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[Awakenings] Sanguinius Entar & Bentre Stahoes


During the Awakenings conflict, you have been sent to intercept a member of another faction. Your objective is to delay or neutralize them, but you are not to kill them. Will you succeed or fail? Capture or convert? The choice is yours.


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This is not going anywhere as well as I had expected. Stahoes shook his head. He had been hunting Devaanti’s surface for what seemed like hours now. His search had pulled up little to nothing though. There was too much going on, and his training in the more civilian disciplines left a lot to be desired. *”If it has no use on the battlefield I don’t need it,” I said. “A true warrior can sense the coming battle as it boils in his blood,” I said. The Assassin fingered his lightsaber uneasily.

If I don’t watch myself, I might run into some real trouble.

A rock skittered across the surface behind him and months of training took over. He Ignited his well-used weapon and twirled to place it between himself and the new threat. The Corellian came eye to eye with one of the last people he had expected to find out this far.

“Hello Sanguinius,” his tone was curt, if not a little cold. Despite his calm facade the Journeyman was wrestling internally to quell the temptation to fly into a panic.

“You are going to want to put that away before somebody gets hurt,” the Equite motioned at the weapon with a weary sigh.

“You would like that, wouldn’t you?” Stahoes sneered from behind the sapphire beam. “You would be just pleased as a bantha in the sun if we would just lay down our weapons. I am sure that everybody would like us just to lick Locke’s boots while we are at it,” he spit the last word.

“You cannot say I didn’t warn you,” the Entar squared up his shoulders, before igniting his weapon and bathing the ground in more blue light.


Sanguinius sighed wearily as he ignited his lightsaber. He did not wish to fight the younger Stahoes. In fact, all he wanted was to talk to him. But Bentre’s kind so often sprung to violence as an answer. The Entar decided to put the Knight off balance by attacking first. Striding forward, his cerulean blade lashed out to catch Bentre’s. The momentary look of shock in the Corellian’s eyes was quickly replaced with anger as the Sith struck back, his lightsaber snapping back to put the Vanguard on the defensive.

“Why do you hate me so, Padawan?” the Sentinel’s insistence on calling everyone ranked below him Padawan one of his idiosyncrasies. “You let it control you, it weakens you.”

“At least I feel something, I’m not some mindless robot.” Bentre snapped back, “You Jedi are nothing more than droids. You feel nothing.” The Knight attacked again, his strikes aggressive and full of rage.

The Entar soaked up the attack, expending the minimum amount of energy needed to deflect the blows. “We feel compassion, respect, kindness.” Sang rumbled, his voice automatically changing to lecture mode, as if he was in the classroom at the Shadow Academy lecturing students. “You assume that all Jedi hold to the old code. That there is no passion, there is serenity.”

Bentre laughed as he continued to attack, seeking an avenue to kill his opponent. “It’s true, even now in the heat of battle you’re lecturing me. As if we’re in some stuffy classroom.” Sanguinius shook his head in pity, “Did you not listen in my lectures, Padawan? Did I fail to teach you understanding? The Jedi are so much more than a one dimensional concept.”

“Oh Sithspit, is this turning into some kind of after-school detention now, Sang?” the Sith swore, “I’m not interested in learning anything from you.”

The Anaxsi simply shook his head in response and suddenly went on the attack, his cerulean blade darting out as he drew upon the Force to smash Bentre’s lightsaber to one side. The smell of burning flesh and charred cloth assaulted their nostrils as the Knight stepped back in surprise.

“I was once like you, Bentre. A cocky, loudmouth who thought he knew everything he needed to know.” the Defender lowered his lightsaber as Bentre realised that Sanguinius had grazed his right shoulder on purpose, when he could’ve potentially killed the Knight. “I thought the whole galaxy was mine for the taking, then I took a lightsaber to the shoulder.”

Sanguinius chuckled, his bad joke in poor taste. “I’m not here to kill you, Bentre. I’m here to teach you. You have made some mistakes and it is my job to offer you forgiveness.” The Anaxsi extended an open hand towards the Shadow. “Take it, you deserve it…”


“You were once like me?” Bentre snorted at the Anaxsi. “That is quite rich, I have to confess.” The Shadow rolled his shoulder in spite of the wound. He was not sure he had succeeded in masking his pain, but he wanted to make a point.

“See there is a funny thing about forgiveness you seem to forget, oh Master Jedi” His lips curled at the words. “Forgiveness is only good to those who seek it out, only of value to those who pursue it. Then there are people like myself, who would rather to burn out in the glory of battle. We live and die by the sword and shield, Jedi. One day I will be made to atone for my crimes.” The Human looked up in mock thought for a moment. “Or maybe I won’t, but that is not the point of why we are here now, is it?”

The Shadow jerked the blade of his lightsaber backward slightly in a very brief gesture. It was neither crude nor disrespectful. If anything it was a silent symbol of his begrudging respect for the fellow warrior.

“You speak of lectures and instruction, you talk down to me like one of your students. You call me “padawan” and hide behind pretty words.” The Sith shook his head and smirked. “I don’t buy it, mate. Thanks for the offer but I don’t need to drink from your well. Apparently I lack your thirst for justice or whatever you want to call it.”

Bentre did not move to charge the Jedi despite the latent anger in his words. He may not have had the same honor that the Jedi might boast. He had pride though, and damn it if he would abandon it just to show up the Vanguard. He took one hand off of his lightsaber and pointed thoughtfully at Sanguinius.

“If you want to offer me any mercy, I will grant you this. I propose we should discuss this like civilized sorts." He motioned softly with his finger. “So come on then. I believe an Echani once said that combat is the purest form of communication. Unless you cannot hold a lightsaber and a conversation,” he winked at these words, “I don’t see why we can’t do both. Unless you are admitting you are driven to inaction by your own fear.” The Corellian smiled as he he placed both hands back on his weapon.


“I will grant you this wish, Bentre.” the Jedi raised his lightsaber, the cerulean blade strong and unwavering. “I will allow you the honour you truly seek.”

Sanguinius’ lightsaber stabbed out and Bentre stopped it in a high guard, his training and experience telling him that it would be an experimental strike more than anything else. The Corellian almost missed the open palmed hand that followed afterwards, seeking to slam into his throat. A cold sliver that ran down his back warned him in time, allowing him to step backwards out of the blow.

“Quick…I like that.” Bentre quipped, “Do you have many complaints about your ‘speed’?”

Bentre rotated his saber in a flourish as he taunted Sang, allowing himself an opportunity to move away. The Vanguard refused to give up the initiative however, advancing implacably forward, his saber darting out in defensive probes.

Sanguinius was quick, but Bentre had something to prove, he had his ending all planned out. To go out in a blaze of glory, but this fight had no glory in it.

Fed up of the Anaxsi controlling the momentum of the fight, Bentre took the initiative and went on the offensive, his own blade cutting a bloody swathe through the Ragnosian’s defensive stance. The Knight’s weapon kept breaking upon the rocks of Sanguinius’ uncompromising defense.

The Quaestor’s demeanour betrayed nothing, the calm, almost robot like emotions that meant Sanguinius had fallen back on muscle memory, having had the movements of his defensive form burned into them after hours and hours of practice. It irritated Bentre, helping him draw more and more upon his hatred, fuelling his strikes.

The Corellian pressed his attack and slowly drove Sanguinius backwards, the Jedi allowing Bentre to tire himself out. The Vanguard’s eyes twinkled with amusement as he watched the frustrated Sergeant breathe heavily and wipe an errant bead of sweat that had gotten in his eye.

“Want a breather, boy?” Sanguinius asked innocently, as Bentre scowled in response. The professor had allowed him his fun, had given Stahoes what he wanted. His pride had been pricked, his ego deflated. He knew the outcome, had known it since the he had sensed the Sith’s presence.

“You can’t win, Bentre. You serve Marcus out of pride, out of your misplaced sense of honour.” Sanguinius rumbled, seeking to end the conflict. “I can respect that, you stick to your guns.”

The Jedi continued to allow the Shadow to tire himself out, before flicking aside a weary strike and unleashing a flurry of controlled blows that blew past Bentre’s defense and left the Vanguard’s cerulean blade prickling the Dakhani’s throat.

Sanguinius shrugged emphatically, a sad smile on his face, highlighting the predicament before them. “It’s over, boy. Surrender to your fate."