The door opened, Sofila Douve Armis stepping over the threshold first. She was armoured up already, with Cole Farrow only a step behind her. Though he passed her as they got further into the room, Cole shooting her a questioning glance as Sof remained closer to the door, stubbornly. She wanted to do something or another.

Cole, content to let her, set onto getting himself settled down. He picked a seat not quite sitting opposite the one Ander’s would likely occupy but just off to the side of that view. As unsociable as ever, the Human only gave a short nod, respectful but minimal as he spotted the Golden Envoy across the room before sitting. He was armoured as well, adorned with the usual host of guns and explosives. For once they’d be useful.

A figure in black was next to enter the room. Garbed in Death Trooper armor, his appearance was made unusual by the fuel tank which hung upon his back and the connected flamethrower slung across his chest.

‘Fire weapons are truly horrific.’ Hector Von Ricmore mused to himself. ‘Yet if terrible weapons can bring a swift end to conflict and bring more Brotherhood forces back alive they were worth employing.’

The Kiffar could feel an echo at the edge of his senses.

“Still too soft Ricmore. Still too soft.”

Korvis. Even in death the Mandalorian seemed content to mock him. Was it a spirit? Or merely a mad delusion brought about by a traumatic mind?

It didn’t matter. The Scimitar situation would be put to rest. One way or another. Then, perhaps, he could go back to sleeping through the entire night. He’d experienced enough nightmares to last a lifetime.

The Dark Jedi ventured over to the circular table. He lifted the backpack from his pack and unstrapped the flamethrower, then carefully set both of them on the floor. He took a seat in the closest chair and waited for the meeting to begin.

Sofila scoffed at Hector as he seemingly walked right by her.

“Now wait a-” She stopped and rolled her eyes at Anders’s obvious displeasure. Sheesh. Doesn’t the man know how to have fun? Yea things are serious, they were finally going to kill Scimitar. But it doesn’t meant to have a bit of a warm and welcome respite before the battle. The black box appeared and revealed the pendant. Sofila felt anger crept up to her.

Throw the anger back… She reminded herself. Her training with Marick and Cole. But seeing it had really upset her. They were suppose to destroy it and here it was, in full view of them all. She was no longer watching the door to pounce and hug one of her friends. Her focus was directed to the pendant.

“Why is it not destroyed?”

Bedraggled and sour of face, Titius stalked into the conclave right as the amulet clicked to rest. Pausing a moment, he scoffed, eyes practically dropping to the floor and wheeling away under their own power.

“Apparently this is the wrong class. I was informed that this was urgent yet all I see is lounging and jewelry appraisals.” Titius had a brash attitude hinting at something bothering him. “…but I agree with the heartless bird. Couldn’t finish the job?”

-# “Usually at the conclusion of an experiment, the materials are disposed of.”

The now ex-Regent of the Brotherhood was definitely not the first to arrive at the Horizon Station briefing room. The Dathomirian-Mandalorian had already been on-station when the Taldryanite Inquisitor put out his call, given prudence and authorization to monitor the artifact’s study by the Aurora Collegium even after his departure from The Council - due to his knowledge of the nature of Sith and Peridian Shadow Magicks used in its creation and familiarity thus far with Scinitar and his machinations. Not to mention there was still the General’s bloodlust for retribution to those lost during the destruction of the Exchange’s headquarters, Mattock Station.

It would be up to the newly minted Regent, Bes’uliik’s successor, to determine what to replace Mattock with while the Brotherhood languished without a proper Destroyer-capable repair facility. While the Son of Palpatine had a lot to live up to, the Mandalorian knew he was up to the task,

He joined the briefing not long after it started, with Bes’uliik preferring to stand than take a seat. As usual the heavily armoured man’s arms were crossed, and he more or less just stood there motionless - until Titius piqued up.

”Spoken like one ignorant to the Magicks involved in the item’s creation. We don’t even know if it can be destroyed, yet, but until we are ready to end Scimitar we require it for his location. Its destruction will come in due time.”

“So we know where he his.” Cole stated, looking to Anders. “Do we know anything else new from it? If it contains his soul than potentially some information on what he’s capable of would’ve been retrievalable?”

Straight to the point, as always. For as non-urgent as Anders may assume he was acting, it was quite the opposite.

Wary eyes stared at the artifact. Having it in such close proximity was unwise. The risk that Scimitar could influence them from such a distance was low.

Low, but never zero.

Hector could not help but feel a sense of ominous dread. How many hands had held the pendant? How many chances for Scimitar’s influence to spread? Even if the being himself could not influence them, Sith artifacts had the possibility of corrupting others even when seemingly inert.

All it took was a single individual staring into the abyss and being suave enough to keep the corruption hidden.

The Kiffar was overcome with a sudden damming realization. This was his life now. A constant cycle of violence and ignorance. The players and planets changed but they all danced to the tune of the Force.

With a burst of will he brought himself back to the present. Just in time to hear the former Regent’s statement.

The Dark Jedi frowned beneath his helmet.

The item couldn’t be destroyed? Preposterous. The item helped to grant immortality a way to circumvent the finite nature of existence. Balance demanded it exist in a form capable of destruction. The Force existed in perpetual conflict, sides and factions gaining and losing strength. True, immutable, immortality flew in the face of the very Force that surrounded existence. No, the item had to be capable of being destroyed. If not through fire as done previously another means would suffice.

Tahiri’s ship had arrived to dock at the station shortly after Titius’, but had been kept back due to the onslaught of messages about the Aliso Festival she had been inundated with. Wishing very much that Titius would have at least helped a little bit more with the logistics of the event, she also had to realize that she was more suited for such things.

Finally finishing everything before the meeting she made her way with Zuska by her side to the conference room. With her hood up, the darkness of the cloak itself, she and her pet looked like shadow figures passing down the corridors. The door slid open and then shut in almost an instant, as she was quick to walk through. Tahiri’s senses, and even the Force itself, immediately drawing her attention to the necklace. Her faced hardened as she too decided to stand, only dropping her hood. She nodded to Zxyl and then to Anders. She had only heard the last sentence Cole had asked as she had come in,and was curious as well.

Zuska bumped her hand, she gave him a small nod and a pat,, letting him go to mingle with the rest of the team. he of course b-lined straight to Sofila first for pets, before going around to everyone else.

The Mirialan looked over to Zxyl, “The dagger and saber was destroyed by fire. We have his location. This needs to be destroyed before we go because if we don’t, then we can’t kill the bastard,” she pointed out. It wasn’t long before she was greeted by a familiar face.

“Awh!” Sofila grinned as she squished Zuska’s cheeks before started to give him head scratches followed by neck scratches.

“Who’s a goooooood boy? Who’s a gooooood boy? You are! Yes you arrrre!” Sofila turned to look at Tahiri and gave her a nod.

The information presented was quite dire. Scimitar was a formidable combatant indeed.

“Well aren’t we up a karking creek without a paddle.” Hector mumbled. “We need to keep him at range, or at least keep him from tearing us apart in melee. Thankfully I’ve got a new tool to help with that.”

The Kiffar removed a small circular disk from an armor pocket and set it upon the table. “This right here? It’s a mini universal Force cage. It can trap Scimitar for up to 20 minutes, limiting his movements, and reducing his connection to the Force. We place this disk as a trap and let it expand into the trap then lure Scimitar in.”

Hector paused, allowing the info to sink in and his allies to offer their own thoughts on the plan.

-# I have a feeling you are going to tell us anyways.

Titius was thoroughly unimpressed with the slapdash plan and this classroom etiquette. He shuffled his boots to move some blood around and rolled his helm to signal his malaise.

Cole was still looking over the profile. A master of lightsaber combat, telekinetic and able to move beyond any normal force users range. The ability to boost it further, lightning, illusions…

“Do they know we’re coming?” Was the eventual, flat response. He didn’t allow the tension in his stomach to betray the neutral mask he maintained though those looking closely could see the strain. “And are we the only ones going in?”

If they were, he’d be having damn words with Anders if they survived this kark. Even if it turned out to be possible, it’s a stupid idea to send so few against someone this powerful.

Would tiring him out, enraging him and simply surviving until he was exhausted even be an option?

Cole was displeased. No back up or anything? If they failed- Well if they failed them it wouldn’t really matter for them.

He sighed softly, leaning back in the chair but nodding, “Do we have a map of the location, defences..?”

Hector removed his helmet and placed it on the table in front of him. A solemn look adorned his face.

“We need to fight Scimitar on our terms. Whatever structure he’s hidden in we need to destroy it. I’m certain I can convince Ikarri to lend us a few capital ships, an immortal Sith is bad for business. We obliterate the structure from orbit and force Scimitar to fight us in the open. The larger the battlefield the more ground he has to cover to face us. And it reduces his ability to ambush us and pick us off one by one.”

“This will also help in making him angry of course. I’d be karking fuming if someone showed up in my backyard and blew up my house.”

Sofila’s brows furrowed at seeing the profile. They had their work cut out for them. She listened to Hector and was glad there was something that can help contain him.

Anders, as usual, was very optimistic. Sofila refrained from opening her mouth. Of course it wouldn’t be karking easy but doesn’t mean to have a good plan or try to. He wasn’t the one going out the field and fighting Scimitar. Just sends the team on it’s merry ol’ way.

When the planet came up, she didn’t know what it was so she stayed quiet. While the others talked, she looked around the room. Hmmm. They were missing a couple of people. Maybe she should send them a message? See if they were okay?

“Won’t be the first time going in blind.” Sofila pointed out. The second place with individual trails and then the family house at the third one… They managed.

“As long we stay together as a team…” Sofila didn’t dare to give pointed looks to certain member in the team while she turned to look at Anders. “We’ll be successful.”

Cole didn’t speak up for himself. Knowing Sofila had nothing on her to do it, he glanced toward Hector.

“Assuming that fire will still work, I’d be happy to wipe that tainted artifact from the galaxy.” Hector stated.

The Kiffar rose from his chair, slipping the fuel tank onto his back. He grabbed his flamethrower and aimed the weapon towards the pendant.

“Shall I?” He asked

“Maybe let our Envoy get out of the radius first.” Cole suggested, leaning back in his seat and rather glad he chose to sit far from Anders.

Titius sighed and made for a swift exit, sincerely wondering if he was the sane one in the room for once. A concerning thought that was quickly replaced with the usual pretentious malice that he bore towards the group.

“Ill go find a fire suppression droid. Somehow I feel we’ll need it”

Sofila snorted under her breath. A little burn won’t hurt Anders. Maybe that would teach him a lesson or two. However, she made sure to get away from it as she didn’t want to accidently get triggered. It’s been awhile since that happened but she’s not worried about it anymore.

Instead, she focused on sweet Zuska.

“Such a goooood boy, yesssss” Her nails gave Zuska amazing scritiches and attention, all he could possibly want.

Flame leapt from the barrel of the weapon, covering the artifact entirely. Hector was no pyromaniac, only utilizing enough flame to do the job.

The artifact glowed, emitting an unnatural red light. The light faded and a sickly green smoke curled from the pendant.

A sharp Shriek! split the air, the screaming of the damned and the shattering of glass echoing around the meeting room.

And just like that; it was over. The artifact fell to the table. No longer a key to immortality, it was entirely inert.

“Now to hunt the no longer Immortal Sith.” Hector quipped.

“Fair enough. We’ll manage just fine,” Bes’uliik said confidently regarding the backup, uncrossing his arms and proceeding out of the briefing room towards the hangar bay. He didn’t actually care what happened to the artifact now that he had done his due diligence with it.

Yes, some of them may die. But it was clearly a sacrifice the Brotherhood was willing to take in order to eliminate such a threat. Such was the way of life.

It had become such an infrequent thing for Ellisyn to be off on any sort of adventure, so long in fact that when Elly told her little one that she was off to do some work but wasn’t in her more formal clothes, Sulla actually looked a little confused.

Thankfully, Elly had made it out of the apartment after a few long hugs and small words of affirmation before Sulla became wise to what was happening. From there, Elly made her way to some fun meeting. When the Firrerreo’s comm lit up, she was forced to answer and spent much too long talking to Sulla and Rue, explaining that she would be back soon and how to work the new toy she had bought Sulla. By the time she was done, she was minutes late to the meeting she had been summoned for.

When the towering woman finally reached the meeting room threshold, she immediately noticed that everyone was… wet. Last time she checked, it didn’t usually rain indoors, so she simply regarded the group with a confused look. “Surely I didn’t miss that much.”

Tahiri was glad she had stayed standing instead of going to sit down, watching Titius leave, and then observing while Hector flame-charred the necklace till the soul seemed to have been vanquished.

She had shoved her anger back down, as she wanted so much to step forward and add some lightning to fire, give his soul some of pain back he had inflicted on others. However, she knew it wouldn’t matter, and she remembered something about either Sofila or Cole having froze due to seeing lightning. The Togruta didn’t want to be rude, and she didn’t really want to ask, out of respect for the both of them. Tahiri understood fear, and it was stranger to her either.

Tahiri was also glad that she had heard the tiny ting before the sprinkler system came on, as she was narrowly able to wrap her cloak around her so that most of her didn’t get wet. The Elder didn’t mind her head getting drenched, but it was another things for her weapons to get wet.

Looking over her shoulder as Elly came through the door, smiling, “Nope. Just got filled in on the mission. And Hector was doing the honors of eradicating the last piece of that kark Scimitars’ soul, hence the shower.” She motioned towards Hector, and the table.

The flames roared to life and right when the shriek filled the room, Sofila felt intense pain in her chest. She stopped petting Zuska and tried to keep her chest open, to breathe, something-

She hasn’t had any panic attacks in a long time and this pain felt different, as if she was being stabbed all over again. The sharp and burning sensation, a soft pained gasp escaped from her lips that Zuska would surely heard it. Glad for her helmet, her jaw tightened as she tried to steady her breaths.

“Give us a few minutes to dry off and ensure none of our equipment is water damaged. Then we’ll make our way to whatever transport you have arranged.” Hector stated. The Kiffar grabbed his gear and shuffled out of the room, his now drenched armor squeeaking upon contact with the floor.

Cole had remained eerily still as the water sprinklers took action, sighing slightly now as he shifted to stand up.

He really should wear his helmet inside more.

Cole stepped away from the table, confident nothing of his was damaged from water but a little irritated by needing to dry everything now. A memory arose though, and on glancing to Sofila a slight grin appeared on his face. It disappeared just as quickly, but it was a nice thought to leave the meeting on.

“Out of the way, out of the way!” Hector shouted as he stood from his seat and forced himself into the cockpit.

Grabbing the pilot’s shoulder he unstrapped the harness and forced the man out of his chair and pushed him to the ground.

The Kiffar took the pilot’s chair and re-engaged the harness. He looked at the controls before him. Controls that were sparking and sizzling.

“This adventure is getting worse all the time.” He grumbled as he began to fight with the controls. The steering had seized up and was largely unresponsive. He flipped a series of switches. If he couldn’t regain control he had to ensure their survival.

“Transfering hyperdrive power to shields. If you aren’t strapped in now is the time to do it. We are crash landing in a minute.”

The Dark Jedi pulled back sharply on the steering. The shuttle began to level out, but not nearly enough to prevent the crash. The ship shook roughly, like prey caught in the grip of a Wampa.

The ground was coming up fast, and the ship was going to impact.

“This is going to suck.” Hector muttered as the ship slammed into the planet’s surface.

Good. No one noticed. Sofila exhaled sharply and gave Zuska a reassuring pat. She stood up and ignored the tightness of her chest but caught Cole’s grin. Her eyebrow rose and it took her a moment-

“Oh.” Sofila grinned sheepishly as she felt the warmth crept up her cheeks as she cleared her throat and was happy to see Elly.

“Elly!” She hugged her tightly.

“Come on! At least we can catch up on the ship!”

Their catching up didn’t last long. Sofila was already strapped in the moment she stepped into the ship, having learned her lesson several times growing up. She braced for impact.

Cole braced himself, jaw forcibily not clenched so the impact wouldn’t break his damned teeth. He spared a glance to Sofila, before focussing on the floor in front of them.

He wasn’t afraid of death. It didn’t mean he was too stupid to fear the pain and potential injuries of a total crash when coming to face a much stronger force immediately after.

With emergency power activated Hector took the time to look over his allies. They all appeared to be alive, visibly moving and dealing with the crash in their own way. Unstrapping the harness, the Kiffar gathered his gear and activated the exit ramp.

He needed to know what hit them and to do that he had to use his psychometric abilities at the point of impact. Whatever hit the ship was similar to a ion blast but it couldn’t be ionic in nature, or it was a relatively weak ion attack, as the ship still retained power until the crash. Regardless, he hoped his investigation would turn up some leads.

The Dark Jedi exited the ship and began to look for the impact area on the vessel.

Cole was already unbuckled when Hector passed through, checking himself and the others for any visible injuries. He could feel something was off. What it was he couldn’t begin to identify but it felt as if a ice was trying to replace the top layer of his skin.

With Ricmore’s exit, he internally swore but started speaking, “If anyone’s injured speak up now, we need to get off the ship A S A P in case of interference from cultists. We don’t want to get cornered.”

Sofila unbuckled her harness and made her way to the cockpit instead.

She leaned down and check the pilot.

Sofila sighed in disappointment as her hand went over the pilot’s eyelids and closed them.

What killed the pilot? She didn’t see any physical entry so had to be some kind of Sith magic.

Stars. Her disdain towards Sith was just getting stronger each time. She headed back out and wanted to check on Elly and Tahiri, she knew Cole was okay with the way he was moving around.

It seemed no matter where she went, no matter who was flying, she always managed to start a mission off with a crash landing. Elly couldn’t remember the last time she had simply landed before running off to risk her life for the greater good. But, such was life when you abandon a city for a larger galaxy.

The Firrerreo was quick to free herself from her seat, forcing herself to her feet with a dizzy stumble. She couldn’t afford to be disoriented or dazed, and she had to get back on her feet as quickly as she could. Who knew what was outside the ship waiting for them in the entirely hostile environment that was Malachor. When Sofila came over to check on her, the larger woman simply waved her off with a grumble. She would be fine, but others may not be. “I’m good, just shaken up,” the woman grumbled, her voice sounding tinny through her helmet’s speakers.

The Kiffar placed his hand against the side of the ship where a visible scorch mark sat.

And then he began to see.

Power. Incalculable power. Unlimited power.

A massive streak of lightning leap from a structure on the planet’s surface. It pierced through the atmosphere, slamming into the ship which carried the Brotherhood forces like a harpoon. It grabbed onto the vessel through some mystical or unnatural means, dragging it down in a manner similar to a tractor beam.

Such sorcery. Scimitar was an impressive adversary indeed.

“Well, I solved the mystery of what happened to the ship.” Hector called to his allies. “Scimitar shot lightning from his fingers and opened up our defenses. Dragged our ship down from there like a tractor beam. Now I know a good bit about Force Lightning and it isn’t supposed to behave like that. So who knows what else Scimitar can do.”

Cole nodded to Tahiri’s question, watching the door open.

“Well. I think we know he’s aware of our presence.” He paused, glancing over the group. They were down multiple members but they were strong. Failure wasn’t an option, really.

“Are we ready?”

“It’ll take only five of us to take you down!” Sofila shouted, a promise. She scoffed as the cultist appeared. Of course. He couldn’t face them now? He had to weaken them?

Coward-

Sofila slid her feet into a defense position, ready to fight back until the pain in her chest returned as she heavily gritted her teeth and that split moment was enough for her to be overwhelmed. A few punches was exchanged and Sofila brought her arms up to protect her head and chest closely until she sees an opening.

Cole turned on heel, trying to fire into the group of cultists charging for him but whether he moved too slowly or his aim was off, it didn’t matter. Sofila grunted, pain audible and he lost focus. He felt the sensation of falling as an invisible force threw him.

A primal growl came from deep within the Elders’ chest as she glanced away from the Scimitar and at the cultists rushing towards her and her friends. Tahiri’s sulfuric yellow eyes blazed slightly red as she flicked out her wrists, calling her sabers to her hands, igniting both of the crimson blades simultaneously in response.

The petite Togruta focused, barely taking a breath as she viciously sprang forward. Twisting and whirling through one form, while seamlessly redirecting enemy sabers with her other form. Her sabers were deadly as they spun, parried and then sliced through solid bodies. Flipping gracefully over the fifth and final adversary, sabers spinning in a circle before she landed lightly on the balls of her feet. Turning around she coldly watched as the cultists’ head fell from their shoulders, and then readied herself to help any of the team who needed it.

As the furthest of the group it would take some time for the cultists to reach Hector. A few moments. Practically an eternity in combat. He stared into Scimitar’s eyes from behind his helmet. It was like looking into a carnival mirror; a warped reflection. Would he one day find himself in the same position? Having made too many justifications for his actions, consumed with madness in pursuit of power?

No. He had something that Scimitar did not. Allies that he could call upon and that would call upon him in turn. Scimitar had turned his family into a mockery of a homestead. Hector would take a blaster bolt for his.

He had a risky idea. An endeavor that could help them all. Or be doomed to failure. He would reach out to Scimitar’s victims, calling upon their aid from beyond the grave. But first, these cultists had to be dealt with.

Darkness radiated from the entire planet. The Force was eager to be used to hurt, to dominate the enemy of the wielder. Hector’s left hand curled into a fist, gripping one of the cultists and lifting the being into the air. The other 4 fell upon him like Kath Hounds. Hector’s purple blade intercepted the red sabers again and again. He gave ground; steadily moving backward to reduce his openings. But the enemy were many and his focus was divided.

A cultist leapt into the air, somersaulting into a textbook Ataru downward slam. Amethyst clashed against crimson. But the lightsaber could not save him from the armored boot that slammed into his head. The Kiffar stumbled back, head pounding in pain. His helmet had reduced the force of the impact but he would certainly be sore tomorrow.

The cultist he had gripped landed on the ground. He returned to his feet, saber gleaming, ready to re enter the fray.

Hector Von Ricmore disconnected his flamethrower from the fuel tank and tossed the bulky weapon aside. He pressed a button on his lightsaber, expanding it into a lightsaber pike. Now he had the reach advantage. It would have to be enough.

Sofila winced, her teeth dug into her cheeks as she can taste a bit of iron. Her heart hurts and she doesn’t get why. She had never got into a panic attack in middle of a battle before. Her arms were still up, she was still protecting her head and chest. Then- She saw Zuska, charged in, teeth baring and eyes glaring.

Th-thump. No. She wasn’t being stabbed. She’s fine. She’s fine.

The Mirialan does her best to ignore the pain by chewing on her cheek and kept an eye out for an opening.

Come on… come on… keep looking. There’s always an opening…

Cole slid down the wall, his armour protecting him from the slide but not the initial impact. He pressed his bruised spine backwards into it, glaring through the Legion’s Eye glass behind his helmet and at his targets. He fired, shouldering the blaster and shooting off enough wildly to try and suppress them long enough to do something. He’d grabbed the smoke grenade, preparing to tear off the ignition to let it flare and give some advantage but an invisible force grabbed him again.

It pressed his body backwards into the pillar, pressing all the air from his lungs, slamming his wrists backwards into the stone. The grenade fell uselessly to the floor with a tink easily missed amongst the chaos. His helmet prevented any damage Cole would be concerned about, but even as the crushing force lifted, it was as if standing up from underneath a pile of rubble.

Glancing around to check on the rest of her friends, Tahiri allowed herself a small smile as she watched Zuska fiercely helping Sofila. Her face again turned to stone as she saw Cole being thrown against the pillar behind him.

Stalking forward, the Elder quickly looked for Elly and Hector. Elly had taken care of the cultists who had dared to engage her, while Hector seemed to be holding his own, but his enemies were trying their best to take him out.

Lets see how they like an ambush.

Swiftly she closed the distance and struck out at the cultist who was throwing Cole with the Force.

Three against one was better than four against one.

But Hector Von Ricmore could improve his odds further. And he always supported stacking the deck in his favor.

A wave of his hand disconnecting his armor pieces, hurling them towards his enemies in a wave of shrapnel. The fuel tank on his back was lowered slowly to the ground; it would help against Scimitar later.

The cultists batted away the armor only to see the Dark Jedi fall upon them with the wrath of a proton bomb. The now shirtless Kiffar lunged forward, impaling a distracted cultist and hurling him towards one of his comrade. The remaining cultist blitzed Hector, eager to avenge his comrade. Each attack was deflected away from its path; scimitar’s minion unable to get past the long reach of the lightsaber pike.

A feinted blow forced the cultist off balance, allowing the long handle of the pike to slam into the cultist’s chest, winding him. A follow up blow decapitated the being, taking it out of the fight.

The last remaining cultist gave in to the fury of the darkside. He rushed forward at truly impressive speeds. Hector would be hard pressed to match him in melee.

So he didn’t bother to do so.

Pulling his arm behind his back he hurled his spear forward, the blade guided by the Force. The weapon flew through the lower body of the cultist, purple blade slamming into the ground and holding him in place.

Hector marched forward, drawing his blaster pistol from his waist. Placing it against the cultist’s head, he pulled the trigger.

Pew!

The Kiffar re-holstered his weapon and pulled his blade from the ground. Glancing down at his belt he ensured his shield generator was still intact. Against a foe like Darth Scimitar, the party would need every advantage that they could get.

“Lord Scimitar is our blade in the dark. Lord Scimitar deliver us. Death to the enemies of Scimitar.” the droll droning of the cultists formed into a monolithic chant.

“Death the enemies of Scimitar…” one of the cultist repeated dutifully, dark hood drawn up to viel his visage. His lips moved and mimicked the cadence of the other cultists with pitch perfect synchronization. Still, he hung towards the back, watching, waiting.

Emerald eyes, shrouded only partially by shadow, watched as the Envoys fought back. Their efforts were admirable but the cultist knew they had not just the power of numbers, but their Lord behind them-

-no, that’s not why he was here. Why was he here again?

Cole Farrow’s collision with a pillar seemed to stir something in the “cultists” thoughts.

Oh. Right. He had gotten carried away again going deep under cover.

You never go full Jawa…

It was time, then, to complete his assignment.

Wyndell Tyris threw back the hood of his dramatic robes and threw it off his shoulders. Dark hair, pale skin, bright eyes flashed as a pair of custom LW-896 blaster pistols appeared in each hand. The Golden Envoy Cowl wrapped around his neck glinted in the dim lighting against his black nerf-hide jacket with green accents and matched the Envoy Broach pinned to his lapel like some kind of backwater town Sherif.

“Blue power mother-karkers!” Wyn shouted, hopefully drawing the attention of the cultist as he took aim at their exposed backs.

The sudden break of character was…more jarring than Wyn anticiapted. Perhaps he was getting ‘old and busted’, as the kids liked to say.

Either way, when he tried to do a finger-twirl-into-pew-pew technique he could do in his sleep, his muscle memory was off. The bolt instead fired right between his legs and then adjusted to right beside his foot.

“SON OF A MORTIS!” he swore loudly. Then he blinked a few times, and realized that, at the very least, he had drawn attention to himself, which could hopefully give the others some time.

Sofila can feel her frustration rising as she kept her face and chest protected even when her chest ached as if she was being stabbed all over again. Yet, she didn’t lash out. She waited.

There’s always an opening.

Even when it seems like there isn’t, there’s always one.

There! Sofila learned their patterns and quickly caught a cultist by their wrist and pulled them towards her as the other cultist landed a killing blow on the cultist. They reeled back in surprise as Sofila let go of the body as it slumped onto the ground.

“Come on, kark-“ she didn’t get to finish as another went to hit her but Sofila went to their side. Her arm went around their neck as she pulled and direct them down before there was a sickening crack of their neck.

It didn’t take her long as she stood before the fallen five, her breathes shaky and her heart thudding painfully against her chest.

“Thank you.” She murmured to Zuska while her head pivots around to check on others.

Wyndell Tyris’ appearance wasn’t expected. Kark, it was about as far from the list of things Cole could have theorized about as possible. Yet when the man himself whipped out of disguise, guns blazing like a mad man, there was little surprise. Just an amount of guilt he’d never Wyn about.

Between him and Tahiri, it gave Cole the opening he needed to take a few steps back and actually aim. He rammed the butt of his blaster rifle into his shoulder and fired off 5 shots with deadly precision. And with each, they dropped.

He exhaled heavily, not quite realising he’d been holding the breath.

Despite his initial stumble, Wyndell recovered quickly. He was a professional performer to his core, and he would not let a fumbled line hinder him.

Wyn was not a prideful person. In fact, most would consider him the exact opposite, almost to a degree of not taking him all that seriously. His pride was rooted in his self-confidence, and that even if he was not perfect, he was still very good at helping others. He had been born with gifts that empowered him to do so, and he would never be like his father and use that talent to harm or take advantage of others.

He was also more than just his blasters. His eyes tracked on Scimitar’s movement and the hairs on the back of his neck spiked at the same time as he felt something bad percolate in the Force. Whatever it was, he had to do something about it.

He stretched out a hand and centered his focus, bending the slipstreams of the Force to his will and sending it back towards Scimitar in a wave of dampening energy. Similar to how you could cancel out a certain aural frequency by sending back the same signal.

“ What power does a Lord yield in the presence of the prophet,” the Elder Defender whispered defiantly as he doubled down on his own willpower.

“Drama queen,” Wyn mumbled.

Wyn had not had the privledge of meeting Ellisyn Kendis, but knew enough to know that she liked to take care of things up close and personal. Which was perfectly fine, because Wyndell was always comfortable to hang back and do what he did best.

Now fully shaken out of the lull of his method acting and deep cover alias, the Prophet twirled his twin blaster pistols–Dexter and Doakes. As they both settled snuggly into his palms and grips, he toggled the alterate fire setting, sighted, and let loose a set of charged-blasts towards Scimitar, timing the shots in synchronization with Elly’s charge.

“Eat…plasma…” he called out but then seemed to chew on his choice of verbiage. “Wait, no, come back to me, I can do better.”

Wyn squinted and regarded the portal. It could be a trap. It probably was a trap. It was definitely a trap.

Still, his curiosity compelled him.

Hustling forward, he cast a cursory glance at the others. They seemed okay, and not in immediate need of his help. This was the best way he could contribute to the mission. With his self-confidence adorning his shoulders like an armored mantle, Wyndell Tyris leapt through the portal with a hoot.

“ADVENTURE!” he shouted as his body disappeared from the material plane.

|==O==|

Wyn stepped out of the portal and immediately knew something was off. He could not tell what was off, but knew that there was shenanigans afoot. His emerald eyes flitted around, trying to gleam as much detail in a few sparse glances as he could.

He had not gotten to actually go into the Ethereal Realm, but had been on Arx when the tear had happened. He had felt the ripple through the Force, and had many first hand reports of everything that had happened during the conflict with the Children of Mortis.

Wyn had stayed behind, he remembered. He had been ready to throw himself into the fray. He was always the more expendable Tyris.

Yet Marick had stopped him. Had actually raised his voice–a rarity in itself–and placed a forceful hand on his older brother’s chest.

“Move, ya animated gargoyle, and go glower at someone else. I’m going.”

“No,” Marick affirmed.“

"Turi has his mother. Probably better off.”

*That’s when Marick had actually slapped him. It wasn’t a theatrical, dramatic one. It was a quick, firm, chop from the flat of a hand delivered with the precision of a retired Assassin. It was sharp and brisk and Wyndell realized that Marick had never actually struck him before.

“You are staying because you are also Kirra’s godfther,” he said, his tone returning to its usual cold, calm monotone.

So Wyn had stayed behind. But there was no mistaking that this was the Ethereal Realm. The reflection was similar to the temple they had been in, but the weight of the air, the pull of the Force and gravity was all distorted.

He should let the others know. As he turned to sneak back out of the portal, Scimitar’s gaze found him.

“Neat trick–”

Wyn started to quip, but Scimtiar sneered, made a dismissive gesture with his hand, and ripped Wyndell apart into shreds through the Force.

|==O==|

From behind the shadoy cover of a tall ancient statue, Wyndell snapped out of his meditation with a start. “BY BOGAN’s BACKSIDE” he exclaimed, his Projection through the Force severed and dismissed completely. He had remained stationary, and managed to fire the bolts from his blasters through the layer of his illusion to make the Projection seem to have done the deed.

He made his way towards Cole and Sagitta to report. “So, good news, not a trap. Bad news…Ethereal Realm stuff.”

With the cultists down and Scimitar removed from the area, Hector was able to overhear the statement from Wyn.

The Ethereal Realm. That certainly posed a number of problems.

“The last time I ventured into the Realm the Force did not respond properly. Expect your abilities to be influenced or even reversed while we are within that space.” The Kiffar informed the group.

“We should proceed together when we are all prepared.”

“I think we’re as prepared as well get.” Cole commented, rolling his shoulders and walking toward the portal, pausing once ahead of the group to make sure he wasn’t going alone.

He wasn’t stupid.

Wyn smirked, mostly to himself, and took up a supportive position behind and off to the side of Farrow.

After sniffing his purple haired friend to make sure she was alright, and receiving a gentle pat as confirmation, the sleek vornskr stalked back to his alpha, his tail rubbing carefully against her thigh. All the while he looked from her, to the newer member of the group, and then to the portal, growling a little at the last thing.

“Of course he’d be retreating the place where his masters are,” she growled. The petite Togruta had extinguished her sabers, but still held onto them, glancing around at the others for a quick check, nodding to Hector, before walking forward toward the portal to stand at the ready with Cole and Wyn.

“It’s good to work with you again, Wyn,” she afforded a quick flash of a smile to him before her face returned to its stern grim determination.

“Aye Cole. There will be changes and it’ll vary in different spots. Trust in your abilities and then adapt when needed. That and us all together will finally bring an end to this madness.”

“What do you mean filthy?! I washed my hands like, three times with Sith-Soap!” Wyn called back.

Sofila charged forward, barely paying attention to the spires above. For some it would be awe-inspiring but she was focussed. Body and mind. She was pissed, beyond it but Marick’s training gave her focus enough to plan beyond just the first punch. Sof closed the gap between her and Scimitar, punching at the Sith. As much as she would have liked to connect a punch like Elly did, to feel cracking bones or his flesh breaking under her fist, the fact he had to focus on dodging her was enough.

The Mirilan twisted around, forcing Scimitar to divert his attention and missing the tell tale whistle of blaster fire. Cole had found his position toward the side of the pack, flanking the other way from where Sofila had forced Scimitar to face. With a breath to steady his hands, the Human fired toward the target. Nothing more, nothing less. A barrier sprung up but it was only after the initial volley had grazed him, blazing burns scorching his legs and knees, his arms and torso and even the Sith’s face. Burning through cloth and flesh and leaving cautrised gashes in their wake.

The Elder observed the Scimitar’s movements carefully, while Sofila and Cole charged forward. Every fiber of her own being wanting to jump in after them, press the assault. However, she knew they had to be smart about this, and not just recklessly run at him.

Before anyone else noticed, and hoping their enemy was preoccupied enough, within a breath Tahiri dematerialized out of sight. Swiftly and quietly, the petite Togruta moved to the left and around, flanking the Scimitar while his focus was between her two team members. Hooking her Rune saber back onto her belt, Tahiri unsheathed her Nightsister blade.

Dropping her cloak as she pounced forward, teeth bared, the Elder swung her sword. Her blade met material and flesh, easily slicing through both as it left a bloody line across his back.

“NO. You shall be the one to perish!” she yelled at him in Dathomirian over a crack of thunder.

Wyndell’s body was moving before he realized it. Everything he had overcome and worked for in this life was rooted around being useful in a bad situation. He knew that people did not gravitate towards him for his company, or his oddities and and plethora of eccentric quirks. His value, of course, was tied intrinsically to his usefulness.

A Defender.

His unwavering confidence had become a suit of unseen armor he shrouded himself in, a way to counteract his tendancy to get on people’s nerves for just…being himself. It’s why he enjoyed becoming other people, really going full into the roles of deep or even shallow cover alias’.

The huge chunk of mountain hurling towards them barreled forward like a General leading a charge. Instead of a wall of infantry, however, it was just a big karking meteor of dirt was likely to crush the Brotherhood’s Envoys. Wyn stepped confidently out in front of it, and the group and spread his hands out wide and began to focus.

“No thank you!” he shouted as he willed the Force into a protective shield wall, extending its reach past just himself, but to extend and cover the rest of the party. A translucent corona, rendered visible by the weird properties of the Ethereal Realm, started to form, but then flickered out.

Now is NOT the time for performance issues, dammit! he swore at himself. He re-doubled his efforts, focused, and touched the Envoy Charm around his neck. It held a holographic picture of Turi in it. He thought about the risk he was taking just being here. If anything happened to him, would Turi even know or realize it? Or would he just think his Dad has run off and never come back?

No.

“I said, nay!” he redoubled his efforts, but the barrier, while wide enough to protect the whole group, flickered without confidence.

Wyn’s shoulders slumped, and whatever air of bravado that billowed like a cloak over his shoulder wilted away into the aether.

While the group dealt with Scimitar one of their members was distracted by other things. Images drifted in and out of focus. Holographic, strangely shaded, simulacrums faded in and out of Hector Von Ricmore’s focus. He could see Scimitar cloaked in power. Hurling blasts of lightning. A burst of static. Scimitar stood amidst the group, lightsabers swinging with reckless abandon.

The Kiffar’s head throbbed. The Ethereal Realm was strange at the best of times. Were these images merely meant to taunt him? Or serve as a foreboding warning of what to come? He couldn’t say for sure what the Force desired; it was twisted and strange within the realm.

He had to focus. There was no time to lose himself amidst illusions or potential visions of the future. One might say that he had to be mindful of the present. With a newfound clarity he analyzed the battlefield; pondering how to best aid in the fight against Scimitar.

The floating island was clearly the most immediate threat. Action had to be taken to mitigate the impact. If his allies could not, then it was up to Hector. The Kiffar reached out with the Force, probing the hold that Scimitar had upon the rock. The Dark Jedi was surprised to feel that his foe was not controlling the landmass at all; gravity and natural forces weaponized the object for him.

Hector planted the hilt of his pike into the ground. He spread his legs shoulder width apart. He breathed in. And out.

The island was truly massive. Never in his life had Hector even attempted to affect an object of such size. Especially one hurtling towards him. He wasn’t arrogant enough to assume he could redirect it entirely. As satisfying as hurling the island back at Scimitar would be, it was far beyond the capabilities of the Dark Jedi.

‘I don’t need to move the entire island, just need to shift it away.’ Hector thought to himself.

He reached out with both hands and grabbed the landmass with the Force. He could feel the island in its entirety, a sudden doom hurtling towards him. Try as he might, he couldn’t shift it. The asteroid continued to descend at an alarming rate.

No no no no no no no.

He wouldn’t allow it. They wouldn’t die here. Not like this.

So he tried again. And willed a miracle to happen.

Physical and metaphysical muscles strained, doing everything in their power to affect the island. Sheer effort and will were rewarded, the island began to shift off course. Tilting diagonally away from the group but not completely off target.

Hector took a shuddering gasp at the exertion. He could not guarantee the group’s safety. But there was now hope for their survival. That hope lit an ember in his soul; an ember which sparked into a blaze. They would survive this. He would make sure of it.

No matter the cost.

The Elder watched Elly deck the Scimitar to ground, right after her strike. Tahiri almost wished she hadn’t jumped back as far as she had after striking, as she could’ve positioned her blades up and let him fall onto them. The Togruta’s gaze didn’t break from the mad man on the ground in front of her, till she had to peer up at her surroundings, upon hearing the thunderous breaking of rock.

Her sharp eyes glanced from Hector and Wyn, and then up to the mountain of rock breaking apart as it seemed to have been pushed off course. However, as most of the debris avoided the group, one piece seemed to be hurtling towards her position. The petite Togruta could’ve run to either side or even away from it, instead she confronted the mass of rock straight on.

Even though the forefront of her mind was focused on taking down the Scimitar, her subconsciousness kicked in, causing her limbs to act of their own accord. Tahiri’s legs moved her body forward by about a meter, before crouching down on a small hard outcropping of rock, the muscles in her calves, thighs, and sections of mid torso coiling like springs. It was only at the last second, as the rock was about to turn her into a pancake, she shot up into the air, twisting and turning her body, as the rocks mass crashed into the earth beneath her.

Using it’s momentum to keep herself up in the air, her right leg shoot down, pushing off the mass, and flipping further into the air, until the tail end of it passed beneath her. The crushed and battered earth spat up bits of rock and dust as Tahiri ducted and rolled forward into a crouched landing, standing up effortlessly and flicking her Nightsister blade in a crisscross display, before pointing it in his direction, in sheer defiance of what the Scimitar had tried to use to annihilate the team.

He was fast. Too karking fast. Sofila didn’t even have time to focus and strengthen her blows, speed up her blocks before the Sith Lord was there and slashing. The red of the lightsaber filled her vision, managing to twist backwards and away from the lethal blows but Scimitar still caught her, burning, burning her flesh.

Cole saw the blow and panic flooded through him, though something else followed. It was a sensation he’d never experienced before, suddenly rippling through his veins as if there was more than blood there. It responded to his fear, his anger and he followed it’s direction. Trusting his instincts, altered as they were, Cole reached his hand out and pressed with the Force. It didn’t seem to visibly do anything but Scimitar’s rage ebbed, the speed of his movements lagging as if the adrenaline had been a lava flow that just froze over.

Unfortunately, in his focus on this new ability, Cole left himself open. Too slow to react nearly in time to prevent the lightsaber from grazing his arms, his leg. All he could do was put enough space to elongate the fight as much as possible.

Feeling the rage coming off the Scimitar as he attacked her friends, Tahiri readied herself in case he turned on her. Seeing that he was faster, she had begun to immerse herself in the Force around her, though it felt slightly constricted, even as it infused into her muscles.

His speed seemed to have reduced by a fraction as he turned his wrathful attack towards her, however his strikes were still none the less skilled and deadly. With each blow coming swiftly and without mercy, she was thankful that her Master had trained her to take such intensively battering strikes.

Thanks to the Force boosting her muscles reflexes and strength, for every strike that would have grazed or severely wounded her, she was able to deflect or meet his blow with one of her own. The tiny Togruta was able to keep up the pace while standing her own for a little bit before giving ground to the hulking Rattataki. She waited for the right opening to get another good strike in herself, but for now she just continued to wear him out the best she could.

Charging Sith-Lord-Ghost-person.

Neat.

The Ethereal realm was indeed a wonderful, glorious mass of randomly generated sequences. While it was frustrating that his abilities were not working as consistently as he would have liked, Wyn lived his entire life rolling the dice and dancing through the random, chaotic beauty of life. But one thing that he knew worked, that his confidence would never be shaken on, was his ability to shoot his shot.

The Double Ds weren’t going to cut it. Which meant it was time for Plan C.

As Scimitar charged, Wyn smoothly brandished his Synergy rifle–or his “Yeet Cannon” as he liked to call it–and held down the triggers charging function.

A crimson ball of light swelled at the modified barrel, and Wyn carefully sighted down it.

“Special Yeet…. Cannon!” Wyn shouted as he unleashed the charge bolt into Scimitars center of mass.

Then he made a high pitched noise that could have been a squeak as he ran to find cover.

Scimitar feel upon his next victim like a whirling dervish. Crimson crossguard blades struck blow after mighty blow. The length of Hector’s saber pike kept the devil away…for a short time. Scimitar ducked and weaved around the spear’s defensive stabs; making use of both blades to parry any strike which came too close.

The monster let out an unhinged cackle in delight. Another battlefield. Another slaughter for him to enjoy.

Hector Von Ricmore gave ground, backing up to avoid a fatal blow. His foe kept close, stuck to him like a bug on a bantha. Scimitar lunged forward, both blades prepared to intercept a retaliatory blow. The Kiffar obliged; he blocked the assault with a defensive stab, a move that left his blade locked between those of his enemy.

‘Oh kriff.’ Hector thought as an immense force traveled up his blade. His enemy made use of his significant physical strength to gain momentum in the blade lock through raw might. And then he struck.

One red blade separated from the lock, slashing through the long hilt of the pike and grazing the edge of Hector’s armor. The suit remained intact, the energy shield absorbing the blow and deactivating.

The Kiffar wielded his damaged blade in one hand. He feinted a vertical blow and kicked Scimitar away.

The Sith burst out into another set of unhinged laughter. “You think it will be that easy. Did you think you could TRESSPASS into MY DOMAIN without consequence? No no no YOU WILL SUFFER”

The temperature of the battlefield dropped several degrees. Hector felt a chill crawl up his spine. And the Force screamed a warning.

Scimitar fell upon him again. Twin blades of crimson clashed against an amethyst sword. There was no elegance to the exchange. No dignity. Just maddened violence and a desperate surge for survival.

He had to make space. Scimitar was not a foe he could overcome in lightsaber combat. Not without the aid of his allies. He gathered the Force within him and lashed out at Scimitar with power.

He reached out with his left arm. And nothing was there.

What?

Scimitar flew backwards, the burst of Telekinetic energy had flung him away from the Dark Jedi.

Several meters away lay a severed arm garbed in black armor.

Hector looked down at the space where his arm should be. He was seized by a silent shock.

‘Oh. His arm was over there.’ He thought. ‘His arm was over there!’

His lightsaber tumbled from his grip, deactivating and bouncing off the ground. He let loose a howl of pain as he fell to his knees, clutching aimlessly at the cauterized stump of an arm.

Elly? Elly! Sofila gritted her teeth, her eyes dashed around rapidly for any sign or hint of the Mandalorian woman. Nothing.

Just. Disappeared. Sofila wanted to go searching for her but she couldn’t just leave the team behind and where can she even start? Anger started to rise as she grimaced and the burn injury on her arm was what was keeping her grounded.

“Kark!” Sofila yelped when she realized what happened to Hector then she focused, a barrier engulf the team to protect them from Scimitar’s hit.

“I can hold this up for a bit, do what you need to do,” she cried out back to her team, her pink hues glared and watched Scimitar from behind the barrier as she focused with the Force to keep it up.

Scimitar… you **will* die by our hand.*

First things first, kill him and go find Elly.

By the karking stars what was happening? Cole processed it as best he could, logically, dealing with the still vast threat glaring down upon them. Elly, gone. No trace, no visible input from anyone present. Problem for later, MIA. Hector, down. Limb gone, urgent medical attention needed. Cole was no medic, realistically the first person he’d ask would be Sofila but she was occupied. He slipped a grenade from his belt, shouldering his rifle, preparing the next course of action for himself while contemplating. While still pushing on the strange pressure that could only be the Force flowing through him and pinning down Scimitar’s wrath. Wyn and Tahiri both had the Force truly. He’d never seen Wyn heal anyone but kark-

“Tyris, Morte, one of you need to see to Hector’s wound.”

It occured to him after giving the command that he hadn’t used Hector’s last name, worry blurring his usual propriety. Cole focussed ahead, pushing that back down. He could be better about his damn emotions when they weren’t at less than half of the crew they should have had.

“I’m not a doctor, but that doesn’t look great,” Wyn replied, already in motion.

He stretched out with the healing abilities of the Force, but instead of focusing on a single target, the Defender pushed it out towards the whole group in area of affect. It wasn’t much, but hopefully it helped.

“Don’t worry Hector! Senzu bean!”

Wyn yelled as he chucked his Bacta Bomb into the direction of the injured von Ricmore.

It rolled past him.

Tahiri’s own rage threatenex to boil its way to the surface upon hearing Hector’s scream, and seeing Elly disappear before her eyes as she recovered a bit from the Scimitars’ attack.

No! What the frack was going on?! How could Elly just disappear? She can’t be… no, I refuse to even think of that scenario. She has to be somewhere else! No time to think of where she might be, cause Hector’s hurt in a bad way. Tahiri’s mind was fighting to keep control of her emotions, the same emotions she trusted to help her survive.

The Dark Side now began to whisper to her, as the Togruta watched the Rattataki fall to his knees, Now’s your chance to take revenge. Revenge for everything he has done, the pain and suffering he has wrought upon the people. Upon your Friends! Show your strength in the Force, as he is weak!

Shaking her head to clear those thoughts, Tahiri quickly made her way over to Hector. Nodding to both Sofila and Cole.

Sheathing the Nightsister Duskblade and clipping the shoto saber hilt in its place, the Elder placed her left hand on Hector’s back to support him, while her right hand hovered over the stump of what was left of his arm. Gathering the Force, still feeling the resistance at using it, she poured as much healing energy into him, taking care of any bleeding, and stitching together the veins and skin as best as she could.

The healing energies rejuvenated him. The pain caused by the loss of his arm faded. It was time for vengeance.

“Thank you for the assistance.” Hector Von Ricmore proclaimed gratefully. With Tahiri’s quick action he was able to fight once again, even weighted down by a missing limb. But how was one to fight such a foe? He outclassed all of them in traditional martial skills as well as sheer power and experience manipulating the Force. Against such a foe there was only one option.

The Brotherhood agents had to make use of the unorthodox. To employ a strategy so strange that Scimitar would not predict it to occur.

So that is exactly what Hector did.

Glancing towards his severed arm, he noticed it was still garbed in his custom armor.

Hatred flowed through him. The planet they resided upon made the Dark Side even easier to call upon. And his own injury provided the emotional fuel. The Kiffar gathered the Force within him. He reached out his remaining arm and willed suffering upon Darth Scimitar. Hector’s severed arm levitated into the air. It began to spin in place and then suddenly hurtled forward; accelerating so quickly that it was difficult to track via most sentient’s eyesight.

The severed limb flew towards Scimitar at an alarming rate; poised to do harm upon impact.

“You mean like how I finished your mom?” Wyn pitched his voice into an eerily accurate mimic of Lord Scimitars cadence.

Got em, Wyn made a small, triumphant gesture with one fist as he readied his blaster.

The portal closed. It karkin’ closed. They’ll have to find another way in after dealing with Scimitar to get Elly. Sofila looked at Wyn with confusion and uncertainty, what was he doing?

The Mirialan directed her focus and speed, Sofila took no time to get up in Scimitar’s face and her arms went behind his neck and arms and put him into a lock. She now stood behind him, her arms holding him in a lock-

“Shoot him!” Sofila shouted and gritted her teeth, made sure to keep the hold on him so they have a nice holding target to shoot at. Scimitar.

“Today is the day you die, Scimitar,” her voice low enough that only he could hear her.

Cole had been waiting for the right moment, slipping the Grav Grenade down low. It was a concern to lock Sofila in place in melee combat with the karker but she could handle herself. It also helped that the moment he took to prepare, the Human already had his rifle aimed ready to shoot.

It only took a breath, a minor realignment and-

The bolt struck Scimitar directly in the crotch region. It was low, but the intent was to strike a major artery, hit some nerve endings and maybe it was a little petty.

-# just a little

The high pitched tone told all. Cole didn’t react to the jibe, icy eyes unflinching in the gaze of the Sith Lord.

Cole slowly, ever so slowly, raised an eyebrow at the claim and struggling. Arcing in a quiet expression of judgement, doubt and amusement.

“Sounds like someone is a wittle embawassed at being westrained by a giiiirl,” Wyn taunted with a childish, school-yard cadence at the big bad Sith “Lord”.

Clearly, Wyn’s wit was getting to Scimitar. Between the rest of his predicament, he was starting to seem…vulnerable. Never count out an enemy, of course, but, the Sith Lord looked like he needed a hug.

From a laser.

Wyn did a quick flourish with his Syngery Rifle and quick-sighted down the barrel. He aimed for Scimitar’s chest, but then as he drew a bead, lowered the barrel a bit while charging the beam.

“Shot through the ‘nads, and you’re to blame!”* Wyn belted lyrically.

The beam discharged, the technology once used by the Children of Mortis to harm his friends and family turned into a new kind of weapon to defend them. The glow briefly cast Wyn’s pale, elfin features with a crimson hue, emerald eyes glittering. The blast struck Scimitar right between the legs.

“Darlin’ you give Sith-Lords, a bad naaaame!”

Wyn then made a guitar-like strumming gesture across the still smoking barrel of the Syngery-rifle.

After making sure Hector was alright, she stood at the ready, observing the scene that unfolded quickly in front of her. Mind racing as she was trying to figure out how they were to get back to the Ethereal Realm to look for Elly.

If she is even still there. Maybe he simply sent her back here… Or maybe somewhere nearby. I just hope she is alright.

Her eyes narrowed a bit, listening to the Rattataki man’s claims. Her face almost darkening as the Scimitar seemed to egg them as it were. The Elder tried to feel, to sense what he was trying to do; as it felt all too familiar to her. Images of her training with her Master, Solas, and brother apprentice, Blackhawk. How their Master would egg Blackhawk into attacking him out of sheer rage, or even berate and belittle him if she got the slightest upperhand on him.

Is this truly how crazy Master seemed to Blackhawk? Was I so naive as to think that Master Night-Thorn wasn’t going down this path? This feels so familiar. But it also doesn’t feel right. What is this feeling?!

Her hand called forth her Krayt Dragon pearl focused shoto saber, it’s howling blade springing to life. Stepping forward, after Cole and Wyn were able to get their shots off as Sofila held the Scimitar in place, though seeing as he was starting to struggle more made her want to end this quickly, no matter the bad feeling she was getting from him.

Though they were not in the Ethereal Realm anymore, her sabers blade seemed to almost roar as she jumped forward to strike him across the lower chest, aiming to incapacitate his lungs. However, instead of her blade carving a path through his chest, Tahiri watched in horror as the Rattataki managed to slip out of Sofila’s grasp, and in a way, pull her into the path of the Togruta’s blade. Slicing just beneath her heavy chest plate, catching the bit of the Mirialan’s last rib and going down her side. Luckily the path of the saber meeting flesh through thin armor was shallow and cateriezed, but it didn’t make Tahiri feel any less bad about hurting her friend.

With Scimitar occupied in combat Hector Von Ricmore now had the perfect opportunity to bring a swift end to the fight. With his remaining arm he withdrew a small disk from a belt pocket. He pressed a button on the side, causing the device to instantly expand. The much larger circle hovered a few inches off the ground and hummed with energy. Another button primed the device for activation; when the Force Cage registered a sentient life form within close proximity it would trap them and interfere with their ability to wield the Force.

It was a perfect tool against a foe like Scimitar.

‘I’ll need to thank Kamjin for making such a technology available.’ Hector thought as he prepared to utilize the equipment. The Kiffar reached into the Force and gently grasped the circle. He observed the ongoing conflict with Scimitar and waited.

He needed the perfect moment. For Scimitar to be so occupied the Sith would be unable to dodge in time. He witnessed Tahiri’s acrobatic assault. Scimitar’s evasive actions. And how he was occupied in turning the blow against Sofila.

‘Now is the time to Strike’ Hector thought as he flung the disc forward.

Scimitar sensed danger, turning to face the object rushing towards him. He swung both blades, eager to destroy whatever meager offense the trespassers had planned. He would crush their dreams, their hopes, their will. And then he would obliterate them entirely.

His blades stopped mid swing, held in place by an invisible grip. For a brief moment Scimitar felt an emotion that was largely alien to him. He felt something his past self would have categorized as fear. The moment passed, fear becoming a righetous and arrogant anger. He’d just dodge the attack.

Scimitar leapt over the disk, unconcerned at whatever was planned. A shimmering light burst around him, forcing him onto the disk and holding him in place.

Impotent rage overtook Scimitar. “YOU WILL DIE FOR THIS” He declared, vowing revenge for such an indignity.

Sofila’s hand reached to the holster and removed her blaster. With a calm and steady hands- “No, you will. Let’s all get him!” She shouted to her teammates as she aimed right into the cage.

Cole didn’t hesitate, at a poor angle for his shot but the blast easily piercing the restrained target through the leg, hitting vital points along the way.

He kept his gaze level, even as the group closed in to finish the job. Could it be this simple?

If it bleeds, we can kill it

Wyn remembered the safe wisdom of the old-school holovid action stars as he sighted one more time, grinned, and let loose another charged beam from his Synergy Rifle. While the Ethereal realm was strange and weird in the all the wrong ways- at least the Children of Mortis tech could do some neat tricks.

He made sure to hit the same spot–between Scimitar’s legs, of course–so as to increase the incenedary affect of the unique weapon.

The Togruta felt sick, as once again, she hurt another friend while in the process of trying to defeat this man… no, this Monster! A mixture of disgust, anger, sadness, and pain filled her heart as she could smell and taste the ever familiar burnt metallicness of blood, hearing the howl of her saber, and seeing Sofila in pain.

However, certain feelings subsided and others grew in their place, as she turned to observe Hector whilst he managed to cage the Scimitar. His raving was deafened when she heard Sofila calling for them all to hit at once. Tahiri’s morals caused her to hesitate for a second, but her logical mind gave way to the fact that the Scimitar had no morals, and thus wouldn’t extend the same mercy she would have.

Even as a Sith, Tahiri was not heartless, remembering the piece of his soul they had talked to, the man he used to be, so she wanted to end this as quick as possible. The Elder called her Rune saber to her other hand, toggling the switch to ignite the blade as soon as her fingers wrapped around the hilt. As soon as the last shot hit him, the petite Togruta sprang forward, bringing both of her blades to bear down on the Rattataki. Her first saber swing was to guage how much she could go for, and once she saw it cleanly slice fully through his upper tricep, she brought the other around and stabbed him in the chest, before jumping back.

“An arm for an arm, and a dose of the pain you’ve caused.” Tahiri hissed at him in ur-Kittât. Standing back, she still kept her blades at the ready, the feeling of uneasiness not subsiding as the Scimitar neared death.

Rend. Maim. Kill.

Rend. Maim. Kill.

The dark demanded retribution. To inflict pain upon the source of its torment.

Hector was happy to oblige.

Yellow eyes bled crimson. The air around the Kiffar dropped several degrees. And blue lightning sparked along his remaining arm. Electricity coalesced into his palm, cerulean burning into amethyst.

The blast left his palm, searing and splitting the air; the branches of electricity fell upon Scimitar with a hunger. The Force Cage sputtered and sparked. And then it ignited.

Scimitar’s mouth opened and closed in a soundless scream. His body danced and twitched as the voltage and flames ravaged his corrupted form.

Crimson eyes faded to dandelion yellow once more. Hector sank to his knees, exhausted from the ordeal. He gazed upon the macabre dance in front of him. Scimitar was a damn bastard, thats for sure. But hopefully Mir would find some peace in the realm beyond, no matter what fate awaited him.

The galaxy was a difficult enough existence. There was no need to wish a damnation filled afterlife upon another.

Something was wrong.

Terribly wrong.

The burning was so intense she wasn’t able to express it vocally. She fell to the ground, her fists clenching so tight that her knuckles were white underneath the gloves while the metal creaked. Her body lit up, her heart pounding frantically against her rib cage, the pain was enough she couldn’t coherent a single thought.

One fist slid to seemingly grasp at air where the Iron Heart was.

Her heart.

Her heart.

Cole had experienced being out of his depth before. Being too weak or too inexperienced in a fight, being caught off guard, being the only person without the Force at his side on both sides of a fight and trying to survive. The latter had become the most common on reaching adult hood and even more so upon Cole’s entry to Arcona. Yet, he’d never felt so helpless before.

The initial instinct had been to shoot Scimitar but logic kicked in that that could kill Sofila too. Then he’d rushed to her side, dropping beside her and kneeling there, watching with horror and fear breaking the usual mask of calm, as Sofila fell. As apparitions paused the damage being done but what could he do?

He found himself glancing between Hector, Wyn and Tahiri, frozen before they’re even been given this moment to take action.

There was nothing he could do. Cole gripped Sofila’s shoulder, he wouldnt let her be alone. Even if he had to watch her die he wouldn’t.

The pain faded.

The physical one at least. Her hand was still over the Iron Heart of her armor as she had to take a moment to collect herself.

She… has a fragment in her? This explained so much. All the arguments, all the anger, the tears, the yelling…. She had lost so much friendship and strained Cole and her relationship.

All because of a karking fragment. Her jaw tightened as she removed her helmet and proceeded to remove her chest armor so there’s a direct target to her heart.

She didn’t want to die. But she know it must be done. She doesn’t want to play around rituals and try things, Scimitar needed to be taken down as soon as possible. Her hand went up and grasped Cole’s hand that rested on her shoulder as she stood, unable to look at him in the eyes.

“We can’t test or try rituals that we had never heard of or never tried before, we can’t let him live. We don’t have time to argue- We must do what we know would bring certain death to him.”

“You want me to kill you?” Cole asked, pained and tired and scared. There was a shake to his voice that was never there.

He didn’t avoid her eyes, the pink irises avoiding him but he couldn’t. Not if she was serious. Shed.. asked once.

Wyn frowned slightly. “There’s always a different way,” he said soberly and without a hint of his usual levity. Which meant he was thinking very hard about something.

Stepping forward, Wyn realized that he had neglected to, in their time in this ethereal space, try the one thing that he did best- the power at his core, his talent, that he had vowed never to abuse and to only use to protect and defend others.

Wyn lowered his self-imposed guardrails and reached out towards the entitity that was Scimitar’s mind. He searched for a landing zone and then found a place to land and anchor in place.

“`

”`

Scimitar appeared as his old self. No cloak or hood, no darkened eyes, no mystic amulets, no tendrils of the dark side swirling around him.

*Surrounding him were the scions of the Brotherhood. The Envoys who had defied him at each turn, had rebuffed his efforts even as he tried to break even their strongest. *

*Hector, Cole, Sofila, Ellisyn, Tahiri and then Wyn all stood around Scimitar in circle. Each bore their respective weapon- a fist, a blaster, a blade: an ethereal assault. *

*“You have been weighed, you have been measured, and you have been found wanting,” Wyn’s voice chanted, and was fused with the voices of all 6 Envoy’s with all the weight of their wills. *

Scimitar screamed as each attack struck him and tore him asunder. Only for him to re-materialize, and then have it happen again. And again.

And again.

“`

”`

Wyn kept his concentration, eyes closed, hand stretched outward as a focus. The best he could do was give them more time, and he left his trust in the others.

Conflicting emotions roiled within Hector Von Ricmore.

The Force had shown him what he had to do. But he was not sure he had the strength to do it.

He pressed a button on his lightsaber, the weapon ejecting the kyber crystal within. The purple gem hovered in the air and spun lazily in front of Hector.

The Kiffar listened to his allies as he struggled to make up his own mind. Sofila had offered herself as a sacrifice. One life cut short to end the Immortal Sith. But even without his gift he could sense the connection between them. The friendship and potential for love. Sofila still had so much to live for. He wouldn’t let her throw it all away. Not like this.

Perhaps he could invert the connection. Swap places with Sofila and perish instead. Yet the idea scared him. Terrified him like nothing else. He feared what would come for him after he shuffled off this mortal coil. Had his actions and experiments damned him? Or had the lives he saved bought him a peaceful rest?

The Dark Jedi let out staggered, uneven breaths. Shame burned through him. Shame at his failures. At his inability to use everything to save a life.

“Thinking too hard Ricmore.” A ghostly voice echoed within his mind. “Always extremes with you. I gave you shit for your inability to decide in a crisis. So take that to heart. Take a more moderate approach and just do it. No more kriffing hesitation.”

Hector let out a rueful chuckle. Leave it to Korvis to say what he needed to hear in the most backhanded way possible. It didn’t matter if it was a memory, delusion, or the man himself from beyond the grave. His spirit had been reignited. They would stop Scimitar.

“Cole. Sofila.” He addressed his companions. “No one needs to die today. But I need to borrow Cole for the ritual. He’s close to Sofila, close like few others. And that has meaning for something like this.”

Cole looked up from his place kneeling beside Sofila, the fear draining in the face of being able to do something.

“Anything.” He said, firmly. There was no hesistation, “What do you need?”

“I need you.” Hector somberly stated. “Your connection to Sofila. And your willingness to sacrifice for her. Together we can break Scimitar’s connection and strengthen Sofila against any potential future attempts. But the ritual will take something. Something from both of us.”

He sat and gestured to the ground besides him. “Sit down next to me and grab my right hand. Think of Sofila. What she means to you. I can do the rest.”

Sofila’s head shook fast and rapidly when Cole mention if she wanted him to kill her. Kark. No It was a … question she asked once but she didn’t think it would come to that. Sofila heard Hector’s voice as she turned to look at him and gave him an uncertain look.

She doesn’t want to get her hopes up.

But do they really have time to do something? Her body tensed when he said that he would need to borrow Cole.

No.

‘Anything.’

Sofila turned to protest but Hector got some words in. They were going to start.

She couldn’t speak or utter a word. Take something from both of them?

“No…” She finally muttered.

Tahiri’s mind reeled as suddenly everything was thrown into chaos. If what Mir said was true then where… THE DAGGER!

“The Dagger,” she growled, looking from the Scimitar to Sofila. Now she was torn; should she just straight up attack the monster who is causing all the pain, or help rid Sofila of the bit soul within her chest?

What do I do? What should I do? Everything Master taught was to win at all costs, no matter what win the fight… but I can’t loose a friend, not another one. And especially not to this man!

Determination set in as she stepped back, not wanting to turn her back to the Scimitar, even with the apparitions help, and Wyn stepping forward,clearly concentrating hard on something.

“Wyn’s right, there’s always another way,” she recalled what Hector was offering as she looked to Sofila, Hector and Cole. “I’m very skilled with a blade, especially a knife…” the thought of having to intentionally cut into her friend made her pause a moment. “I can try, if you wish, to cut it out instead?”

“We have no doubt as to your ability with a blade.” Hector reassured his ally as he prepared for the ritual. “The part I am concerned with is sewing Sofila back up after such an action. Relying solely on Force Healing for open heart surgery seems incredibly unwise, such a power takes time; that is a resource we do not have.”

The Kiffar placed several herbal sticks upon the ground. He took the lighter from his smoke case and lit the ends one by one. A green smoke began to billow around the group, thin enough to not impact vision.

“No matter what you think of me or the ritual I ask that you trust the knowledge of those who came before us. Sofila will be fine. Protect us from Scimitar and strike him when the ritual is finished.”

Cole had glanced towards Tahiri before focusing on Hector’s instructions.

Why was it always so karking ominous with the Force? Despite it Cole had nodded and moved over to sit beside Hector with a long look back to Sofila before settling. There was a moment of hesitation before taking the man’s remaining hand. Less so about what was going to happen and more so because of actually holding someone’s hand. Still, that was fine and he gripped Hector’s hand tightly with his left hand.

Think of Sofila? That.. was easy. What she meant to him, even easier.

She is everything.

The woman who koala hugged him in a shelter during a storm. Who cared so deeply for others she coerced him into letting her simply wash his clothes. Sofila who was his sunshine across so many dark karking days. Who understood his night terrors and had never judged him for them, and instead became the beacon bringing him back to their bed every time they struck and kark it was most nights. Who had done a handstand to prove she was spicy, making up for silly mistakes with a laugh and a smile.

His partner, his light, Sofila who’d taken the blaster pistol out of his hand when he was going to let go.

She had struggled, her own nightmares and the shard of Scimitar as they now knew plaguing her heart. Anger and lashing out, lying. Yet, he’d never wavered in his decision to be with her. Even when he’d wavered on if she should be with him, it was still trying to protect her.

And they’d worked out pretty quickly that they’d do anything to protect each other.

She’d be angry at him for giving up something of himself to save her. But it wouldn’t take long before she realised the truth. Sofila would do the same for him in a heartbeat. He wouldn’t regret this. Cole knew he wouldn’t.

He focussed on that warmth she summoned within him, her smile and jokes. Fighting together, cooking together, sleeping together, their fingers entwined and the scent of fruits ever-present in her hair. No strings becoming a tangle neither could begin to undo.

He was sat with his left leg tucked under the other, knee resting on his foot as the right stuck out.

“Alright, that is a fair,” she was relieved she would have to intentionally cut Sofila. However, she was still worried for all their safeties. “You have far more knowledge in rituals than I. I trust you to save Sofila, but don’t let it take more than what’s needed. My healing only can do so much. Just give the word when finished.” <@476595775187451913> <@432543120635461643>

Nodding to both Hector and Cole, before flashing a quick smile to Sofile. Tahiri steeled herself, eyes burning, jaw clenched, yet face relaxed, as she stepped forward and placed herself in between the Scimitar and her friends. Ready to defend them, and strike him down to finally end this.

Sofila didn’t say anything. She was afraid if she opened her mouth, she would end up sobbing like some embarrassing school girl but she can’t help the twist in her heart. The sinking feeling in her stomach.

She wanted to bring up how they couldn’t separate the soul fragments from the artifacts in the past so simply ‘cutting’ it out wouldn’t work and that would just give her more pain and torture she didn’t need. But she couldn’t. She didn’t dare to risk saying a word right now.

She started to chew on her cheek, her arms crossed, obviously nervous, scared, and uncomfortable with the whole situation. The cold blade that was always hidden at her lower back was more predominant now. She noticed Tahiri’s smile but did not return it. Instead, they were on Cole and Scimitar, back and forth. Ready to jump if Scimitar broke free sooner than they thought.

Maybe, while they were distracted by the ritual and if it seems like it’s not working…. she would had enough time to use it on herself, to save her entire team and to finally erase Scimitar, once and for all.

The green smoke condensed around the group.

“It is time.” Hector declared.

The Kiffar raised his hands and began to chant in a guttural tongue, the words of the Ancient Sith flowing from his lips.

“Mortis Three, mes visita sh'jatau tu'iea jenga. Mortis Three, mes visita sh'jatau tu'iea jenga. Mortis Three, mes visita sh'jatau tu'iea jenga.

Behold sis valthiris, tave zkasaeva tsis. Smite jis nuo jiso transgressions priaet tave natural tvarka. Vykti temias sacrifices, freely aukotijas, ir klase jiso influence sulig Sofila. Ir serjek ji priaet ateitis incursions.”

*(Translation: Mortis Three, we call upon your might. Mortis Three, we call upon your might. Mortis Three, we call upon your might.

Behold this abomination, the Immortal Sith. Smite him for his transgressions against the natural order. Take these sacrifices, freely given, and remove his influence from Sofila. And guard her against future incursions.)*

Anyone with even an inkling of Force Sensitivity could feel a sudden current, a rush of power, rip through the room. The smoke was dispelled with a might gust. Hector and Cole howled in anguish as the ritual took its price. Darkness raced up Hector’s face, devouring his right eye. The organ was obliterated in moments, reduced to powder and blown away like ash in the wind. Shadows coiled around Cole. They crept up his right leg, rending and devouring clothing and flesh alike. The shadows stopped once they passed his knee, their hunger sated. Cole’s seated position is all that kept him from falling over, the stump of his leg inhibiting his ability to balance.

But their suffering brought victory. Scimitar’s soul fragment was pulled from Sofila. Pain was the price for power. Sofila soon joined the duo in their screams, a trinity of suffering to echo the forgotten gods. The fragment appeared as a glowing white orb, which hovered in front of the group. Scimitar’s immortality was now within their grasp.

The screams of her team mates almost made her blood run cold, making her subconscious mind harken back something similar…

The forest and grasslands burned around her, screams of her tribe, her family ringing out around her. A tiny Togruta girl running after her twin brothers, who had without thinking run into the chaos to find their parents. Finally catching up to them as they valiantly attacked a raider who had corner other children.

Watching as one fell to blaster bolt, and the other about to meet the same fate. Reacting, rather than thinking, as the dagger she held flew true to its mark, saving at least one of her little brothers from death. She had enough fire to get the other children to safety in the forest and her remaining brother…

Her strength waned as her tiny arms cradle her dying fathers head. Her own cries for help, for her mother, her family, were lost in the din of blaster fire, screams, and the hum of the raiders ship engines overhead. The only thing she heard was her fathers final words, and then came the searing pain across her back as a blade sliced into her. The last sight, before blackness took her that day, was of her father jumping up with the last of his strength and pushing her behind him, protecting her till the end.

Tahiri had been powerless to protect her friends and family, but this time she wasn’t, not against this enemy, and she wouldn’t be loosing any friends to him. Her blood boiled, mind set on what needed to be done. Glancing over her right shoulder, the Elder quickly taking stock of what exactly was happening with Hector, Cole, and Sofila. Seeing the white orb, she also stole a glance towards Wyn.

Sidestepping to her left and then back a few meters, noticing in an instant exactly what was taken from Cole, eyes widening slightly. Positioning herself so that there was a straight shot from the orb to the Rattataki, the Togruta extinguished her Rune saber, placing it back on it’s belt clip, as she simultaneously dipped into and gathered the Force from the flow within. Tahiri’s fingers tingled as reddish white light danced between their tips, the streams of light getting brighter within moments in the center of her palm, fingers acting as a cage to contain the energy.

“Wyn! Get ready to shoot him!” With that, she threw her arm forward, the contained energy shooting straight into the orb. The reddish white lightning sparked and crackled around the piece of soul, consuming it in fiery light before branching off to hit the Scimitar himself, causing his body to spasm and tense.

“Kark you!”

Cole growled, breathing heavily. Between the pain he was in, still reeling and disoriented, and the lightning crackling ahead of him, his hands were shaking violently. Yet a literal life time of training compensated, the sharp shooter steadying his breathing for a scant few enough breaths to fire.

The bolt struck as the screamed claims echoed through the room, flashing red beside Tahiris lightning.

Wyn wanted to help Cole, to run to him and do what he could. He wanted to yell, scream, or continue being flippant in the face of an insidious Sith Lord who refused to go away. More than that, Scimitar had affected the lives of his friends. Wyn didn’t have many real friends–ones that acknowledged him back at least–but Cole came close.

Perhaps it was a result of his first trip to the Ethereal Realm that thin strands of golden and silver light seemed to weave their way between the other Envoys. His emerald eyes shimmered faintly despite the dark shadows around them, but they were clear to him. He was unsure if anyone else saw it, but then a thin red line traced from all of them back to the temper-tantrum having Scimitar. He wasn’t supposed to be here, but he had been, and his aid was needed. It wasn’t just his duty as a Golden Envoy, but something he needed to prove to himself as well. That he had value and belonged with others.

A rare somber but determined look washed over Wyndell Tyris’ face as he calmly and coldly sighted without a scope on his target. His finger depressed slowly on the trigger, charging the synergy rifles chamber. Time dilated for a moment. It was the perfect time for a witty zinger or one liner.

But Wyn said nothing. He simply locked eyes with Scimitar, then flashed the most Wyn-ing, infuriatingly, shit-eating grin in his actors arsenal and let go of the trigger, sending the charged bolt of mortis-crystal-energy at his target.

He didn’t miss. Not when it was important. Not when others safety depended on it. He was a Defender.

Scimitar lulled back. He was dead.

Cole didn’t take it in, really, before he was shifting from his stance. It hurt. Or did it? He was struggling to even register that the lower half of his leg was just gone. But his eyes snapped from the absence to the one he gave it for. Grasping onto the nearest anything he could, Cole dragged himself over to Sofila.

“Sof.” Once close enough, if she wasn’t already interrupting his approach, hed grasp her arm, trying to pull her closer, into his embrace.

It was over.

For her, more than anyone else.

Hector could feel the relief spread throughout the room, himself included. He gazed silently at Scimitar’s body, a lit cigarette in his remaining hand. He held it up to his mouth, inhaled, then exhaled smoke.

“We need to destroy the body completely. Can’t leave any scraps for any cultists to bring back.” Hector announced.

Wyn waved his Synergy Rifle suggestively and lifted an eyebrow.

It looks like Wyn had the problem covered. “Works for me. Blast that corpse to ash and scatter it to the wind.”

“Double tap,” he replied sagely.

As the Scimitars’ body burned to ash, Tahiri felt as if a weight had lifted from the atmosphere of the place, even though the Dark Side was very much still prevalent. Breathing heavily at first, as she put every ounce of Force energy that flowed through her and into the Lightning as she could handle. Her fingertips were slightly numb, while the tingling, like little needle picks just under the skin ran through her entire hand.

Slowly her breathing came back under control, she stayed in place looking around and taking in what seemed like a peaceful moment. She looked in turn to each of the apparitions, her eyes slowly misty up as she sincerely smiled and bowed to each of them.

“Thank you all for your help. May the Force be with you all and may you all be finally at rest,” her eyes lingered on Mir, she stepped closer to his ghostly form. “My only wish was that we could have somehow saved you, however, this has made me now understand more, how one can fall too deep into seeking power, for the right reasons at first, only for it to turn into something that wasn’t the desired outcome. My thanks for this deeper knowledge, and understanding of my own path.” She bowed much deeper to him. <@837236610684813342>

Then she felt a warm and wet nose nuzzle her free hand, making her realize that Zuska had either jumped back through the portal before them, or had been pushed back through with them. Either way she was thankful he was safe, as her vision blurred, kneeling down to hug the sleek black vornskr. Burying her face inn his fur, she only managed to stifle a sob happiness, her tears at the this finally being the end wetting Zuska’s fur. The vornskr rested his head against the base of her Lekku and whined a little, before she quickly took a deep breath, regaining her composure.

Standing up and smiling at Mir, Rich'ard, and Henry in turn once more before stepping back, and then turned towards the rest of the team. Seeing Hector being very casual, the Togruta couldn’t help but shake her head a little and smirk. “You need any healing there, Hector?” <@476595775187451913>

Awaiting his answer, she flashed her signature smile to Wyn, before looking over at Sofila and Cole. Tahiri wanted to very sorely go and hug the both of them, but she also wanted to give them a moment. In fact, she wanted to give each and every one of them a hug, including Wyn, though she wasn’t sure if he was a hugger. <@189568236201705472> <@216702440140046336> <@432543120635461643>

Wyn gave Tahiri a big hug, never one to pass up a good opportunity.

Sofila had frozen initially, looking on their surroundings. Was he really dead?

The body was burned to ashes and Cole’s voice jolted her to the present moment. Everything felt.. different but there was one thing they both knew. Sof met him half, crawling on the floor and still gasping for breath and in pain but wrapping her arms around him.

She was crying, Cole only realised once she pressed her face into his shoulder. He clutched her close, fingers slipping into her hair. Cole let loose a shaky breath, pressing his cheek against the top of her head and letting the moment sit a bit longer before…

“I knew you’d make it.”

She sniffled, pressing and grumbling something immediately lost in the depths of his armour.

For once he didnt feel the need to watch his back, or hers.