Survivors of the Jedi Purge (epic)

[Serena Laran]

The morning dawned red, which excited the villagers. Serena Laran finished tying her long red hair back and pulled her robe on over her long tunic as she tried to listen to the chatter outside the door. Feeling anxious, she tugged at her obi, trying to settle her emotions. A Jedi feels... nothing. Or, at least, doesn't feel worried. The Jedi Knight tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

A white helmeted trooper poked his head in. "Ready miss?"

She drew her lightsaber to her with the Force, and clipped it to a ring hidden cleverly on her wide cloth belt. "Certainly Captain Kata. We have a lot of work to do today."

"Yes." He backed away and held the door for her. Serena ducked under the lintel and looked up at the blood red sunrise. Villagers were clustered in groups around the hut that housed her. As the Republic's emmissary to the Outer Rim world, Serena stood tall, but she felt unsure of herself. At twenty-four she had matured beyond feeling like an awkward teenager, but all these people were depending on her.

She had a simple mission - to survey the damage wrought by a space battle over the planet, and supervise the doling out of relief supplies. The Republic had lent a squad of Clonetroopers to assist her. The area affected was small, but the people there had been devestated. They all looked to her to save them - but she was only one girl.

Back ramrod straight, she held herself with almost a regal bearing, cool green eyes betraying nothing of her feelings. "What is it they are saying, Captain?"

The trooper didn't move. "Red dawn. They fear it means more death."

Serena mentally sighed, motioning over the translator droid that had been assigned to her. "Tell them that the war is over here. I heard last night that General Kenobi himself was searching out General Greivous. There will be no more battles in the skies over this planet. The Republic is very close to victory."

Five hours later the villagers were distributing a crate of emergency foodstuffs as Captain Kata and Serena trekked into the forest in search of an even more remote village rumored to have been completely wiped out by a strange sickness that came out of dust. It sounded like a ship's reactor might have fallen into the middle of it, and the Jedi couldn't leave without making sure the rumor wasn't true. And, if it were true, she would have to make things right.

Captain Kata held a branch back so it wouldn't fly into her face, and Serena climbed up the hill slightly behind him. "We should be there soon - Jorna said it wasn't more than a three hour hike."

"If it is the site of a reactor breach, the dust cloud should have been visible when we arrived." Kata turned his expressionless mask towards the Jedi.

She chuckled a bit, pulling a leaf from her ponytail. "So, my good captain, you doubt the story the villagers told us?"

The trooper might have shrugged, but with all the armor it was hard to tell. "A sickness may have many causes, Jedi."

"Indeed. Which is why we are traveling to see exactly what it is we're dealing with." They topped the ridge, and looked down into a densely forested valley. "There..." Serena pointed toward the far western side where a thin trickle of dark smoke drifted lazily into the air.

"I see it. Doesn't look like enough for a whole village."

"Could be hidden in the trees. It looks dense there." Serena swiveled around, looking back the way they'd come. The horizon was layered with smog, the consequence of a Trade Federation Droid Control Ship crashing into a mountainside. It was also the reason for the bright colors in the sunrise. "Don't you think so, Captain?"

The Jedi Knight looked forward again, studying the trickle of smoke in the distance. "Certainly doesn't look like a reactor meltdown. Captain Kata? Shall we?" She smiled, looking over at the trooper who had his back half turned to her. For a moment it looked like he was recieving a message, and then he turned towards her.

He shot her high in the chest, the smell of burnt linen scorching her nostrils as her robe smoldered around the hole the blaster bolt made in her skin. The Jedi Knight gasped in a ragged breath of fire as her eyes widened in shock. Captain Kata leveled his blaster rifle at her again, black and white gloved hands tightening on the trigger. The Force gave her no warning, and she could feel no malice in his thoughts or actions. She felt a numbness spreading from the initial fire and pain of the wound. Her arms and legs didn't seem to work, and she wobbled as her good arm brushed ineptly against her lightsaber.

Serena fell off the ridge, tumbling down the steep incline into the valley, Kata's second shot booming in her ears. Elsewhere, the Emperor cackled as Order 66 was executed with extreme prejudice.

[Clea Darkrunner]

Clea approached the Temple on foot, her steps lagging and reluctant. Street rats weren't normally seen this high up on Corescant, but she was a rarity - a successful street rat. Her career was fairly under way as a singer, and she'd be off planet on tour soon. There was only one small matter to clear up..............

Why she'd been left for dead in the first place............

She no longer gave a frell why nobody had rescued her. They were Jedi, for Ghu's sake. Jedi didn't care, from what she'd seen at the lower levels. Jedi were above caring, the smug ..........

She cut her thoughts short. Several years spent surviving on Corescant's lower levels had honed her survival instincts. She'd worn dark clothes, unlike her flamboyant stage self, for this trip. Now it served her in good stead as she dodged into shadow and hid there thinking, "I'm not here...... You can't see me...... I'm not here......You can't see me...... I'm not here.............." as calmly as she could. It was a prayer that she had learned, living down in the depths.

The dark-clad man at the head of the Clone Troopers did not glance in her direction as he led them across the plaza and up the steps, but she shivered as though a cold wind had come her way. His face was familiar to her; but like most of her past it only brushed her face with the promise of memory, and then flitted away.

She didn't wonder about the Clone Trooper Legion following the man until she heard shots being fired within the Jedi Temple, and felt something - impossibly - die within her.

[Clea Darkrunner]

The shooting receded into the distance before she moved. At first she could hear the sound of blaster bolts being somehow - impossibly - deflected, their regular cadence disrupted. The disruptions grew fewer, then ceased. And she knew, somehow, that people had died, their defenses not designed for betrayal, nor from an attack from within, led by a man many of them trusted like a Master.

Who the dying people were, she did not know at first. Compelled by an urge she could not name, she finally crept up the stairs. She kept to the shadows, a habit of Coriscant-Under. She had crossed the first broad hallway when she saw the first body.

Familiar with dead people from her home turf, she did not mistake him for the bundle of clothes others might have initially thought. His Jedi robes were stained with his own blood, centered on a large blaster hole in his back. There would be, Clea knew, an even larger hole where the charge had exited him in the front. She had not needed to turn him over to check, yet somehow she did - and gasped to see a face familiar from a dream. A friend, she had felt in the dream. It saddened her that she did not remember his name. Gently she closed his eyes.

There were others - familiar, half-familiar, unfamiliar - that she saw as she drifted deeper into the Temple, called into peril by something she could not name. Faces familiar from crumbs and scraps of memory. Some seemed to be friends, others acquaintances or rivals. All were dressed in Jedi robes, since the Temple was not generally frequented by outsiders at this late hour.

She paused, hidden in a shadow, as a squad of Clone Troopers bustled past. "You do not see me," she gently whispered, and they passed. The late hour - and yet she had been sure she could enter - and not be turned away. The thought chilled her, and a second shock arrived as she realized that she herself had sent the Clone Troopers on their way.

The first small child came as another shock, deep within the Temple. A young Twi'lek, he was curled on his side in a chair as if asleep. She cautiously crept near him. As she got closer, she suddenly gagged. Half of his face was gone, smashed to a bloody pulp by an impact with the chair's arm. She closed her eyes, swallowing hard.

Her head snapped around as she heard several small children scream, and she went running without thinking in their direction. A lightsaber flew from by its dead owner's side, and she accepted it into hers without question, as she passed silently running. The screams stopped, abruptly, and she jerked to a halt, suddenly and uncomfortably aware of the unfamiliar weapon in her hand. Finally, she shrugged. A weapon was a weapon, and she tucked it into her belt-sash.

She came on the group of young ones in a few minutes. The area looked like a dormitory, and a bloodbath. Recently slaughtered, their bodies still bled from dying hearts. She checked them all, unable to believe the evidence that someone - armed with a LIGHTSABER - had killed children. A few of them had been simply picked up, their small brains dashed out against the wall. One small blond girl, her hair neatly braided, had apparently had those braids used as a sling. One had ripped loose before her skull had been crushed, and lay on the floor, kicked next to her body.

She found the small boy behind several larger children. His muffled whimpers of pain drew her like a magnet. She moved his friends' bodies, hoping that he - at least - had been spared fatal damage. It was a vain hope, and she could only hold his hand, whispering comfort to him, until he died. When she stood up, her face was grim, and she drew her blaster and her holdout.

Someone, she decided, would pay for these children's deaths.

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

"You're mad."

"Am I?"

A thunderous roar of laughter filled the garish tent, its' owner leaning back, resting an elbow on a gold-embroidered maroon pillow. The luaghter died in his throat to be replaced with an angry snarl. "I am deadly serious. A barter; for your life."

"I have nothing to give you."

The one who had laughed looked his captive up and down, scrutinizing her to the very last detail. His men had ambushed her, taking her by complete force. It had been a startlingly hard battle, as the offworlder put up more of a fight than expected; five of his soldiers lay dead beneath the moons and seven others had been terribly wounded.

"Then I suppose you will have to find something useful to satisfy me."

"And if I can't?"

"Then you die."

A snort. "I die?" bound hands rose to display the chains that held her, "I'm already dead."

At this, the man leaned forward. "If you are dead, then why am I looking at you right now."

"Your perception of death and mine are very clearly different. My soul is empty, I have nothing to live for; hence why I came to this planet. Loss of the flesh means little to me."

"And yet you are willing to barter for your life?"

"We all have our own contradictory mannerisms."

There was a silence between the two, as the Cathar mulled over her words. Finally, he spoke. "Tell me, Little One, why someone such as yourself is so jaded at life at such a young age."

"In return for my life."

Another booming laugh. "Sly you are. Very well, I will let you live."

"And return to me my pakka and my belongings."

A chuckle as he drank from a silver goblet. "Perhaps; if your story pleases me enough. For now, it will only buy you your life.

"Now sit, and tell me of your tragedy, Little One."

She bowed her head, shoulders sagging as she placed one foot before the other, stopping only to lower her slight frame down to the floor. "Very well. But first, tell me; have you ever been so close to someone - someone who you regarded as a father and in the highest light - that you could feel the pain he felt, and feel the piercing knife of his death as he gave up the ghost?"

"I have not," he answered blandly while idly cleaning his nails.

"I have. I felt as though my own arm had been severed; I could even feel my flesh cauterized... "





"Aaaauuurrghhh!!"

Lok s'Ilancy hit the wall behind her with a jarring crash, clutching her arm as a phantom pain seared through her mind. Something had happened; something terrible. Master Windu - something had happened to Master Windu. She felt as if her arm had been severed, and the sensations of cauterized flesh fired through her nerves as her fingers tightened on the imaginary stump left behind. Hot tears formed in her eyes, and the Lupine cried out once more. She doubled over in pain suddenly as the unforgiving pain of electricity washed over her body. An arm flailed out, knocking a lamp from the nightstand beside her bed. Curling into herself, s'Il managed a whimper. She felt weightless then, as though she were falling. Eyes wide, she gasped in shock. With one last cry, the Lupine felt darkness overcome her.



It was the pounding of footsteps that roused her, but it was the terrified cries followed by blaster shots which brought s'Il brutally to the present. Her arm ached in remembrance, and residual tingles ran over her body. She could almost smell charred flesh. Screams suddenly silenced one by one accompanied her as she stumbled groggily to her feet, shaking her head in confusion.

Master Windu was dead, taking with him a large part of her.

She could hear doors being kicked in, and the unlucky occupants drowned in a flury of blaster bolts. Ever closer the sounds came, until it was unmistakeable that the room beside hers was being entered and purged. And she would be next... unless...

The door to her rooms burst open, and a flood of white-clad clonetroopers stormed inside. Blaster rifles at the ready, they swept through every room.

-click- "Place is empty; no one here, sir." -click-

-click- Roger that. Move on. -click-

The angels of death marched through the door and back out into the corridor to continue their bloody mission. The last trooper to leave stopped in the doorway, turning to send one last look into the empty quarters before following his comrades.

And if he had chosen to look up, he would've seen one of the many targets of his mission, flush against the ceiling; arms and legs pushing against the narrow walls of the entryway to hold her up.

[Serena Laran]

Serena lay quietly, the side of her face reddened from the close proximity of the blaster bolt that had been meant for her head. Her fall had saved her life, if only for a moment. As she lay in the underbrush near the base of the cliff she could hear rocks falling as Captain Kata made his way down.

Looking for her to make sure he'd killed her, she assumed.

Her chest burnt and perforated, and one lung collapsed, she was in no shape to take out a clone commander. And he would find her. Her breath wheezed slightly as she struggled with each inhalation, pulling herself up into a sitting position. Her hands trembled as she struggled to undo her obi, pulling the wide strip of cloth away from her slim body.

It took too long to wrap her chest and shoulder with the belt, but if she dripped blood everywhere she went Kata would have no trouble finding her. Serena tucked the end of the long obi into itself, satisfied with the bandage. She pushed herself into a crouch, and froze into stillness as she heard the crunch of footsteps in the undergrowth.

[Jeseth Cloak]

On a beautiful forest world, not more than a few hours hyper-space travel from Coruscant, Jeseth waited amidst a field of towering ferns. The horizon was alive with arcs of blue light, wave after wave coalescing in the distance, bright enough to rival the planet's small moon. The air was rich with gas and water vapors, the result of a millennium of decay. Jeseth labored to take another breath - something was terribly wrong. His heart pounded, and his rib cage flexed to it's limits. He felt a hot flash come over him. Had he been poisoned by one of the ferns? No, this feeling was... purely emotion. Betrayal. Terror. His large wings twitched nervously.

He reached out to the thoughts of the clone troopers behind him and felt... nothing? The armored soldiers behind him raised their blasters, level with his back. His eyes went wide for a moment as a sudden realization came over him. Without a second thought, he leapt into the trees. Only the faintest sound of his robes breaking against the wind was heard. The troopers lowered their weapons, not having had a chance to fire a single shot. "He's gone," cried out one of the troopers, "find him!"

Jeseth closed his eyes, sweat dripping down his hairline, jaw and chin. The drops of moisture fell to the clearing directly below his safe-haven (a gnarled mossy tree-limb). He would not die here. He could not die here.

[Wyl Staedtler]

Years later she would remember two things very clearly: the scorched smell of sapir leaves and the startled face of her best friend, Jedi Knight Mekgan Trallalli. Everything else was run together and fuzzy, everyone else, but the large silver eyes of the Mon Cal Jedi Knight always shone sharply in focus like two ever-luminous moons.

How she hated those eyes.

* * *

Lolling on the soft grass in the Temple gardens was always a favorite pastime among the older Padawans and younger Knights; it was an activity too distinctly boring for the younglings and too distinctly undignified for the older ones of the Order, which effectively guaranteed that there would always be empty space on the tranquil grounds in which to lounge.

One such spot was to the left and back a long ways, a nearly invisible little glade surrounded by fragrant green sapir bushes and carpeted with a soft blanket of grass. It got just enough light to be cheery, had just enough shade to be cool, and was just enough of a hassle to get to that it was almost constantly undisturbed.

“You know,” Jedi Knight Mekgan Trallalli said as she looked at her steaming cup of sapir tea, “There’s something rather wicked about drinking sapir tea around sapir bushes. It’s like eating children soup in the crèche.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Oa Umi’u grinned over the rim of her mug. She took a large gulp while looking at her friend. “The bushes are probably overjoyed to see that they’re being put to good use. They long to be steeped into tea and served to Jedi heroines.”

Mekgan coughed and looked away. “I’m hardly a heroine Oa. I did my duty, and poorly.”

“It was your first solo mission Mek, and all things considered you did very well.” With a concerned look she questioned the young Jedi, “Are you not feeling well yet?”

The mission had been going as planned, with peace terms being settled upon with as much amicability as was expected of two warring nations. Then somewhere it had taken a wrong turn, and Mek had taken ill from a native plant poisen slipped into her tea. The Knight had managed to make it back alive, though weak, and had spent the last week with the Healers confined to a bed.

Mek waved the concern away. “I am. Well… physically. It’s just… I should have known something, Oa, I should have sensed that something was wrong!”

Oa sighed. “How could you have? The Jedi aren’t infallible, and you had greater concerns on your mind. You can’t honestly keep blaming yourself.”

“But I should have known! The Trandashi leader had been acting strange for days and I didn’t even pick up on it! Normally,” Mekgan shook her head,“I don’t know, it’s… it’s just that everything seems a little blurred. I’m uneasy, but I don’t know why. Or I’ll be meditating and then I’ll lose my concentration.” She shook her head and lay back on the grass, toeing Oa with her bare foot. “Maybe it’s just that I’m worried about your leaving. You don’t have to go, you know.”

“That’s what my father said.” Oa joined her friend, easing herself onto her belly and gripping a handful of grass with one aristocratic hand. “But it’s time. You’ve all grown up and are going off on missions now; I can’t stay and work in the crèche forever. I’ve got to grow wings too.”

“Have you told Celen?”

“Of course.”

An awkward pause. Mek nudged Oa again. “And?”

“He wished me the best, and then said he had an appointment elsewhere.”

Even now she winced at the ramrod-straight back of the retreating man. Celen Orms, Mekgan Trallalli and Oa Umi’u had been in the temple from birth, sharing every class, going on every adventure, and scrubbing every floor in the Temple together; it was unheard of for any of them to shut another out like the Knight had when she’d told him of her plans to strike out on her own.

“Oa?” Mek interrupted the young woman’s thoughts. “You understand that he just doesn’t know how to feel about it? He’s worried, but he doesn’t want to say so.”

Oa nodded. “I know.” The two sipped their tea in comfortable silence. Then, “Are you sure you’re feeling alright?”

Mekgan rubbed her forhead and nodded. “Yes, it’s just a headache. Tell me what I missed while I was gone.”

“Not much, you know,” Oa chatted quietly, filling in her friend on the daily goings on and they laughed, enjoying each others company in the dim light of evening. Suddenly, mid-laugh, the Knight froze. Oa smiled.

“Mek?”

“Shh! Did you…” The Jedi trailed off, uncertainly. Oa was about to comment when Mek’s eyes widened. “By the Force—” Mekgan bolted up, followed by Oa’s frightened gaze.

“Mek, what’s wrong?”

“I don’t know!” She turned and hauled her friend up by the arm. “I don’t know, but—”

TSEEEW!

Oa screamed as her friend collapsed, a smoking hole in her forehead, something white and glistening breaking through the brush and into the clearing. Primal instinct kicked visciously within her, and before she knew what she was doing, the woman turned and ran in the opposite direction as fast as she could.

TSEEEW!

A fiery red bolt whistled over her shoulder, grazing her skin.

Behind her, a sapir bush smoldered.

[Jeseth Cloak]

His pulse had quickened, and his blood now burned as if it were fire flowing freely through his veins. Oh, how, thought Jeseth, how could I have been so blind? His faith in the Jedi Council had been his weakness, and possibly his undoing. The branch below him creaked as he shifted his weight. A barrage of blaster fire lit the sky, drawn upon the sound. Leaves charred instantly, smoke filled the air, and Jeseth leapt to another branch as the tree he had perched upon was laid to waste. His eyes flashed with the after-images of blaster trails.

His muscles tensed as he balanced himself, trying to avoid flexing the branch. He reached down to his saber and took another painful breath. His heart was wrought with conflict, and battle had never been his strong suit. He doubted his ability to fight through the hundred troopers awaiting him below.

He heard the hard-plastic clicking of their armor below him, he knew his time had run out. With one fateful hiss, his brilliant blue saber burst to life. A second later, the forest lit up a vibrant shade of red, and smoke filled the air.

Jeseth had never, not in all his years as a Jedi Knight, seen the sort of carnage that was flashing before his eyes between the swings of his saber and bursts of blaster fire. With every violent pulse of light, vaporized blood filled the air. The smell of crisp flesh and burning plastic snaked up his nostrils. He would have choked on it, if only he could have afforded himself the moment. If he was to die… he would do so valiantly. His hands were slim and delicate, but they held onto the hilt of his saber with a white knuckle grip that was the familiar hallmark of conviction everywhere.

[Clea Darkrunner]

Like a cos-cricket in a book stack, Clea crept forward. Hardened to the sights of Corescant-Under she was but this slaughter sickened her. The bodies were piled in clusters and groups, some with their wounds still smouldering.

By now she had reached the Atrium, and the Hall of a Thousand Waterfalls. The flower scent could not disguise the smell of burned flesh, nor the waterfalls the sound of blaster rifles echoing there. Small bodies bobbed in the decorative pond, and down the winding stream. The water was reddened, washing around the reeds on the edges, thinning and bleeding downstream.

Picking her way cautiously forward, Clea heard a faint gasp. A small head had just poked its way up in the reeds. The young girl looked around warily, then started to ease her way out of the water. She was bleeding from a blaster hole in her right shoulder. She froze as she saw Clea, and tried to akwardly ignight a lightsaber lefthandedly. It showered sparks, and did not switch on.

"It's O.K." said Clea softly. "I'm a friend."

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

She waited until they had left the hall, and even then the young woman waited longer. The sounds of blaster fire and the resulting cries burned in her ears. The smell of burned flesh was already reaching her flared nostrils. Her physiology only heightened her awareness of the two senses, and s'Il had to choke back a latent sob.

But it was the loss of her mentor, of Master Windu, that hurt the most. Her arm still ached with the ghost-pain, and as she relaxed her body, she let herself drop to the ground. Bare feet smacking almost daintily on the marbled entryway, she fell into a crouch.

Survival was all that mattered now - her grieving would have to wait.

Something unimaginable was happening all around her, and s'Il had no recourse but to run. Answers would be left for later; the preservation of life was more important. The only undeniable fact she had though, was that the clones were her enemy - and the enemy was everywhere.

Blinking away a single tear, the Lupine madly serached her rooms, intent on gathering what supplies she could. One hand grasped her sabre, another reached for the small shoulder pack she would normally use to carry datapads and hardbound texts to her classes. Its' contents were rudely dumped onto her bed to make way for now much more important items. Items such as torches, a rebreather, an old jacket rolled up, and a few pairs of socks.

Her boots came next, and s'Il buckled the latches with hurried hands, not wanting to wait around for any 'clean-up crews'.

The pack slung across her shoulders, she stuffed the sabre hilt into the back of her pants while scrambling up atop her desk. The vent grating came away easily, and without ceremony the Lupine snaked her way up into the ventilation ducts.

[Joda Cardgage]

Ithor.

It was a beautiful planet, full of peace, of life, of vigor. Small creatures scurried here and there, in search of food or shelter. It was raining - raining softly, but still raining.

There was peace and tranquility here.

In the distance, sudden violence broke the silence. It began as a single blaster bolt, immediately erupting into full-scale battle.

"Sir, we have them on the run!"

"Good job, stupid!" The Jedi, known only to his troops as 'Mr. Bad,' held up his gloved hands, moving his shirtless body in an awkward - and quite humiliating - song and dance. "We got 'em on the run - Boys! We got 'em on the run! We got 'em on the run - Boys! We got 'em on the run!" After he finished his song and dance, the Jedi - his head concealed by a large red mask - raised one hand into the air, igniting the lightsaber held therein. "Time to take out the enemy radar dish!!!"

Igniting the saber clenched in his other hand, he ran head-first toward the army of droids opposite him, screaming the whole way there. The clone troopers followed suit, blasters firing randomly into the droid battalion.

Raising his sabers into the air, Mr. Bad caught a super battle droid right at the top of his head, slicing through it as if it were nothing more than melted butter. A few feet away, his battalion of clones was turning the droids into mince-meat, and they were beginning to back away.

"Sir, they're retreating!"

"Oh, really, Captain Jor? I never would have guessed that!"

He looked at the droids - the were, in fact, retreating.

"We can't let 'em go! This is the Jungle Caper - we can't screw up the Jungle Caper!!!"

He raised his sabers in the air again.

"Ataaaaaaaa-"

With no warning, the entire droid army stopped moving. Instead of turning to return fire, however, they merely dropped to the ground, as lifeless as the sign that marked his childhood playground or the tire that lived there.

"Uh... Good job?"

He looked back at Captain Jor, who nodded - but not at him. The clones must be going crazy - the droids were controlling their minds, or something - because, with no command from him, the entire battalion raised their blasters.

"It's time to go, 'Mr. Bad.'"

[UrunSaiShun]

(hope you dont mind if so or you dont feel it fights with your thoughts for this story just send me a message really like this story though)


Jolar's pale blue eyes snapped open from his force trance as he felt the force cry out to him. Then he heard screams....of younglings followed by the sound of many laser blasts. He tore out of the dark meditation room looking down both ends of the hall wing. He raced down the hallway and turned a right corner to see a fierce battle at the end of the large corridor taking place. Several young padawans were cut down by the laser fire as they ran. Jolar's eyes opened wide at the horror to see who held the blasters, republic soldiers. A young jedi knight that he knew well, Tor Anran, ran to him as the jedi defense faltered, "Run Jolar get as many out as you can the Republic soldiers have turned on us, get as many out as you c....." he was cut off from a laser blast to his spine. Jolar whipped out his own lightsaber blocking the next blast aimed at him then the next he returned to its owner. He turned and ran back down the hallway he had to find warn the temple knights.

Turning the corner he ran into three approaching clone soldiers. Without hesitation he placed his foot squarely in the first ones chest sending him flying back and then with the momentum launched himself in a backward flip lightsaber out wide. The Ataru saber training Master Urun Sai Shun had taught him took control. He landed in a crouch taking the legs from the soldier to his right in a sweep of his blade. He came up quickly cork spinning his body to the left and bringing his foot snapping the second soldier's neck. He landed charging the last soldier who tried to recover from Jolar's kick shoving his blue saber into the clone's chest. Hearing the footsteps following his retreat he continued on to search for help.

As he raced through the massive temple he came across many scenes of horror, many bodies littered the walkways many that of younglings and padawans, some of those his friends. He shoved those horrible images and his own fears and pressed on. Coming to the second floor tier ,overlooking the main hall, he searched for a sign of hope but what he found was a large tight column of clones entering the temple. But what stunned him the most was what or who he saw leading the force a dark cloaked figure wielding a blue lightsaber. Jolar felt the dark energy coming from this person the fear gripped the sixteen year old padawan. Jolar watched as the man cut down several charging jedi knights and throwing others aside without breaking pace. He was awoken from this scene of disbelief as a bolt grazed his right cheek. His blue lightsaber ignited deflecting the following barrage as a group of clones came up from a side stairway. Jolar found his best bet was to retreat and let the force carry his feet beyond human ability down the adjacent hallway.

He came to another cross section debris flew everywhere as a grenade exploded in the hallway to the left, smoke blinded Jolar for a few seconds before it cleared to the sounds of blaster fire and the hum of lightsabers. A gentle hand grabbed his own and pulled him from danger. As he emerged from the cloud of smoke he saw who was pulling him the beautiful Arana Senul, padawan of the twilek master T'zila Nerun. "Follow me," she said turning to him her beautiful green eyes assuring him. He knew where she was leading him to, the hangar bay.

[Zem Vymes]

I ran along with three padawans I'd met only minutes before. The main entrance was blocked, so we had to find our way on another path.

One turned a sharp corner right, and got cut down in a shower of blaster fire. We all three had our sabers up and ready to take 'em on.

The clones kept pressing on, and drove a wedge in us. The other padawans went their separate ways, and I found myself in a turbolift, mashing down the button to close a door that was taking it's time.

I felt a fear in me that was deep and hungry, like one I'd never felt in all my life. Not a one of my teachings could console me against it, and as the doors slowly began to shut, a white-armored hand dove through the gap, confirming them all.

I brought down my blade to sever him at the elbow, but a stray shot clipped the guard of my saber guard, knocking it from my grasp. I kicked hard against the soldier's hand, spilling the weapon out, but that caused the door to jar open again.

I fell back, the clone fell in, and the door shut behind him, sealing us in a prison cell on a highway to hell.

It was his strength against mine, and he'd been trained well. The pauldron on his shoulder made sure of it. As the lift tumbled down the chasm to the abyss of the temple, we began our desperate ugly dance. I bashed his helmet free of his head, and it clattered on the floor. He drove a suprise left cross over my eye and busted my head open.

We tumbled to the floor amid the grunting and the screaming, never quite within arms reach of the saber or the shootin' iron. I bit a finger off his gloved hand, and he bled the same colored blood as me, a moment of perverse comraderie shared between us.

He headbutted me and loosed one of my teeth. I glanced down to look for it, and found his vibroblade instead.

He saw me see it, and we grappled for it for an eternity. My muscles screamed against his, and our sweat poured in the lift's tight confines.

I straddled him and got the higher ground, but he wouldn't give up. He pressed hard against me, but gravity was on my side. The knife edge of the blade inched down on him like a glacier.

He bowed his back up hard in a second effort, but it was six inches too late. I kept pressing on, and the knife started to break skin below his jawline.

He kept fighting his losing battle. I kept leaning on in. I heard the sound of flesh surrendering. I smelled the sweetness of his blood. He looked at me, and I looked at him, and his eyes asked me please. I hated those eyes for begging, and I wished I'd never saw 'em. Was easier when they all wore helmets.

I pushed the knife the rest of the way, and those eyes glassed up the way they should. I fell against the dead body, and wished my role was reversed.

He wasn't my first blood. Just the first one that bled my heart. From that point on, I was a dead man.

[Ezra]

Dark eyes stared out into the infinite blackness of space as the custom converted Naboo Transport travelled on auto pilot to it's next destination. The caleidescope effect of hyperspace coerced the pilot into a trance-like state. Memories of a day long ago began to resurface.....A memory he wished he could forget.


Youthful hands hung at his sides as the fifteen year old padawan waited patiently for his master to emerge from her quarters. Ezra was always early, too early at times Master Quan-yin had told him in gentle reproval. The Mirialan Jedi master often chastised the teenager with a calming and serene voice. Never did she raise her voice in anger nor disappointment. This rather worked well for the padawan as it made him strive to be better.

The door opened and she smiled as her deep blue eyes connected with his of a chocolate hue.

” Good morning Ezra. Either you’re early once again, or I am late.”

The teen smirked and cast his glance to the floor for a second. ” I am early master.” Quickly his face beamed and came up from looking downward. ”I cannot help it. I’m very excited about going before the counsel.”

Master Quan-yin clasped her hands together and rested them against her abdomen. Smiling, her deep blue eyes stood out against her olive skin. The patterned markings down the bridge of her nose and chin stretched slightly with her skin. ” Yes I know.” Quan-yin replied more motherly than as teacher. But that quickly changed as she took on a more serious expression and looked deep into her student’s eyes. ” Remember to mind yourself and what I have taught you Ezra. Coming with me on this mission can be revoked as soon as it was given.”

The teen nodded and did not lose his grin. ” I will not forget Master… I will not disappoint you.”

Master Quan-yin touched his shoulder and smiled once more. ”I believe you won’t.” She confirmed and gestured for him to follow. ” Let us go. We have a Jedi counsel waiting.” The pair walked off to the counsel chambers where the Masters waited to discuss the mission at hand.

[Belay Nisi]

A bright nature shrouded the boy's vision. It was his lightsaber, a symbol and weapon of a true Jedi. Numerous before the youth had held something similiar, with formats nearly synonymous. The grip was different...the color was different. There was always a point in a Jedi's career that there was hope, possibility, chance to become a civilizan. The very person who would look upon the symbol of a Jedi and believe they were all the same. However that chance had died long ago for the young Belay Nisi.

The grip was slender, but the crevices and bulges were a worlds different to others before and after. It was in that fact of his delicate architecthure that made himself a symbol of the Jedi. He was a dedicated youth. A lad of tremendous potiental and it showed in every last lightsaber he made for the destruction of the foolishly driven droids and enemy who stood before his comrades in the war. Even though he knew the true objective was peace, it was hard to block the anger from his mind. Out, beyond the Temple wall, was a world of insolence that festered in war. People stabbed each other in the back and walked away from the intelligence of the order, such as Count Dooku, to become nothing more than a puppet to darkness.

Belay couldn't comprehend it, no trained Padawan could. None of it made sense and it was that which drove him in his studies. And so he stood, his clutch on his unique ignited sword, and swung. The two-hand grip allowed a full control that had been taught since the early days in the Bear Clan. Even at the smallest step or notion the memories splurged back into his mind as his body ached from repetitive usage. The training had gone on for about an hour in the padded and glass room. It was in these chambers that others had mastered their supremely conservitive or suprisingly aggresive attacks.

A barley harmful blast fired from the wall at a twitching pace, only to be deflected by the superior speed of Belay's arms. Sweat trickled slowly down his evenly toned caramel skin. For a moment, his mind took a side-track and his eyes followed. The sweat was an indicator...the practice was working. Earlier his arm was always a second late, but now as his body tire his mind took control. It was in his head that many Jedi Knight that watched him believe he would push his body to levels that Jedi Masters only grasped.

It had been a long wait, and Belay's body told him this. Stings had run a long every limb from the slightly harmful blast. He had already lost count over the hour how many times the shots had hit the same spot repeatidally. There was no need to keep up with it, for it was certain that it'd only amplify the lull pain. Switching in step, Belay took back his eyes on the situation afoot. Another blast had been fired and instead of moving his arms needlessly to his backside for another agonizing miss, he backflipped.

A smile came to his face as he dropped down from his acrobatic display. Before him was a burnt spot where he once was...the blast definately missed.

"Done for now." He said. "Finally."

[Serena Laran]

Several long moments ticked by as Serena crouched in the undergrowth, her thighs cramping almost immediately from the awkward position. She used a suppression technique to control her breathing as she tracked the position of Kata with one eye. He was behind and to the side of her, and she could barely see him through the brush out of the corner of her left eye.

He was facing the other direction, scanning the area quietly with his helmeted eyes. The Jedi slowly extended her fingers towards the hilt of her lightsaber, barely brushing the smooth metallic skin of the weapon. Just a bit more...

Kata's arm beeped softly, and he lifted it to recieve a holo transmission from one of his lieutenants. He was close enough that she could hear every word clearly. "Have you taken care of the Jedi?"

"Yes. I am checking for the body - she fell down a cliff."

"No one could have survived a fall like that."

"She is a Jedi." Reason enough to check for a body. The transmission ended.

The captain turned towards Serena's hiding place, a gauntleted hand holding the blaster he'd shot her with on the ridge. The bushes were scant protection. With only a moment to prepare, the Jedi snatched the lightsaber off her belt with her left hand, right arm dangling uselessly. Nerves screamed in her legs as she shot to her feet, igniting the saber and turning towards the clone trooper.

He shot at her again, the blaster bolts whining with one continuous sound as he sought to finish her off just as hard as she fought to live.

[Clea Darkrunner]

The girl studied her for a moment. Clea's nerves shivered at the impact of those dark, untrusting eyes, old in such a young face. Finally, she nodded. "I don't know why you've come back, after being gone for so long, but I won't turn down any help right now. They shot Master Tyrsus, and tried to kill me." With her left arm, the child pointed at the body of an older man, holes blown in him from blaster-rifle fire.

"You know me?" Clea started to say, then stopped, hearing the rattle of approaching booted feet. "C'mon!" she whispered urgently to the girl. They raced for the cover of a clump of trees and bushes, sliding on their stomachs underneath the arching boughs of the nearest just as a squad of Clones marched into the area.

The girl, Clea noted, was silent as they quickly wiggled deeper in the bushes.

They had almost passed the grating before it registered. Extending her arm, Clea stopped the girl, silently. She pointed at the grate. The girl shrugged, and indicated the lock. Clea grinned at her, and pulled out her 'pick kit. Within minutes, the grate was silently open, its hinges oiled for silent movement. She motioned the girl to go first, then slid in the tube after. Turning on the ladder, she quickly closed the grate, and went down to meet the intersecting tunnel.

Small cleaning droids skittered past them quietly as they walked down the bending tunnel warily, Clea's blaster at ready. When they had gone far enough, the girl motioned to the lightsaber stuck in Clea's belt. "Why don't you use that?" she asked.

"I don't know how," said Clea simply.

The girl stared at her in open disbelief, then asked, "May I use it then?"

"Yeah," said Clea. "I don't know how to use this Jedi stuff."

The girl looked at her and snorted. "Nice try, Jedi Knight," she said sarcastically. Clea looked at her. "Yeah, YOU!" the girl snarled.

Clea's hand shot out, gripping the girl's uninjured shoulder, tightening. "You know me," she stated through clenched teeth.

"Damn straight......." snarled the girl back.

The sound of booted feet behind them broke the deadlock, and they hurried off again, each with her own thoughts, searching for an exit.

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

It was a bit harder going than she had originally surmised, and s'Il ground her teeth in frustration as she pulled herself up through a vertical vent shaft. Every so often she could hear the sound of blaster fire beneath her, and it was in those times that the Lupine fell still.

Her eyes shut tight, she listened as the sounds of blaster fire echoed up into the duct, followed closely by the screams of fellow padawans. s'Il choked back countless sobs, a hand coming up to swipe over her face in helpless grief. Shaking her head to drive the sounds from her ears, the Lupine waited for them to pass before moving on once more. If only she could make it to the top of the temple...

Ten minutes of determined crawling through upper vents went by. It seemed as though hours had passed however, and her brain seemed to always be playing tricks on her. After what seemed like an eternity, her efforts looked to have payed off, and she paused to rest. To her best estimates she had travelled a fair distance - hopefully far enough upwards that she was at least close to the upper levels of the temple.

The noises from below had died away, leaving s'Il to contemplate the tragedy that had befallen the Jedi this day. It was unthinkable, and she let herself settle a little bit more for the time being. Her arm still tingled, and that same feeling from before overwhelmed her emotions; such loss and pain in such a short amount of time. The suddenness of it was almost overwhelming, and s'Il couldn't help but curl into herself to try and fight off the raw emotions threatening to take over her mind.

How long she lay there she couldn't tell - it could've been a minutes, it could've been thirty minutes. It was the echo of a blaster carbine that shook her from her thoughts though, and the Lupine was brought back the shattered reality of the events unfolding before her. A cursory look ahead showed that another vertical duct lay before her, and tightening her pack, she started forward.

It seemed however, as though what luck she'd had previously was nowhere to be found, and with a terrible groan, s'Il felt the vent beneath her begin to give way. Not a sound passed through her lips as the panel buckled, dropping her into open air.

Body twisting as she fell, the Lupine instinctively balanced herself before landing on the marbled floor in a tight crouch. The panel had clattered noisily off to the side, but the Lupine made no move to vacate her position - there really seemed to be no need.

After all, there was really no point in doing so, as the startled clonetroopers across the room were already raising their firearms, taking aim.

[Wyl Staedtler]

She hadn't thought it was possible for limbs to function without a brain, but even as she felt herself slipping into a frenzied shock her legs had become winged creatures with minds all their own. They carried her at breakneck pace through the garden, fronds wipping her face violently and the warmly distilled air still echoing with blaster fire.

When she finally came back to herself, Oa realized she had sprinted to the uppermost section of quarters. Dark eyes skimmed over lumps on the once-smooth stone floors, not understanding what they were until she nearly stepped on a pale hand.

Bile rose in her throat and Oa had to scrabble for a wall to keep from doubling over. With a hand pressed to her mouth and terror blooming in her belly, Oa gingerly maneouvered around the dead to the end of the hall. She stood outside Celens open door for seconds that felt like years before she slowly stepped inside. Out of habit she pressed the pad on the wall to whoosh the door shut. Somehow the quarters felt all the more vulnerable with the exit firmly sealed, and Oa tried to ignore the loud silence. When she spoke, calling a hushed, "Celen?" into the empty room, it was rough and not at all her voice. Oa cleared her throat but didn't repeat herself; she didn't want to hear no one answer. Instead she began to walk through the small living room towards the sleeping quarters, vertigo staggering the walls fiercly.

When the corner was turned, and the crumpled form found, Oa recognized him by the crescent scar on his right hand, and the constellation of freckles that looked like Cygnus on his arm. A high cry sounded from somewhere. She fell to her knees then, pulled the weight of his body into her lap to press against her breast. There was an awful scent on the air, harsh and electric, the smell of metal before a lightning storm and lingering menacingly under it was the deep burn of cotton and meat.

This was not happening.

This was not Celen dead in her arms, fallen silently in a dark space like a common alley criminal.

This was not his room, datapads scattered on the floor and a creeper plant overturned by the shattered lamp.

This could not be their all, their end. Not this way.

But even as she tried to reason everything away, Oa saw that this indeed was it. The fate of all who would survived flashed clearly through her mind, and she saw her own future there. This was the place they would remain until their own ends came, with the pressure of grief like a storm against their ribs, clawing at the delicate skin of their throats to thieve all words. There would be no more tranquility after this, but they would charter trails carrying the weight of emptiness, confined by a loss so unfathomable it made Oa dizzy, creaked loudly behind her knees.

The footsteps seemed to come from a great distance.

With tears sliding down her neck to pool in the hollow at the base of her throat, Oa stiffened. The clicking of boot on stone was not the gentle, familiar cadence of friends. It was heavy and cold and suddenly she was angry--furious--at the audacity of the sound in this holy place. Her hand slid down Celen's corpse, found his cold hand and felt the hilt of his lightsaber against her palm. The weapon was weighty and awkward in her hand but there was absolution in it too, shrift in the slick grip of the handle, penance in the foreign drag as she swept it in front of her, repentance in the low hum of the blue blade as it sprang to life.

The rustle of her tunic was punctuated by the dull sound of Celens body hitting the floor as she stood and moved to the door, pressing her back to the wall. The bootsteps were louder now, nearing quickly. In the wash of light from the saber, Oa's eyes looked very stark. There would be an absolution today; her hands gripped the weapon all the tighter.

With an ominous hiss the door to the quarters opened.

[Lilaena De'Ville]

"Master!" The young padawan tumbled into the cockpit of the freighter, dark brown hair cut short except for a small section that was grown into a narrow braid. "Is it true? Master Kenobi has killed General Grevious?"

A'na Eldhil turned away from the controls to smile gently at her impish padawan. "Yes, Lilly. Now please contain yourself and go back to your concentration exercises. A Jedi feels excitement no more than she feels fear or pain."

"Yes Master." Despite Master A'na's solemn words, the eight year old skipped down the passage to the living quarters. The war was over! Better yet, they were returning home to the Jedi Temple in time for her naming day. There would be no celebration, but Lilly liked to spend the day alone in the Temple gardens high above the rest of Coruscant. Among the flowers she liked to pretend that her birth parents were visiting her.

They were proud of her, that she had been chosen to train at the Temple to be a Jedi. Lilaena did not remember them as she had been a baby when Master A'na had brought her to the Temple to begin the training. She had graduated from the youngling classes only a few months ago. At the end of her first mission with her Master, the padawan was trying to be studious and thoughtful, but her joy at returning to the Temple and at the news of the end of the civil war was hard to contain.

In the cockpit Jedi Knight A'na Eldhil picked up a transmission on a Jedi frequency. There had been some sort of emergency and all Jedi were being asked to return to the Temple as soon as possible. They were already on their way there, with only two more jumps before they arrived in Coruscant space. The Jedi's forehead creased with concern. Something was terribly wrong.

[Serena Laran]

Serena sagged against a tree, her lightsaber in her left hand. Commander Kata fell to the ground in front of her, burning holes perforating his body armor. Her lightsaber flicked off, and she returned it to her belt.

What was going on? The clones were supposed to obey the Jedi! Why would a loyal soldier turn on her? The Jedi Knight looked at her shoulder, and at the blood starting to seep through the thick obi she had wrapped the wound in. Whatever had happened, it was safe to assume that the other troopers she had brought to the surface would be more than willing to finish what Kata had started, should they discover that she still lived.

As soon as Commander Kata missed a comm check-in they would be alerted to his situation. There wasn't much time.

Serena grabbed the clone trooper's blaster rifle and looked up at the sky. If the clone troopers had turned on the Jedi, what of the human general commanding the capital ship? General Tomahawk would still be up there in orbit.

Focus, Laran. Serena took as deep a breath as she could muster, shuddering at the stab of pain high in her chest. She was dealing with a limited amount of time. But if she could get back to her ship, Serenity... If the Force was with her, she would have a chance.

[Belay Nisi]

Belay had dealt with people sparsely since his first day at the Academy. Rarely were politicians allowed to even converse with younglings or Padawan. Instead, they were kept warded from the Jedi's sanctuary, but it only keened the Nisi descendant's senses. Jedi were the only people he felt comfortable around, yet at even the slightest disturbance from another he resonated with an aura.

Even the occasional Clone Soldier that was found at the gates or around the gardens nearby warranted a signal. Their signature was faint and irregular because of their clone generation. A frown claimed Belay's face as he grasped the awkward signatures. It far up stairs, and he could very little to grasp the specifics, but the signature came in the loads.

A discomfort sent a chill through his spine as he poked his hands around his waist. Placing his saber to his belt, he readied himself for a quick dash to the nearest lift. Hopefully he could find out about the presence and reasons. His late Master had always demanded of him to find purpose in things, even if they seemed senseless. The study of all abroad would eventually come of use in the future. Things did not just happen without reason.

Pressing in the buttons, he was carefully lifted up the levels of the Jedi Temple. Unique signatures feel upon his mind, their senses falling into a distance of his heart. People were fading, and fast. A tremble conquered his young spirit at that moment. He could only think, in his haunted thoughts, would he be next.

Grabbing his lightsaber, he readied himself. There was probably a war on the level, and the Clone Wars were there to intercept the invaders. How could have not caught the awkward signature earlier, though?

Something was up, and all he do was grab helplessly onto his lightsaber hilt. When the lift stopped, he would hit the ground running. An evacuation would be a better attempt then to stand and face the adversaries without a clear plan. Hopefully other Jedi would be about to converse with.

[Zem Vymes]

I lay among the horrors of my deeds. The dead trooper's blood pooled the floor of the lift, and I crawled to the far corner away from it.

Something interrupted my brooding. I felt something. A flicker. A glimmer of hope, glinting like a keyhole only I could open.

I reached out with the force, pressing the button to halt the lift's descent. Pressing another button, I reversed my path, to a level where I did not know what awaited me.

I beat the fear in me down into a dark place. Crossing my legs, my eyes closed, meditating to find the impetus and the rock that a Jedi must build his foundation upon.

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

In a bizarre Twi-Lekki stand-off of sorts, s'Il stared at the clonetroopers as they stared at her, their lifeless helmets betraying no emotions. She made no move, no motion; each muscle was tense and poised for action as her eyes made careful note of the men before her.

No one moved for what seemed like eons - had her appearence been that surprising? The Lupine had to admit her entrance had been a bit on the unintentional if not grossly hamfisted side, but it wasn't her fault that the panel had given way.

The fingers of her right hand tingled suddenly once more, and in a blur of motion s'Il pulled her sabre out, flicking it on just in time to catch the first bolt in a barrage of blaster fire. She stumbled backwards, holding the blade up and deflecting what shots she could as others scorched the once beautiful floor around her.

She retreated until her back hit a wall - or was it the door to a lift? She couldn't tell as her sabre moved fluidly in her grasp; an extension of her arm.

Doggedly the Lupine refused to give in, gritting her teeth as she stood her ground defiantly in the face of oncoming clonetroopers.

[Daria Nytherciria]

For two years they had considered it. To say that it was the most difficult decision of their lives would have been an understatement. Deciding to part with ones children indefinitely, perhaps permanently, is not a choice that any parent wishes to make, yet it had been one heavy on the mind of the parents of Daria Nytherciria.

Their family had eked out a quiet existence in the core worlds since the birth of their first daughter, six years ago, but things had changed since then. It was no longer safe for them to live as they did. Secrecy and lies had become a necessity. They rarely spoke with those whom they did not explicitly trust, or had known before arriving in the core. Amongst the former group there were only a handful of names, one of whom was a Jedi Knight by the name of Bra'jaa.

Bra'jaa, who they had come to trust above all others, was late. In the lounge of their small apartment, Merith, Glyne and Daria Nytherciria sat awaiting the arrival of the Jedi Knight. Merith and Glyne, anxious and somewhat nauseous, watched as their young daughter played quietly with some small wooden toy. All of her belongings – all of the essentials, at least – had been packed away. The gravity of the situation had not yet dawned fully on Glyne, though Merith already felt as if she was going to be loosing her daughter forever.

There was a pounding at the door. Both jumped startled, seemingly flying from the couch to the center of the living room in the blink of an eye. She looked to her husband, searching his eyes for some direction, before being shaken again by another hard knock on the door.

“Glyne! Merith! Let me in, quickly!” It was Bra'jaa. She rushed to the door, slipping off latches and unkeying locks. A lean, breathless Zabrak ducked into the apartment, pushing the door closed quickly behind him. Glyne was now on his feet, with young Daria clinging tightly to his legs.

“The Jedi have been betrayed, there's no time to explain.” His eyes were searching quickly around the room. Without waiting, he scooped up Daria's bags. “We have to leave immediately.”

“But... what...” Merith was wide-eyed.

“Wait- wait a minute. Where are you going to take her? Why isn't it safe?”

The question was met with a stony stare. “The Jedi Temple is under attack. There are reports coming in of Republic garrisons turning on their Jedi Commanders and killing them. We need to get to some neutral ground.”

“You need to get to some neutral ground,” Glyne corrected, speaking slowly. He was suggesting, of course, that while Bra'jaa may have been under threat, as Daria was not yet a Jedi, so would be exempt from the persecution. At this, the Jedi frowned.

“I don't know what's going on, but I think it would be safe to assume that once the Jedi are dealt with, whoever is behind this will begin targeting potential Jedi. I know it must be hard for you, but now more than ever we are going to need students like Daria.”

In all of this, the young girl herself had barely moved. She listened quietly to the heated words spoken and then to the sighs of resignation, feeling her father gently pry her away from his body.

[Belay Nisi]

Blaster bolts riddled the surroundings as the lift's door opened. The vile stench of blast-burns perfumed the air, consuming the aroma of nostalgia that commonly swallowed the halls of the Jedi Temple. Belay could feel his body be overwhelmed by the tense atmosphere that lay in the settlement. Jedi lightsabers were ignited throughout the halls in segments, and large separations in directions of the shining clone armor that Belay had become fond of.

Times had changed, in only a day, and the new enemy of the Jedi was a cloned warrior. Belay was confused, and he could only stand motionless in front of the lift as it jumped from the battlefield. The Nisi descendant had never heard of such battle, at least not at the Jedi Temple or even near Coruscant. Such horrific situations rarely occurred before young Padawan's eyes, and the few missions he had been taken upon never encountered the rawness of war.

Belay had been saved from the catastrophic nature of the Clone Wars, and had only an understanding from words. The distraught showed in his face as he stood amazed, in awe, and completely confused. Nothing seemed to paint right, the situation was not illustrated perfectly. Whoever claimed artistic property was a man of sheer darkness and it showed throughout the dim halls, illuminated solely by bolts and lightsabers.

Although the young man's hand loosened around the hilt as he watched, it tightened as the rattle of the blaster bolts neared his ear. An anger steamed from his confusion, distraught and present conflict, stirring him to spill. The young Jedi's face contorted from a cute child to that of a demon, and he leaped from the ground. Propelled through the air he neared the coming sounds of blaster bolts and ignited his lightsaber. Once used for remotes and training, it was now an extra arm prepared to grapple an enemy in sheer fury.

Slicing down as he rolled to a stop on the durasteel ground, he found a loose limb dropping to his side with a single blaster bolt calling out from the standard arm of the clone. No remorse fell upon the child's face, and in turn he snarled as he picked himself from the ground with sudden grace.

Abruptly he dashed forward, sliding his way through the oncoming blaster bolts from the side before flipping into the sky once more. Yoda's teachings had come in handy, finding his mind trapped in the instincts instilled in him from the young ling training.

As bolts darted in his direction, his extra arm swung from side to side, ensuring his body protection. The bolts flew from side to side, and occasionally returned to the sender in quick haste. Clones fell quickly to the floor, but there were few in the vicinity. Belay's luck had come once more in handy, preventing him from finding his face against the true terror of the Temple invasion.

When he finally met the floor once more from his flip, he dashed ahead. Running past the combat of Jedi and clones, he tried desperately to flee to the nearest exit. Rarely did he leave the Jedi Temple, but it was always from the hangar. Hopefully that would be a worthy refuge.

[Clea Darkrunner]

Clea frowned as she walked quickly along the tubular tunnel. She wanted to turn, to shake the information from the young Jedi. She wanted to shout, to scream at her, to demand answers.

But though this was a Jedi, it was a Jedi CHILD. Instinctively, from the first day at Mama's Cathouse, Clea had protected children. She had crossed words enough with Taran Secundus, Detective-in-Charge, about her habit of injuring or killing drug dealers who tried to get children involved in drugs. She had made enough enemies in the pimps that preyed on underaged soponts that she slept with a vibroblade under her pillow.

And the girl was hurt. A blaster shot to the shoulder that Clea prayed would not get infected from the polluted water that she'd been in. It had been a pond, she judged, to begin with, but human blood had stained it a reddish tinge.

Human blood, and probably human guts too, from the destroyed Jedi bobbing in that dark water.

She turned, hearing the feet behind them speed up. "Run, child," she said urgently. "Run, I'll delay them. There's no cover here for you....."

In response, the young Jedi flicked on the blue blade that Clea had gained in the upper Temple, and shifted, her posture clearly defensive.

Clea barely deflected her shot upwards as the three people, clearly not clone troopers, came around the curve in the tunnel. The two Jedi supported a third, badly injured.

The look on the older one's face was clearly one of relief when he spotted her. "Kallea, thank the Gods! Where's your ship? We need to get off Coruscant - the clone troopers are slaughtering Jedi!"

Clea was dumbfounded. Was he talking to HER ?

"Kallea?" the Jedi said. "What's wrong? Why are you staring at me? We need to MOVE!"

The girl beside her snickered, an ugly sound in the echoing tunnel. "She claims she isn't Jedi," she said.

Her teeth bared, Clea retorted, "No, I said,"I don't know how to use this Jedi stuff." Listen well, brat. I don't know WHAT I am - I was dumped for dead in the Lower Levels, and I don't know any frelling thing 'bout ANY of this Jedi crap."

"Don't know, or don't remember, Kallea?" The older man's question was cut short by a spate of blaster bolds zinging overhead.

"RUN!" Clea howled, something in her tone pushing the others into motion. She pulled her spare power pack out and threw it toward the oncoming Clone troopers. A quick blaster shot, and it exploded like a bomb over the squad. She ran after the others, praying to the non-existant gods of the Lower Level that they'd find an exit soon.

[Belay Nisi]

Tirades of blue and red blaster bolts paraded through the central arena of the Jedi Temple. Belay had become fond of many aspects of the Temple's building over the year, and knew the in and outs of every corner like the back of his hand. However, the blast rattled his mind as the shine of blue, yellow,red and white shined throughout the darkness that fell over the invasion.

Not much time allowed the young Padawan time to think before he leaped to the heavens away from an oncoming bolt. Landing down, he touched the red carpeted floor. Blood leaked from sides, while the boyish features were contorted by recent endeavors. Beside him lay a once formidable opponent in training.

Days ago they had trained together to perfect their skills as they awaited a newly appointed Jedi Master. Many had fallen over the era of the Clone War and were definately in need of replacement. Belay was just another face of the many orphaned Padawans amidst the profusion of war.

In the flux of confusion, Belay's mind swayed for a moment at the thought of his fallen Master. Had he dealt with the same outburst of foolishness by the hands of war? Was he following down the same path that few Jedi had returned? Such negative thoughts separated him from the experienced Force-users that lay about him. They had died, and only the bid of the Force had allowed him to breathe any longer.

Taking that thought, he rode his feet forward and bashed into the attacker. A thud echoed through the Padawan's ears as he collided with the hardened armor about the clone's body. Before he knew it the two were bouncing against the floor in agony. The clone only grunted in response, but the Padawan knew the pain that overcame the man. He was not human, though a clone, and did not sustain the same will and prowess that a true sentient would. Belay's adversary was simply a product of war, without a definitive personality. He could not win.

In an abrupt, concentrated berate of anger, the young Jedi swung his lightsaber up and slashed at the struggling clone beside him. The legs that were slowly propelling the cloned figure to his feet fell underneath him, a sizzle of the lightsaber churning the material which made-up the limbs crinkling inside the clone's helmet. Swinging back, Belay dropped a final stab downward into the heart of his freshly killed enemy. The Padawan braid dangling from his back side bounced on his shoulder as he prepared himself for any other vermin.

Energizing his feet with the necessary fuel, he leaped up to the sky and landed a few yards away. Pressing forward, he headed further through the crowds of profusion, addressing all the blaster bolts that came his way. Although a sparse amount, he displayed an expertise in deflection and perfected a few bolts into a ricochet back at the enemy. Though none fatal because of his continuous motion forward, he left many clones at a shock.

Soon, hopefully...he would reach his destination.

[Lilaena De'Ville]

A'na Eldhil brought the ship out of hyperspace to plot the coordinates for their second jump Corewards. "Lilaena, please report to the cockpit." Her young padawan bounced up the passageway, hesitating at the threshold and then walking in sedately.

"Yes Master Eldhil?" The girl folded her hands demurely, managing to refrain from twiddling her padawan braid, for once.

"I would like you to assist me in plotting the course. You will need to learn how to pilot soon enough."

"Neat!" Lilaena sat down in the co-pilot's chair quickly, her feet dangling over the steering pedals underneath the console. A'na smiled at her enthusiasm, but still felt underneath that something... something was terribly wrong.

She reached for the navicomp, and then stopped. "Girl, face me."

LIlaena swiveled in the chair, looking at her master with childish concern at the tone of A'na's voice. "Did I do something wrong?"

"Hush child." A'na reached out and took her padawan's hands. "Tell me, do you sense anything... unusual?"

"No."

"You answered too quickly, Padawan." A'na's voice was stern, and Lilaena's eyes snapped shut as she began to seek out a better, slower, answer.

A moment passed in silence, and then another.

"I sense..." Lilaena's voice wavered, "I feel sadness." Her green eyes opened and she looked at her master. "It is awful, Master."

A'na nodded, "I feel it too. There has been an emergency, and all Jedi are being ordered to return immediately to the Temple. We must hurry."

Lilaena nodded seriously, and quietly watched while A'na plotted the next jump.

[Zem Vymes]

My meditation had been disturbed a few seconds before arriving at my destination. I could hear blaster fire, and the thrum of a saber, just beyond the lift's door. It slid wide, and I was suddenly next to another Jedi, fighting for her life to avoid the deadly clone attack.

"Get in!"

My saber sparked to life, to block the rare shot that she did not, as I moved to the rear of the lift.

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

So. It was a lift. And it seemed that she had a small bit of aid waiting for her as well.

Thank the Bloodline.

Obeying wordlessly, the Lupine continued to deflect the blaster shots being fired at her while slowly retreating into the momentarily safe haven offered by the lift. The doors shut, cutting off any more oncoming fire, and for a few seconds s'Il stood shakily, still holding her sabre in a guarded position across her front while staring wide-eyed at the closed doors.

Her body shook, muscles trembling with her exhertions, and the Lupine found herself unable to tear her gaze from the doors, expecting them to open at any moment and admit a sea of clonetroopers. And then, the sabre fell from her grip, shutting off before clattering across the floor to roll to a stop along one of the walls. Sinking first to her knees, she soon flopped back to sit tiredly in the middle of the lift and used the body of the dead clonetrooper to rest her back upon.

[UrunSaiShun]

Jolar and Arana speed through the temple hallways Arana leading the duo as Jolar watched their backs. They could hear screams and pleas for mercy soon silenced by blaster fire. "Here!" Arana yelled as she stopped before a lift door slamming the pad to activate the lift. Jolar looked about nervously as it seemed as the lift doors would never open. The doors soon slide open and threw herself inside grabbing Jolar's arm and pulling him in as clone blaster fire filled the hallway. The lift's doors shut and Arana slide to the floor against the lift wall. Jolar knelt down beside her as her eyes filled with tears. "Jolar, they're killing everyone, even the younglings! What is going on?" she said looking up at the lift ceiling searching for answers. "I don't know Arana, I dont know anything. All I do know is that you and I will make it out of this," he said standing up. "We have to let our masters know what is going on here," she collected herself standing up also. Yes, that was the reality Master Kaleth Sevron and Tzila'nerun were off-world on a mission commissioned by the jedi council.

"Find strength Arana," Jolar said as the lift slowed to the hangar floor. Arana nodded shaking back her fear and doubt. "Stay close," Jolar looked back as he ran out of the lift. The moved quickly down the hallway and into the large hangar bay.

[Belay Nisi]

Time had taken a toll on the youth. Training had not prepared him for such prolonged miracles. Albeit the Force was strong, and there was no room for a truce, it was hard for him to swim on with the turning tide. Whoever manipulated this catastrophe had done it to a perfection. Majestic natures could not barricade demise much longer, despite the Jedi's abilities.

Belay treaded on, negative thoughts ravaging his brain. Not a word had come from the many soldier's helmets, but their menacing status carried enough of a presence to demoralize him. He had competed against many since the faithful entrance into the invasion, yet his wins meant nothing. More troops overcame onslaughts of Jedi skills, and the calls of death could be heard in echo.

Anguish contorted the boy's face as he pushed on at another scream. Children from the youngling's chambers could be heard with hopeless, frail flails. Antics of the sporadic attack were stacking, and the time had come closer for his necessary escape. If the next step was not toward the exit, he would be just another causality.

Nisi had reigned throughout the galaxy for years, and Belay could only hold onto that herald image of his heritage as he leaped over the shimmer of armor. Not a slash or adept maneuver was made with his ignited lightsaber. Instead, he took to the defense and cautiously used his extended, glowing arm to send bolts aback.

A misstep and he was to the floor. Only a kick from the hangar door he sled across the polished floor. Dark lens of the numerous troopers flushed his vision. Splash of armor shimmered in the moonlight night, peering from the windows nearby. Coruscant's nightshades carried throughout the Temple, providing an eloquence to the darkened moment. Dire motion was in need, but his legs did not respond.

Default came upon him and his eyes closed. Bolts infested his frail frame and not a yell was made.

The Nisi were gone.

[Zem Vymes]

"We need an exit."

I sunk to my knees in a meditative stance, but I couldn't yet muster the collected mindset to actually perform the action.

"High seems right out. What about low? The archives?"

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

Still reclining upon the dead trooper's body, s'Il turned an almost lazy stare to her rescuer.

Zem. How fortuitous.

A hand reached out, calling her sabre into her palm. She managed a deep sigh then, idly picking at the dead man before speaking up.

"Up, down, I'm not all too sure that it matters much." She pulled the knife from the trooper's throat to inspect the now-crimson blade. A quick swipe along her trousers left a red line and a slightly cleaner weapon, and she stuffed it into her boot.

The Lupine knew he was wanting a bit more of a definitive answer, and she looked to him for a brief moment, her fingers drumming on the white chestplate.

"You could always put this get-up on and sneak out," she mumbled absently.

[Zem Vymes]

"We have one suit of armor, and there are two of us."

I slowed my speech, regulated my breathing. I tried to return to center. Closing my eyes, I propped an arm against the side of the lift.

"They are near."

I leaned forward, holding s'Il's hand with my own, as we both slid along the control panel, trying to divine a direction from the buttons beneath our touch.

"See where I see."

[UrunSaiShun]

Jolar took the first wave of clone fire falling into the force, allowing his training to take full effect sending the bolts back to their masters'. Arana who was trained in the Ataru style perfected by her master, Tzila Nerun, flew into the air landing in a diving roll before four clone troopers. She came up slicing her blade to the right taking the helmets off of two of the soldiers. Stunned by the young girl's aerial acrobatics, the three remaining clones never saw Jolar coming. He was upon them, taking the one closest to Arana down shoving him through with his blue saber. He continued with the momentum, rolling over the back of the falling clone and and spinning his blade with his body dropping the last two clones without a scream.

"Hurry!" Arana yelled as was climbing into the cockpit of a jedi fighter. Jolar raced for the fighter as clones poured into the hangar bay through the main blast door. Arana was already bringing the fighter about when Jolar fell into the co-pilot seat with a yell of pain. "Are you alright?" Arana cried as the cockpit seal closed. "My shoulder, I'm ok just get us out of here," he said sitting up with a groan of pain. "Hold on!" Arana yelled as she blasted the engines of the starfighter . They flew out of the hangar bay followed by heavy cannon fire. Just as they started their climb into Coruscant's night sky, cannon fire clipped the left wing engine causing it to explode and sending the fighter spiraling downward into Coruscant's skyline. "Jolar!" Arana cried out trying to gain control of the falling craft. "Arana it's no use just hold on!" he yelled shoving himself back into his seat.

Arana threw her arms to shield her face as the fighter crashed into a tier of one a skyscraper skidding to a stop. Jolar threw back the cockpit coughing as smoke filled the room he through himself out of the fighter onto the office floor. "Arana!" he yelled her name as he stood up and reached the her seat. She made no sound he frantically searched for a pulse at her neck. "She's alive," he breathed unlatching her straps and pulled her unconscious body out of the pilot's seat. He grunted in pain as he threw her over his already wounded shoulder. He shouldered his way out of the office room door. He knew the clones would locate the wreck he had to put some distance between them and the crashed starfighter.

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

His hand over hers was a comforting thing, but comfort would have to come later. Right now they needed to run. Meditation would waste precious time, and her instincts screamed at her that to stay still would mean only death.

s'Il pulled away from his hold. She could not afford to wait for divining powers to show them the way out. They had to make their own way. Impatience fueled her actions as she grabbed the trooper's discarded helmet and stuffed it into Zem's now empty hands.

"Correction - there is only one of us."

A quick slap of her palm on the key pad sent the lift plummeting down into the depths of the temple, and turning back to the trooper, she went to work. Hurried fingers frantically tore away at the bone-white armor, pulling it away from the body and tossing it at Vymes.

"We can't waste the time it would take to prance our way out of this using meditation and fancy Jedi tricks," her breath came in huffs as she still pulled and yanked at the armor, "Simple is what we need. Simple and basic and primal."

A look was sent over to him. He was doing nothing... just... sitting there.

"Oi! Pay attention!" the Lupine punctuated her words with a jarring slap to his face.

[Zem Vymes]

I started to get the gist of what she was saying. Deftly, I removed the slain trooper's armor, wiping away any spilt blood from the armor as I removed binders from the utility belt.

"Slap them on. I just gotta think of a good reason to give somebody as to why you aren't dead."

She looked a little too willing a prisoner, even with the binders.

"Hope you don't take it personal, but I gotta bring a little color to your skin."

I hoisted the vibroknife from s'Il's boot.

"Or do you wanna do it?"

[Serena Laran]

It took hours to walk back to the village. Breathing carefully, Serena crept up to a ridge on her belly and looked down into the shallow basin that held the settlement.

There were no clones in sight. Closing her eyes, she reached into the Force, casting about for any nearby life.

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

The Lupine gave him a puzzled look for a few seconds, then let the binders fall to the ground. She crouched then, pulling her pack from her shoulders and setting it infront of her. The latches were quickly opened, and her sabre was stuffed inside. The vibroknife was snatched from Vymes' hand and placed inside as well.

"No no, no need to go carving me up. I'm too pretty, and this skin is prime real estate."

It was a mild joke, something that helped her to begin dealing with the gravity of the situation around her.

Her shirt was tugged off, followed soon by her boots. s'Il had no shame at this point, and rising to her feet she began to unbutton her trousers. Those too, soon fell to the floor, and she stood before Zem; bare as the day she came into the world.

"Leave the clothes here; we've no time to waste packing them up."

She paused for only a moment, looking up at him.

"I've told you what I am; only you and... " she had to fight to maintain straight features, "... Master Windu know. He's gone now, and so now you're the only one. You've never seen the change though, until today."

[Zem Vymes]

"I can close my eyes."

I offered to assuage her feelings. She'd held her true nature back from so many people, and while I felt honored to be her confidant, I understood that it wasn't easy for her to do.

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

"No. Whether you watch or not is your own choosing. But I chose you, and so you reserve the right to see with your own eyes."

As she spoke, her normally metal/blue hued eyes took on a strange light, tawny yellow tendrils seeping in.

And then the change began in earnest. Her back arched as her body did as commanded. Shoulders thrown back, and a wet sounding thwok sounded through the lift, heralding the dislocation of her shoulder joints. The muscles beneath her skin could be seen, visibly moving and reshaping themselves as her skeletal structure became a wholly new form. She fell to her knees then, as her legs grew lanky, sinewy muscles shifting and reforming. Her hands grew, fingers becoming thick as they hit the deck. Once dark blonde hair changed to a shock white, growing longer and chasing down the length of her body like wildfire.

A groan, and her body shuddered. Face narrowing, her ears grew and her mouth became a viscous maw lined with teeth meant to tear and rend flesh from bone.

And then she stood tall, shaking her body roughly. Tail lashing lazily back and forth the great white vornskr stood before Vymes, and a tawny gaze was sent up to meet his eyes. Lips parted over sharp fangs in a perverse smile, and the beast huffed in spent energy.

[Zem Vymes]

I made a half move to pet behind one of her ears, and restrained myself.

"Well...I guess it's my turn for my own disguise then."

I stooped down to pick up the helmet from the ground.

"Now how does this work?" I asked as I slipped the confining cover over my mid-length locks.

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

An amused whurffle came from the animal's throat, and she bent her neck to where she'd set her pack. Teeth closing around the shoulder strap, she lifted it up before turning to face the lift door. Lowering herself to her haunches, the vornskr waited patiently as they were sent deeper into the lowest parts of the temple.

That's where they would have to make their escape, using the access doors that connected the temple to the underlevels of Coruscant. That's where freedom was; or at least a better chance at survival.

[Zem Vymes]

The doors parted, and we were inundated by a half dozen bright lights pointed at us. Clonetroopers had fanned out around the lift in a half circle, with blasters at the ready. The lights were from accessory pods, underslung on the weapons.

"Hold up."

A clone with a red pauldron waved at his squad with a gloved hand, and the weapons were pulled away. He then stepped forward, eyeing the vornskr.

"What's that?"

He gestured with his gun barrel at Lok.

I didn't have a very convincing answer for him.

"I picked up a pet."

I replied, startling myself by hearing my voice processed through the vox to sound as sterile as the others. To my suprise, a pair of troopers quickly stifled a laugh in amusement.

"Whatever you say. Just get it out of here." The squad commander conceded with a shrug, and cleared the way for us.

I walked along with s'Il in tow, wondering if I was incredibly smart or they were incredibly stupid to allow it.

[Clea Darkrunner]

If life was a holo, this was a SITCOM, Clea decided.

A very BAD sitcom.

They'd literally escaped by falling into an uncovered sewage main. Now she and the others struggled and choked, trying hard not to drown in the accumulated effluent of Coruscant's upper levels.

She was resigned to drowning, and then they went over the falls ....

There is an ocean under Coruscant itself. Deep and polluted, it washes against the shores of the Dirt. Strange things grow down there, live down there, DIE down there. It is as low as you can go on Coruscant, unless you die in it, sinking to the bottom and decaying along with other organic things.

The ocean, the Dirt. They hold the remains of many odd things, organic and inorganic.

She made her way to the stinking shore, shaking her aching head. Reaching the dry portion she paused, listening. The echo of waves crashing on the shore was the only noise she heard. Shrugging, she set off down the gloomy shore.

Several miles down, she found the body of one of the Jedi, lightsaber clipped to his belt. She dragged it out of the wave wash, and buried it, taking the lightsaber with her in place of her lost blaster.

She never saw any of the others again. All she had left of her past, in an increasingly dangerous world, was a name - Kallea - and a lightsaber she hid.

************ The End - Clea Darkrunner's Story ************

[Terran Starek]

It was pure chaos.

Terran stood from his meditation in the West Gardens as the incredible feeling - and sound - hit him. Confusion. Fear. Death. The Force gathered around him like a death shroud, clouding his vision and his senses. Something terrible was happening - right here in the Temple. He could hear the sonds of battle and feel the surge of conflict through the Force. Blasters and small explosions and cries rose from so many of the chamber hallways.

Everyone around him seemed to be experiencing the same thing. At first, confused looks were exhanged. Estranged glances met nervous eyes, the same question on the each Jedi's mind: What's happening? No meditatior could survive such a disturbance as this. Terran's eyes finally found the turbolift as he decided it was time to act.

Oneri.

Oneri Tul'ada, the bright young padawan, was the only image Terran's mind could focus on. Terran had just been knighted not half a year ago. He was a promising Jedi - 21 Corellian years old. His Master, Jarek Hurone, had always said so to those around him, but never to Terran. He always sought to enstill humility into his padawan. Now, as a Jedi Knight, Jarek's encouraging words had been clear: "Keep that head of yours, Terran. You've got a strong one. It will always serve you better than your lightsaber. Don't forget that."

Now, as a Jedi Knight, he had taken a learner under his own tutelage. They had been together now for about three months. Her name was Oneri Tul'ada, a Twi'lek. She wasn't the strongest with a lightsaber, nor did she have the greatest control of the Force. Terran had chosen her above the others because she had the sharpest mind of all the padawans. He could see it behind her eyes, in the windows of her spirit. Almost anyone could learn to develop their weaknesses, but this was the kind of awareness that couldn't be taught.

He had to reach her.

They hadn't left the temple yet, so they hadn't needed to establish a comm link. Terran silently cursed this decision now that he had no way of contacting her. He would have to reach out into the Force, and only then could he send her a simple message. She wasn't trained well enough to respond.

Oneri, get to my room and wait for me there. Use caution.

The turbolift took him swiftly to the main hall, where he would have to cross and switch turbolifts to the residential wing. He waited patiently as it shot downward, finally reaching its destination. The doors opened as --

CHOO-CHOO-CHOO-CHOOO!

kkkaaaa-BOOOM!

Terran's lightsaber instinctively ignited as a horrific scene broke before him. Throughout the Great Hall, across the pillars and balconies and ornate landings, war had broken loose. Terran hadn't been expecting this. He would've never dreamed that this could happen, not in a thousand light years.

It was their own troopers.

As he tried to wrap his mind around the tragedy, but didn't have time a blaster fire pummeled the lift behind him. He brought his lightsaber forward, tucked close and across his body - a typical stance for Soresu. Jogging across the hall, he could see the lift that headed towards the east wing just ahead. As his eyes scanned the hall, the devestation was unbelievable. Jedi lay strewn across the hall as troopers checked the bodies, making sure they were lifeless. It looked as though Terran had just missed the brunt of the attack.

Soon enough, Terran's movement caught a few of the trooper's attention. The Jedi was single-minded as he picked up his pace. His lightsaber broke in a downward arc, meeting two blaster bolts and deflecting them away from harm. He turned his head toward the source of the shots. Lifting his hand and flicking his wrist, he sent a piece of debris squarely into one of the trooper, dropping him in pain. The other fired another blaster bolt, this time intercepted by Terran's lightsaber and sent directly back into the aggressor's chest.

Terran had to reach the lift. He had to reach Oneri.

[Lamar Starworth]

Peace consumed the life of a Jedi.

Never before had such pain aimed at the Jedi's being. A shadow casted itself through the halls, and a shroud built itself in the streets of Coruscant. Calamity overcame all senses as time dwindled into a negative. The Force beacon the screams and echoes of anguish. Any sober mind lay astonished by the sheer fury across the flow of every being. Not a word could truly parallel or compare the fierce nature which overcame the galaxy at large. Deficits rose from the soil of war and empower itself in absolute demise.

Peril formed in the architecture, painting the Jedi Temple in a crimson and coated the aroma with a roasted stench. Sizzles popped in the depths of the halls as moments transpired. Bolts of all shades splashed in the living, capturing the lasting breathe in a villainous theft.

Even the eyes of fellowship had blended from discretion to disturbance. Perversion engross the world as everything pure contorted into demonic concoction that no hellish imagination could even insinuate.

Swindled from numerous grand destinies, men and women dangled in the mix of corruption. Braids hung by ears that sound could no longer wake. Robes lay on bodies too cold to care. Weapon strangled in grips that turned too limp to use.

A woman sat in her chambers as lightning impaled existence. The weather had changed, erosion folding reality into a mess. She could only meddle with her imagination at what rested beyond the doors. Blast sprawled the passageways, the foiled toil perplexing her senses. Memories enriched her mind, but her heart had grown impoverished at the seemingly endless loss. Not even a sigh could be forced through the crave for expulsion of such pain. She swallowed instead, settling the fire in her belly as she grabbed her lightsaber.

Aselam Winfield would not lose them all.

The Jedi would survive...

He would not let them die.

[Tieru Ocarre]

Sluis Sector...

Sluis Van...

Starvation engross the land. Nutrients were absorbed by the Separatists base. The calm of the season faded, and little disruption rumble on common grounds. A flux of distraught had overcame all the lively crowds that tour the cities, hush the barrage of festivities and detain the good times. Few privateers venture as deep as Sluis Van any longer.

The Clone Wars had left a definite infection across the galaxy, and Sluis Van was just another victim. Disdain sat unsettled in the hearts of the planet's citizens, while few supported the change. The dwelling of another Outer Rim territory for the Confederation, with the only bustle at the stationed CIS bases.

Sieges ran a wave through the Outer Rim Territories. Pain and anguish doubled throughout, and bouts forged a distrust that would take more than simply time to erase. Futile rebellions struck in the wastelands of many planets, while protest were overlook. Many sought protection against the war, but such enormous scaled events could not be evaded. Invasion pour into the sectors of numerous planets. Explosion spark the skies as the soil was sour with bloodshed.

Sluis Van was not exempt.

The homeland of one sole Jedi was nestled in the unholy battle. No side wield a sense of light, and despite the frontal pull of politics their was no progression on either side of the faction. Citizens and soldiers had no placed to turn. Corruption forged a heavy mold about the galaxy, and that sole Sluis Van Jedi did not walk the path of battle.

Three years had passed since he relinquish his namesake. The war would not effect his status, but reputation at it's inevitable end. Over time it became evident that the warring was far brutal then the sparkling Clone armor could rectify. Bolts flare in red and blue from both frontiers, splashing a scent of demise on all lands.

Wild Space was silent as the galaxy voyaged through for 250,000 years was painted in trepidation. War was a senseless matter, indeed, and the young Padawan saw little purpose in his hands getting dirty in the foul play. Only days previous had drawn his private ship to return to the known galaxy. A breech had been created from his fellow workers in the Jedi Corp. , allowing him a quiet visit to his Homeworld.

It grew into much more than a simple visit.


----------------


"Blasted!"


A main hue of white sprinkled with bits of blue, green, red and yellow ran in a bundle through the plains. Rocks and mantles erected from the crowd as a forest at up ahead.


Order 66 had been called only an hour previous. Tieru was stupid to carry his lightsaber on the little trip back to see ol' momma, but he wanted to show off his trophy. Home was only a little farther away, and he wasn't going to keep her surprise waiting.


The clones were on his tail, and Tieru would have to do more than curse a few words to get them off his hiney. The young Morganian and Morellian mix could do nothing but spit and heave as he thought up a plan. Hidden in the fronts of the wooden forest, he juggle every plan.


One last, eased breathe was given to the world as the trot grew near.


"Man, what I'd do for a Jawa milkshake right now."


And with that, it was on...

[Tieru Ocarre]

"AAAAAAH!!!"

The yelp roar over the echoing call from a blaster. A limb followed the agonizing scream to the ground, seemingly beckoning the body the acts belong with it. The battle raged with fiery alone. Wrath blossom from the demise as white coated armor was dismembered with the sparkling swings of an archiac blade. The symbol of peace and justice had been reformed as an arsenal of death. Darkness shroud the sky as the heavens were remodeled as a plain for soaring star craft.

Danger would find more remote spots about Sluis Van to entangle the Outer Rim planet in distraught, and there was no more room for freedom to roam. In the split seconds that Tieru glanced to the sky, he felt a beacon spark in his mind. Enlighten and prepared, the young Padawan body contorted to a perfected bend; allowing acrobats to save his life from a definitive end by an incoming blaster bolt. Off in the distance sat a small squad running through the plains from his left.

Already two bunches had been handled with ease, but the abscence of languish left his senses in turmoil. Adrenaline could only fuel his movements for so long, and the battle seemed endless on a planet consumed in anguish. This day would not be the day of change, or of halt - it would be remembered as a simple skirmish.

So, without thought, he let instinct throw him into a dash. He would escape this place, find his mother, and leave.

Leave for good...