but she wondered why she would have to have assistant, while everyone else thus far had been alone in their trials. Whatever laid beyond this door she would overcome, as the other team members had done with theirs, and as she had done with her own trials to get where she was today.

All I’ve done since I was born, I’ve had to do trial after trial to prove myself. This one is no different, if only in the sense that this is rid us of a narcissistic and cruel enemy.

Slipping through the door, and letting it shut behind her, she nodded to Zxyl, before pausing to look about the seemingly empty square room.

As soon as she heard the voice, all the muscles in her body immediately tensed. The voice was eerie, almost familiar, like listening to old Sith Lord datacrons when she was a student.

Clenching her fists before relaxing them again she walked toward the center on the room, knowing and understanding what she was supposed to do. That’s why there was to be two in the room, but only one taking the trial. Her hunter eyes darted about the dull empty room, glancing over at Zxyl.

Zxyl crossed his arms, watching Tahiri intently. He hadn’t heard anything from her since they had entered the room.

Taking a deep breath, the petite Togruta reached out and began to emmerse herself within the Dark Side energies around her. Kark you, and this whole thing. I will make you pay.

Rolling her shoulders, and relaxing her arms, while her hands rested on her lightsaber hilts, she closed her eyes, before suddenly speaking in a dark and venomous tone, “Everything will be fine once this is all over.”

Sofila finished healing Hector and exhaled. She felt heavy. Exhausted. Grasped Hector by the shoulder and shook him, “You did good!”

With that, she plopped onto the sands and started to focus on using the Force to regain her energies.

Zxyl uncrossed his arms as Tahiri’s hands moved to her weapons, keeping his saber vambrace arm free as rested his hand close to Duraanir.

After she spoke, he removed the triple phase lightsaber from his belt, and spoke in a calm voice.

“Lady Tarentae. You must resist whatever Magick is afflicting you.”

It’s not Magick, or anything. It’s just the trial, kark if only there was some way to tell him. But I can’t, not out loud, or in another language. By the stars, how do I do this, without betraying everyone’s trust? She really wished there weren’t any windows to this room, knowing exactly how everyone else would react to what was to happen.

An idea suddenly popped into Tahiri’s head as she set her jaw, preparing for what she was about to do. Knowing this was a huge risk, and if they didn’t make this look good, not only would she fail, but she would be taking Zxyl down with her. However, either way she looked at it, he would get seriously injured, and herself by comparison.

Reaching out through the Force, connecting with the Zabrak Mandalorians mind. “General Zxyl Bes'uliik, forgive me for the intrusion and being upfront, I wish no disrespect. But at the risk of failing this trial, and most likely the end my own life, I must implore you to go along with what I’m about to do. Your life is as much in danger here as is mine, however you must be at deaths doorstep, so that I may succeed.”

<@260640060775464960>

Zxyl was miffed that Tahiri had entered his mind - even if that had been the only way for her to communicate. He held his lightsaber in his hand.. and considered her position for a moment. He loathed the idea of being at death’s doorstep, as it were. He sighed, clipping his lightsaber back to his belt. There had to be another way, but if this was the only route Tahiri would explore, so be it.

“I wish for this trial to be over with as soon as you do. Please believe me, it’s not my wish to critically wound you, especially since I helped heal you from your trial,” Tahiri’s heart thumped hard, hurting her chest, as she felt the anger of her fellow Elder through the connection.

“If you have any ideas, I’m more than willing to listen. But we must be fast and work together to make this as believable as possible.”

“Just get it over with, Tarentae.”, gone was the “Lady”, and a sour tone

Sofila finished charging as she exhaled slowly. She felt much better and more energized. She was ready.

Wait.

It’s been quiet.

Too quiet. Her brows furrowed while she got up from the sands and made her way to the window. She thought it was odd that they both go in. Hasn’t Rich'ard made a point to make sure only one goes in?

Suns, for a moment there she almost opened the door on Cole’s trail-

Blood was everywhere. Pieces of the matter on the floor lingered for a moment. Her heart hurts again. She has to stay strong and steady.

She looked out of the window. Tahiri’s hands was on the hilt and she seemed to be… looking at Zxyl.

“I’m…. worried. Rich'ard, didn’t you say that only one is suppose to go in and one comes out…?”

Taking note of the tone in his voice, her hold on the Dark Side lessened a bit. How can I possibly do this, why would and why was this even a trial? I’ve done this before with Blackhawk, so that he could get out of getting harassed by Master. Why is this so hard now?

The Togruta’s shoulders slumped slightly, before feeling the pressure build up around her. She pulled back on the connection between her and Zxyl, as her own mind was a whirlwind of thoughts. Taking another deep breath, she hated what she was about to do, but if she could find another way to complete this task, the Elder would much rather take it. But this is the trial and this is what must happen. If another way presents itself, then I’ll take that path.

Opening her eye’s, slightly glowing from the amount of energy within her being. Clenching her jaw, her lip curling back to reveal a fang, she grasped her sabers. Upon igniting the crimson blades, she flipped the howling shoto saber in a backwards grip, as the Togruta then sprang forward to attack the Mandalorian. Her goal to get this over with as fast as possible, for both of their sakes.

Zxyl mentally sighed, and chose to not react. Whatever this trial was, it was dumb, and he’d be the one to sink his blade through Scimitar first. The most movement he did was on the sly to allow Tahiri to strike one of the few open spots in his armor, allowing her to deal the maximum amount of damage she needed to in order to get the trial over with.

“You know what, kark Scimitar.” Sofila growled as she looked back over to the window and wh-

Wa-

Wh-

Was Tahiri going for-

Without a moment hesitation, she unclipped her blaster from the holster and aimed it at Tahiri, “Tahiri, stop!” But she didn’t.

Kark. She took in a deep breath and squeezed the trigger.

Cole had to resist the urge to stumble over there and fire too, watching Sofila’s back with tension.

“Hnnnhhhhhh,” Zxyl grunted once more as his vision faded first, then turned to black as he lost consciousness.

They will pay.

Tahiri forced herself up, reflexively clipping her sabers back in place. She rushed over to Zxyl as fast as her legs could carry her, the blaster wound on her leg stinging. She didn’t care about that though, she knew it was bound to happen someday. Bigger men and creatures have fallen to my blades, but Zxyl is not one I would have wished to ever have my blade mar his flesh.

Snatching the crystal out of the air to be sure it didn’t fall on the Zabrak, and placing it beside them as she knelt down. Carefully, the Togruta cradled his head, being careful not to accidentally pull his helmet off, while reaching to place her other hand on the wound, and then looking back towards the door, the tone in her voice urgent, “Please help me! Sofila, please!”

Turning back to Zxyl, her hand glowed slightly red as she began to pour her energy into his wound, doing her best to repair the damage she had done. I’m going to repay the trust you put in me no matter what.

Sofila gritted her teeth as she ran to the other side of Zxyl. Her Force and healing was shaky. Behind the helmet, she stared at Tahiri, wondering if she could really ever trust her again.

Tahiri stared down at the Mandalorians golden helmet, the shiny portions reflecting back her eyes. Eyes that when were first changed she was proud of, now they were only a reminder of days where she was continually fighting to prove herself again and again.

Out of the corner of her vision, she saw Sofila join her. However, there was a feeling that Tahiri was not surprised about, just disappointed in herself for making her friend feel that way about her.

“I’m sorry.”

Cole made his way over, his features a mask bar his eyes that held tension as he peered into the room through the window.

Hed wanted to step forward sooner but between his own unidentified injuries and the others being there he’d hesitated.

Zxyl’s eyes snapped open beneath his helmet, his usual heterochromatic irises and dull grey sclera replaced with an ichor green glow that bled through even his dark crimson t-shaped visor. The Mandalorian General clenched his fist, pure rage filling his psyche. He summoned every single ounce of telekinetic energy he had, sending out an omnidirectional burst of telekinesis meant to push back anyone close to him as far as he could manage.

Sofila growled at Tahiri, “Don’t apolog-” She didn’t get to finish as there was a blast of Force, her arms instinctively went up in a peek-a-boo boxer guard pose.

Her back slammed against the wall as Sofila let out a grunt in discomfort and pain.

Cole was looking but even as he saw the minor shift to the Regent’s posture, he wasn’t with it enough to duck away, the telekinetic blast slamming into him. The Mercenary slammed backwards into a wall, head taking more of the blow than desirable. His vision swayed but he was up still, if blinking back the sudden fuzz in his vision.

Probably should have expected that.

Zxyl rolled over to his knees, clenching the would-be hole in his chest - where immense pain still burned like a violent flame - and slowly pushed himself to his feet with his free hand. Once vertical green ichor swirled around his hand and lightsaber as it snapped to his hand. He lifted it, activating it’s faded purple-to-black blade… but something was different. Green ichor continued to bleed from his eyes, visible behind his red visor, and swirl around the lightsaber. It engulfed the blade of the weapon, pulsing between purple and green before solidifying as a fade-to-black green blade that emitted bits of unstable ichor and crackled with lightning.

The whole ordeal lasted just over fifteen seconds, before his rage naturally subsided and he collapsed to one knee, deactivating the weapon and hanging his head, body heaving - he was clearly panting.

Sofila exhaled sharply as she gathered herself enough to get back on her feet and watched Zxyl before her. Her hands were relaxed and at the ready to clench and fight if she needed to.

The green ichor was concerning. Last time she saw it, it brought their ships crashing down onto this planet. Was it possessing him? Controlling him? As fast as it arrived, it was over.

“… Zxyl?” Sofila called out to him.

Being closest to the epicenter of telekinetic Force wave that emanated from the Zabrak, she felt most of the brunt from it. As such, she couldn’t react fast enough to keep from being driven into the wall behind her. She had turned slightly, but now she wished she hadn’t. What felt like electricity shot through her left side as she slammed in the rough stone wall, along with a stinging sensation along her spine from impact. The Elder heard a sickening low cracking sound, groaning softly as she knew that one of her ribs were possibly fractured, maybe even broken.

As her back slid painfully down the wall a little, before catching a handhold to keep her upright. Barely standing herself, Tahiri chest felt heavy as she watched Zxyl stand, his own Magick engulf him and change his blade. Though as suddenly as that happened, watching as he fell to one knee, she watched and waited in silence for whatever was to happen next, a slightly pained, yet solemn expression on her face.

The Mandalorian General continued huffing for a moment, struggling to catch his breath. The green ichor faded from his eyes, the hue of his visor returning to its regular dark crimson. The pain was immense, and he struggled to catch his breath. He wasn’t even aware of what he had just done to their entorauge.

“Yes,” came his direct reply to Sofila, as he slowly lifted his head her head in his direction. His voice was… different. It still had its regular sound mixed with the mechanicalistic tinge of sound from his external vocoder, but a much darker and almost sinsiter sounding otherworldly voice echoed at the same time as he spoke.

“I… a-am alive,” Bes'uliik declared. That dark echo voice remained. The genetically altered Dathomirian-Mandalorian struggled as he slowly pushed himself back up to his feet. He remained hunched over slightly, still grasping at his chest where the Tarentae’s blade had slid through the thin gap on the side of his beskar chestplate. He looked around for a moment at the rest of the group, most of whom were along the edges of the room. The Elder looked down at his hand for a moment.

“Did… I do something?”

Sofila watched Zxyl’s movements carefully. Does she need to go for the attack?

The Mandalorian responded. But that was not his voice. Or was it? There was some hint to it but it wasn’t him.

Sofila used the Force to reach out and help her to figure this out. There was nothing external happening. It was an internal, a surge of some sorts.

He’s not possessed.

“You woke up after being healed and blasted us away from you. Are you okay?”

“I will be, once we finish this charade for good,” Bes'uliik responded. He slowly moved to a portion of the walls in the hallway and out of the room, pulling his gravity hammer from his back and using it as a walking stick to help support the weight of himself and his beskar armor. He felt so heavy. His soul felt so heavy. The Dathomirian-Mandalorian placed his back against the wall, sliding all the way down to a fully seated position. He closed his eyes.

Cole had managed to move away from the wall, despite the fact his head killed and his vision was fuzzy. Karking ow.

He rubbed the back of his head, looking toward the room but staying quiet for now.

Sofila watched him and glanced over to Tahiri. She had no words. Stepped out of the room, she glanced around to make sure everyone was okay. Zxyl and Hector seemed to be resting alongside with Titius, who frankly, looks bored. Savi started forward towards Rich'ard.

“Be careful, Savi.” Sofila was worried. Then her eyes rested on Cole. Why was he rubbing the back of his head? Since Savi wasn’t in the trial yet for her to look out of the window, the Mirialan walked up to Cole.

“Are you okay?”

“I got caught in the blast.” Cole stated, speaking softly. “If you’re tired you don’t need to heal it yet. Or we can ask Titius if he can look later.”

It wasn’t an urgent injury even if it was annoying and with two trials left to go… He hesistated to want to use resources when he wasn’t going be in a front line situation again. In theory.

Groaning as she pushed off from the wall, Tahiri somehow managing to walk over and bend down to pick up the crystal without ending up in fetal position due to the pain was a miracle. Slowly following Sofila out, she looked around to all the others, didn’t say anything, and found a spot against the wall away from everyone. Leaning against the wall, she decided it best not to sit down, wondering if she’d even be able to get up afterwards.

Glancing at Sofila and then at Zxyl, her chest hurt more than her other wounds combined. The Togruta wasn’t going to ask to be healed, but she realized that later on she would have to talk with both of them, possibly a Savi as well after this. I don’t blame any of them if they don’t trust me, I just hope that they will listen to me when we do speak again. I’m a Sith, it’s natural to not trust me. The Elder stayed still so as not to aggravate her wounds, noticing the burned flesh on her leg from Sofila’s blaster bolt. Sighing inwardly, Another scar to add to the collection.

Sofila’s eyes narrowed and her jaw tightened. He was lucky to not see that considering she’s wearing her helmet. Said nothing else, her hands started glowing and she placed her hands on the back of his head and-

Was that a red line at his neck?

She hissed under her breath. If he wanted to get her better, he needed to stop being such a kark-

She exhaled slowly and focused on healing Cole. The Mirialan pushed her anger back down.

Now wasn’t the time.

Once the throbbing in his head felt better Cole murmured, “Thank you.”

He’d heard the hiss but couldn’t see what she had. It was best for later. They didn’t have time until the mission was over.

He just hoped she wouldn’t be tired by that point.

Zuska had returned from his short patrol down a couple of the connecting hallways. Seeing his Alpha back, he loped over to her, his whip like tail wagging back and forth. The wound on her leg made his tail droop, whimpering a little as he gently sniffed it, smelling the slight ozone scent coming from it. Turning to sit beside that leg, he licked at the wound, her muscles only twitched a little as he did that. Looking up, he whined a little, waiting for her to say or give him any sign that she was okay.

Reaching down to scritch his head, she gave the vornskr a tiny smile and whispered, “Thanks buddy, I’ll be alright. Eventually.” Glancing over at Sofila, a hint of sadness creeping into her features.

Sniffing the wound again, he looked confusedly between her and his bright haired friend. Standing up he sniffed the wound again and then trotted over to his friend, trying to figure these strange feelings he was getting from her.

“Are you hurt anywhere else Cole?” Sofila asked. Rich'ard chimed in that it was time for them to go to the next trail. So it wasn’t here. Her eyes glanced around at her team. They were getting hit hard.

“No running, please. Lead us the way.”

“Bruising on the throat.” He hadn’t noticed she’d seen it, “Not urgent in any way.”

Savran didn’t hesitate to step forward.

“I’ll do it,” they intoned, seemingly unperturbed by the prospect of facing a trial of their own despite how difficult they seemed to be. They had resolved themselves to see Scimitar’s destruction to the very end, and this would bring them one step closer to that goal. The sooner this was over, the sooner they could continue on the mad Sith’s trail.

“Let’s get this over with.”

They paused for a moment and turned to look to Sofila, Cole, and Tahiri; then, they turned back and stepped through the door.

Cole met their gaze, giving a small nod.

He hoped they had a better time of it than him but then again.. he didn’t know how old thr Shani was. Older than his father had been. Perhaps even his grandfather.

That was a lot of life.

“Yea.” Sofila sounded snappy. “That’s healed.”

The Mirialan followed Rich'ard as her eyes looked around. Red skies. If this wasn’t a trial and none of her team members lives were on the line, this would’ve been beautiful.

Now it’s just ominous.

Sofila noticed Savi turned to look at her, “You got this!” She called out to Savi.

Then she looked over to Rich'ard. “Once we get you out, we’ll help you settle into the world outside, okay? Just… not wanting to talk about it now.”

Savi narrowed their eyes at the cup resting atop the mantle. After taking a step forward to have a closer look at the contents of the cup, it didn’t take them long to recognize what this was. During their studies of the more eclectic philosophies of the Force found throughout the galaxy and time, they had come across a number of cocktails that were often used to invoke altered states of consciousness. They were often used to gain some insight unavailable to the mind in its normal state, or to tap into a deeper connection to the Force.

They sucked their teeth while weighing their options. They knew they were in for a really drukky time if they drank it. But what option did they have?

“Bottoms up, I guess.”

Savi grabbed the cup, tilted their head back, and drank its contents.

The voice of the dreaded Emperor’s voice sent an all-too familiar chill up Savran’s spine. Although they had abandoned the Jedi order long before the events of that horrible day, of the Order’s destruction, they felt in the Force when the Great Purge began. Hundreds, thousands of voices cried out in the Force as they were snuffed out in an instant, leaving a wound within it that had taken far too long to heal. But heal it did, and just as the Force itself had recovered from the tragedy, Savi knew now that there was nothing they could have done to prevent the slaughter of the Jedi. They were at peace with that fact.

Savi exhaled and reached to the nearest guardrail to steady themselves. They’d been through worse. Survived worse. This damned trial wouldn’t get the better of them. Steeling themselves for the next task, the saffron-skinned Shani moved to the next cup and drank.

Sofila watched and stayed quiet. So Savi would have to keep drinking? How can she help if she doesn’t know what Savi is going through? All she can do at the moment was to watch and wait. Maybe telepathy might help if she notice they start to slip…

The second drink racked Savi’s head with pain, but they shook off the lingering effects of the images that appeared in their head. They knew these memories well enough to know that what they saw at the end was a farce, a not-so-subtle manipulation of what had happened in an attempt to dishevel them.

“Going to have to do better than that,” they muttered to themselves before drinking the third cup.

And so, the most painful moment in Savran’s past was thrown into their face for a second time this year, forcing them to contemplate the death of their beloved master more times than they had done in more than a century. Standing there once again was the image of their Cathar Jedi master, Nurysa Jal. Savi instinctively recoiled from the sight as their resolute demeanor faltered.

“Not this druk again.” They furrowed their brows while staring back at the apparition, torn between feeling the sting of having to see Nurysa against their will and the caustic sensation that began to eat away at them. A tattooed hand found the guardrail again, gripping it tightly as they fought to keep themselves from doubling over at the pain.

Zxyl slowly and carefully crossed his legs as he sat up against the wall, keeping his back firmly against it for additional support as he remained in his position - letting Savran and the others deal with the other trials. He’d already sacrificed much for this mission, and he knew it. He’d take the time available, and entered a healing trance to slowly repair the damage to his chest that had been done by the Togruta’s lightsaber blade.

Tahiri had followed the group silently, after flashing Rich'ard a small weak smile. Zuska had paused in his curiosity to instead stay by her side till she could settle against the wall in this new place. She had tried before to immerse herself in the Force, grasping at it to heal, unfortunately, it had slipped from her grip. Her mind was too muddled with the thoughts and feelings that were only partially her own.

The walk there had helped, and Savi looking back at her, had filled her with a bit of hope that they didn’t hate her too much. Still would have to talk with them at some point, but now she just wanted to focus on either, giving any support she could to her friends and teammates, or healing. Maybe I’ll ask Sofila after this is all done, if I don’t manage it myself. Frack, I really should’ve asked Elyon for a lesson or two.

Glancing over at Zxyl, the Togruta was glad to see he at least seemed ok, even though his voice had changed slightly. Positioning herself against a wall that was closest to the windows, so that she could look in and watch the trial as it unfolded. She decided she would wait a moment or two before attempting to heal again.

**After his Alpha had settled against a wall, the sleek vornskr decided to finally satisfy his curiosity, But not before sniffing and licking at the wound on her leg again, as the horrible burnt flesh smell made him want to hurt the one who harmed her. Stalking over and sniffing around his bright haired friend, the scent he caught wasn’t the exact same scent, but the ozone smell was much clearer and it came from the barking metal brick attached to the metal clad females’ right hip.

Zuska leaned away from her for a moment, carefully looking up at her, not wanting to believe that his new and wonderful friend would harm his Alpha. He stepped back and snuffed the air, licking it a little as he wanted to be sure it wasn’t one of the other current pack members. But the scent led him straight back to her. An unwarranted audible growl came from deep inside, before he looked up at her, backed away with his ears laid back, and whimpered as he walked back to his Alpha.**

Cole wandered up to the window, seemingly steadier to those around thought it was more than he felt in truth. He leant against the widnow to watch.

His expressive was impassive but while Cole didn’t know Savi well, he knew them better than the others here. They weren’t close but there was a respect there if nothing else and they were peers today. He’d help them if they needed it. Three drinks in and their first hesistation. It was a good start.

Sofila kept an eye out and saw something moved at the corner of her eye. She smiled behind her mask. But then froze. He was… searching. Seeking.

Then the focus on her blaster as she grimaced behind her helmet. How do you tell an animal she was trying to stop her and not kill her? He growled and Sofila flinched, not sure if he was going to attack her.

Followed by his ears being down and a sad whimper, he went back to Tahiri. Sofila sighed sadly as she turned to look to Savi.

Kark. Kark you, Scimitar. We will make you suffer for **everything* you did to us*

Even though Savi had expected something like this to happen, it didn’t make it any less vexing to deal with. The tone of disappointment carried in the Nurysa imitation’s voice was one they hadn’t heard since their training. When they first joined the Order, they had trouble fitting in because of their frightening appearance, and they adapted by using the fear of the other younglings to get what they wanted. That didn’t last for long, though. Not with Nurysa Jal as their master. She had looked at her with that same disapproving look and used that same tone when chastising them for their actions. Part of them was beginning to feel like that same little Shani who just wanted to fit in … to be recognized as something other than a monster; however, the voice of that lonely child was drowned out by the persistent drone of a much stronger emotion: anger.

“You’re not real,” they fired back, their words delivered with a venomous tone. “Master Jal would never blame me for what happened.”

Kark. How badly they wanted to strangle someone. When they finally had the opportunity to kill that Sith bastard, they were going to make sure they took their time.

They grabbed the next cup and lifted it to their mouth to drink it all before tossing the cup aside.

More painful memories were pulled from Savi’s mind and used against them. They felt their body tense when the sound of their late Master’s demise, and quickly shut their eyes to prevent themselves from having to see the woman’s lifeless body again. They took a slow, shaky breath with the hopes of calming themselves; it worked, for the most part, though their legs felt weak, and they couldn’t shake the tightness they felt in their chest.

But they had to persist. And pesist they did, taking the next cup and drinking it.

“You’ve survived harder trials than this, Tekuani.” Cole called out, firm. This was a strained situation, difficult but he knew this was possible for them. “Stand straight and breathe easier. Put your experience to use.”

The voice of Cole wasn’t one they’d expected to hear. If anyone was going to speak to them, aid them in their trial, it would’ve been Sofila. But he was right. They had been through far worse than this, which amounted to a drop in the bucket compared to the hardship they’d seen over the last three centuries. Their mind was ready for whatever they saw, but their body? That was a different story altogether.

Savi doubled over immediately when the pain hit and seemingly set every nerve in their body aflame. As the conflagration spread and consumed every inch of fresh ground, it took everything in Savi’s power not to scream, reducing the instinctual reaction to a feeble whimper that they hoped no one else could hear.

“Savi?” Cole spoke, softer but still with enough that they’d hear him.

“You’re past the half way mark.”

“You’re right,” Savi murmured, though their voice trembled with every word. “I can do this.”

They forced themselves to grab the next cup and threw it back.

Savran felt a pang of shock thrum within their core when they saw Kerissa standing there. Taking a step back, they nearly slipped off the steps while trying to distance themselves from the woman who looked as if she wanted absolutely nothing to do with them.

“Y-You shouldn’t be here,” they muttered while averting their gaze. This was more of a comment to Savi themselves than to the hallucination, for they knew exactly what it meant for the entheogenic brew to be showing them her face. For Kerissa to be used as a tool to break them, it could only mean that the lavender-skinned woman meant far more to Savi than they were willing to admit.

“Don’t look at me that way…”

Bes'uliik decided to break his healing trance early, growing impatient with the progress the group had made this far in their journey to retrieve Scimitar’s lightsaber. It was taking too long, despite whatever suffering the group had been enduring along the way.

Zxyl slowly pushed himself up from the seated position against the wall, still struggling. While the wound had been healed greatly by the efforts of Tahiri, Sofila, and himself, it wasn’t fully healed and he could still feel the burn of the blade in his chest. He’d have to get a full examination of the damage done by Aisha when he returned back to Mattock Station. The Mandalorian turned his head side to side, examining the hallway for the others. After sitting down and entering his trance, he hadn’t paid attention to any of the things that were going on around him. He assumed the others were continuing the trials, of which by his count there were only two left.

“Hnnnhh,” the further altered Dathomirian-Mandalorian let out as a pained grunt. He hadn’t felt such pain since one of his coming-of-age trials on Nau'ur or that one trip to Elysia in the Chyron system alongside members of his home clan Taldryan, when he had nearly perished from a lightwhip burning through the armored cowl on his neck.

Curious who was currently undergoing the next trial - and uncharacteristically interested in how it was going, to boot - Bes'uliik slowly made his way down the hall towards where the others were gathered - peering past any of those not in the trial through the window to have a peek inside the room.

He saw Savran - a being he had zero contact with prior to this, and still hadn’t talked to this far - undergoing whatever trial they were, and figured the person had it well in hand with the cheerleaders right there with them. Moving on, he turned his helmeted head to Rich'ard, considering what his next steps with the Temple’s Guardian were going to be. Should he kill him? Free him from his bond through his own Magick? The questions rolled around in the Elder’s head.

Neither, for now… he decided, moving on and locating the Togruta that had drove her blade into his chest. He approached his would-be killer and her pet cautiously and non-intimidating…ly, staring at her from behind the seclusion of his gold and gunmetal grey helmet. The soft burning light of the temple interior danced across the dark crimson T-shaped visor as he moved his head.

“Tahiri. The time for wallowing in the grief of your actions is over” he said flatly, the dark and otherworldly echo continuing to mirror his words, “Soon, those that have forced us into this mess will be punished. You must be ready.”

He wasn’t sure he was ever going to get used to that.

Tahiri had continued to watch the trial with curious interest, she faintly remembered that the Shani had already lived a couple full lifetimes. However, the amount of thing she had been through, the Togruta could only imagine. Hearing Zuska’s growl she had turned to see with dismay that the smart vornskr had figured out what had happened, and whimper he had as he came back to sit and gently lean against her almost made her heart break. Patting him on head, she sent a gentle mental note that Sofila didn’t mean to hurt her, that it’s going to be ok. She then decided to try again to heal herself, grasping at the Force, she succeeded in only healing some of the cuts and scrapes on her body before it slipped away from her again, sighing as she finished.

Zuska looked up at the hulking metal male as he approached, his ears perking forward. Giving a soft huff, he simply sat up straighter, sensing that the male wasn’t here to hurt his Alpha, but he going to be ready just in case.

I can’t keep doing this, get a grip Tahiri Drakon. You’ve been through worse than this, look at the bright side, no one is dead. You’ve lost friendships over less than this, and still got them back later. Making and losing friendships is easy, but fully loosing a friend to death hurts more than that, no matter where the friendship was left, her own pep talk of thoughts were interrupted by the dark echoing altered voice of the Zabrak.

She stared up at him for a second, blinking a couple times before cocking her head a little to the left. Hearing him say her first name instead of ‘Lady Tarentae’ was new and something she hadn’t expected from him. She flashed him a sudden fanged smile, feeling a bit lifted. Shaking her head, getting rid of all the thoughts from what she had sensed from Sofila. He was right, she needed to get a grip and continue. Her future actions would overrule her past.

Looking directly at the Mandalorians visor, before pushing off from the wall, offering her hand and arm in a sign of respect, “You’re correct, Scimitar and all those who willingly kill in his name will be punished. Together, we’ll take him down.”

Zxyl nodded. It had taken a lot for him to say what he did. Although the Dathomirian-Mandalorian had volunteered for the trial, he had disagreed with the quick decision Tahiri had made in it - even if he just wanted it to be over with and for them to move on.

He took the Togruta’s hand an arm with his own, grasping it tightly - but not enough to hurt her, of course. For her, Bes'uliik doubted she could if she wanted to because of the beskar shell he wore.

“When this is all over, Lady Tarentae, I would enjoy the opportunity to someday spar with you and not just stand there like a sword dummy.”

The Mandalorian returned to the previous formality he had used prior, now that the woman was getting a grip on her emotions. He had no idea if the echo that followed his speech was off-putting, but he also didn’t care. This transformation, this awakening, was here to stay and he’d make use of it if he needed to. Until those times, he’d conceal the true strength of his powers - though not the fact he was Force-sensitive, given the cat was out of the bag the moment he said anything.

It was a pity. For years he railed against Force-sensitive Mandalorians, insisting internally that they were less than what they were because of their unnatural abilities. And now he was one of them, and couldn’t even hide it.

Now that the dual Tarentae-di Plagia title holder was back on her feet and in a better mental position to contribute, the General turned his attention to the trial at hand.

“How are they doing?” his mirrored voice asked, curious as to the progress Savran was making at this point. He directed his question square at Sofila and Cole, who had been the most interested in their comrade’s trial.

Soon.

“Well.” Cole said firmly, “But whatever it is they’re drinking is causing hallucinations that are worsening. Three more to go.”

Sofila exhaled slowly and focused on Savi as she attempted to send a message, “Keep going. Make the trial your schutta.”

“One more Savran.” Cole spoke, leaning on his elbows as he stared into the room, a frown on his face. “Just push through it.”

Tahiri had simply nodded and smiled at Zxyl, before turning with him back to Savi’s trial. Watching as the it progressed further, each time the Shani drank, the illusions causing pain and grief to them. Tahiri’s heart ached, but she couldn’t do anything.

There was one last cup and then it would be done, she got closer to glass, “Savi, don’t give up. You can make it through this.”

It had started so well. Although they had expected to have their resolve tested by Scimitar’s trials, just as the rest of their teammates had, Savi could never have imagined the depth of the anguish they would experience so soon after successfully fending off the last round of hallucinations. Three centuries of life in this broken galaxy had taught Savran that an otherwise tranquil life could be thrown into ruin in an instant, and they had come to anticipate the capricious turns in the winds of fate as a fact of life. As bleak an outlook on life as some considered it to be, it helped them cope; they had seen more death, more anguish and suffering than most could even conceive. Yet, that tolerance for misfortune that Savi prided themselves on offered little reprieve for what followed. When they dared allow the contents of the seventh cup to flow past their onyx-painted lips, they sealed their fate.

The alchemical brew lit every nerve in the Shani’s body on fire. Like a reactor core had been activated in their chest, the excruciating pain forced Savi to their knees and ripped a shrill, desperate cry of anguish from their throat. Their mind pleaded for them to silence the pain. How they managed to do so, didn’t matter … they just needed it to end. It had to end. Every ounce of resolve they could muster helped them resist the pain long enough to grab a stim injector from their belt. Their hand shook violently, so there would be no delicate application. After ripping off the plastic film meant to keep the needle sterile, they slammed it into their thigh and pressed the button to deploy the stim’s medicinal cocktail. A sharp, full gasp–as if they were breathing for the first time–followed once the drugs hit their bloodstream. The pain subsided, thank the Force. Now, all they had to do was drink the final cup and this would be over.

But how could they? The next drink would be even worse than this one, and it had nearly broken them. Was Savi strong enough to finish this? The words of their teammates, of Cole and Tahiri, suggested they were. But they hadn’t felt what they just had. They had no idea.

That brief moment of doubt spelled Savran’s undoing. Like a wounded animal finally cornered by a hungry nexu, they were helpless to stop the impending assault on their body, mind, and spirit. Every trauma unearthed in this trial and many more that they’d kept safely locked away in the farthest reaches of their mind came crashed into them; the excruciating pain reappeared with renewed intensity, and the voices of all those Savi had lost–and those they feared losing–formed a torturous cacophony. It was too much. Their chest tightened, and the room spun. The last thing they or anyone heard was the defeated mewl of a warrior brought to their lowest point.

Then, everything went black.

The final drink was imbibed, and Savran drew their final breath.

Sofila grimaced at the cry of death Savi made. Her heart dropped. It wasn’t long after that the crystal appeared and the door opened. Without a moment hesitation, the Mirialan ran to Savi’s side, her fingers up against their neck. She felt no pulse.

“Will need help here!” She shouted after the others.

“Titius, if you can help without cutting into them, that would be karkin’ great!” Sofila then shut her mind out for any other distractions that may come. If they wanted her away from Savi, they would have to physically grab her. Savi saved her life. It was time for Sofila to repay the favor.

“You don’t give up that easy, schutta.” Sofila murmered softly as her hands started to glow and rested on their chest. Her eyelids closed and she focused deeply, pouring everything she had.

Cole froze at the sight of Savran dropping. There was no resistance to it, their eyes glazed the moment before they dropped. He’d seen death enough in his life to recognise when it was trying to strike.

He stayed put at the window. With no medical skills and Sofila rallying the group to help there was no point in him filling the room as well. There was nothing he could do. So he watched, expression passive as it ever was as if unaffected; yet if his knuckles were white with the grip he maintained on the window ledge then so be it.

Elly took a few worried steps forward, joining Cole at the window. She had absolutely no experience when it came to medical stuff besides knowing to put pressure on a wound, but there wasn’t a wound. There wasn’t anything she could do. She didn’t know Savran personally but it still hurt to see a teammate dying.

Tahiri’s own heart skipped a beat, watching as Savran dropped to the ground. Then found she was holding her breath till the light flashed and Sofila ran in to check on the Savi. When the Mirialan called out for help, the Elder understood what had happened and pushed herself through her own pain to go into the room to help. Even though she had nearly killed one of their team, she was still going to do everything in her own power to make sure none of the team actually died.

Once she got to Savi’s side, Tahiri took a deep breath and positioned her hands above the Shani’s chest over their heart. “Sofila, back up for just a second,” taking another breath as she reached determinedly into the Force. “I believe I can restart Savi’s heart with a bit of lightning, but I need you to back up for just one moment.” Tahiri held still as she felt and saw the first sparks jump between her fingers.

“Oh and, umm Titius? If you would be so kind as to prepare something to numb the pain for me,” her tone was a little pleading at this point, as she could feel the throbbing in her rib cage with every breath. “It would be much appreciated.”

“Dont have a fathier in that race, so no. They’re unconscious already …although a word of advice? Put a hand under their back unless you wish to simply fry their skin.Good luck” The words were good but the intent was not, plain to the assembled group. Titius leant their head over, cracking his neck. “Right, time for a new trial. Which way Rich'ard? Or can you not even tell me that without exploding?”

Rising from his perch, he hefted the medical pack onto its mount and strode toward the waiting host.

Tahiri shook her head, gritting her teeth as she promptly placed one of her hands under the Shani’s back. She glanced at Sofila as she paused in her healing, backing away just far enough to let the Togruta do her thing. Then stole a quick glanced over her shoulder at Titius, calling back to, “Ah, right, thanks Titius. Though I actually meant, I’m gonna need something to dull my pain.” The crackling between her fingers grew stronger, as she got ready to channel the shock through Savi’s heart. “If you have a moment, please?”

Titius paused a moment before asking “How much do you weigh and how loopy do you want to be?”

Using Force Lightning on Allies is always concerning. Hector thought to himself.

He was no doctor but even he could assume that the Lightning could cause damage to the heart or other organs even as the patient (Or was it victim?) was brought back to consciousness. He knelt down and immersed himself in the Force. He could feel his skin begin to chill as adrenaline flooded his veins. The Dark Side was always hungry. Eager to devour whoever or whatever it could get its hands on. With practiced will he held the Darkness at bay, caging it, until it was time to turn its typically destructive energy towards healing.

Furrowed her brow for a moment in concentration, “I’m 56.7 kilograms, and umm, as least bit loopy as possible, please.”

Having given the necessary information to him, she saw out of her peripheral that Hector had knelt near Savi. Taking one last small breath, Tahiri let it out slowly as she sent one short burst of lightning through the Shani’s chest, feeling as it escape into her hand below. Seeing nothing change, she did it once more, waiting a second, before pulling her hand out from underneath to check Savi’s pulse, still nothing.

Gritting her teeth again, under her breath she muttered, “I almost lost two teammates cause of this fracking women rat, I’m not going to loose any others. Now breath, kark it!” Placing her hand back under, she put slightly more into this third burst of lightning. She felt something beat against her hand underneath, was she imagining it. Checking Savran’s pulse again, she was elated to find a pulse, it was weak, but it was there. Smiling, Tahiri pulled her hands back, grounding herself while letting the residual effects of the Force lightning disappate. Looking up at Sofila, she kept smiling and nodded, “Savi’s pulse is weak, but they’re alive. Do you what you need to.” Then scooting back she felt a sting in her side as her ribs protested against the sudden movement.

Titius knelt, doffing his pack again. Reaching in, he produced a syringe, needle and a roll of vials. “Slightly loopy, no, no, nope, definitely not, am I made of credits?, er…may cause emesis, best not. OOH, this’ll do!” Whipping a vial out with practiced finesse, Titius’ medical training became evident as the syringe was loaded with a violently green fluid, capped and loaded into an autoinjector.

Titius whistled before whipping the autoinjector at Tahiri. “Somewhere meaty and enjoy the side effects. I wouldn’t try to stand up for a minute…”

Hector channeled the raw energy of the living Force into Savi. His brow knit in concentration as he maintained the flow of energy. He lacked the strength to fully heal the damage done but he could prevent the lightning from injuring Savi and aid in the stabilizing process. He was content in knowing he had allies that could help Savi return to good health.

Sofila was focused. Even as Tahiri and Titius talked, it was a faint and distant buzz in the back of her mind. Her eyes were right on Savi’s body. When Hector moved in, so did Sofila. Her hyperfocus helped while her hands glowed and she focused on the damages that had been made on Savi’s body.

Catching the device, she smiled and nodded thankfully, before pressing the device to her thigh, hearing a small click and then feeling a pinprick as it released to drug into her system. She sat crossed legged, turning slightly to toss the autoinjector back to him, “Thank you Titius. I wasn’t planning on moving for a bit anyways.”

Watching as Sofila and Hector continue in their efforts to heal Savi, the Togruta cocked her head a little. Feeling as the drug began to take effect, a bit of a tingling sensation could be felt in the tips of her Montrals and Lekku. Taking a deep breath, there was now only a dull light throb in her side from the fractured ribs. More importantly, the pain was much more manageable. Definitely gonna stay sitting for a bit.

Titius snapped his viewplate up to meet Rich'ards eyes. “If you waste any more time with your useless prattling, Ill shove a explosive so far up your digestive tract you’ll wish you had shared details sooner knowing your fate was inevitable. Now move!”

“Can you please not be an ass to someone that is actively helping us through this maze and trials, Titius?” Sofila called out to Titius, her hand remained on Savi.

“If this is like the two bit farce from earlier, Im going to enjoy killing you.” Titius drew and armed his rifle as he strode through the doorway. “…and I imagine several people will enjoy watching. Just dont get too close to the viewport people, don’t know what handsie here has for blood pressure!”

Cole had flinched away from the lightning, unable to watch the rest of Savran’s healing.

He remained in place at least, listening for the call that the Shani would live before letting himself move away and try to shake off the stupid reaction to something that had saved their life.

Titius and Rich'ard were entering the last trial. Kriff hopefully this one was less liable to kill the participants.

Hector squeezed his fist so hard it began to shake. Their host had been cordial so far and was bound by magicks beyond his understanding. To see the treatment some of his allies had given him was infuriating. Maddening. Enraging.

Hector could feel the heat of the explosion washing over his skin like a phantom itch. His heart rate and breathing began to speed up. The Dark Side called out for blood. And Hector was not sure that he wanted to stop it anymore.

Sofila grimaced as she was able to feel anger and hate from Hector.

A feeling that she knew all too well.

One hand rested on Savi’s torso to keep in constant check with them. Her other hand reached over and removed her Mandalorian helmet with a soft click. Set it by her, she brought her hand over and grasped Hector’s clenched fist.

“Hey.” Her voice was soft. Her expression gentle.

“Talk to me.”

“We’re supposed to be better than this.” Hector ground out in a shaky voice. “Are the threats and tough guy acts supposed to impress anyone? Rich’ard is bound by magick, threatening him and exacting violence is no better than abusing a slave. Maybe worse, as Rich’ard has even had much of his free will stripped from him.”

The Kiffar took a breath to steady himself. “How am I supposed to support this behavior? To look Zxyl and Titius in the eye and call them allies?”

He gazed down at the lightsaber clipped to his hip. “I have the opportunity to stop this. To prevent future abuses. If I strike them down now.”

“We are better. We don’t call them allies. For now, we happen to want the same goal. To bring down Scimitar.” His gaze went to his lightsaber and Sofila’s grip on his wrist tightened. Her voice got lower that only Hector can hear it. Savi would as well but they were still not yet awake. At least they were breathing.

“Not now. I’m right behind you Hector, but not now. There’s one more trial and we need to destroy that artifact. It’s too early to possibly anger of those two, especially since one is going into a trial with Rich'ard. Just wait. I’ll help you, Hector.” Sofila wasn’t sure if it was even a good idea to go up against a kriffin’ general but she agreed with Hector. She can’t just let them harm Rich'ard after finding out that he’s bonded here not by choice. His free will non-existence.

And she would be damned if she let them take away Rich'ard before he could have his free will.

“I understand the anger towards Titius… but we don’t know how Zxyl feels. I don’t… agree on the aggression of removing his hand but we did not know that Rich'ard was bonded in this place until after his hand was removed.” Sofila wasn’t even sure if Zxyl would’ve still done it. Considering Rich'ard was socially inept to all karks.

Zxyl stood with arms crossed as he watched Titius’ exchange with Rich'ard from Savran’s trial room a distance away, and then looked over at Hector as he began his emotional tirade at Savran’s side. It’s not like the Imperial-armor wearing Mandalorian had attempted to keep his voice down, and the General had been standing right near the doorway with the rest of them before the doors to Savran’s trial opened.

The Mandalorian had enough of this. His words were fairly cold, and his tone changed from softer to more stern as they carried on.

“Being stuck here on this desolate wasteland is punishment enough for Rich'ard. He was warned to keep his hands off, Ricmore. He didn’t listen, and violated my personal space. I am not going to be dragged anywhere. He learned his lesson, I think. And before you assume what my intents are, perhaps ask. I will tell you this; I am no ally of someone who claims to be Mandalorian but wears armor or an armor design created by the people who decimated Manda'yaim and nearly wiped out its culture. There is no reasoning that justifies that.”

The General kept his wits about him as he watched Ricmore’s hand sit near his lightsaber, scoffing and shaking his head in disgust. He had so many other words he wanted to say. Auretii. Dar'Manda. He decided to let it go. Nothing good would come from them engaging in petty squabbles while the real target and culprit still roamed free. That was the real prize, and one Bes'uliik no longer had any patience to wait for.

The Regent of the Brotherhood turned, arms still crossed, and made his way down to Titius’ trial room.

“It was the very attachment to armor and tradition that nearly ended Mandalore long before the Imperials arrived. That need for war, for conflict, the inability to work together and reconcile difference. Satine Kryze disarmed the Mandalorians too much, that I will admit. But the galaxy needed to see that we could be more than just brutes, that we could start to rebuild our home.” Hector tried to retort only to see that the Regent had already left.

How very mature. There was a reason the galaxy saw them as war addicted brutes. And an example of the stereotype appeared to be quite close at hand.

‘If that truly is what it meant to be mandalorian perhaps it was time to renounce the culture.’ Hector angrily mused to himself.

Zxyl unfolded his arms, watching the scene transpire. He debated whether he should step in, which would surely mean the death of Titius… Or both of them.

The groveling was overlaid by the dull hiss from the Privateer’s respirator. The black armour became a statue as Titius paused.

After what seemed an eternity, Titius knelt and lifted off his helm. Setting it on his freshly doffed pack, he ran a gauntlet through his hair.

“Tell me Rich'ard. How will you kill me.”

“I suspected as much. Your whole life youve been here and you’ve learned nothing combat worthy?” Titius reached into his pack, drawing out a pair of electrolyte sachets. The labels were violently yellow emblazoned with CRUZLuxury. The mercenary tossed one at Rich'ard before tearing open the other.

“Drink. Its not poison, though much of this pack is.”

“So heres the thing, Rich'ard. I like killing. I am very good at killing. And many of my group would argue I kill for the wrong reasons. But I like killing, not pest control. And if I were to kill you, it would be too easy. Youre a weak, pathetic, irritating specimen of vermin to me.”

Titius finished off his drink.

“One of the things I value in killing is the reward. Now my clan pays me well to eliminate targets. The credits allow me to further my research. Other days, I hunt Force Users with power far outstripping what I could deal with normally. And achieving victory over them is exhilarating! When I kill an opponent, the rush is…” Titius sucked in a deep breath, savouring the feeling.

“And then I turn to you. I will not gain credits from you nor will I take any pleasure in eliminating you like a common pest. Youre boring prey and not worth my time and energy to snuff out.”

Titius turned to his pack, drawing out his sleeve of vials.

“Now to get out of here, one of us needs to die. But know I take no pleasure in your demise.”

Titius drew out an injection kit.

“Make no mistake, you will suffer. But everyone does with this concoction. You will feel your death. Take a moment to make peace, then we will begin.”

“You just said it yourself, you have no skills to speak of. Now lie down unless you want a concussion to be the last thing you remember.”

Titius loaded a second injection, then a third.

Titius casually grabbed the outstretched hand. “You just had to make this violent. I was offering a peaceful way out. So be it…”

Leveraging Rich'ards arm, he brought the guide to the ground swiftly. Securing his target, Titius drew out the first injection.

“I was going to give you pain relief. A little sedative if you asked. I might have summoned some empathy and held your hand as you passed.”

The injector slammed into Richards thigh.

Zxyl watched the scene unfold from behind the window… debating what he should do. He was keenly aware that if he interrupted the proceedings, that Titius may die. But if he didn’t, Rich'ard would surely die. He mulled the consequences of stepping in; Titius dies, Rich'ard dies, they both die, they don’t get the final crystal and Scimitar’s lightsaber remains out of reach. At this exact moment, it seemed such a trivial thing. There would always be another chance at the real prize… and there was a chance that perhaps his abilities in Shadow Magick could free Rich'ard from his curse.

He hrmed to himself for a moment, canting his head to the side ever so slightly. So many options. He doubt that either way, his comrades would support his decision.

Sofila was quiet when both men started to talk about the Mando'a. She… didn’t know what to think. Buir had taught her many and he did not hide his distaste in some of the old ways. Sofila was not prepared for this. Her fingers went to Savi’s neck to check their pulse again and it was steady. So was the breathing. With a relieved sigh, “We should move closer in case Titius needs our help.”

Sofila got up and stood by Savi’s head. She turned them around onto their belly and grabbed underneath their armpits. Pulled them up to her body, Sofila took their arm and squatted down. Maneuvering Savi’s body onto her shoulder, she squatted up and was using one arm to hold Savi’s leg and arm together to keep them from slipping off. Sofila squatted again and used her free hand to grab her helmet.

She glanced around. Cole was off to the side. Zxyl by the window. Tahiri, Elly, and Hector was either back there or following her. She frowned, they were missing two. Titius… he had a trial and must’ve already started but where was their guide?

“Where’s Rich'ard?” Sofila asked Cole and Zxyl.

<@432543120635461643> <@260640060775464960>

“About to die. It’s the final trial,” he responded curtly, “And there is nothing we can do about it unless we want to kill Titius.”

The Regent looked in her direction, keenly aware that she would most likely want to do something. But he wouldn’t allow it. He’d fight every single one of them if he had to, to keep them from being the ones to interfere. The Regent had decided it would be his burden to bear.

He studied her for a moment, and then turned his head back to the trial at hand.

Sofila grimaced. By the suns. She cannot wait to see Scimitar’s head on a silver platter and she would karkin’ enjoy it.

“There have to be another way, like the Trial of Deceit,” she said pointedly. The Mirialan squatted down and slid Savi off of her shoulders and had them properly sat up against the wall with the dead foliage around it. She checked their breathing again just to be safe.

“Titius has tons of medicine in his arsenal, surely he would be able to make Rich'ard dead for a few minutes before bringing him back.” Even when she spoke, she didn’t sound so sure after the stunt he pulled when their ship was crashing. But he saved her life on their last mission.

“That is a decision that he alone will have to make,” the Regent said as the dark otherworldly echo mimicked his words. It was true, though. Only Titius could make that decision. But it was also dependant on whether the Palatinaean had the medical knowledge to do such a thing.

Rich'ard muffled their screams as the injector punctured in. He could feel a white hot fire burning in his leg that began spreading rapidly. The mercenary cussed him out, wrenching his arm tighter and grabbing another injector. The flame began to lick through Rich'ards stomach, bringing a wave of intense nausea. Overcome with the sensation, the guide gagged and whimpered as the poison made its way further up.

Rich'ard couldn’t breathe and suddenly felt an intense feeling of falling. Gurgling silently, he strained to draw breath as his face began to burn.

A warm gust of air tickled his ear as Titius moved their head close. “I could have made this easy, but now you die in agony. Good night, Rich'ard.” The room faded out and Rich'ard suddenly felt cold unlike anything he had ever felt. He tried to speak, mouthing “Im so cold, please, why am I so cold? I’m scared.”

As Rich'ard faded from life, Zxyl calmly raised a hand towards the door. Green ichor enveloped it as he concentrated on the door, it also enveloping in green ichor. Tried as he might to open it, it wouldn’t budge. Whatever Magick their end-target had set upon this final trial was too much for him.

After a few moments of trying, the Regent lowered his hand and ceased concentration on the door. It was meant to be, it seemed.

Savi’s breathing was stable and Sofila’s arms dropped to her side. She felt tired and exhausted. It took a lot more than usual just to repair the damage that Savi had. She needed to channel. She needed some time.

Just one more Trial. They were nearly done. She got up and went to the window. Rich'ard was pale and Titius was right by his side. Her heart dropped. Karkin suns.

Scimitar **will* pay if it’s the last thing I do.*

“Titius? Rich'ard?” Her hand went to her blaster. She was confused. Was this a ploy? Can she really trust him enough to not actually kill Rich'ard? Her jaw tighten. She didn’ t know Titius enough to figure out his methods. He had the knowledge of medicine, she knows that much, she’s living proof of it. There was a soft click as she removed the blaster from its holster.

Zxyl heard the click of the blaster coming out, but continued to watch what was happening instead of making a reaction.

Cole was watching in a silent vigil. He had been about to respond but the Regent had covered the situation well. Hed never been skilled with words, it sounded better coming from another.

He watched Sofila as Rich'ard finally faded. Kriffing Titius. Could’ve just shot the man in thr head if he wasn’t going to try something else. Made it quick. Yet that was done now and Sofila was drawing a blaster.

He came up beside her, settling to be in the way and murmuring, “The crystal first. No matter what you feel, if we don’t get that then it was for nothing.”

Sofila’s eyes narrowed at Cole. Her jaw was tight. The urge to punch something was strong. Suns, even to shoot something sounded good too. Preferably Scimitar’s head.

How.. how could Cole think that?

He was right but, suns, he was wrong too. Her gaze shifted away to not look at him or them anymore as the blaster was back in it’s holster.

He didn’t comment, seemingly at ease. Despite the pain he should be in, latent after his trial and being thrown against the wall, he stood straight and watched with a passive expression.

Inside was a different story but they had a mission. The rest could wait a little longer.

Tahiri had followed Sofila as soon any of the stranger side effects of the drug Titius had given had gone away, or she simply had gotten used to it. Walking quickly over to where Zxyl stood by the window, but between him and the door, her heart paused for just a moment as she took in the scene within the room before her.

“Kark it, why e’ yut always sorrow where yut does not need ke be?” gritting her teeth together a little as she asked Zxyl, not realizing she had reverted to using her native tongue. She could feel the pit in her stomach growing hot, knowing she needed to stay calm, however her anger had been sparked now and the only to put it out was to take out the Scimitar.

In the room, Titius flipped Rich'ard onto his back. The body shook, arching into a curve as the poison took hold of Rich'ards nerves. A trail of red spittle leaked out of his mouth as life left him. Titius reached over, feeling the neck then rubbing a fist down the chest. Failing to see a response, Titius pressed the edge of the injector into Rich'ards thumbnail.

“Time of death: whenever this crystal appears. Any second now…”

Titius stood over the body, a perplexed expression on his face. Kneeling back down, he pulled a glove off and jammed two fingers into the corpse’s neck.

Sofila brought her blaster out, “Forgive me Rich'ard.” She focused on aiming Rich'ard’s head, she took in a deep inhale, and squeezed the trigger to aim at the crystal beast.

“…and apparently I didnt do it properly. Thats on me.” Titius palmed a concussion grenade, lobbing it behind Rich'ard . The grenade exploded, staggering the beast forward and dropping Titius. Setting to run, Titius was knocked flat by a blaster bolt against his shoulder.

Zxyl drew his custom WESTAR-35 Blaster Pistol from its holster, spinning it vertically in his hand as he brought it up. As it reached shoulder level, arm bent, he pressed and held the trigger. An incredibly low hum began to build coming from the pistol. After several second, he leveled it in Rich'ard’s direction, aiming for the head, and pulled the trigger. The crystal ascendant Rich'ard stumbled forward, giving Titius a minute.

Cole had taken the time to draw his scattergun, less likely to reflect off of the crystals and less effective by Force Karkery.

He raised it, Zxyl may have given Titius a moment but he also Cole an opportunity to strike in the now already damaged crystals on the back of the monstrosities’ head.

Despair had overtaken Hector Von Ricmore. How had it come to this? A man enslaved against his will, brought back as a monster due to the actions of his uncaring allies. He wanted to end Titius. To smash his arrogant fucking skull against the wall over and over again until he stopped twitching. To smile gleefully as the life left his body. To feel joy at the death of a degenerate scumbag. He could feel his soul keen over the fate of Rich’ard. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t just. Hector trembled in rage. If he couldn’t save Rich’ard, at least he could try to save him from this torment. He reached out with the Force, attempting to sever the unholy connection binding Rich’ard; forcing him to live in this shambling monsterous state.

Alas, it was not to be. Hector’s understanding of the Force was no match for the vile Dathomir Magick employed by Scimitar. The attempt to lift the curse failed, at he could see Rich’ard turn towards the group which had gathered outside the trial.

“NO NO NO NO! WHY!” Hector exclaimed as he smashed his fist into the door to no avail. His frayed armor did little to aid in protecting against the blows. He was on the edge of losing control.

As Rich'ard turned towards the rest of the group, Tahiri found herself acting almost on reflex. She immersed herself in the Force and shoved her hand forward towards the monstrosity that had been the Temple Keeper, trying to not only stop whatever he was about to do but to also push him back into the crystal lined walls. The Elder hoped to give them all more time and stagger Rich'ard a bit.

However, she didn’t expect the Magicks to have enhanced and made him as strong as he was. Tahiri released her telekinetic blast aimed to drive him back, she barely saw the effect it had when the green ichor of the monsters burst forward.

Rich'ard released his own blast, pushing her forcefully back away from the window. Landing on her back, the Togruta would have to really thank Titius for the meds. Cause even though she knew her ribs were being jostled a bit, there was nothing but a dull throb.

Cole was preparing to fire again but was blown back, away from the window. It knocked him off balance. Kark.

The whole time, Elly had been relatively silent, looking like her brother with her arms crossed and a judging demeanor. All of these people were strangers to her besides Sofila, with whom she’d only ever had a small interaction. It was pretty apparent that a majority of these people had no qualms with killing, some even finding joy or pleasure in the act. It had become extremely hard for the vigilante to care about most of her group.

She was beyond upset at Titius for what he had done, but there wasn’t much she could do to stop him, only to ponder whether or not she should avenge Rich'ard once this was all done and over with.

But first, the group had a monster to deal with. Elly watched as her teammates used whatever ranged technique they had available to try and assist Titius, something she quite frankly would’ve waited to do until he was a bit more brutalized. She was far enough removed from the group that when everyone was pushed down to the ground, she was barely staggered, and it allowed her to dash forward and start checking on the rest of the party. “Everyone good?” She asked, offering a hand to whoever might need it

Sofila grunted as she was blown back with the rest of her comrades. Her chin tucked in to protect her head while her back slammed on the ground.

She was getting increasingly tired and annoyed of constantly being thrown onto her back.

Sofila groaned as she got up, “I’m okay. Thank you, Elly.” Her eyes went to look into the room and it was not looking well.

Surpression! Would it work? She never had to use it but it was the first Force ability she learned from Buir. WIth a slow exhale, she focused, her hand extended out. It took longer than she would like but the monster’s grip weakened and she watched Titius slipped out.

Cole got back to the window, snapping back into place and firing for the back of what was Rich'ard’s head.

The crystal cracked and a bellowing scream echoed from the monstrosity that had replaced their host. Cole just shifted his stance, watching the movements and trying to line up for another shot before this thing killed Titius. If the door opened and it was in the room with them, it’d be a much bigger problem.

After assure everyone is alright and watching the fight for a couple more beats, Elly realized something. She widened her stance and raised her arm, firing a whipcord at Rich'ard and restraining him.

Hector watched Rich’ard struggle against the restraint cord with dismay. He should have done something sooner. Maybe if he and Zyxl had worked together they could have broken the curse binding the being. But it was too late for that now.

Shame burned bright within the Kiffar. Self loathing at his weakness, his failure. Shame turned to anger and anger became hate. Hatred towards the situation. For all his power, all his knowledge, it was never enough to matter.

Tears slipped down his cheek as rage writhed in his gut. “I am truly sorry Rich’ard, all I can do is hope they end this quickly.”

Hector reached out his right hand and gripped Rich’ard with the Force, restraining him further. The reanimated abomination attempted to struggle but the Force grip held him tighter than a vise and would not permit his escape.

The petite Togruta had to take a moment, as she had gratefully taken Elly’s offered hand, she gotten a little lightheaded. Everything was going hundreds of parxecs per sec in her mind, as she joined the others at the window. Watching as Hector, Ellen and Sofila all kept the monstrosity from moving, Tahiri was about spring forward to attack, but then remembered that that would be a failed trial. Instead she used the emotions she was feeling, immersing herself in the Force and called forth a stream of lightning from her finger tips to further incapacitate the crystal being.

Sometime during the chaos, Savran had awoken. Met with a splitting headache that made them wince in pain, the Shani forced themselves to their feet. Once their vision cleared, they scanned their surroundings to form a more accurate sitrep of the current situation. The last thing they remembered was drinking the final cup and the overwhelming pain that followed; then, nothing. Now that they were in the temple’s main room, they figured they must have passed out from the pain. How embarrassing. There was nothing they could do about that now, though. When Savi’s eyes settled on the trial room itself, their eyes narrowed in a mixture of surprise and frustration.

“What the frakk…”

There was Titius and … something. A monstrosity of flesh and crystal that bore only a passing resemblance to the loquacious fellow that had escorted them through the temple proper. Something had gone very wrong while they were unconscious. There was no time to get answers, though. That the rest of Savi’s team were currently engaged with the abomination was all the intel they needed to know how to proceed. It was time for them to do what they did best.

Savi grasped the pistol grip and foregrip of their Relby V-10, took aim, and fired, briefly illuminating the room in crimson light when an oversized bolt of concentrated tibanna gas leapt from the weapon’s barrel. Its bowcaster enhancements ensured that when the bolt landed against the crystal on the back of Rich'ard’s head, it packed more than enough punch to shatter it completely. Bullseye.

Cole hesistated before lowering his weapon, still watching the beast but turning his gaze toward Savi. They were.. up and moving. That was good.

With the crystal being passed to Sofila, he took a few steps toward Savi, “Condition?”

Savi turned their head to Cole, still keeping their Relby in their hands in case the crystal Rich'ard rose from the dead, somehow. “My head hurts like hell, but I feel fine besides that,” they noted with a shrug of their shoulders. “Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been knocked out. Looks like you all had a fun time while I was out.”

Zxyl immediately holstered his blaster, shaking his head.

“We should move.” Cole called to the rest of the group upon spotting the ichor, seeing it led back the way they came. Potentially the entire way.

Once people were moving, he looked back to Savran with a careful expression but- Kriff how the hell do you deliver news like this? “You weren’t just knocked out. You were dead for a short time.”

Probably not like that.

Seeing the ichor spread across the floor to guide their return back to the temple entrance. Cole’s words earned him a look from the corner of their eye. “Now’s hardly the time for jokes, Cole,” they replied, “Though I do commend you on your effort. Didn’t think you were capable of it.”

Cole met their gaze, remaining quiet.

No. He wasn’t the type to joke on a mission.

Sofila caught the crystal, her glare on Titius was intense. Her hand clenched over the crystal and she started the tremble. Anger. Her finger tips twitched. She was so ready. To bash his face into the wall. Her eyes started to burn as she fought the tears down.

Hate.

She hated him. Sofila recoiled at the thought. No. Titius saved her life. This… no. Savi and Cole’s conversation had brought the Mirialan away from the anger. A distraction. Her eyes glanced over to Savi, “Hector and Tahiri brought you back to life.” She walked into the trial room instead of following the green ichor. Sofila’s brows creased while her hands glowed over his face and she slowly squatted down by him. It’s too late. Too damaged. She bit her cheek hard and she noticed the unmistakable taste of iron. That did not advert her away from damaging her cheek.

“I’m sorry…” Sofila whispered again. She exhaled and leaned back on her heels. She looked like she was waiting. For something. He didn’t change back to his humanoid shape and she was crest fallen. She wanted to carry him out of here. Where he wanted to be. To be free. She would even be okay to pay for the costs to have him cremated and spread his ashes in small beautiful places Sofila visits. They didn’t have enough manpower to carry Rich'ard to the surface. She reached to her beskar dagger and started to cut away at his robe to free it from his body. Gently, she wrapped his head around with his robe. He should at least have some decency.

Any traces of amusement on Savi’s face vanished when Cole remained quiet. So, he wasn’t joking after all.

“How did it happen?” they asked with a cautious tone.

Sofila’s interjection prompted them to look in her direction, though they didn’t say anything in response to the new information. She was attending to the man’s corpse for … some reason. She seemed genuinely remorseful. Why show pity and respect for someone that had just tried to kill them all? Who was working for the enemy? How much information were they missing? They looked back to Cole. They’d have to ask him, later, but there were more pressing matters to discuss.

Zxyl proceeded into the room now that Titus was free of it. Somehow, some way, Zxyl knew that it was going to end up like this. It made no sense for someone to leave a gatekeeper here, force him into the final trial, and not have an ace up their sleeve. Titius was absolutely lucky the rest of the entorauge had been paying attention to his trial, or the Palatinaean would surely have fallen.

The Regent of the Brotherhood hovered over Rich'ard’s body for a minute, head tilted down as he studied it. He reached down, and using his lightsaber or some other tool - broke off a piece of the crystal for further study later. He was keen to learn why and how Magick had interacted with ascendant crystals.

After securing the fragment in a pouch on his belt and returning to his feet, green magick ichor enveloped the Dathomirian-Mandalorian’s hand. He extended it in Rich'ard’s direction, focusing intently on the man’s body. Magical ichor wisped from his hand to the fallen, swirling around the corpse as it disintegrated before his eyes.

Once the last of the body was gone - never to be resurrected into a zombie by Shadow Magick and used against others, Bes'uliik made his way out of the room and followed the floor lighting back to wherever it led.

“Apparations of two women poured the last cup down your throat and made you finish the trial. I’m not sure exactly what the cause of death was medically but you went still. They had to restart your heart.” Cole spoke plainly, concern in his expression but little bedside manner. No softness, just the curt tone of a soldier relaying the happenings of a engagement.

He didn’t know how to process it himself but they ought to know what happened.

“You weren’t gone long.”

Once Rich'ard was down for the count, Elly disconnected the whip-cord from her vambrace and let it fall slack to the ground. It was done. A semi-innocent man made into a monster had been made into a corpse. Erinyes certainly owed her more than a few favors for taking this one. If Elly ever bothered to go to therapy, she’d definitely send her the bill.

With her steps silent, the vigilante entered the trial chamber after a couple of her teammates to observe Rich’ard’s mutilated form. What was done to him made her stomach churn with anger and dread. The way Scimitar had used him, the way he had died the first time around. It wasn’t fair. Her fists clenched as a low, rumbling growl echoed from her helmet.

Slowly, her head turned to look at Titius, a wicked glare hiding behind her helmet’s visor. If looks could kill, hers certainly would. But justice would have to wait. There was a job to be finished. She turned to Sofila and spoke, her voice wavering with emotion

“We failed… but at least we tried.”

Her eyes went up to Zxyl. There was a small gratitude behind it. It… wasn’t the burial she wanted for him but it was something. Sofila stood and Elly spoke as Sofila put her helmet back on.

“He’s free now.” Was all she could say to Elly as she gently placed her hand on Elly’s upper arm and gave it a squeeze. “We have to keep going.” Removed her hand from grasping Elly, she started to follow Zxyl.

When they made to the room, she glanced at the slots. Without waiting, she slotted Zxyl’s, Savi’s, and hers. She put all of them but one. The last one. Titius’s. Rich'ard’s. Her eyes gazed to the crystal in her hand. She wanted his to be last as she cleared her throat and stepped back. Her fingers curled over the crystal in her palm.

“Does anyone have anything ready to set the artefact on fire?” She asked.

Cole came up beside her, slotting his crystal into the pedestal.

“Just a frag grenade. Not fire.” He responded quietly.

Two women? Savran spent the next few moments trying to remember more about what had happened, but their efforts only produced another wave of cracking pain that tore through the head, neck, and shoulders. They wouldn’t be trying that again anytime soon.

“Doesn’t matter how long I was gone,” they replied in a matter-of-fact tone while rubbing their temple with their thumb. “The damage has been done.” They’d lived long enough to know that when people came back from the “other side”, they often were changed by the experience. Savi expected the same for themselves. Only time would tell what had changed, and how drastic of an effect they’d have on them.

When Sofila asked about something to set the lightsaber on fire, they shook their head. “Same here. Only grenades.”

Elly followed and when thry arrived she took her crystal and slotted it into the big ol’ pedestal, the crystal acting as a reminder to buy Sulla a new plushie after that living hell

Hector entered the room and placed his crystal into the slot. He stepped back to allow others to do so. A somber expression remained on his face as his feelings warred between bittersweet victory and enraged melancholia. When the lightsaber was claimed he would make sure to his his psychometric abilities to help the group hunt Scimitar. The sith would pay for this.

After the monstrosity that had been Rich'ard was finally taken care of, Tahiri sat down, a little exhausted from the sustaining the lightning till cutting it off just before Zxyl and Titius delivered the final blows. Hearing Sofila mention that her by name, she looked over at Savi, then tilting her head to look and watch as the Sofila, Elly and Zxyl stood silently in the room with Rich'ard corpse. She smiled gently as the Regent reduced the Tempe Keepers body to nothing. We all return to the essence from which we came from. I’m glad he’s free now, though I wish it was under better circumstances, and his own will.

The Togruta silently followed the group back to the pedestal room. Watching the rest of the team slot their crystals into the pedestal, and observing that Sofila kept the last trials crystal till the end, she stepped up to set her crystal into it’s slot, stepping back to let her put in the last crystal. Looking down at Zuska as he stood next to her, she mentally nudged him to go and comfort Sofila.

**Receiving the mental nudge from his Alpha, the vornskr looked to the metal clad female. Huffing, he turned his head and licked at her leg again, questioning why he so easily forgive for hurting one of the pack. Then the mental image and message from his Alpha at the fact that she had to hurt a member of their current pack, was the reason for his purple haired friend to shoot at her in the first place. Then the images from when she had told him to bite his new friends leg to keep her from hurting everyone else came up.

Realizing his Alpha was right, and felt the reassurance that she was okay, made him feel better. Perking his ears up, he looked up and licked her hand, before walking over to his purple haired friend. Whimpering a little as he stopped beside her, sensing her sadness. He looked down a little, before looking up with big eyes, trying to ask forgiveness for being so quick to judge her.**

Sofila let out a slow exhale. She should’ve brought something that can burn the artefact. Kark. You would think after last time she would learn- but then again, she didn’t get to see that dagger burn. She wished she had. Her thumb stroke over the crystal that was in her hand. Those trials… was rough and she was worried what laid before them in the future but Scimitar needed to be stopped.

‘I can’t speak for everyone here, but I really am sorry, Rich'ard.’

The Mirialan noticed Zuska approached her and she remained quiet, wondering if she was going to get growled at again. But she was not. Her emotions remained hidden behind the helmet With her free hand, she gave Zuska small scratches on his head.

“Stay back. Just in case.” She warned Zuska. She wasn’t sure what was going happen when the last crystal was in the slot. With that, she slid the last crystal into the slot.

Cole watched, suspicious yet. It was a relief to see the sun pouring in, light after the hours of kark they’d all just gone through.

“Do we have a way to destroy it?”

He wasn’t sure if anyone should really touch it. This artefact had been part of traps and curses. When dealing with the Force, one couldn’t be too careful.

Sofila’s brows furrowed and her eyes squinted at the sudden light that poured into the building. It felt..lighter and yet everything was still heavy. Since she was closest and having been already possessed once, maybe there was some immunity she could develop against possession. It was also why she waited to be last to put in the crystal. Rather her than them. Steeled her heart and mind, she reached and grabbed the lightsaber hilt.

Cole saw the shift of her arm beside him, his eyes widening as he reached to drag her back, away from it.

He couldn’t lose her now, no no no-

“Sofila stop-”

Before the group could even figure out what to do with the lightsaber, this idiot went and grabbed the thing. Then, a flash. Savi braced themselves for an end that never came. They wished they felt relief at that fact, but all they felt was smoldering heat of anger churning within their core.

“What the hell did you do?”

That was the first thing the Shani uttered as the light began to fade, shooting Sofila a look that she’d only seen them use on people they were fighting. Savi was halfway to where the Mirialan was standing when they noticed another, unfamiliar figure standing amongst the group. A Rattataki. They stopped in their tracks and narrowed their eyes at Sofila, regarding them with a contemptuous mien for a few, long moments before finally breaking away to turn their attention to the unknown entity.

Tattooed digits closed around the hilt of their force-imbued flyssa to free it from its scabbard with a metallic shing. This “Mir Tasc'i” didn’t seem immediately threatening, but they were willing to bet that the special properties of their blade would ruin his day if he tried anything stupid or even said the wrong thing.

Tahiri had been about to reach for the hilt, the same time Sofila had been, but she was fast enough. As white light seared her eyes a little, she hoped that this wasn’t bad again. She had to rub her eyes for a moment as they adjusted, then looked in astonishment as the figure standing before them all was none other than the one they sought.

She gripped her saber, but didn’t pull or ignite it yet, she wanted to wait for him to make the first move, although she did move up to be alongside Sofila, preparing to be the first to engage him if necessary. She kept her body in a non-threatening stance. A low growl emanated from her throat, “This isn’t the real you, is it? This is something you left behind, although you do seem to know that we’ve met you in some capacity before this?”

Cole noted Savi’s expression, shifting to stand between them and Sofila. And closer to Sofila, watching her and Scimtar carefully. He’d withdrawn his hand upon the light not immediately providing a threat, not an urgent one. Yet, one still rested on his blaster.

Ellisyn was rather amazed when the whole room shifted completely to another place. Whether or not it was real remained to be seen, it could just be a shared dream type deal and they’re all still in that chamber. But that didn’t mean they were safe in here.

The woman gazed at the man who claimed to be the one responsible for everything they had experienced so far. That box of rage inside her seemed mighty tempting to open right about now, but she had questions and it seemed the others did too. So all she could do was shut her mouth and wait

Sofila grimaced at the sudden flash of light. Thankfully, wearing her helmet helped her be able to see her surroundings a bit quicker than usual but not much. The Mirialan ignored the Shani’s directed question to her. She saw the hilt again and went for it but it moved away, to an unfamiliar Rattakaki. Her back foot shifted back and she moved her arms silently, ready to fight if she needed to.

He started off by thanking them for completing the trials and then he said those words. Darth Scimitar.

Anger boiled in her. And too quickly, she felt too crowded. People were going to her side and she needed them to back the kark off. Her hand went into a fist but her forearm got grabbed. Her head snapped to Cole, his icy blues stared at her as he mouthed, “No.” Sofila bit her tongue roughly. This was the bastard or the product of the bastard that made them suffer so far. She jerked her arm back but the grip was subtle and firm.

How could he just- After everything- Why was he not- He should be angry too!

Kark.

Instead, she took few steps back, needing some space and movement instead of feeling like she was being caged. Cole was smarter and there had to be a reason. She would let the others take over but her eyes remained on this Mir Tasc'i.

Cole shifted with her, leaving some space but in the way of both Savi to Sofila, as well as within reach to stop Sof from trying to rush forward.

Just in case.

“Forced within you by whom?” Savi interjected, keeping the tip of their flyssa pointed toward the ground, but positioned between the two of them. “The Sith were in hiding during our era. They had been for centuries. Falls to the Dark Side happen, but how were you able to become so immersed in the Dark Side without alerting the Jedi?”

So it does come full circle, the Exarch will definitely want to know of this. Tahiri straightened, keeping her left hand on her hip, close to the shoto saber, while she stroked her chin with the other, taking in all the info now presented.

“Yes, we’re very much aware of the Children of Mortis,” pausing, she wondered how much info to divulge to this piece of his soul they were interacting with. “We’ve fought them. Now I do have a pressing question, are you in any way, other than being a part of a soul, capable of being taken over by your current self now? Or are you powerful enough to the effect that your current self no longer interacts with this part of your soul?”

“Before we get to that,” Savi chimed in again, “Is there anything else you can tell us about him … you. Something that might help us going forward? I’d rather eliminate as many surprises as possible.”

The Children of Mortis. Even now they haunted Hector. Sulfur eyes tinged crimson as his hand shook. The Darkside flowed through him, unconsciously shattering the remains of the armor on his hands and forearms.

“Your claim about the Children is believable. But there are many among them who are capable of twisting and reshaping mind and memory. To free you from your torment we will need to know the truth, the past unburdened by perspective and possible mental manipulation. With both you lightsaber and spirit present I can perform a Force Ritual powerful enough to show myself and my companions the past they have experienced. But it has the best chance of succeeding if you consent and agree not to interfere with the vision.

What say you Mir, will you allow us to gain the knowledge we seek, to learn how to better end what torments you? I do not ask such a thing lightly. With what you show us I can finally understand the nature of souls. I believe it possible to, at least temporarily, transfer your soul to a Kyber crystal that we can move from this temple. I know how to anchor souls, how to prevent them from moving to the afterlife. But I know not how to transfer souls other than my own. Teach me this knowledge and I will ensure a body is cloned to your specifications; a body you can use to slay the evil Scimitar and conquer your regrets.”

“Very well. I can not force you to consent, nor would I. I instead ask to borrow the lightsaber for a moment. We can not know what questions are worth asking without the necessary context.” Hector replied.

Bruised and dirtied hands grasped the hilt of the saber. Hector’s eyes glazed over. The Kiffar was overwhelmed with visions of events long past. The lightsaber, an elegant weapon from a more civilized age. Just like its wielder used to be. Images of Mir using the saber to defend the weak and downtrodden. The former Jedi lived up to the title well. With blade in hand he eliminated criminals and freed slaves from cruel masters. But with each righteous crusade brought more attention. And with attention came danger. Mir’s acts of virtue had drawn the ire of the Hutt clans. The Hutt’s sent legions of bounty hunter’s and criminals to slay the Jedi. Desperation and a desire to save even more lives drew Mir to search for power. But the power found was never enough. The danger kept increasing. And the acquisition of power created a newfound hunger; a lust for even further strength.

This hunt had brought Mir to the Children. The Jedi found himself restrained, begging and pleading for an end to the series of rituals forced upon him. Mir’s conscious was separated and locked away within the lightsaber’s Kyber crystal. A sense of longing and regret emanated from the blade.

“We destroyed the first artefact.” Her chest slightly burnt at the memory. The sharp cold ice plunge and then her warm blood. She winced and her hand clench into fists. The Mirialan almost felt like she was choking. She cleared her throat to ignore the sensation.

“What are the locations of the two remaining artefacts and what can we expect from them? I mean this one… we had to endure trials.”

While she listened to the others interactions with what seemed to be the noble part the Mir’s soul, she calmed her mind and reached out to catch anything she could. Feeling and then seeing all the reasons he had for wanting the power he had mentioned, Hutts, Mandalorians, slavers, and a variety of enemies that threatened the Republic. Then she felt the lust for power grow, a very familiar feeling from a lot of the people in her life, very few were exceptions, including in part herself.

Folding her arms as she shook her head, sighing as her voice changed in various tones of serious, sadness, and determination, “The want for power can born out of both necessity to help those in need and the euphoria of becoming more powerful. Wanting to be more powerful to protect those who need protecting is a noble cause.”

Pausing she looked straight at Mir Tasc'i, “You started off as noble of a cause as any Jedi. I respect you for that. My own quest for power is to protect those I care about, and those who can’t protect themselves is always an uphill battle. My own moral code constantly gets in the way of gaining power that could make me more powerful, but it’s power I cannot control. And thus I fall short and have to learn the hard way way to get where I need to be. I do understand the feeling that if you’re the most powerful, then you can protect everyone. However, I’ve seen the obsessive nature in the sudden gaining of more power, and it ends the same way every time. Even to those whom I cared about.”

She stepped forward, opening herself up a little, “Please, don’t linger on your regrets, you did what you thought was right. Mistakes are in our nature, I’ve made my share of mistakes.” Glancing to Zxyl, she gave Mir a small smile, her eyes blazing slightly. “Once we destroy this artifact, we’ll be one step closer to bringing your whole self peace. I swear to you, Mir, that we will destroy and right the mistakes of the past. Please,” she echoed Sofila’s question. “Do you know where the other two artifacts are and what awaits us?”

Well that had sure been something.

Cole let himself slowly relax, somewhat annoyed considering the guy gave them no useful information on what the artefact even was. More powerful wasn’t helpful.

He looked around the group, waiting to see if someone had an idea for destroying this thing. A grenade would potentially do if there was nothing else.

Fire had claimed the life of the last artifact. But it was possible that the party was merely overthinking the matter. Kyber Crystals were the life blood of a lightsaber. If Mir’s crystal was destroyed it was possible that he would be able to pass on.

“Perhaps we try to destroy the Kyber crystal?” Hector inquired with the group

“Sure.” Cole nodded, moving away from the circle somewhat, unsure of what Hector had planned.

The Mirialan had to keep her anger down with Mir. He wasn’t that helpful. Oddly, she hasn’t yet found peace in helping him being free from this. Maybe it will be different when the second artefact gets destroyed. Sofila arms were crossed while she kept her distance. She wasn’t sure if destroying the crystal was enough considering their first mission they were informed that fire was the only thing that could cleanse it.

Maybe it wasn’t for all artefacts.

She waited to see what Hector would do.

“Based upon the Psychometric vision, I believe it best to destroy the kyber and focusing crystals inside. I suggest taking a step back.” The Kiffar removed the crystals from the saber, placing them on the ground in front of him. He ignited his own lightsaber and swung it towards the crystas in hopes of destroying them.

The crystals lay shattered and inert; the spirit had gone. The Force called to Hector. The Kiffar picked up 2 of the shards, feeling a bond with them not unlike his own kyber. They would serve as a valuable reminder of what Mir had taught him this day. The pursuit of power needed to be tempered by the usage of wisdom, and the presence of allies to keep one on the path. Hector looked towards his companions.

“It appears that Mir has passed on.”

Well. That was easier. Sofila made a mental note to bring something next time in case they actually needed fire.

Oddly… she didn’t feel peace at peace for Mir. Or relaxed.

If anything, she was angrier. Kept down and hidden.

“One more to go.”

“Lets get the kark out of here.” Cole spoke lowly, giving a Hector a nod before looking toward the entrance and starting for it. Hed wait for the group, but the Human was ready to leave.

Savi said nothing. They gave a slight nod to Cole’s suggestion that they leave, and began moving toward the entrance while sheathing their flyssa.

The Regent had remained silent and in the background throughout the happenings since Rich'ard’s turn from body to dust, giving the other members of their entourage a chance to do their thing. When they finally exited the temple, he looked across the various Dathomiri waiting for them.

After Zesi’s comments, thr Dathomirian-Mandalorian nodded his way and began making his way back to their crash site.

“Enjoy it,” Zxyl stated as he passed by, that dark otherworldly echo mirroring his words was not going anywhere anytime soon, “While it lasts. Dathomir is free - for now.”

It wasn’t long before he was past the assembled group, and continued walking without turning back. This mission, if you were to call it that, had forever altered and changed the General. Bes'uliik could feel the magicks rolling within his veins, now, instead of it being a fleeting thing. Upon reaching the crash site, he looked over Ricmore’s U-Wing. It was toast.

It wasn’t long before he called for the Eternal, a Cosinga-class Heavy Corvette and the flagship of The Exchange, to travel from Mattock circling Arx to their location. It would take some time to reach them, though.

The Dathomirian turned Mandalorian had spent most of the time waiting keeping to himself, dwelling on his newfound connection with the spirits and Shadow Magick. He was unsure how he felt about these changes, with a conflict seeping deep inside of him. He had always disregarded spoonbenders and felt them to be a different kind of people, and now he was one more than ever. He couldn’t even completely hide that fact anymore now that the dark spirits were echoing his every word. While he’d continue to shield his true strength in the Force, that’s all that he would be able to conceal for the time being. The Mandalorian General would eventually find a way to mask or hide the echo - he wasn’t going to give up anytime soon.

After what seemed like an eternity being stranded on his birth world, the place that Zxyl hadn’t been back to in nearly two decades, it was finally at an end. He could go back to Arx, and resume his plans with Arx Capital Exchange. First, though, he had a stop to make in the Caelus System. A vigil/statue of one of his closest friends, a brother, Appius Wight, former Consul of Taldryan and fellow Son of Taldryan had been erected, and the Regent wished to pay his respects. Nobody knew how the Mandalorian had disappeared - though Bes'uliik had some ideas - and he was never going to give up the search.