What would be your Character's deaths?

[Kremon]

Good day to you all reading this. I thought I might make this forum page for people who would like to write about their character's deaths without actually killing them. There's almost certainly going to be tons of interesting ways they go out, honorable or otherwise. I should warn everyone however, there may be tear-provoking situations written. On that happy note, I look forwards to reading what you all write!

I'll start off with my own main character's death, Exephos:
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"Never thought we'd go out this way, sir!" Captain Shadra said to Exephos's left as they stared down a fast approaching Imperial column, the ninth, from behind a waist-high barricade constructed of whatever had been available. The barricade in question was the only thing between the Imperials and Axial Park in the middle of Coronet city. Manning it, was just twenty of the 95th, all that remained of the entire company. Inwardly, he despaired. There was no chance of reinforcements, and if they let the Imperials through, they'd slaughter the entire civilian populace in the process of evacuating. He was prepared to die defending them, but he choked up at having dragged his men into their deaths. But despite his inward emotions threatening to break free and reduce him to a sobbing wreck, he put on a confident air for those remaining:
"We'll beat them. Just as we did before." The words were filled with bravado, but his heart wasn't in it, and you could see it in everyone's stances and movements. They'd already consigned themselves to their deaths.

By then, fire from Imperial walkers descended upon his defenders, killing two of the 95th in the initial volley. Imperial troops surged forwards, blasting away. In response, every one of them returned fire with everything they had, the green muzzle flashes lighting up the surrounding buildings. Exephos himself swore at their situation and raised his rotary cannon, cutting down a row of Imperials with it's high rate of fire. He lost another five men, each one taking ten of the enemy with them. Beside him, Captain Shadra fired off his dual blaster pistols in synchronisation. Only after another ten minutes, and three more losses, the Imperials fell back again. He watched as they turned around and ran back down the street. One of them however, stopped, turned, and aimed a rifle at the Republic line. Too late, he realized that he was the one being aimed at.

"Major! Look out!" Captain Shadra yelled, right before tackling him. The red blaster bolt zipped just over Exephos... Right through Shadra's chestplate.

"No!" Exephos roared, taking the Captain's limp form and laying him on the ground. The bolt had gone straight through the side of the armour- right where it was weakest. With a growing sense of shock and disbelief, he pulled off first his, then the Captain's helmet, revealing the Zabrak's horns and closely trimmed haircut. Frantic, he placed his fingers on his neck, checking for a pulse. It was very faint.
"I need a medic over here!" Exephos yelled in the direction of the rest of the 95th. Shadra's eyes fluttered open and locked onto his own.
"Sir..." Shadra gasped, his breath wheezing.
"I'm here, Captain, stay with me!" He said, taking his second's armoured gauntlet in hand. "Thank you for... everything you've done for me, sir." The Zabrak said, his breath rattling.
"I'm not done with you yet, Captain! Stay with me!" Exephos responded, getting slightly hysterical.
"We had a good run, sir but it's over." The Captain weakly replied. Exephos didn't know how to respond, and simply grasped the Zabrak's hand tighter.
"Do I have permission... to be released, sir?" Shadra asked, spasming once. A hot tear ran down Exephos's cheek as he nodded and said in a shaky voice:
"Yes, Shadra. Dis-... Dismissed." "Thank you... sir." The captain replied, slowly moving his gaze upwards to the sky, his final breaths catching in his throat until he lay still, never to move again.
"No! Damn it, no!" Exephos said, holding Shadra's form in his hands, tears now coursing down his cheeks.
"It should have been me! Why Shadra of all people! Why him!? Exephos yelled at the sky. Around him, the remainder of the 95th stared, but he didn't care, instead holding the captain's body tight as he sobbed. It should have been him! The old die and give way to the new! Shadra would have taken control of the 95th and carried on it's legacy, but now he'd never lead again, all because of Exephos's decisions. Struggling to come to grips with his good friend, more like a son, being no more, he barely pushed down resurgent thoughts of how he could have saved him. In the end, he calmed down enough to set the Captain's body back, right before giving his faithful second one last clasp on the shoulder as he stared at his former friend's face.

"Blast it all!" Exephos said, turning away and rising to his feet as he strapped his helmet back on. Spinning around, he looked the remaining 95th dead in the eye. There was just eleven of them left now, including himself. Three from Bantha platoon, six from Rancor platoon, and just one from Tauntaun platoon. Anooba platoon had been completely wiped out.
"I won't try to tell you any different, if we remain here, we die. But I won't be abandoning my duty to the Republic, those that are of the same mind, step forward." Exephos said, his voice resolute despite his outburst of emotion. In response to his statement, all ten of his men stepped forwards. Nodding to himself, he started:
"We've fought together in uncountable battles across the galaxy for years, well, now I'd like to ask you all to stand by my side one last time, to bring an ending to our journeys, once and for all. If we die, then know that every Imperial killed is another your families won't ever have to live in terror of and that the Republic will survive for another day."
"For the Republic!" What was left of the 95th shouted before taking up positions on the barricade with renewed vigor.

Rather than join them, Exephos reached into a belt pocket to pull out an old-fashioned locket and flicked it open, revealing a picture of a young smiling woman, standing in front of a museum on Coruscant. Standing on either side of her was two positively beaming boys, the oldest on the right being only just sixteen.
"If only things had turned out differently..." Exephos murmured to himself, as he held the locket close before turning and chucking it away down an alley. He didn't want the Imperials to find it and take retribution for all the operations he'd scored against the Empire. "Imperials advancing!" One of his troopers cried out. Picking up his rotary cannon for the last time, Exephos peered down the street as he started the weapon's barrel rotation. The Imps had come in an even greater sized force, and they marched with a sense of finality, they knew that this would be the last time they attacked. He waited for them to just enter range before he opened fire with his heavy weapon, sending the Imps scattering for cover even as their tri-pedal walkers continued stomping onward. This time though, he was proud to see the 95th remnant in their element, not caring about saving ammo, they fired a rocket straight into the armoured undercarriage of the lead walker toppling it into the way of the walkers behind it thereby creating an effective road-block.

However, the infantry kept coming and a stray round took the sole survivor of Tauntaun platoon in the face. Redoubling his efforts, Exephos moved his right leg forwards, bracing himself against the recoil as he fired the rotary cannon in a continuous stream of rounds which ran the risk of damaging the barrels, but that wouldn't matter now. His shots sweeped across the entire street, cutting down line after line of Imps. They just kept on coming, their advantage of sheer numbers bringing them closer to the barricade, only fifteen meters away. Three more of his men fell, with the rest sustaining minor injuries. He himself had been shot in the thigh and had nearly collapsed had it not been for his determination. Slowly, the Imperials gained meter by meter, and the remainder of the 95th started to fall, one by one. Exephos lobbed grenades and fired his rotary cannon near continuously. He took three shots to the abdomen, and another in the shoulder. The last of his company fell when the Imperials vaulted over the barrier, the gnarled veteran having his head lopped off with a vibro-blade. It seemed the Imperials had won as they turned towards him, but he wasn't done yet.

"For the Republic!" Exephos roared as he charged headlong into two Imps, sending them clattering to the ground. Raising his rotary cannon once more, he blasted every Imperial on his side of the barrier. Firing his weapon at the hip with one hand, he threw every last grenade he had on his belt into the fray.
"All civilians evacuated in Axial Park, I say again, all civilians evacuated in Axial Park." Exephos's com-link announced. He smiled to himself as the Imps counter-attacked, bright red blaster bolts flashing around him. They'd done it. They'd help off the Imperials long enough. One of them took him in the leg, sending him down onto one knee with a grunt, but he kept firing, right up to his rotary cannon running out of ammo to be tossed aside for his sidearm.

Finally, a round took him just above the heart, the soldier to make the final blow being killed himself, when one of Exephos's blaster bolts clipped him in the head. As he fell backwards onto the ground, unimaginable pain like he'd never felt before blossoming from his chest, he thought of his life. It'd been fraught with sacrifice, but in the end, he was satisfied to have done his part in saving something he believed in.

"Kriff! I think he finally went down!" Jagen said, peering out from behind a speeder towards the Republic's barricade. "You sure? Ridi asked, looking incredulous as he himself peered around the other side.
"Yeah, he went down." Jagen replied, not having his head taken off by the monstrosity they'd been fighting. The man had taken more than five  direct shots to kill, madness! Both he and Ridi cautiously approached the barricade and looked over. Pistol still clutched in hand, was the giant Republic trooper. Around him lay at least thirty of their Imperial comrades dead or dying. There was even more on their side of the barricade.
"Hell, do you know who that was?" Ridi asked from beside him.
 "Who?" Jagen said.
"That was Major Exephos himself, for kriff's sake!" Ridi replied, pointing at the 95th Armoured Unit emblem on the behemoth's pauldron.
"Great Emperor..." He swore, thinking back on what he'd heard of on the dangerous officer. According to the rumors, he'd been the one to personally start the Republic counter-invasion of Corellia, and had also been the one that subsequently destroyed Moff Drano's compound, killing everyone inside... brutally.
"Do you suppose we ought to take his body?" Ridi suggested, gesturing towards the corpse. Right after he said that, the body disintegrated in a green flash through some sort of device or another. Personally, Jagen wasn't surprised, even in death, the Republic's soldiers were defiant.
"We'd best report back." Ridi said, turning away from the dust which was all that remained of the Major.

"I'll see you there." Jagen replied without taking his eyes off the man's rotary cannon off to the side. For once, he doubted just what they were fighting for. The Sith had this big revenge and death to all Jedi mantra going on but he doubted just how many actually believed in it. Of course, they all followed along like good servants because the Sith were so much more powerful and couldn't be defeated by men without the likes of the Force. After having seen this brute of a man fighting for so long against the Empire, even when it was clear that victory was impossible, made him wonder. He hadn't had the Force, but yet he'd doggedly fought on and just didn't seem to die until someone had finally put a bolt in his heart. Perhaps the Sith could be fought against... Perhaps there was... Hope.

[Cabochard]

I like this! Here's one for my current main, Striga.

Monster

Rax Torwin wasn't completely sure what had possessed him to take his crew here, to this planet. All he remembered was a dream. A massive building, too big for him to see all of it. Shadows. Money. Lots, and lots, and lots, of money. Relics, artifacts, from times long since past, and people long since dead.  Ultimately, as always, it was the money that drew him. Rax was a man who liked to jump on opportunities as they came. It was how he'd lived as long as he had, and why he'd gathered a crew as large as his.

At the thought of his crew, Rax's eyes turned to the few people unloading the equipment from his ship. Elek, the big Zabrak, hefting the perimeter defense weapons. Thoja, his own sister and right hand, directing the droid helpers. Carth, a bandage over his blind eyes, his vibrosword over his shoulder, keeping a lookout. And X-C-9, Rax's B2 Battle Droid bodyguard, standing just a few feet back. These were the only ones who had been as attracted by the lure of money as he had been. The others had taken on some other jobs, to fill in the expenses.

The perimeter set, the ship powered down, the crew started gathering their tools for the expedition. The planet's rotation meant this side would be locked into the night for another few standard weeks, but Rax didn't care. That was what night vision goggles were for. As the crew gathered around him, he nodded silently. "Alright, listen. We're looking for a big building, about the size of one of those temples on Yavin. It's gonna look kinda similar, just less pyramidical. More square." He wasn't sure how to describe it. The dream slipped away a little more every time he tried to remember it.

Carth looked up at him. Or, at least, he tried his best. He was actually looking a few feet off, into the jungle, but Rax had learned to read his movements and figure out what he meant. "Captain, we should be careful. This place gives me the willies. There's...something weird." Rax snorted. "No matter how much you fancy yourself Miralukan, Carth, you aren't." That got a chuckle out of the rest of the crew, and Carth nodded meekly and went quiet. With that settled, Rax waved the others into the jungle. "Come on, let's get to it. The faster we find the place, the faster we get paid."

The trek through the jungle was mostly uneventful, except for Carth's occasional quiet bitching. He thought Rax couldn't hear him, all the way in the front, but Rax's ears were sharp after years of practice. He ignored it though. He had better things to deal with. Something pulled him onwards, into the jungle, though he couldn't quite figure it out. Every time they moved forwards, he knew which way to go.

At last, they found the temple. It was just like in Rax's dream, massive and brooding, towering over the trees around it, massive slabs of stone worked into a beautiful monument. Even now, run-down, large chunks having fallen off and crushed the ground around it, it was magnificent. It was surprising that they hadn't been able to spot it from the ship, but whatever. It wasn't like Rax had looked out the window, and the sensors always screwed up on that old rust bucket. After this trip, he'd be able to get it fixed up. Or, just get a new one.

The entrance was just as impressively massive, tall enough to let a war-walker through, and wide enough for it too. Rax was caught for a moment by its magnificence, and heard his sister let out a whistle, behind him. A little while was taken for the convoy to set up their real base camp, boxes of archaeological tools cracked open, plasma cutters withdrawn. A rope-feeder was set up, and a rope clipped to each of their belts, so they could find their way back, no matter how labyrinthine it was within. A few droids were left behind, X-C included, to guard the campground against any dangerous wildlife. They hadn't seen any, but you never knew.

Night goggles on, the expedition proceeded in. Entering the temple, they were faced with a bizarre sight. As they progressed in, the roof sloped downwards, until eventually they were in a hallway barely wide enough for two people abreast. Quite the disappointment, after the massive entrance. They followed the corridor for what seemed like forever - far too long - before coming to a set of stairs. Or, two. Rax shrugged at Thoja. "I'll take Carth, you take Elek." She didn't argue, just nodded. Not the talker, her.

Carth fell into step behind his captain, and they proceeded down the right staircase, lines extending up as they went down. He could hear Carth's quiet bitching behind him, as the blind man whispered to himself about how this was a bad idea, he should never have come. The wuss. Rax was relieved when it finally stopped. It only took him a few steps more to realize something else.

There were no more footsteps.

The captain spun slowly, almost afraid to see what was behind him.

Nothing.

The stairs extended up, Rax's rope parallel to them, but there was no sign of Carth. Not his rope, not his body, not even his footsteps in the dust to remind Rax that he had once had a blind wuss of a crewmember. Rax spun again, to look behind him. In the holos, there was always something bad right behind the hero the second time. And, for a second, Rax thought he caught something out of the corner of his eyes, a shadow flitting down the stairs. But, once his eyes were fixed on the stairs, there was nothing.

Then, from further down the stairs, a scream.

It echoed up to Rax, and he recognized it distinctly. A single yell escape from his mouth. "Thoja!" The captain ran down the stairs, taking them five at a time, no regard for his own safety. When his roped jerked up short, he only had a second to register the impossibility of running out of line before he had it untied and left it on the floor, dragging up as it was reeled back in. That moment of distraction cost him, though. He misjudged a step, and slipped, and down he fell. His head cracked against the floors, and everything went black.

When he awoke, he found himself exactly where he had fallen. The bottom of the stairs, several choices of hallways before him. It was dead quiet. He stood, a hand immediately going to his head, trying to contain the massive splitting pain that wracked it. A kolto pack came out, and was jabbed into his neck. The pain faded, slowly, until it was just a dull throbbing. With that off his mind, another thought returned. Thoja was down here, and she was probably hurt!

The captain took a moment to pick one of the hallways, before taking the leftmost one. He remembered what he'd been taught about mazes. He ran down it, taking several more left hallways, then came to a dead end. Angry, he took a kick at the wall, then turned to return. He took every first right, counting backwards as he went. When he reached zero, he should have been back at the first intersection.

Except he wasn't.

Just more corridor extended before him. A right turn at the end. Maybe he'd just miscounted. He stepped forwards, and peered around that corner. Still nothing. But, he caught a glimpse of something. A feminine leg, clad in brown pants, turning another corner at the end. He'd recognize it anywhere. He let out a yell, and ran towards, it, taking that corner, and coming upon the most terrifying sight ever.

A massive shadow, seven feet tall, with daggers for teeth and swords for fingers rushed at him. Rax had a moment of utter confusion before his instincts kicked in. Out came his blaster pistols, and a few wild shots were made. They missed completely, pinging rock off the wall, but it distracted the creature enough for him to get his bearings and start running.

He ran, and ran, taking turns here and there, not caring where he went, until he slammed into a wall again. He felt his nose break as the wall rushed into him, and he almost fell over in pain. But, he didn't have time for falling over. He spun, making to retrace his steps. He didn't make it to the end of the corridor before the shadow came into it.

The darkness rushed at him, a massive blow slamming him into the wall, a swipe from its claws ripping into his arm, the other one slamming into his neck and pinning him. He started to choke, and he felt a supernatural fear overtake him. Its hand reached out, pushing against his forehead, and he felt a great emptiness within himself, his strength being sapped and dragged away. But, Rax Torwin was not a man to die so easily. In the moment before he fell unsconscious, his unwounded arm lashed out, a defiant blow into the side of the shadow's head.

The shadow fell back, stunned for a moment, and Rax fell to his knees, gasping for breath. It took a second for him to get his gun up and start blasting away at the shadow. Some of the shots missed. But, by the time he was done, his clip emptied, it was done. What he saw before him was not what he'd seen before.

A red Twi'lek, emaciated, skin dry and cracked and so close to her that he could see her bones through it. Her clothes were old and ragged, even more so from the several dozen blaster holes put through it, but he could see it might have been impressive when it was new, spun from gold thread and silk.

Rax found his way out easily. Now, the hallways were not so confusing. They were, in fact, rather straight-forward, like one would expect in a castle. Not perfectly organized, but navigable.

He emerged to find Thoja and Elek standing in the camp. They gave him a look, and Thoja ran forward to give him a hug. "I thought you were dead! It's been hours! Where's Carth?" He looked at her in confusion. There wasn't a mark on her body, there was barely any dust. "Carth, he's...gone. There was...something...someone, down there, I guess it got him. What happened to you?"

She shrugged. "Nothing. We walked around for a while, but we didn't find anything. Most of the hallways just doubled back up to the entrance." She pointed at the building, and Rax turned to look at it, and was taken aback for a moment. There was none of the grandeur he'd seen on arrival. The building looked terrible, falling apart, huge sections lying about it. It looked dead. With a shiver, Rax turned. "Let's just go."

[Lolermelon]

Going Peacefully

A tiny Pureblood sat, his- no, not his, but the OLD Empire in ruins. Crushed, decimated, and consumed from within, little remained but ceremony.

Home was wherever he was. The options regarding where to be, however, continued to wane. Soon, there would be nothing. Nowhere. His frivolity would not stand in a galaxy requiring unity, stoicism...

It seemed no one wanted to party anymore. No one had time for play, merriment, or even their usual dalliances.

Drink, it seemed, had died.

If drink was dead, what was the purpose of the Patron Saint of Parties?

All at once, and yet... not at all just one. A sigh of relief.

It was finally over, and they all laid down to rest, one last time.

"Goodnight, Galaxy."

[Zmaj]

Bravery
It was often said that an agent doesn't go down in a blaze of glory like a soldier, or in the honor and heat of battle like a sith. An agent goes more quietly, life snuffed out behind the statistics of accident reports or buried in the red tape of routine.

The sky was impossibly blue. The ground had never felt so comfortable. Her lungs were still trying to catch breath even though she was not moving. Above, debris from space, falling like comets with tails of fire. There was dull thud somewhere to her left five miles off.

She could just see the report. Corellia, 8:35am standard galactic time, Imperial vessel A-3359 official name [redacted] carrying black ops team [redacted] and [redacted] shot down by Republic ion cannon located in the capitol square. The zero gravity still sat in her stomach, face too dry from the screaming wind as the ship had broken apart. Not even a chance to hold onto anything or anyone, the ground rushing forward too fast too fast—

It didn't take looking to know her legs wouldn't work even if she tried. Her ribs were probably shattered. So tired...

She slowly reached into a pouch on her belt, taking out a small holorecorder. Click. Hello, everyone. If you're getting this, it means I've been met with a disaster—"

Good. It wasn't broken.

Another few dull thuds. One deep breathe in and out. All the things left to do, all the things she had wanted. Vows she could never make to a lover. Friends whose faces she ached  to see but could not. A handful of promises she'd had to keep. All the work she'd done to further an Empire. And for what? What purpose had she served? Only now, in death, could she ignore the question no longer. And still, she had no answer.

Footsteps sounded off, voices without accents growing louder. "Over here, we got one!"

"Force...from the ship that came down."

"Imperial! Keep your safeties off, boys!"

A face appeared in her line of vision, barrel pointed toward her. "Don't even think about moving, Imp."

Somewhere off to her right. "I don't think she can." Another face, no gun accompanied. Medic probably. "This one's about gone, sir."

With the last bit of strength she had, she moved her hand, letting it fall to the ground, clutching the holorecorder tightly as it played on. "Em...bassy...."

The medic blinked, looking at the recorder with trepidation. "Could be a bomb," someone muttered.

Smart soldier, that man. But she was no longer looking for blood. Unworthy of it though she was, she was looking for mercy.

"...E..." A violent cough. The medic finally picked up the recorder, then looked at her. "...Voss...embassy..."

No doubt they'd look over it. That was fine. There was no information to it. Only sentiment.

The medic finally nodded, and for the first time in what felt like years, she smiled, a few tears leaking from her eyes.

And the world went black.

Hello everyone, If you're getting this, it means I've been met with a disaster. By the time this reaches any of you I will be long gone. I have messages designated for all, which are set to send once this recording is played in full. To my family, I am sorry I won't make it home as you asked. I know you had wanted one interrupted holiday, and I was never able to give that. And to those who call me friend, you few and precious, I have enjoyed every moment we've spent struggling and laughing together. I am proud to have met all of you. Whatever you do with yourselves here after, I beg you to find happiness that will last. Do not rely only on duty. Life is empty with only this to fill it. You had made my life brighter and more beautiful for each of your smiles. I love you all, and I'll miss you.

...Goodbye.


Cowardice
The silence in the cockpit was almost unbearable. Behind her, Sylph sat with tear-stained cheeks and bruises. Morna's glasses were cracked, sliding down the bridge of her nose even as she pushed them up for a fifth time. Anyn looked like she hadn't slept in a week, guiding the ship's controls with a grip so tight her knuckles were white.

Aliana herself felt as Anyn looked, a kolto patch pressed to her temple where blood had begun to dry. Her side ached fiercely and her fingers were sore. She could still feel the heat from the explosion that'd rocked the vessel they'd fled from.

10 years. 10 years of planning, just for herself, just in case. She'd never anticipated the others, never expected them to answer so surely. Not a thing left behind except ruin, hearts beating wildly at the scope of open stars before jumping to hyperspace. So many would wonder what'd gone wrong, what had happened. She would send word out somehow. But for now...

Out of the corner of her eye, Anyn smirked.

Behind them both, Morna let out a small chuckle.

Sylph let out a half-sob, half-sigh of relief.

And Zmaj smiled.

"...We're free."

[Auryn]

This is @Miller 's fault for being a horrible horrible person.


[Years into a possible Future]


"My Lord, the prisoner."

Like the whole place, the Sith's chambers were bland and functional. There was no decoration, or celebration of the Empire, no fancy light fittings or statues or Imperial flags. A desk, a chair. A terminal, a holo-projector set up before a simple throne carved from stone, that was remnant of the previous owner, maybe. A window, overlooking the miserable eternal rain of Kaas. The city could be seen from here, over The Wall, lighting spearing upon the distant skyscrapers. On a shelf on the left wall of the room were three of the Aeon Holocrons, cluttered together, faint, decadently musical notes emanating from them as though they huddled and whispered in some unknowable language, drawing their plans against the captive.

The Lord in question was sprawled in that stone throne, one metal leg balancing on the other, a chin propped on hand, seeming... bored, distracted. Angsting, maybe. he didn't look at the guards as they dragged in the weary, beaten Jedi, and threw him to the floor before him.

"You may go," he instructed, barely moving. The two Imperials did so, and the door slid shut behind them.

Reithan's red-streaked eyes slid down to his crumpled friend.

"It's been a while, Miller."

Miller got himself up to his hands a knees, before picking his head up towards the throne, smiling ruggedly, "It sure took a lot of effort to get an audience with you, old friend."

Always the smart ass.

Reithan's eyes closed. His lips twitched slightly, but there was no return smile, just a small sigh. If he felt anything seeing the other again, that was all he had to offer. "You're late. As usual."

He rose slowly from the throne, stiffly, as though getting up was a touch of an effort, and absently shook out the tattered, faded black cloak thrown over his shoulders. A step forward, and another.

"I should have let them kill you."

Miller stifled a chuckle, "As if they could've - I told you, this was all an elaborate plan to get myself to you. I'm a Master now, didn't you hear." That resilient sarcasm, that blatant humour. Maybe he was trying to hide the pain of seeing his friend like this, or maybe he just didn't give a damn what happened to him any more.

Reithan's face didn't move, but his eyes were alive. Still that old resentment and betrayal, only made more bitter with time.

"Still trying to end me...? You can't just let things go, can you...?" The words were spoken softly, but they dripped through the room like acid. They were hollow, dead halls here. So much different from the ones alive with the screams of pain, as the Lord of Agony had once seen them.

"End you?" the Jedi grunted, it was probably supposed to be a laugh but, he couldn't manage one, "Only if I had to. No, you know that I'll always believe there's light in you. I'm here to--"

He winced slightly as he turned his head to follow Reithan's movement, being reminded of a fresh wound, "I'm here to find it."

Reithan turned away, grimacing as he did so. He strode to the far end of the room - clearly having no issue with turning his back on one who was supposed to be his enemy, if an old friend. he walked to the window, frowning grimly across at Kass City over the treetops and foothills, letting his anger flow towards it instead.

"That's rich coming from you."

"I thought you'd understand..." his old friend groaned, as he got into a sitting position, legs crossed in front of him, his top half leaning over them. He panted heavily, though spoke through it,

"If we didn't capture him, he could've done what was done to you to boundless more people. I thought you'd want above all for that not to happen."

"He told me that was what you'd do. And that this is what you'd say to excuse it." Reithan looked down, raising his right hand. It was cybernetic now too, from the forearm down, though he wore nothing to hide it as Miller did his own. Five skeletal like fingers of phrik-alloy, and a palm of regrets. "Thrax was right about a lot of things. You must have felt terrible when he was broken out, and it was all for nothing."

In the huddle of holocrons, one of them gave a brief flare, a hissed word darting across the room, then nothing.

"We had to try, Reithan, I-" He chocked back his words, or at least that's how it appeared, until he broke into a coughing fit. It took a few moments, but he calmed it down, before getting to his feet, barely, each moment requiring his concentration just to stay standing, "How could you believe for a second that I would ever try justifying what I did. If I had it my way, I would've happily given my life to save you and take him, but it didn't work like that... I had to make the choice, the one that... Killed me inside, the one that ripped my humanity from me."

He broke into another coughing fit, this one more intense, bringing him back fully to the ground, his knees brought up to his chest, almost in the foetal position,

"I never wanted to hurt you... You have to know that... Even if it kills me to tell you." He fell silent. Incredibly silent.

Deathly silent.

The once-Jedi turned to look over his shoulder, frowning.

"Miller...?"

The sensation of a life he'd one known well, dimming, almost to nothing. His eyes widened, on his old friend crumpled on the floor. He didn't think. His legs took him. He darted over.

A coughing fit brought him back to consciousness, "Reithan, I..." A tear ran down his face, just one, at first, then others, "I'm so sorry." Faint, his voice was becoming, from what Reithan could feel, it was amazing that he could even speak, "I... Wanted so badly to save you, to be with you one last time. I thought you would die, I thought I would die with you... And part of me so badly wished I could, a part of me, so much of me, wanted so badly to not make you endure it alone..."

His eyelids grew heavy again, and started to close.

This fear. It was something he hadn't felt in a long time - no, not anything this strong, gripping him so tightly his chest and throat were in a vice. It was drowning all over again. It made him scoop Miller up in his arms and shake him by the shoulders like a rag doll.

"Stop," He commanded, through gritted teeth, as though with an order he could stave off death itself, "You cannot do this. You will not -- MILLER," He barked raspily, wrapped one arm around the Jedi's back, the other hand gripping his face, forcing his head to raise, and look at him, "not like this. Not like-- LOOK AT ME ."

His eyes stopped closing, though couldn't open again, still, Reithan could feel Miller looking at him, through what space remained.

"It's not your fault, Reithan, none of it was."

He smiled, that same smile, that comforting smile, that reassuring smile, that firm smile, that kind smile, that compassionate smile, that empathetic smile, that smile that shined on the rainiest of days, that smile that spread light during the darkest of nights, that smile that could never be replicated, that smile that Reithan knew Miller would always give him.

And then, slowly, the Jedi's grip began to loosen, his muscles began to relax, a long breath of air escaped him, and finally, his eyes began to fall closed.

Lastly, the corners of his mouth began to fall, the arch of his bright smile receding, until there was nothing left, nothing but a vacant expression, nothing Reithan had ever seen before, always, during their time together, there was something to see on Miller's face, something stupid, or funny, or sly, or sad, or angry, or annoyed, or just so damn happy.

Now, however, there was nothing. Not a trace of any emotion, of any life, of anything.

Reithan saw Miller, and yet, he felt a completely absence of life in the body of his friend.


He hated him.

He loved him.

He was gone.

The room was still, and all was silent. There was no howl of despair, or scream of rage and frustration. No laugh of triumph, even less so. No matter how he desperately tried to hold on, in the end, another one got away from him, and Reithan could do nothing but watch as the one last life he cared about in the galaxy slipped quietly away into the Force.

He looked at that face for the longest time, just watched it. There were no tears, but he did stroke away Miller's own from the edges of his eyes, rocking him like a child in his arms. Hours went by, or seconds... time abandoned them.

~    ~

"Lord Ormus."

He blinked. He had the feeling his name had been called several times before he noticed. The moonlight fell on his face through the transparisteel, lighting up with it the stains of corruption, scars of pain. He didn't look back, simply remained by the window-side with his hands clasped behind his back.

The guards must have seen him twitch, though, for one of them went on, "Ah... oh. Is the Jedi prisoner-"

"Dead. Yes."

"What do you want us to do with the body, sir?"

He stared dully out the window, his gaze pale and dead.


"Throw it away. In the garbage chute, over a cliff. I don't care."


He just didn't care any more.

[Brintte]

Plip... plip... plip...

The Tholothian woman continued moving among the cave, naked feet moving so softly that they did not leave foot prints on the muddy floor. She made no sounds of any kind as she moved. Even the fabrics of her long robe seemed muted as the wind blowing inside the cave softly brush it. She was a ghost, a tiny light among the shadows and stalagmites. The only evidence that prove she was a solid being rather than ethereal was when a lone drop slid down her cheek. Over her eyes a veil covered the blinded organs. For someone who meet her for the first time she would have been a Miraluka.

For the Rattataki Sith she was meeting, her veil did not hide the truth. Pyrrel knew Fal Antel. The Dark Lord had seen the girl since infancy, hated her for the careless freedom she had grown up in. As the armored woman set her lone red eye on the Tholothian, her anger swell at the calm look the Tholothian had.

"Darth Pyrrel. How long has it been? Ten years? More?", Fal asked, slightly tilting her head to a side.

She had no aggressive intentions against the Sith. She had long forgiven the Rattataki's cruel persecution. The only reason she had agreed to come to the meeting was to seek an end for the conflict. She was weary of the chaos. She was old in her own mind, though she walked looking just the same as the bright and spirited happy girl that once had been called Silooni. Of her, nothing remained but a face filled with grief and loss. And a knowledge of something Pyrrel was unaware of.

The Sith chuckled dryly. "Does it matter? Your end is near."

As the Sith pulled her corrupted purple saber, Fal sighed. "Pyrrel... Elessea, this does not have to be. I beg you to reconsider. Please, do not throw your life away."

"Silence! I tire of hearing of your so called 'peace'. There is nothing but chaos. And that chaos will swallow whatever you are, Tholothian."

As the Sith neared Fal had no option but to pull out her own lightsaber. The purple plasma cast a shadow on the saddened face of the Tholothian woman. "Forgive me..."

Lightsabers clashed, sparks flew as both women danced around each other. Rocks flew and lighting zap each other, neither holding back against their opponents. Hours, maybe even days, passed without neither of them giving each other time to rest. It was their last battle with only one possible ending.

A last flash lightened the cave. Pyrrel watched in horror as her face was mere inches from Fal's.

"Why?", the weak whisper escaped her.

The Rattataki's midsection was pierced by the bright and clear purple lightsaber, the wound to dire for even the Force to heal.

"Because... you don't deserve to be alone again...", Fal's voice answer as weak as her foe's.

Fal smiled at the Sith as blood slowly fell from her mouth. Her own midsection was pierced by the corrupted blade of the Darth.

Pyrrel knew the Tholothian could have easily avoided the attack. She had the upper hand, but instead had willingly accepted to be stabbed. As both fell to their knees, Fal's arms circled around the Sith woman.

"From here on... You won't be alone... I promise...", the Tholothian whispered soon followed by a soft sigh. Her last sigh...

Pyrrel fell down facing her nemesis, the girl...  no... the woman she had hated all her life. She had died smiling at her of all people. Resting her gloved hand on the Tholothian's cheek the Rattataki gave her last words:

"Thank you..."

It was dark... Just as she always expected. And so cold. So... alone...

"Elessea, what are you doing here?", a soft voice asked.

As the small Rattataki child raised her eyes she was greeted by the sight of a girl a bit younger than her. The smaller Tholothian smiled brightly, her indigo eyes shining and her sole presence warming the Rattataki.

The Tholothian extended her hand to help the Rattataki up. "Everyone is waiting. Let's go."

As the girls walked hand in hand, laughing and smiling, the world around them no longer was dark and cold.

[Colton]

Drexa: The End
© July 10, 2015 by R. B. LeMoyne

"Have you come for a family reunion? If so, you may be disappointed. I didn't bring much in the way of food or refreshments when I left the Akar."

Drexa didn't turn to face her guest, and in fact her rising meditation was barely disturbed. The hulking, patchwork frame of meat and metal that constituted Vexilan's body these days watched from the entryway of the dimly lit cavern with great interest. "You were expecting me," he spoke, the deep bass of his voice threaded with an electric hum as it echoed among the uneven stalactites and stalagmites of the cavern.

"And you seem to have regained your vocabulary," Drexa noted. "I dare say that's the most you've spoken since Slayte turned you into an undead puppet." Her hands moved slowly from her lap, so slowly, as she finished her meditation for what was to come. "Yes, I knew you would come. I could sense your growing power, just as you could sense my turmoil when I fled my-" Empty home. Empty life. "-enclave."

"I felt your sorrow. I felt your rage. It was child's play to follow them here to you. And yet, you seem calm. Have you already forgiven Olle for leaving-"

"Do NOT say her name," Drexa warned as the air grew thick with power. "You haven't the right."

Vexilan grinned, exposing a row of teeth far sharper and far wider than he ever had in life. "You ruined her life. And now, I've come to end yours... sister." He drew out his lightsaber, igniting the blade as he offered, "Join me in death, and our reign over the galaxy shall be eternal."

"I don't want the galaxy. I only want one thing."

"And that is?"

"To end you, once and for all." A sharp gesture of her right hand was the only warning Vexilan received before a loud crack prompted him to dash forward at remarkable speed. As the stalagmite crashed to the cavern floor behind him and shatted into a spray of stone, he charged at Drexa with a deafening wide-mouthed roar.

One swift leap to the left took Drexa out of his path, and a handful of angry blue lightning shot from her extended hand, throwing him off-balance and into a stalactite. She followed it up with a second flood of lightning, her teeth bared as she hissed, "Die, creature. Die, die, DIE!"

Vexilan parried with his lightsaber, allowing his blade to take the brunt of the attack as he regained his bearing. "You first." Vexilan pulled a chunk of the shattered rock through the Force and flung it at Drexa's head. Though the move was unrefined, it nevertheless brained her hard enough to send her staggering, giving Vexilan his opening.

"NO!" By reflex and the guiding hand of the Force, Drexa pushed as Vexilan advanced and hit her mark, throwing him across the cavern and through several stone pillars before he crashed against the far wall. She withdrew to the other side, weaving unevenly to the other side and putting distance between them for her to recover.

Vexilan's laugh echoed through the cavern while Drexa checked her head. Blood was already pouring from the wound, and the trickle that got in her eye was more of an annoyance than a genuine worry. "I see you finally learned to use the strength the Sith tried to beat into you at the academy. I hope you passed that lesson on to your students. That seems a fitting legacy - handing a new generation of Force adepts a road map to becoming Sith."

"I much preferred when you were laconic," Drexa muttered.

She realized her mistake the moment she made it, and just barely moved out of the way of a lunge that would have sunk Vexilan's blade through her heart. Drexa ran as fast as she could around the cavern's protrusions, trying to put distance betwen her and Vexilan, but he was right on her heels. No matter. I can work with this. She started muttering to herself in her native Sith tongue, eyes wide and alert as she dashed this way and that, leaping over rocks and eluding Vexilan's attempts to slow or stop her... almost.

Drexa didn't think Vexilan would actually throw his blade at her.

Given more time, Drexa might have given thanks that the blade only clipped her right calf instead of severing it completely from her body. It was still enough to send her to the ground, and she had enough presence of mind to roll into it, her momentum carrying her several yards before finally landing her on her back. Before she knew it, Vexilan came crashing down on her, his weight driving the breath from her, but not before she said the final word of the ritual:

"ITSU!"

A web of Force tendrils whirled around them, binding Vexilan in place. He flexed his arms, trying to move them to the side, but to no avail. He was trapped in a web of Drexa's making. Once his situation became apparent, dark laughter shook his chest. "This is your masterful defense? Trapping yourself underneath me? Mother would weep for your poor grasp of strategy."

"You're trapped, yes," Drexa breathed, her ability to speak compromised by the crushing weight on top of her. "I, however, am not."

"I think that gash on your head has affected your perception of the situation. I'm immobilized over you, for the moment. As long as your web traps this shell I inhabit, neither of us are going anywhere."

Drexa smiled, though it came out as more of a grimace while she angled her head upward. "Aren't you wondering why... I rolled to this part of the floor? It's because I don't... have to go anywhere. I just have to do... this." She turned her head and let gravity play its part. Once the first drop of blood hit the ritual markings carved into the cavern floor and began infusing them with power, Vexilan started struggling anew.

"You witch... What have you done?!"

This time it was Drexa's turn to laugh, even if half of it came out as a wheeze. "I spent years after... your death, researching ways of... bringing you back to life. True life... but there was a cost. To bring one of a bloodline... back, requires the death of another... of the same blood."

Vexilan struggled more frantically, but it was useless. The tendrils held fast. "You'll die," Vexilan growled.

"Yes... and my death will bring... you life. Sadly... you won't be going anywhere... afterward. I, on the other hand... will be one with... the Force." She offered a weak smile as she finished, "Enjoy the show... and your life... while it lasts..."

As blood and consciousness drained from her, Drexa spared one last thought to her beloved, wherever she was in the galaxy. I'm sorry, Olle. I should have stayed behind. I should have given you the space to pursue your dreams.

I'm so

sorry.

I

love

~

[Armeria]

The gaggle of children rounded a corner, not paying attention, at all, where they were going. This was the way of Younglings, honestly. They nearly collided with an ancient, wrinkles, staff-carrying twi'lek. Her skin faded so light it was difficult to tell what color it used to be. Though splotches of pinkish-shades remained. One girl, one initiate, a purple twi'lek girl of small stature, bowed so quickly, Armeria, for a moment, thought she might have smashed her brow into the floor.

She straightened, her purple skin paling.

"Master Karrell!" She squeaked. "We're so sorry! We didn't see you!"

The frail, aged master smiled, dimples in sagging cheeks apparent. "Do not hurry, too much. You will miss these days," her ancient, creaking voice, a tremulous contralto, taught. The initiates looked at one another, unsure of what it meant, then bowed again.

One girl--a human--behind the purple twi'lek piped up.

"You're the twi'lek that studied under legendary Maryck Vos!"

One of the boys beside her elbowed her, hard, in the ribs. The wizened old twi'lek, small for her age, smaller still, as bones collapsed upon each other in weight, smiled. But it was a sad smile. A beautiful smile. Full of love, and loss, and regret and joy and life that these younglings would not understand for a long, long time.

"I am," she said. Wrapping long, sinew-vein hands along the staff she used now, to keep old, ruined knees upright.

"Do you--" The aged twi'leks purple eyes, heavy in wrinkles searched them. "--want to hear a story about him?"

They all cried out at once: YES!



***




She managed to make it to her office and eased old bones on a chair behind a desk. This place--it was once Orbeth's. Now her's. And although the Jedi frowned upon sentiment, amidst the crystals, the holocrons, the saber hilts and collection of remnants of her life--a faded, nearly ruined, one eyed Bantha remained on a shelf near her desk.

Along with a coil of beloved, ripped fabric, and a tarnished, ancient star.

She looked at these things. She looked at them, and sighed at the ache in her bones.

"Did I do all right, Master?" She whispered. Her voice a croak compared to the beauty it was in youth. She felt tiredness wash in. Her head felt heavy. Her bones ached continuously. She was...So tired.

"Did I?" She asked the desk.

Before her, she could see him, suddenly. In the cusp of his youth, broad shouldered, tall. Untouched by time. His hair a complete mess, as it always was. A scar on his chin that crinkled suddenly as he smiled at her. Wide, glorious, proud.

"You did," Maryck told her. Just as she remembered him. Just as love had frozen him, in time, forever this way in her mind.
"You have always, always, made me proud."

She sighed, a long, drawn out, rattle of breath in happiness, as her body sank into the chair. Her eyes closed.


***


They found her body in her chair. Slumped as if in her usual afternoon slumber. The sweetest of smiles in her wrinkled, aged face.

[Rivoso]

((Queue timeskip to new Immortal Empire on a fringe world under fading Imperial control))

"Six-hundred meters and closing Commander.."

The scout lowered his macrobinoculars, looking over to Rivoso expectantly. He stood quietly for now, looking down the long roadway at the slowly advancing enemy line. His arms were folded against a standard Imperial chestplate and his brow furrowed as he peered through the slight haze of smoke.

"What's the status on our evacuations?"

The scout pulled out his datapad, promptly hitting a few shortcuts.

"We're at an eighty-percent for successful evacuations. With the rate they're advancing though I... We're not going to ma-"

"Don't think about it. We'll get through this.. somehow." he paused a few more moments before he seemed to suddenly switch into action.

"Keep your eyes on that line, update me every one hundred meters, understood?"

The scout nodded before taking cover, keeping his eyes trained on the distant line washing through the streets. Rivoso turned and descended the stack of shipping crates, assessing the unit he was with. There was about fifty soldiers huddled in different groups conversing quietly. Though there was some laughter, it was easy to tell it was forced given the fear and tenseness in the air around them. The conversations hushed as he walked by slowly, his gaze sweeping over every member of the unit. Finally he spoke, loud enough for all of them to hear.

"Well... here we are, in the pits of hell itself once again."

He looked around, catching a few worried and anxious glances of the soldiers.

"But then again, who else could be sent here and get the job done? Certainly not the Republic. Not some independent band of mercs no.. We, the Imperial Military. And right now? We have a job to do, and that's to get our people, our brothers and sisters out of their reach. We are here to ensure that our families are able to get out safely and my question is to you all, are you prepared to do that? Are you prepared to fight not just for the foundation of our Empire, but for our families and friends?"

He smirked as he watched the men and women react positively to his words, the air of nervousness being set aside for the time being. At once he began to set out a plan of defence, the unit being sent into a buzz of activity in the preparations.

-----------

"One-hundred meters!"

The clicks of the safety's could be heard throughout the entire line of soldiers, everyone was in their designated cover spot.

"Remember, we hold this line no matter the cost. Those are our families flying out of here, and we are to buy them as much time as we can!"

Rivoso walked down the line as he spoke, preparing his own rifle. A few long range shots zoomed over head, causing a portion of soldiers to duck. He took a spot next to a couple soldiers, aiming his rifle at the advancing line of shield bearing soldiers. A few more moments passed before he yelled out to the firing line.

“GIVE EM HELL!”

And at that, all hell broke loose. Waves of blaster fire washed over the streets, soaring through the air and hitting the shields of the approaching enemy. Their approach wasn’t stopped as their own blasters opened up against the Imperials. The countless shots fired soared overhead, hitting the cover the soldiers hid behind, only for them to return the waves with ones of their own. One shield-bearer buckled, falling to the ground only to be replaced with another.

Rivoso stared down his sight, picking his shots as carefully as he could, focusing on the lower portions of the foe in hopes of crippling their feet. His attention was diverted from the hellstorm at the scout’s frantic beckoning.

“Commander! We’ve got civies out there!”

The Commander ceased his fire, going wide eyed as he saw a family running desperately from cover to cover, approaching the Imperial line. They were at best sixty meters out, with the Immortal Empire steadily gaining on them. He turned, pointing at two soldiers as he barked out orders.

“You two! With me! The rest of you! Suppressing fire on the right flank! We’re getting those civies to safety!”

The two soldiers nodded, taking a moment to steel themselves. The Commander gave the signal before he lept over cover, everything outside of his view of the family becoming a blur. Immediately one of the men was peppered with rounds, falling a few feet from the firing line. The other man sprinted as fast he could, trying desperately to keep up with the Commander.

Rivoso nearly fell as a blaster bolt landed in his shoulder, his hand going out and pushing off the ground to keep his momentum forward. Another round grazed his ear, causing him to hiss with pain and yet, he kept moving forward. His legs propelling him with each and every stride. Eventually the escort made it to the family, ducking behind cover with them. The father held his daughter close against his chest, no more than the age of three. A young boy, about eleven held onto his mother’s hand desperately, panic evident in their eyes and tears.

“P-please, you have to help us!”

Rivoso put a hand on the father’s shoulder, giving a gentle nod.

“That’s what we’re here to do. There’s a shuttle waiting for y-”

The sound of a grenade going off a few feet from them interrupted his words and instantly the young boy panicked, running off through the firestorm. His small frame scampered over the debris, ducking under a pile of rubble out of sight. The mother shrieked as she lunged forward, only to be held back by the accompanying soldier. Rivoso looked at the other escort

“Get them to the frakking shuttles! NOW!”

He looked back to the father.

“I’ll get your boy back, I promise.”

And with that he peered over the cover, the advancing line much closer than before. He waited for a lull in the fire before bolting across, making it halfway before a few bolts pounded into his side. He nearly fell again, gritting his teeth as he pushed forward to the child’s hiding place. He lept over the debris into suitable cover, crouching over despite the burning sensation in his side.

“Hey kid, what’s your name?”

He peered into the small space, the child curled up, hugging his knees as he sobbed.

“I wanna go home.”

The Commander sighed, his attention being drawn to the ever closer sounding blaster fire.

“I know you do, and so do I. But we can’t right now. It’s too dangerous. I’ll tell you what I can do though, you want to hear?”

The young boy looked up, tears and dirt smudging his face. He nodded his head slightly.

“What I can do for you is get you back to your mom and dad. But you have to do something for me, can you do that? I need you to be brave. For me. Can you help me with that?”

The boy hesitated before nodding again, rubbing his eyes.

“O-Okay..”

Rivoso reached out his hand, offering a smile.

“Be strong. Be brave, and don’t lose hope.. I’m going to get you to your family if it’s the last thing I do, understand?”

The boy crawled over, grabbing his hand and allowing the man to pull him out. Rivoso pulled him into a hug, ignoring the pain in his side.

“We’ll get through this.. All of us. We just need to be brave. Are you ready?”

The boy nodded once more, staying down behind the cover as the sounds of blaster fire were even closer now. Rivoso peered over the top of the rubble pile, the enemy line no more than twenty feet away. He waited again for a lull in fire.

“Ready? Go! RUN!”

With that he spun out of the cover, the young boy taking off as he switched his rifle into full auto, laying down a wave of fire that caused part of the line to pause. He began to back up, quickly before turning to run back towards the friendly line, taking blind shots behind him as he did. He made sure to keep the boy in front of him at all times, and was met with fire blasting into his back. He fell to the ground, his forehead nicking a piece of rubble which caused blood to flow down his face. He pushed himself up, staggering forward as he kept the boy in his sight, more fire pelting into his back, forcing him to his knees. The world was a blur, nothing more than a haze of colours as he tried to crawl forward, his sole attention on the young boy who kept running. The friendly line kept up it’s waves of fire, the red bolts soaring past the Commander as he tried to crawl forward. His muscles tightened and with each pull forward he found it harder and harder to move.

Off in the distance he saw the blurry form of the boy leap over the line and from that he ceased moving. His breathing was shallow as he lie prone on the ground, his hand moving up to his neck in a shaky fashion. He reached down his collar and pulled out a small locket, letting out a weak chuckle.

“Well.. mother… father.. I did it.. I did… everything…. I…...could………”

His body slowly relaxed, the sound of boots and blaster fire far in the distance now. Blackness encroached on his vision, everything slowly fading away as a lone voice echoed in his mind.

“Welcome home son, we’re proud of you.”

[Obarion]

((Necro thread time cause I'm bored at work.))

The tower of Mallei'ves Enterprises had been under siege for months now, the armor encased sith slaver having placed all his resources into the defense of himself and those under his control. He could hear the chatter through his security's commlinks as they fought for their own lives against the onslaught that he had brought upon them. Oba'rion's arrogance in the face of those who disagreed with his methods or morals had at last caught up with him, the Mandalorians and various Sith contacts turning their full fury on his only refuge.

The battles approached his doorstep, and through the Force he felt the death of his apprentice and the last of his blood kin. Harnessing the pain that came from such a blow, he stepped around his desk and threw his entire knowledge of the kinetic principals of the Force into dislodging and launching the blast doors towards his attackers. Those in tune sensed the coming attack and moved in time, but the single act had crushed several Mando soldiers beneath twisted metals and stone.

The Dark Side oozed from his being, and a slight growl escaped his vocal filter with every breath as he watched himself become surrounded by bounty hunters and Sith alike. There was no time for introspection- Even if there were, the proud Sith would have seen no error in his ways or come to any great realization in regards to himself. He did not even have time to draw his saber as a coordinated attack from all sides paralyzed and then slew him in a blaze of Force lightning, crimson sabers, and blaster bolts.

The Slavebreaker had fallen.