A read-only archive of discourse.darkjedibrotherhood.com as of Sunday May 01, 2022.

[Sins of the Past - Episode I] Team Bruschetta Sandwich


Team Members

13419 - K’tana
25 - Timeros
10214 - Marick

The LIGO installation on Dajorra detected anomalous gravitational wave readings that can’t be explained by the movements of any known stellar bodies or ships. While their exact source is unknown, there is a pattern to the waves that suggests they aren’t natural. Further examination by the Dajorra Intelligence Agency suggested that whomever is behind the attack on Dajorra’s infrastructure is using a gravity generator - likely a smaller version of those found on an interdictor cruiser - to communicate. Through the insightful work of a number of Arconan members, the code was cracked and the message decrypted. Though the contents of that message haven’t been released, the Consul has ordered that teams be formed to track down the source of the message.

Due to the unpredictable and ephemeral nature of the transmission, and despite the DIA’s best efforts, we’ve been unable to determine the exact source. We have, however, found a handful of likely origin points. Your team’s mission is to explore one of these origin points and look for signs of the transmission’s source. Take out the transmitter, if possible, and report any intelligence recovered to your House Summit.

Origin Points

You are free to use one of the following locations as the origin point in the prompt, however you are not required to do so. If you do use one of the following, feel free to flesh out the location as you see fit.

Dajorran Orbit

Though sensor sweeps have come up empty, it’s possible that a ship in orbit - properly cloaked - could be broadcasting the gravitational wave that the DIA intercepted. Intelligence Analysts have worked up the most likely candidate locations based on the LIGO readings, however there’s no way to speculate on the nature of the ship, its size or crew complement. One thing is sure - its crew will almost certainly be heavily armed and well prepared for an assault.

Zratis Arms Manufactory (Korda, Selen)

Nestled in the Atikan Valley in the southern continent between the equator and the southern polar ice cap, Korda is Selen’s industrial heart. Korda is the second oldest city on Selen, and has cemented its role at the forefront of industrial manufacture. This has come at a cost, however. Endless factories and manufacturing plants spew smog and debris, polluting the air and marring the surrounding countryside. Only the richest of Korda’s inhabitants - the industrial bourgeoisie - can afford to live above ground, given the need for expensive air-filtration systems.

In the center of Korda lies the Zratis Arms Manufactory, where the Zratis Arms Corporation - the single largest arms manufacturer in the Dajorra System - fabricates the bulk of their weapons. Within its durasteel walls is a veritable city of heavy machinery, supply warrens and transport and piping tunnels. In addition to whatever forces Lorden might have brought to bear, the manufactory houses one of the most advanced automated defense systems on the planet. Automated turrets, poison gases and an array of biometrically locked doors would be the least worry of anyone attempting ingress.

Abandoned Oriens Obscurum Temple (Boral)

Boral was once the home of House Oriens Obscurum, its particularly slow rotation making it an ideal location for protecting the Clan and allowing fighters to take-off whenever they were needed. The moon, while still uninhabitable, has continued with its massive terraforming project that is slowly transforming the satellite into a living, breathing world. Currently however, Boral is a large rock, pock-marked with deep craters and jutting spires.

Nestled among these craters and peaks is the abandoned temple and dormitory that once housed Oriens Obscurum. Though the planet has been abandoned for over a decade, the occasional traveller will still tell tales of frightful encounters with vengeful spirits when wandering too close to the forsaken rock. No doubt, if such stories are true, attempting to enter the temple itself would prove hazardous at best.


In order for a participant to qualify for points, they must make at least two posts of 500 words each or three posts with a combined total of at least 1500 words. The qualifying members of each team will be accorded the placement score of their Run-On (e.g., all qualifying members of the winning run-on team will receive 1st Place).

May the best Run-On win!


Orbit of Selen
Dajorra System

K’tana stood with her arms tightly folded over her chest, lekku twitching at random intervals as she scowled at the translucent man on her desk. She shook her head, shutting her eyes and forcing herself to avoid the desire to pinch the bridge of her nose. A habit she refused to pick up from the man who had just told her the worst kind of news.

“You can’t be karking serious.”


“Oh c’mon, Mar! You can’t!”

“K’tana, these are Atyiru’s orders.”

“Rancorspit! You’re still just mad about the glitter.”

“There were only 43 pieces of pink. There were 50 of gold, orange and silver.”

K’tana could not react or respond. All the Twi’lek could do was cock her head and stare at the miniature Marick standing stoically on her desk, talking about glitter. Something sparked and she gave a tiny smirk, but it faded rapidly into a glare.

“Look, Mar…we,” she paused, unsure of how to continue as her thoughts stuttered, “it’s weird okay? And not in that ‘he’s super repressed and kinda scary’ sorta weird. But ya’know? And not the kind of weird I know how to deal with if-you-know-what-I-me-…whatever. So, could you send someone instead of him? Or kark, send ME somewhere else!”

“Are you finished?” Marick asked, folding his hands behind his back.

“Marick, what the kark do I know about ghosts?”

“We will teach you when you arrive. If there are any. He’s also arriving at the objective in the next couple of hours. If you leave now, you will only be an hour late.”

“Goddess damn you and your crooked hair.” The Savant almost smiled when the Arconae gave the slightest twitch. It was a simple thing. Something that no one would notice unless they were looking for it and K’tana had been watching intently. She knew which nerves to tug.

“By the time you get here, I will have the perimeter secured and the entrance location ready for you.” He paused for a moment before locking his holo-blue eyes on her with a hard stare. “It would be best not to keep Timeros waiting. ”

The light flicked out and K’tana was left alone with his last words nipping at her heels as she tried to establish how she should feel. The more she tried to specify this fleeting concept, the further away from her it moved, until it was nothing but a memory. She knew there was something but it was gone too soon. The Savant inhaled deeply and ran as fast as she could to the transport bay.

K’tana spotted two pilots who appeared to be heading towards…some sort of ship that - she guessed - would probably get her to Boral without anyone noticing. But the pilots had other ideas, and the Twi’lek was eventually forced to drag one pilot - a feisty little man who had heard terrible things about the her so-called ‘mood swings’ - by the arm. Not to mention her record for the amount of pilots that left with her and never came back.

The other man was a much more reasonable Human who simply agreed to take her after the Savant gave him a wink and a smile. He was not so interested in the Twi’lek once the co-pilot said no and the Dark Jedi chose to pacify him with an open palm to the jaw. A sharp crackling sound was heard before a thunk and a giggle.

“C’mon, frang-face. Let’s go visit ‘Boring’!” K’tana did not wait for his answer, or his correction, and skipped her way right into the transport.

It was not long before they arrived at Boral. While she could not see it, she knew the Last Light was lingered somewhere in high orbit, and something far more terrifying resided on the planet. They entered the synthetic atmosphere under low power, jerking slightly in the artificial airs as they descended amidst the spire in order to avoid any possible scanners. The jolts shook her stomach, reminding the Twi’lek of earlier mission flights - in particular, of the fact that she had not walked away from anything other than wreckage in her entire time in the Clan.

As it happened, they beat the odds and for the first time in living memory, she landed unharmed, on a low peak just below the abandoned base’s horizon, safely away from any scans. Her heart skipped a single beat as her boot touched the ground and she saw a dark figure looming at her assigned coordinates.

“Lemmy guess!” K’tana blurted out, “ K’tana, you are late!”

The Twi’lek was not sure why she could never stop herself from mocking him when the chance arrived, but it was times like this when she wished it was possible. The sudden weight of everything caved in on the Savant and drove her to her knees. Her heart raced in her chest and the exhilaration and sheer panic that sped her blood through her veins made her grin in spite of the devastation.

This was terror. This was fear. This was an emotion she knew, one she could pinpoint and understand and she let it bathe her in its intensity.

Then, as quickly as it had hit her, it was gone. Her smile vanished along with the weight and once again, there was nothing but a ghost of feeling. Her body still reeled from the adrenaline that pumped through her system and she shook like a leaf, struggling to get back to her feet. She regained her composure and walked shakily towards him with a slight smile.

“K’tana, you are recovering much quicker.” the Elder stared her down as she approached, “However, it is unfortunate you cannot learn respect as rapidly.”

“Bite me, ka’re. What’s the mission?” K’tana stood less than a few feet away with a charming smile, her flat-emerald eyes displaying none of the joy her lips expressed.

K’tana studied her mentor as he began to talk, but immediately stopped listening to his irritatingly curt mannerisms the second he opened his mouth. Although she kept studious eye contact with him and nodded at the appropriate times, her thoughts
were focusing on opening up her connection to the Goddess and prodding into the Entar’s mind.

She must have done an excellent job at being attentive for she sensed his resolve and the sensation of duty. Something about that disappointed her and, without losing her concentration, she whipped her hand towards him and smacked his datapad from his loose grip where it clattered to the floor. For the sake of her own entertainment, she giggled and awaited his reaction.

Timeros’ narrowed his gaze for a moment before K’tana felt a sudden burst of a combined mixture of anger and amusement. His face showed nothing, but his eyes regained their hard edge. The Elder held out his hand and in a simple gesture the datapad floated back into its Master’s waiting grasp.

“K’tana,” he continued. His voice was still level and controlled, but - to her great interest - the Savant could hear just the barest hint of a sigh. “As I was saying…”


“…As I was saying,” the Arconae continued, suppressing his irritation at the interruption, “These rumors are uncertain. Their veracity cannot be verified. Intelligence points this way, however. We will enter as follows. I will-”

He could see the Twi’lek’s attention drift away as he spoke, eyes slightly widening and her mind a tempest of emotion, none of them even remotely indicative of concentration. Instead, her attention seemed drawn to his face, as though she had spotted some sort of insect on his lips and was studying it intently. Sighing inwardly, he moved.

The datapad clattered from his hands, waking the Twi’lek from her reverie. She dodged aside immediately, but he caught her by the throat in a smooth, Force-fueled motion, the lash of his presence slamming against the Savant and causing her to buckle at the knees.

“K’tana,” the Adept said softly, as he watched the fear fade from her body, “Your attention is required.”

“And that’s all,” she muttered, eyes defiant. For a moment, she seemed ready to reach for her saber, and he tensed instinctively, but the motion faded almost as quickly as it had arrived.

“No,” he continued. “This mission. If this is the target, it will be well-defended. We cannot cut our way through.”

He let go of her as he continued to talk, ignoring the datapad. “We will need to be fast. Quiet as well, if this is to work. I am unsuited for this. As such, I require Marick. And I require you. We cannot play games. I need the woman who made me proud when she confounded the Inquisitorius.”

For a moment, K’tana seemed genuinely taken aback, uncertain of what to say. The next, she burst into giggles, almost doubling over as the laughed at the dumbfounded Adept.

“So…if the Consul wanted subtlety…why the kark did she ask you?” She hiccuped, trying to steady herself.

“K’tana. Be quiet.” His words had little to no effect, but at least the Twi’lek managed to sit down, still snickering. “I am the sole surviving Arconan who was a member of Oriens Obscurum.”

“Wait…” she narrowed her eyes. “Weren’t they pilots? Were you a pilot?”

“No. I did have quarters here, two decades ago.”

“Did they even have quarters that long ag-”

“Not now,” he continued. “Marick and you will scout, at my direction. Then we will head for base reactor first. If the base is powered, we have our answer.”

“So…where is grumpy, anyway?” The Savant asked.

“Right here,” a voice piped up, appearing over a rocky hill and nodding at Timeros. “Checked. Coast is clear. No visible signs of weapons.”

The Arconae nodded at his former student, then beckoned him to approach. “Very well,” the Entar said. “We should -”

“Wait…” K’tana interrupted, eyes narrowing at Marick. “How long were you here?”

Marick responded with a noncommittal shrug at the obviously discomfited Twi’lek. “Continue?”

“We leave now,” Timeros stated. “We enter the building at once. We move quickly, quietly. You follow me. K’tana follows, hidden, behind us, to spot ambushes.”

Marick nodded, swiveling to face the old base. The Entar hurled his senses towards it instinctively and without effect. Despite decades of abandonment, the structure still radiated a palpable darkness, a miasma so thick it was all but impossible to penetrate. They would have to rely on their own senses.

“If there’s ghosts?” The Combat Master suddenly asked, drawing a noise from his fellow that was almost scoffing.

“I do not like ghosts, Marick,” the Entar said quietly.

“…What? Ghosts? Like, translucent, floaty…” K’tana’s voice trailed off behind the two men as they set towards the base, minds set on finishing their mission as soon as possible.


“Don’t look at me like that,” Timeros said flatly as his glacial eyes shifted towards Marick.

“Like what, Master?” The Hapan replied evenly, meeting the Entar’s eyes as they walked.

“You were watching the live-feed. During the Finals. You saw…it.”

“I did.”

“So you would understand why I’m wary,” Timeros continued.

“Yes, it is a common reaction to seeing Ashen in any form,” the Hapan shrugged, his eyes leaving Timeros’ to take in the approaching complex.

“That is not what I meant, Marick. You saw it, and know it to be true.

“I don’t deny what I saw, but I’m free to not share your fear…”

“I’m not afraid, boy.”

“Whatever it is you say, old ma-”

“Ugh, boys!” K’tana finally interrupted. Marick was genuinely surprised that it had taken her so long. “My eyes are up here!” She exclaimed with a wide grin, both point fingers aimed at her face.


The amusement K’tana felt slipped away from her the moment the Elders turned away. The smile on her face withered to a smirk and then disappeared just as as quickly as her excitement had. She tilted her head to the side and silently followed behind the two men.

The Twi’lek had several ideas as they reached a one-way enclosed bridge entrance. Part of her wanted to disappear and attempt to see if she could sneak up on one of the Arconae and viciously poke them in their frigid-blue eyes. Instead, she slowed her pace. Her green gaze drifted behind them as the men moved to either side of the bridge.

The Arconans kept low, pressing themselves to the sand covered walls and keeping their eyes on the door ahead. The facility was built into the craggy cliffside to withstand the arid climate and violent winds. Small rectangular windows were carved onto the ceiling to allow the dusk light inside. It was fortified against frontal assault, but Timeros seemed to know where he was going. He gave the Combat Master a silent direction and Marick quickly disappeared from sight.

K’tana followed suit, reaching her senses out behind them while she walked sideways along the wall. She shifted her gaze towards the Humans and back to the area they came from. The empty space between them and their entrance made the Twi’lek unnerved. She had no reason for it but she could not shake the feeling of being watched.

Marick suddenly became visible as he reached the door. Timeros moved in and hovered over the other consol. K’tana crept up behind them, walking backwards and still scanning the bridge. The harsh wind whipped around them unnoticed but present. A familiar sensation of fear crept over her as the door slid open.

“The generator is on. Who ever is here now knows they’ve been breached. Marick, you know what to do.” Timeros spoke quietly as they all moved inside the doorway, closing the door behind them.

Marick nodded to his old Master and disappeared into the shadows of the left corridor, leaving K’tana alone with the Entar.

“You do know why Atty sent you, don’t you?” K’tana asked quietly as she let down her Force cloak and came back into view.

The Elder’s icy gaze fell over the young Twi’lek and she countered with a empty stare. She gave him a soft smile that never touched her eyes. The Shadow stepped backwards and, once again, disappeared from view. She concealed her presence from him and started moving away, but her voice carried like a cold breeze during a freezing rain.

Ka’re, maybe you should stay here and watch our backs. We’ll be back before you know it. The Shadows think you’re broken and those tightly held ideals are old. It’s time you learn that the kids are fine without you.”

The wave of horror that slammed into her did not stop her movements but instead spurred her on. The adrenaline did not cause her knees to buckle or her vision to blur with tears. She ran with everything she had, as quickly as her legs could move her without compromising her invisibility or soundless steps.

K’tana slowed her pace once she was away from the lingering effects of her Master’s instinctual anger. The Shadow could not figure out why she said what she had. The Tournament had caused something in the Human to age rapidly. He seemed more wearied now than he did when they met over a year ago.

And something about that made her want to look out for him. To protect him. And for the first time in a long time she experienced a real emotion.


Love, affection and adoration for others was a weakness. She knew she could not stop herself from caring, even if she could not feel it as she believed she should. So she would make sure he hated her. They would both be safer that way.

K’tana finally found a console and her distracted thoughts refocused on her task. Her fingers moved over the keys with purpose but with only a modicum of skill. The Shadow was no slicer and could only read certain, easily accessible, entries.

Once she accessed the Temple’s map she checked her corners and her back. K’tana dropped all her abilities with a smooth motion once she was certain she was clear. The last entry had been from weeks prior, and the silence that emanated from the mass building made the Shadow believe they had been wrong.

“Kark,” she whispered to herself, inhaling deeply with frustration.

The scentless gas that was being vented into the corridor made the Twi’lek dizzy. With her remaining moments of consciousness, K’tana activated her lightsaber and, falling backwards, she slammed her blade into the wall behind her with a stream of force lightning. A loud crack echoed down the corridor as her the super-heated plasma of her weapon hit the wall and overloaded, exploding into pieces. Bits of metal clattered against the walls as smoke billowed off the melted weapon and filled the corridor with an acrid scent.

Then the Shadow hit the floor.


The complex, while a battered and dreary mess from the outside, was actually pretty pristine still on the inside. Marick admired the symmetrical architecture as he stalked towards the control center, hoping to find answers. He stopped when he noticed an electronic display screen in a powered down state crooked on the wall. Marick tilted his head to the side, eye twitching ever so slightly. He lifted up onto the tips of his toes and reached his arms up, straightening the display so that it sat level on the wall.

The Hapan took a step back, closed one eye to check the new alignment, and the nodded once in approval. He turned to continue on towards his objective, but halted as the hairs on the back of his neck stood up.

Something was wrong.

Then, Marick felt it through the Force even before his perceptive senses picked up on it. The faint crackling of lightning generated through the Force mingled with the familiar reverberations of an ignited saber.

Marick’s mind worked mechanically. Timeros was too far behind, which meant that something had happened to K’tana. Swearing quietly to himself, the Combat Master reversed direction, his boots barely registering a sound as he sprinted down the hallowed and harrowed corridor.

The security camera’s were dusted over with years of neglect, but Marick could hear their ocular lense servos grinding and noted out of his peripheral vision that they were far from dormant and tracking his actions. Someone was watching.

Fortunately, ghosts wouldn’t need technology. That just meant that a regular sentient being was trying to kill them. Marick shrugged to himself. It wouldn’t be the first time, or the last, that his life was threatened. It all came with the job.

Marick smugly cloaked himself in the Force, his figure vanishing slowly as he melded with the shadows of the long abandoned complex.


Timeros stalked through the hallways and willed the Force to numb the budding headache that seemed to be threatening to press out against his temples. He kept one hand on the lightsaber at his belt while the other held one of his Westar’s at the ready.

He sensed it through the Force like a punch to the gut. K’tana was in danger, and in pain. He had spent so much time with the headstrong Twi’lek that he had not realized, until that moment, how connected he had become with her.

Inconvenient, one part of his mind thought as the other began to move like clockwork. Despite his encroaching age, the Entar darted through the hallways with preternatural speed, quickly clearing the distance from where he’d sensed K’tana last.

He came to stop where he saw a scorched mark in the wall. Faint wisps of smoke trailed from the singe mark. Glacial eyes narrowed as the Entar touched it. He wrinkled his nose. The woman had been smart enough to leave a mark.

“Probably wanted us to know that there weren’t actually any ghosts,” a disembodied voice said just off of the side of Timeros’ shoulder. Instinct took control as the Entar drew his lightsaber like quicksilver in one smooth motion, scything the blade through the air where the voice had come.

Before the Entar could even complete his reflexive strike, he was already chambering his lightsaber, deactivating, and sheathing it. The whole action happened in the blink of an eye.

Marick blinked once as he shimmered back into sight, quietly studying the space in which Timeros’ had just struck out at.

“Getting jumpy with old age?” Marick said with careful deadpan.

“They took her,” he replied cooly.

“Yea. Well, at least that tells us one thing.”


“Someone is here, and it’s definitely not ghosts.” The Hapan almost smiled.


Timeros nodded, face precariously controlled as he knelt before the shattered remains of K’tana’s lightsaber. So much for using this to train her, part of him observed as he lifted one of the remaining pieces off the ground. In truth, the Savant had progressed by leaps and bounds, but there had been no sign of a battle, meaning that either the Twi’lek had never had the opportunity to fight or – more disconcertingly – that she had been defeated so fast that damage had been minimal.

“It is definitely hers,” he observed. “Now, for the rest?”

Marick was already scanning the room, carefully rapping his knuckle against the wall. “It seems solid,” the Hapan remarked, “but I would expect a trap of some sorts. And where there’s a trap…”

He swiveled, drawing his saber and ramming it into a wall. The old temple structure sputtered, coughing up goblets of molten rock as it fought against the relentless onslaught of his lightsaber. The rock, however, remained uncollapsed, with no secret chambers revealed.

“Apparently, there is nothing,” Timeros finished for him. Marick turned around, somewhat lamely – and the Entar caught his finger, tapping twice at the side of his lightsaber just before he sheathed it.

Once, years ago, the two Adepts had formed a legendary pair. Marick had been the older Arconae’s trainee, even as the two of them had given shape and form to Oblivion Brigade. Within that time, they had gotten used to the unspoken and understated nuances of body languages, communicating more subtly and securely than even the Brotherhood’s telepaths could manage in the Battleteam’s set of predetermined hand signals.

The taps at the saber’s side were a simple one. We are being watched. Whoever had sprung the trap had found time to remove K’tana even before her companions had found her. That meant they must have had some form of monitoring system in place, as of yet undetected by the men.

Timeros did not acknowledge the signal, but turned around, towards the room’s entrance, one of his hands pressed against the side of his body. “We should head towards the exit. Confirm non-supernatural activity. Leave with reinforcements.” Start retrieval. Trap set.

“You go,” Marick replied, voice still deadpan. “I’ll keep looking.” Trap readied.

“Very well.” For a moment the Arconae’s voice held the edge of tension, as if to challenge the younger man, but the next moment he swiveled away, stepping through the hall at a deliberate pace.

He avoided smaller rooms, taking wide hallways and chambers, eyes open for potential traps. None, however, seemed forthcoming. Instead, as the Arconae approached the entrance, he finally heard what he had been expecting all along:

The sudden, electric whine of blaster fire, hurtling bolts through the air as a group of men entered the chamber from several sides, desperate to prevent him from leaving and reporting his findings to Arcona.

The Entar’s saber was in his hand before the realization had finished registering, moving fluidly to intercept the first volley of bolts as he dove aside in a room. In his other hand, another Westar rose and tore scream-filled gaps into his opponents’ massed ranks.

Trap sprung.

A few moments later, screams emanated from the massed group of men as Marick, who had been invisibly stalking behind, appeared from his cloak in a whorl of saber strikes, tearing through the massed men. When Timeros emerged, seconds later, only a few of the ten-odd assailants were still standing, many of them missing limbs and screaming as the Hapan systematically worked his way through their numbers.

The Entar paid no heed to the screams, already stepping forward and hitting the nearest survivor with a paralyzing wave of dread, then letting the sensation ripple through the survivors that his fellow Arconae was methodically destroying.

“You,” he said, voice cold as he hefted the wounded man by the throat. “Base. Entrance. Now.”

Be alright, K’tana. We will be here soon.


When we take a life, we take nothing of value.

Marick heard the words echo in his mind as he dodged around an errant blaster bolt. Two quick steps and his lightsaber made a deft cut. The limb from one of the attacker’s arms made a deft exit from the rest of his body.

The Combat Master continued forward, throwing his free hand outward and pushing on the next attacker’s blaster rifle with the Force. The metallic weapon jerked up into the troopers face in response, cracking the bridge of his nose so that blood squirted out. Marick closed the distance in the blink of an eye and ended the man’s pain before he could even fully register it.

Two blaster’s to the left, one coming in from the door on the right with a baton and riot shield, Marick noted, gritting his teeth as he let himself fall fully into the Force. His muscles teemed with heightened alacrity as he jumped up into the air and towards the wall. His boots made contact and he spring-boarded off of it, flipping over a volley of blaster bolts to land nimbly next to the shooter.

A hidden blade appeared from the Hapan’s wrist with a barely audible ssclick. The stilleto edge blurred as it found the space between the troopers helmet and chest piece.

Marick twisted away from man’s neck, a thin trail of blood following in his wake. The Hapan ducked immediately into a crouch, avoiding another blaster bolt. He rolled forward and came up right in front of the shooter. Marick’s lightsaber made a neat, diagonal cut with his lightsaber as he rose from his crouch to full height. The pale blue blade followed the rising motion while dutifully drawing a neat line up the center of the troopers body.

That left the trooper with the riot baton and shield. Marick grit his teeth, knowing that his abilities were limited within the tight corridors. They also needed to get to K’tana and were wasting time.

The riot trooper twirled his baton in a deft maneuver and a sign of challenge. Marick didn’t acknowledge, but he did flick his wrist to send his shoto saber scything through the air.

The riot trooper sidestepped the blade, which pinwheeled down the dark cooridor until it disappeared from sight . With a grin, he started to charge forward, thinking to take out the pesky, unarmed Jedi.

Marick gestured with his open hand, and his lightsaber began to whirly it’s way back towards him from down the corridor like a magnetic boomerang. The riot trooper barely had time to turn and raise his shield as the shoto saber nearly cleaved him in half at the waist. The lightsaber bounced off the resistant shield and clattered to the floor.

Marick calmly drew his second lightsaber, stepped forward, and slid it into the troopers now exposed back. The trooper slumped forward with a groan. Marick called his fallen saber back to his hand and sheathed both under the folds of his long jacket.

“I know where she’s being held,” Timeros’ voice cut across the corridor of dead bodies.

Marick nodded, stepped around the litter of corpses like tires on an obstacle course, and caught up with his former Master.

As they moved down the hall, Marick thought he felt the echo of something through the Force. It was faint and fleeting, but it sent a shiver down his spine. There was something they were missing, lines that crossed and connected but escaped his attention. Marick was not an investigator. He saw, he observed, and he acted.

He’d have to trust his mentor, the Director of the DIA, to do what he did best and figure out how everything connected.


The two men hurried through the building, following instructions hastily torn from their unwilling informant. In exchange, the man was left behind, wounded but alive, amidst the gore-spattered abattoir that had once comprised his companions.

They halted, finally, at a single location deep within the Temple’s lowest level. When Oriens Obscurum was abandoned, this level had apparently been forgotten entirely, yet the area was pristine, without a speck of dust. Almost, in fact, as if it had been used.

“The entry?” Timeros spoke aloud, casting his mind about the Temple. Even years later, the pall of darkness hanging over his former home was thick enough to obscure his senses, but he could still feel…something, somewhere just out of his reach. Not so much a voice as a hum of presence, calling out for him from far away.

“This is the direction they came from,” Marick confirmed. “Think it’s a trap?”

“Probably not,” Timeros shook his head. “However?”

The other Arconae nodded, understanding as he stepped back and allowed his mentor to unholster a smallish cylinder. The gaunt Human weighed the tool in his hand, before releasing it and letting it hover forward, guided and armed by invisible hands.

A moment later, the concussion grenade exploded, its blast wave briefly singing their eyes as the wall behind it gave way, revealing a narrow steel corridor.

“Well,” Marick remarked. “This is new?”

“It is,” Timeros nodded, as he stepped forward. “Different build. They must have designed it quietly.”


“I suspect most of our foes are behind there. As is the information we seek. We advance. You seek information. I…”

“Yes,” Marick remarked and, despite his deadpan words, a smirk seemed to briefly flash on his face. “I imagine you have something else to do.”

The Entar did not respond for a while, advancing through the corridor, face hidden from the younger man’s sight.

“Yes,” he finally said. “My apprentice and I will join you, once I find her and the ones that took her. And Marick?”


“Leave what survivors you can. We need to find the ones responsible.”

Before Marick could respond, they rounded a bend and the corridor forked. Marick took the right entry; Timeros, guided by his own senses, turned left, towards K’tana’s emanations. A few seconds later, he could hear the buzz of an activated lightsaber and the electric whine ofd blaster fire, confirming the Hapan had found his targets.

Now, for K’tana…

The Entar halted at a metal door, forcing it open with his mind as his lightsabers floated into his hands.

The room was small and circular, whirring with technology. Within it, two men were busily working controls, shooting sparks across the air. “So, have you heard anything from the -”

The hiss of his sabers cut off further words, causing the men to turn around.

He ignored them utterly, eyes instead fixated on the Twi’lek form that was hanging in the air, held aloft by a softly glowing forcefield.

“K’tana,” the Entar said, unleashing a wave of dread that drove both men to their knees. One of them fumbled for his blaster, only to have the weapon drop from his shaking fingers as the fear intensified, leaving the pair utterly unable to move. “These men took you?”

“Well,” the Twi’lek responded, trying to cock her head against the holding field as the Entar approached at a leisurely pace. “Kind of? Though, with men, it seems it never lasts as long as you’d”

Timeros swiveled past, blades flashing out and neatly decapitating the pair, before stowing his weapons and looking at the controls.

“Expect,” she finished. The next moment, the Savant yelped as Timeros shut off the force field’s control and dropped to the ground, only for the Arconae to catch her just before a stumble. The next moment, she was standing unsupported, his touch away so quick it might as well not have happened.

“K’tana.” His words were calm and measured. “Your saber?”

“Yeah,” I destroyed it, she replied. “I guess I should make a new one.”

“Yes,” the Entar responded. “For now. Use this.” The Elder removed his second lightsaber, handing it to the Twi’lek. “We should hurry. Marick may need our help.”

The pair bolted through empty corridors, paying no heed to other rooms and instead following the persistent sound of screams. When, at last, they traced them back to their source, they found Marick, sitting calmly behind a desk, feet resting atop an obviously wounded man.

“There,” the Combat Master remarked. “I think this one was in charge.”

“Very well,” the Entar spoke, voice frigid. “I will contact the DIA and Atyiru in a moment. For now, however?”

He stepped towards the wounded man, kneeling before him and lashing the man with supernatural terror. The commander squealed at the sudden sensation, his breathing suddenly shallow and rapid as the Arconae looked down.

“You have information I require. Tell me. Tell me everything.”