“NOX!” The resonating bellow of rage came from the hall behind him. Nox hung his head and sighed, leaning off of his desk and standing to his full height before turning around. Darth Marr was striding briskly towards him. The old warrior’s anger was palpable, like a roaring fire in Nox’s office. Reaching Nox, Marr jabbed a gloved finger in his face.

“Why did you force my men off of Oricon!” He demanded. Nox felt the urge to slap the hand away, he was too tired to deal with this right now. The past weeks had seen him go without more than a few hours of sleep a week. Despite his considerable Force abilities to sustain himself on the Dark Side alone, he still needed much more rest than he was getting. There was too much to do, too many plans to make, too many projects to manage, and not nearly enough time to do them all. He restrained himself, barely, and managed to reply in what sounded to him like a calm and collected manner.

“It’s my jurisdiction. By Imperial law I have claim to Oricon and every artifact on it.”

“That still doesn’t explain why you forced all of my men off of Oricon, and then declared a travel ban on the entire system!” Marr seethed, hissing like a serpent in his rage and frustration.

“The travel ban was imposed to keep the Dread Master’s residual power from affecting any Imperial personnel not properly trained in resisting such potent concentrations of Dark Side power. Only my black-level teams have received such training.”

“But why my forces? Are we not allies? I can understand evicting Hargrave and those loyal to him given whom he serves, but my men have been there for months already, they’re apparently capable enough given they survived.”

“Your men are needed on the front.” Nox replied. “Don’t try to deny it, as successful as Plan Omega was the Republic still has us in a tight spot. Those men and women who survived the ordeal on Oricon will make fine Jedi-slayer squadrons.”

“Do not presume to tell me how to do my job, Nox!” Marr said, fresh anger turning his voice into a growl. “Given the threat that the remnants of the Dread Guard and the Master’s many experiments still pose to imperial operations there, my men are the best equipped to handle those threats and you know it! Your archeological teams need security to be successful!”

“On the contrary,” Nox countered, “my black-level teams are their own security, and you well know it. Each of them is fully trained in combat and highly educated in archeology and a myriad of other subjects of relevance. There’s a reason I call them black-level. They get into hostile territory, recover whatever items and information of value I sent them in for, and get out, usually without the enemy having a clue what really happened. They were made for just this sort of occasion, so that Imperial military resources didn’t have to be tied up protecting dig sites and projects from hazards and predators.” Marr’s anger was still apparent in his voice, but it seemed his wrath was beginning to fade in the face of Nox’s cool logic.

“I thought we were better than this.” He said, attempting to stir guilt in Nox, to strike at a weakness Nox had allowed him to perceive as real. “I thought you and I both understood that the needs of the Empire come before our own selfish goals. How can we work in concert if the right hand does not know what the left is doing?”

“You speak of trust,” Nox pointed out “yet you have none in me. I am disappointed Marr. I too, thought we were better than this.” Nox detected a miniscule flinch at his masterful deflection of Marr’s attempt at manipulation. “I believed that you could trust me to place the Empire’s needs above my own agendas. I’m saddened to hear this was not the case, and you assumed that my actions were motivated by greed and selfishness, rather than prioritizing the Empire’s security.”

“Your actions are bold to say the least.” Marr complained bitterly. “The other members of the Council will take offense to you hoarding such valuable secrets as those which can be found in the Master’s fortress. They will likely try to recover what they see as theirs by force, believing you are hoarding secrets which may pertain to their spheres. I cannot guarantee that Mortis will not look the other way. I can’t imagine he is too impressed either. The last thing the Empire needs right now is yet more infighting.”

“They will moan and complain, of course. Aruk and his ilk will no doubt be outraged and accuse me of treachery and disloyalty, and yet things will go on as they always have.” Nox said, doing his damndest to project calm assurance despite his growing exasperation at how difficult it was becoming to convince Marr so he could drop the charade and get back to his work. “Let them whine and lay blame, hypocrites, the lot of them!” He spat with sudden venom. “Were they in my position they would do the exact same, or in some cases far more, merely to frustrate my efforts and see me flounder.”

“You speak of hypocrisy and yet you are doing precisely what they would do.” Marr said, bitterness still in his voice. “You speak of alliances and trust, and yet I find myself denied access to what is likely the most important resource acquired by the Empire since Isotope 5. If you have nothing to hide then why keep me out?” He sighed and put one gloved hand to his mask in exasperation. “Is there no one on this council who is not a hypocrite?”

Nox’s inner fury, finally refused to be contained. In that moment, his mouth articulated words before his brain had time to register them.

“I was taken to believe that you were not.” Marr’s hand lowered, and Nox felt an abrupt shift in the room’s temperature. For just a moment he thought he might be forced to defend himself. He felt a familiar, cold aura of darkness surround him, and realized it was not his own. Before he could fully process the implications however, Marr leaned in dangerously close, and spoke in a voice barely above a whisper. Somehow, that was more menacing than any shout.

“Do not presume to know me.” Marr hissed, in a voice that was not quite his own. Then he turned and walked out of the office, down the hall towards the central nexus of the Citadel. Nox watched him go, processing what he had just experienced. The presence Marr had emitted for those few moments was so similar to his own dark powers for a moment he had thought his own might had arisen in response to his fear of being attacked. That was certainly a possibility as Nox’s powers, or indeed most Force powers, often worked that way. But there was a slight…tang, to this presence. A subtle difference in flavor that indicated it was foreign, similar yes, but ultimately not originating from him. The implications intrigued Nox. How had Marr acquired powers similar to his own? Marr was a warrior, a master of martial prowess and battlefield tactics, not a talented sorcerer or skilled ritualist.

There were several notions that sprang to Nox’s mind, but they all fell by the wayside when he recalled the slight but distinct tug on his ether body that occurred whenever he was in the general area of a spirit. The tug had originated from Marr.

“No…” Nox said breathlessly to himself. “He couldn’t have-there’s no way.” But the evidence was right there in front of him. To deny the likelihood of its possibility would be foolish at best, and dangerous at worst. Marr had a Sith spirit bound to him. An ancient, powerful spirit, one whose powers so closely resembled Nox’s own. The voice of Khem Val echoed in his mind;

“When we fight together, I begin to feel like I did then, when I fought by my old master’s side and none could defeat us.”

Nox began to chuckle. Soon, that chuckle morphed into a full cackle of malicious glee. His exuberance at his discovery and his hankering eagerness to claim it for himself, expressed themselves in rolling waves of hilarity. Before this war is over, he thought, the hankering thirst burning in his core, the source of Marr’s power will be mine.

____________

Jay moved silently through the humid jungles of Serulis Minor, his form cloaked in the sheltering embrace of the Force, preventing him from being seen or detected as he made his way through the tropical moon’s dense foliage. He was here to investigate the sudden disappearance of Jedi Master Konzali, who had failed to make his regularly scheduled report to the Council. With most of the High Council dispersed across Republic territory, aiding the war effort or pursuing the needs of the Order, it fell to Jay to conduct the investigation.

Konzali was here investigating evidence of a possible precursor outpost on Serulis Minor. Archeotech captured on Devlorr IX during a police raid on a prominent gang had left a trail of blood and credits that lead back to this largely inconsequential colony world on the far edges of Republic space. Konzali’s last report had detailed his discovery of the remains of what he believed to be some kind of ancient weapon emplacement. The artifact’s craftsmanship and the technological prowess of its creators was evident in spite of the countless millennia of wear and tear and the equally ancient battle damage it had suffered. Jay’s first thought upon learning about the missed communication had been that Konzali might have run afoul of still-active automated security in a secret precursor facility, but his instincts told him there was more to this than met the eye.

Arriving at Konzali’s camp, Jay straightened and dropped his Force cloak, moving towards the temporary shelter the Jedi Master had erected to serve as his base of operations on the moon. The speeder bike the Kaleesh was supposed to use when traveling to and from his points of interest was gone, confirming that the Jedi Master had simply never returned from one of his missions. Entering the shelter, Jay rifled around for a minute or so before he found the holocron that Master Konzali was supposed to use to record his findings. With a thought, he activated it and the image of the tall, roughly-dressed Kaleesh sprang to life before him.

“Day 1:” The hologram stated, before beginning to describe Konzali’s first day of operations. Jay skipped ahead to the most recent entries with a mental twitch, and the new recording began.

“Day 176: I discovered more evidence of defensive military structures in zone 477.” Konzali said, an undertone of excitement in his voice. “Two more turrets and something that might have been a highly advanced generator. I’m not entirely certain, but based on the scale and level of technology involved, I think the generator might have been a power source for a much larger construct. I will continue my investigation tomorrow at first light.” The hologram briefly vanished to be replaced by a new image of Konzali from the following day.

“Day 177: I followed the projections to zone 483. There I found evidence of further turrets and generators. Whatever these power sources once fed, it was monstrous. Perhaps far beyond our current capabilities, this would be well in line with the archeotech that led me here. At certain points during my investigation I felt like I was being watched, but whenever I reached out, nothing was there. I’m going to take the cloak disruptor with me tomorrow, see if that reveals the culprit. If nothing else, it should soothe my paranoia.”

“Day 178: I finally found it! The structure those generators were feeding is every bit as massive as I hypothesized! The reason orbital scans didn’t pick it up when the planet was scouted for colonization is because the structure is buried inside the mountain in zone 509. It doesn’t seem like this was intentional on the part of builders given what I can tell from the architecture, but who can tell what was going on in the minds of those beings from so long ago? I intend to explore the facility itself tomorrow. In addition, I now know I’m being watched. The disrupter didn’t detect anything, but the feeling is stronger now, much stronger. I’ve never put much faith in the belief that our ancestors watch over us, but that’s the only explanation I have to justify this…mysterious awareness. Perhaps the Force is trying to tell me something, warn me of something. I’m going to double-check the guns mounted on the speeder bike before I leave tomorrow, just in case.”

The recording stopped, and the holocron hummed as it deactivated itself, its playback complete. Jay stopped to ponder the ramifications of what he had witnessed. Given the nature of Konzali’s mission, it was entirely impossible the ancient ruins were some kind of death trap to which the Jedi Master had fallen victim. It was also entirely possible that the Kaleesh’s paranoia was not unjustified, and that some mysterious group of assassins had stalked and ambushed him. If the former was the case, than it would be prudent for Jay to go and do a cursory investigation of the site in preparation for a full investigation by Republic archeological teams, so that they would be prepared to deal with any remaining defense mechanisms. If it was the latter however, it was entirely possible that Jay might suffer the same fate without backup. At the very least he might find himself in a bit of trouble.

After a minute of reflection, Jay decided that the risk was worth taking. Even if there were assassins stalking the jungle, there was no guarantee they would detect him. Konzali was not a master in stealth, and he hadn’t even been trying to hide his presence and had moved quickly and noisily on his speederbike. Jay on the other hand was going by foot and under cloak, meaning he would have the advantage in terms of surprise, barring this actually being some kind of precursor remnant, in which case Jay was convinced he would be able to at least talk his way out of trouble.

He attached the holocron to the mag-clip on his belt and covered it with his robes, walking out of the shelter. He was startled when he bumped into a robed figure with all of the grace and foresight of a force blind child turning a corner and running straight into another person. He grunted in surprise and his hand flew to his lightsaber instinctively.

“Oww! Hey, what in-” The female voice trailed off when she saw who she had bumped into. Jay got a good look at her as well as they stared at each other for a moment, utterly speechless.

The woman was a Chiss. Her blank red eyes stared out at Jay from her deep blue face, widening as her brain processed who exactly she was looking at. She was quite beautiful, despite the otherworldly look her blank eyes gave her, and she wore what looked like the old and ragged robes of a mystic that would have been far too thick and heavy for anyone but a Jedi to wear in these temperatures. For a long moment they stood there, until the young woman broke the silence.

“Grandmaster Kenobi? What are you doing here?” After taking a moment to recover his wits enough to form coherent sentences, Jay answered.

“I could ask the same of you. You are a Jedi?” The young woman moved her outer robe to uncover her lightsaber, a simple design that matched her appearance as a wild mystic.

“Jedi Master Reith, first Watcher of the Deneemi sector. I was coming to check on Master Konzali on a routine sweep.” Jay understood. The Chiss was one of the Jedi Masters assigned to watch over colony worlds while they were still rather helpless and defenseless. Each one was assigned a single sector to watch over, and was rotated out on a somewhat regular basis, their schedule known only to their handler back at the Jedi Temple on Tython to increase security.

“I’m afraid to report that Master Konzali seems to have suffered an unfortunate fate Watcher.” Jay said. Reith’s eyes widened.

“On my watch? Say it isn’t true!” Jay took out the holocron.

“I’m afraid it is.” The woman’s eyes narrowed briefly in recognition of the device, and her shoulders slumped discernibly.

“How long has he been gone?”

“Six days according to the records he kept. His last entry was on day 178, and he was due to report on day 180.” Master Reith looked thoughtful.

“I only just arrived here three days ago. I checked in at the colony and came straight here, there’s no way I could have prevented this.” She looked crestfallen. Jay put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“Master Konzali was no fool. He was well aware of the risks of this mission. Investigating something like this, even so far from the warfront, is still dangerous work. Neither he nor I blame you for what occurred here. Besides, you know that Watchers are not meant to stop every conceivable disaster that can befall every individual on a remote world, you are meant as a safeguard, the Order’s eyes and ears on the ground.” Reith seemed encouraged by this, and her body posture straightened, a small smile returning to her face.

“Thank you Master Kenobi, you are as kind and compassionate as I was led to believe.” Jay waved off the praise and proceeded to question the young Watcher.

“Do you have a speederbike?”

“Oh no,” Reith protested, “I do things the old fashioned way. Besides, I find my investigations are much more thorough on foot. I can outrun a speederbike anyway!” Jay smiled at that.

“As can I.” He said, an unspoken challenge in his tone. “What do you say to investigating this mystery together Watcher?” The young woman gave a big smile, and Jay was caught off-guard by how much more beautiful it made her.

“I’d love to, Grandmaster.”

_____________

Demise groaned as the piercing trill shattered his dreams and brought him into a groggy state of half-wakefulness. He rolled over and pulled the covers over his head, as if to block out the high-pitched tone.

“Hey,” Vette mumbled sleepily. “leave some for me.” She clutched at the blankets he had pulled off of her and shuffled under them, pressing herself against his broad back to stay under the covers. The noise stopped after a minute, and Demise breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed. His bliss was not to last however. There was a soft knock at the door a few munites later, and Demise growled.

“What?”

“M’lord.” Came the respectful voice of Pierce. “That Servant fellow is on the comm for you. Says it’s urgent. Ordered me to rouse you.”

Releasing a half-growl half-sigh, Demise rolled out of bed while Vette mumbled something incoherent and grasped at the empty space where he had just been. He didn’t even bother to put on his clothes and marched straight out of his quarters in his briefs, his deep olive skin glistening in the soft light of the ship’s illuminators, his muscles rippling as he marched past Pierce and stood in full view of the holocom. Servant One was waiting on him, alone this time.

“Wrath,” He said in his familiar, deep intonation. “you have been roused. That is good.”

“And I’m very angry about it, this better be good.” Demise glowered at the hologram with his cybernetic eyes.

“It is.” Servant One assured him. “We have just recently discovered the secret headquarters of a group of traitorous Sith on Versus Eight. We’re sending you coordinates now.” The comm beeped as the information began to download. “We have it on good authority that they are planning to execute a wide-scale attack on Imperial worlds in the sector sometime within the next 72 hours. You are the closest operative capable of dealing with this, and it will take you 54 hours to get there, thus why I am calling you now.”

Demise ran a hand down his face, still half-asleep but slowly emerging from the fog that enveloped his brain. “So you found a bunch of traitors and need me to go deal with them?”

“In the simplest possible terms yes.” One replied. “I will expect your report within 56 hours.” The hologram vanished, and Demise turned to Pierce.

“Set course for Versus Eight, and notify me when we’re 12 hours out.”

“Of course M’lord.” Pierce said, bowing his head in acknowledgement. Demise walked straight back to his quarters with the door shutting itself behind him, and Pierce heard Vette’s suggestive giggle coming from the other side.

___________

Gravuk stood silently on the platform overlooking the Ecumenopolis of Nar Shadda, the stink of pollution and degeneracy rotten in his nostrils. He hated this place, an entire planet filled with scum and wretches of every stripe. Were it up to him this place would have been leveled from orbit by Imperial bombardment decades ago. While the dark passions that it spawned were useful to feed on and draw power from, Gravuk held no delusions about how corrupting an influence such places could have on the general populace, inciting them to rebel against their betters out of anger for being denied what they would see as their right.

In their ignorance of course, the masses believed that these desires were harmless, not realizing how easily the Dark Side swallowed up the weak and inferior. Only Sith could resist it, could tame it, and hope to harness it. To allow the average sentient to pursue their heart’s desires was really just condemning them to a destructive and self-inflicted end. Democracy therefore, was an injustice, and only enlightened leadership was the truly compassionate method of governance.

This was one of the many reasons Gravuk hated planets like Nar Shadda. While it was technically the Hutt’s domain, it allowed too much freedom to its citizens. The Hutts, slavering, self-important oligarchs that they were, saw no reason not to let their citizenry destroy themselves, not realizing the value of a healthy slave. Gravuk resolved that if he ever got the chance, once the Republic was dealt with, the Hutts and their hives of filth would be his next targets. The Empire would still need to expand after all, and with Gravuk leading the charge Imperial philosophy would sweep over the galaxy, uniting all sentient life in servitude to the greater good of all.

Movement three stories down and across the metal canyon that the platform overlooked caught his attention, and brought him out of his reverie. There would be time for dreams of future glory later, after he acquired what he had come to this festering sore on the galaxy’s backside to get, and got the hell off of this Emperor-forsaken rock. Leaping from the balcony, he plummeted two stories down and landed on a passing speeder bus so lightly it was as if he had merely stepped down off of a staircase. The dark figure was moving quickly, leaping from speedercar to speedercar in fluid, disciplined motions, never pausing, expertly navigating the flowing river of traffic.

Gravuk followed at a distance, using the Force to remain aware of the target’s location and speed while staying out of sight. A few passing drivers noticed him as he moved through the traffic, big and bulky as he was it was hard to miss him, but Nar Shadda was a place where the prevailing wisdom was to mind your own business, lest you poke your nose in where it didn’t belong and promptly have it cut off.

After following the shadowy figure for a few miles, it suddenly leaped off of a final speedercar and onto one of the old hovertrains passing through the area. Gravuk quickly began to lose his quarry on the edges of his perception, and with a muttered curse he made a series of quick and risky leaps to land squarely on the rear of the hovertrain with a very loud thud and the groans of stressed metal. His landing actually made a dent in the roof of the brown hovercar, and Gravuk cursed again when he noticed his target turn around and spot him.

They both took off running in the same instant, the interloper breaking into a full sprint up the train as it entered a traffic-free area providing no escape. Gravuk meanwhile, called on the Force to give him preternatural velocity and impossible stability as he barreled down the train towards his foe. He had caught up within a minute, and dodged the figure’s attempt to slice open his gut with a whirling strike and a hidden wrist-mounted blade. He used the Force to push his victim to the train roof, where she stuck as if magnetized. Her feminine figure had been well hidden by her cloak and armor, but up close it was obvious she was not a male of any humanoid species, she was far too small and her limbs and body far too thin. On her head, she wore a familiar skull-like helm, as damning a piece of evidence as anything else Gravuk could have found on her. He reached out with the Force and pinched her trachea closed, not enough to hinder speech, but enough to refocus her priorities from escape to survival.

“Where is he?”

“W-what?” She gasped, her voice sounding hollow through the grill of her macabre mask. “Who-”

“Where!” Gravuk snarled. “Where is he? Where is your master?”

“I don’t-” The woman squeaked as he brought the walls of her windpipe closer together for a moment.

“Don’t play the fool bitch! Your master, the Reaper, where IS he!” Gravuk howled. An eerie calm seemed to descend upon the woman, and when she spoke Gravuk could have sworn he heard her smile.

“He walks among you, but you do not know him.” Gravuk snarled in rage.

“Enough of this!” But before he could close her throat completely and squeeze the information out of her, she was suddenly racked by an intense seizure, before falling limp in his Force grip. Dead.

Growling in frustration, he grabbed the body just as the train entered a tunnel carved through one of the many towering buildings of the Nar Shadda skyline. Grabbing the body, Gravuk leaped off of the train and landed on the floor, dropping the corpse just as his holocom rang. Activating it, he was both surprised and pleased to see Sekkis on the other end.

“What is it? You’ve got something?”

“Yes.” Came the haughty reply. “Aruk is so paranoid that he’s nearly impossible to find. He’s got anywhere from three to seven different dopplegangers in different locations at any one time.” Gravuk’s frustration began to boil over.

“I fail to see how that is good news.” He snarled, his mouth twisting to one side in hatred and anger. The look of amusement and possible arousal on Sekkis’s features only served to make him angrier.

“It is good news, because it means that when we do corner him there will be no one coming to help the pompous fool. Even Rictus has had trouble tracking him down.”

“Do you actually have anything concrete or are you just deliberately trying to annoy me?” Gravuk demanded furiously.

“I’ve pinpointed the locations of all of his major hideouts, there might be a few minor ones left but we now know where to strike.”

“Find me those remaining hideouts!” Gravuk demanded. “When we kill Aruk I want no mistakes, no stone left for him to flee and hide under. We will hit everything he has at once.”

“As you command, my lord.” Sekkis said, bowing as the holocom ended the call.

____________

Dagger never realized just how much she missed the feeling of the wind on her face until that night when she dropped out of the stealth shuttle sitting in cloaked sub-orbit above Dusech IX. The cold gray skull helm she now permanently wore was a mark of her devotion to him, but in the back of her mind she could not deny that she missed feeling the breeze brush her skin, or the warmth of sunlight on her face.

She quickly banished the fanciful thoughts, and scolded herself for being so attached to the things that made all beings weak. The grim skull that was fused to her head and face was meant to be a source of focus, it cut the faithful off from the universe, allowing them to see it as the master saw it, to see with his eyes, to perceive the flaws that made existence such a terrible burden.

She looked around at her comrades, dark shapes falling through the silent skies of Dusech with her. Each of them, she knew, bore the same mark, their faces replaced with the visage of the one whose will they served. Each of them had been chosen, individually. He had come to them on the brink of death, offering them the chance to right the wrongs in the galaxy, and save this flawed universe from itself. They had all accepted, many not knowing the true significance of his offer until much later.

She pulled herself back to reality, as she realized that they were nearing the drop site. Thanks to the night vision in the lenses of her mask, Dagger saw Blade, the group’s leader, order them to activate their parachutes with a quick flurry of hand signals. Dagger did so, and she felt her body jerk violently as the stealth fabric unfurled and slowed her meteoric descent. Around her, the others experienced similar releases, and she was pleased to note that all of the parachutes had worked. Each of them was a highly trained professional and faithful servant of the master who would give their life in his name without fear or regret, but needless or reckless death was displeasing to him.

They soon landed on the roof of the facility they had been aiming for, and once the chutes were severed, the self-destruct on the gear was activated and the fabric and cords dissolved in a pool of acid that would evaporate in a matter of hours, leaving no trace of their presence here. Following Blade’s directions, Saw had sliced into the building’s security system and managed to open a ventilation shaft, which he and Shank were already climbing into. Arrow took up position on the roof. It was his job to be their lookout, monitoring the base below to ensure no unpleasant surprises came up, and to deal with them if they did.

Dagger followed Saw and Shank into the duct, with Blade following behind her, sealing the duct access shut, in case anyone thought to check on it. They swiftly and quietly moved through the ventilation system, Saw taking the lead to detect and disable any traps or alarms, of which there were many. The owner of this fortress was infamously paranoid, as one would expect from a Sith of his position, but his defenses were no match for Saw’s experience in Imperial Intelligence.

They finally reached the duct they had been aiming for, which carried air into a seemingly empty room with a console against the far wall. There was the softest click as Saw adjusted his lenses to scan on the infrared spectrum, and their helmet feeds linked to his to show the entire group what he was seeing. The room was a veritable web of laser detection. You could barely see the console that was their goal through the haze of infrared light. A burst of data came over the public feed, as Blade indicated that maneuver seven-eight-four was the plan of attack.

Saw sliced into the local security cams remotely and set them to a loop before carefully unsealing the ventilation duct, but grabbing it to keep it from leaving its position. Gingerly he maneuvered the duct plate inside the duct itself. A brief, silent discussion occurred between Shank and Blade over the link, and it was decided that Dagger would be the one to execute the maneuver. She moved to the exit of the duct and carefully poked her head out, her lenses set to infrared. Monitoring the laser field for a minute, she realized that there were several sets of moving lasers among the many static ones. This had just gotten a lot harder.

Wiggling out of the duct, she ever-so-carefully avoided the lasers set by the duct’s entrance to thwart incursions just like this one, and activated the mag-gloves and boots she was wearing. Like a morbid, humanoid arthropod, she skittered across the wall, avoiding the rays of the patrolling laser sets and gingerly inching her way around the static sets. She had to move quickly the entire time though, there were no safe spots in the entire room, and she thanked the Master she had photographic memory, so that she could remember the path she had seen in that brief survey of the room before leaving the duct.

By alternating between walls and ceiling, she suddenly found what looked to be a safe spot she had missed. She stifled her relief and switched her lense view to ultraviolet. Yup. A trap. Avoiding the clever ruse, she made her way towards the console, even crawling on the floor at a few points. Once again she thanked the Master she was so slight, and she realized why Shank had suggested she go instead. He wouldn’t have been physically able to make some of these movements.

Finally reaching the console, she hung fully upside down by her boots, which were stuck fast to the low ceiling, and punched in the access codes that another team had acquired only twelve standard hours before. She held her breath for a moment, then the console light blinked green and the data she had been seeking began to stream into her helmet feed, relaying back to the rest of the team. Saw signaled his departure upon receiving the data and Blade relayed a command to Arrow to signal for extraction. By the time Dagger had made it back to the duct, only Shank remained waiting for her. A small burst of data popped up in her helmet feed.

I taught you well. She smiled behind the grisly visage, and shot back a reply.

You sure did Dad.

The two moved back into the duct, Shank sealing the plate behind them as they headed back to the roof.

____________

Jay and Reith descended on the site of the alien ruins like a wind. They both stopped about a hundred meters from the former compound to avoid triggering any remaining defenses, but their caution was unwarranted. As they made their way closer to the structure half-buried in the side of a small mountain, Jay could make out the elegant style of the alien architecture. It was almost like the structure had been meant to be a work of art as much as a military emplacement of some kind. Most likely it was the relic of some highly advanced culture, long vanished into the mists of time and forgotten by the galaxy.

They entered through a major passage, nearly overgrown with local flora, and worked their way through the building. Jay was no archeologist, but the more he saw, the more convinced he became that this had indeed been some sort of military emplacement, a fortress of some kind. There were broken and ruined turret emplacements scattered everywhere, and small opaque globes mounted on the walls and ceiling indicated a surveillance system of some kind, if in fact the globes were cams of a sort and not some alien form of decoration.

When they reached the central nexus, Jay was surprised at how large the room was. He’d seen smaller Star Destroyer bridges. The roof of this room might well reach to the top of the structure itself. It had obviously once been grand and impressive, but highly impractical from a military standpoint.

Perhaps that is why this species, this culture, no longer exists. He thought grimly. Reith gasped, drawing his attention to the dark, lumpen shape in on the west side of the large space. Jay rushed over, Reith following behind. A cursory examination with his glowstick confirmed that the body was indeed Master Konzali.

“This is terrible.” Reith said, a note of sorrow in her voice. Jay rolled the corpse over, and immediately noticed the large black mark on its back. Bringing the glowstick closer, he felt a chill when he saw what it was. A lightsaber wound.

“Look at this.” He said, beckoning Reith closer. She gasped when she saw the wound. “Master Konzali wasn’t killed by accident. It seems someone else didn’t want him around here.”

“But who?” Reith asked, her face taking on an expression of concern when the thought occurred to her: “Sith?” Jay shook his head.

“Unlikely. Possible but unlikely. For a Sith to be this far into Republic territory without being detected they would have to be…” his voice trailed off as he finished his own thought.

“What?”Reith asked him, seeming genuinely confused and frightened.

“Assassin.” Jay said, looking down at the corpse again. “We’re dealing with a Sith assassin.”

____________

The shrill tone of the holocom echoed through the ship, drowning out the sounds of romance coming from the captain’s quarters. A bestial growl of frustration came from behind the closed door, and a soft, high-pitched voice whispered something. The door opened and Demise strode out into the central room. He walked to the holocom and pounded the “receive call” button on the console. The image of Servant One flickered into view.

“Wrath, I have another assignment for you.”

“What is it?” Demise demanded, in no mood for games or small talk. “I just finished your last one only ten hours ago.”

“Recent reports from Dromund Fels indicate possible activity by a cult of traitors known as “The Reapers”, the same cult that that the last set of traitors belonged to. Their activity seems to be specifically centered around the tomb of an ancient Sith known as Darth Nekros. Nekros was known for his theories and experiments involving the undead and reanimation, if these cultists were to get their hands on any of his knowledge, the results could be disastrous.”

“Hasn’t his tomb already been picked clean like every other?” Demise asked. “I seem to recall raiding ancient tombs as part of my trials on Korriban.” Servant One either didn’t notice the sarcasm and light undertone of condescension in Demise’s voice, or he didn’t care.

“No. Nekros’s tomb was one of those that the Emperor declared off-limits and plundered for his own use. Many Dark Lords in centuries past attempted to enter it, and paid with their lives. The tomb has remained undisturbed for over 400 years. But now it appears your quarry has found a way in.” Despite his frustration, or perhaps because of it, Demise found the prospect of hunting cultists particularly enticing at the moment.

“Just send me the co-ordinates.”

____________

When Demise stepped out of the starport at Sykeraal, Dromund Fel’s capital city the hot air hit him like a blaster bolt to the face. Or it would have, if he wasn’t already experienced at dealing with extreme temperatures. Vette on the other hand, wavered in the dry, parching heat. Like Korriban, Dromund Fels was a desert world. Unlike Korriban, it was less sandy and more dusty. The entire miserable ball of rock was little more than vast, flat deserts where the ground was cracked like old skin and water evaporated in seconds.

“Whew, its hot as hell out here.” Vette said, shielding her eyes from the blistering light of Dromund as they walked through the city. “And I thought Tattooine was bad!”

“Ahh Tattooine.” Demise said, smiling. “Now that takes me back. Remember when I killed the Sand Demon?”

“How could I forget?” Vette said, giggling. “You tried to stare the thing down, that is so you.”

“And it worked.” Demise pointed out.

“Yeah, but you were disappointed you didn’t get a proper fight, so you goaded it into attacking you.” She teased, outright laughing now.

“What’s wrong with that?” He asked. “Why would I travel lightyears across the galaxy and face down a local legend and then just butcher the thing while it cowers? That defeats the whole purpose.”

“We weren’t there to kill the Sand Demon Gally.” Vette reminded him.

“Yes, there was that Jedi Master too.” He said, remembering.

“I hated that guy.” Vette said with venom. “Typical Jedi, so self-righteous and pompous. I only wish I could have been the one to put a bolt between his eyes.” The fury with which she spoke of the long-dead Jedi reminded Demise of one of the reasons he found her attractive. She was light-hearted and bubbly, but push her too far and she got angry, real angry. He always found her adorable when she was angry, even if she was shooting at him.

“Are you sure that’s the entire reason?” He said, poking her in the ribs with a clawed finger of his gauntlet. “Or is it perhaps because he waved his hand and you fell asleep?” Vette growled at him, something he found both arousing and endearing. She smacked him with the butt of her gun, knowing it wouldn’t do any damage.

“Watch it buddy, or I’ll be sleeping in the crew quarters for the next week.”

“There’s nothing stopping me from sleeping there either.” He teased, nudging her gently with an elbow.

“Try it and I’ll shoot you.” She said, but her face had a wide grin plastered across it, she was enjoying the banter as much as he was. That too, took him back. Tattooine had been a different time, when the galaxy seemed simpler and easy to navigate, when he had trusted his master and believed he would be rewarded for his honor and loyalty. Even back then, while his and Vette’s relationship had yet to bloom, they had genuinely enjoyed each other’s company.

Many times in his bedchamber she had confessed to having conflicted feelings about him since the day she’d met him. By the time Darth Baras had sent his young, powerful apprentice to Tattooine, he and Vette got along like siblings. She had started to open up around him, and he in turn had been a willing listener. In the past he had treated slaves with a baseline of dignity and respect, recognizing them as sentient beings, just like his grandfather had taught him.

The sudden memory of his grandfather brought more along with it. He remembered the days he had sat on the old Sith’s knee, listening to him tell war stories and tales of duels both recent and ancient, stories of his time on the front lines during the previous war, or of the duel between the ancient Sith Lords Naga Sadow and Ludo Kressh. As a young child those stories had captured his imagination, and his grandfather had taken the opportunity to impress upon him the importance of conducting oneself honorably in all things, even in matters of war and conquest.

“Hey!” Vette’s voice broke through his thoughts and brought him back to reality.

“Sorry.” He said absently.

“You’re doing it again.” Vette chided. “You shouldn’t be spacing out like that all the time.”

“I’m sorry Darth Princess.” He said jokingly. “Forgive me for not making you the center of my every waking moment.”

“That’s not what I mean dummy.” She said. “I mean I don’t want you caught off guard. We’re about to hunt some professional assassins! We both need to be on our A-game.”

“I love assassinating assassins.” Demise mused. “They always look so surprised.”

“Well if you march into their lair with your head in the clouds it’ll be us that’s getting assassinated.” Vette pointed out.

“You’re right.” Demise admitted, suddenly pointing up ahead. “There’s a speeder rental, let’s get moving.”

______________

The tomb of Darth Nekros was nestled in the side of a mountain, on the edge of what the locals called “Bone Valley”. The place was an ancient sea bed that had dried up millions of years ago and left the carcasses of its former inhabitants to rot. They hadn’t however, at least their bones hadn’t. The arid, dry air of Dromund Fels made it nearly impossible for the bones of the ancient animals to decay, and so they littered the flat plain like the remnants of an ancient battle, long since forgotten. When the speeder carrying Demise and Vette landed half a klick north of the entrance, Demise buried it in a pile of bones just in case, and they marched towards the carved cave entrance to the tomb complex that no doubt penetrated deep into the mountain.

Demise sensed the ambush mere moments before it happened, just as they were crossing the threshold. He unleashed a Force empowered scream of rage and fury that sent sound waves bouncing every which way in the enclosed space. Using the Force, Demise could see the sound waves bouncing off of their invisible assailants, and in one fluid motion he drew his lightsaber and sliced through the empty air in two swift strokes, causing the cloaking generators of the twin assassins to fail and their neatly halved bodies to collapse to the ground.

Vette stared in shock for a moment, before drawing both her pistols. “They know we’re here now.” She said, annoyed. Demise smiled behind his helmet, so similar to those of his two latest victims.

“Good, I want them to know.”

___________

The figure, clad as he was in robes and armor, should have made noise as he moved through the corridors of the stolen Star Destroyer. Of course he had about as much respect for the laws of nature as he had for fools. His black armor was repurposed Rakatan tech, with a series of thick, heavy plates covering the upper body that gave the appearance of a large, humanoid insect. Glowing violet lines ran along the large pauldrons protecting his shoulders and upper arms, while a series of sequential purple lights faded in and out down the center of the chest, indicating that the suit had some sort of internal power system. His Obroan-style helm was almost crownlike in its grandeur, very similar to his chestplate with its smooth surface and stylish designs. The front of the helm was covered by a stylized skull face, with glowing dark purple lenses set in its black surface, peering out at the universe with cold malevolence. From the waist down, the black, stylish armor mingled with robes of dark amethyst, their design clearly inspired by the garb of ancient lords of the Old Sith Empire like Karness Murr and Ludo Kressh.

The entire suit of armor seemed to vibrate and hum, releasing waves of invisible energy through the Force. It was not merely protection, but also doubled as a Force amplification device, enhancing his powers and warping the fabric of the Force itself around him. It was this “warp field” that allowed him to so easily manipulate the minds and hearts of his many followers. The mind of anyone within the field’s area of effect would be warped and twisted to his will, made ripe for the planting of whatever ideas he wished them to believe.

This suit of armor had almost single-handedly helped him build the large cult that was “The Reapers”. A fanatical death cult full of zealots who would happily live and die to propagate his will. Combining his newfound gravitas with the tenets and prophecies of an ancient religion surrounding a “god of death” who was prophesied to return in the flesh to herald the end of the galaxy, he had convinced thousands of skilled, intelligent, and talented killers to swear their undying fealty to him, and their zealotry had convinced thousands more to join them willingly without ever being placed under the effects of his warp field.

As he entered a turbolift and began his ascent to the bridge, he marveled at the power of collectivism and how easily one could manipulate and cajole supposedly intelligent sentients to behave like pack animals. By simply offering them a sense of belonging and brotherhood, he surmised that one might be capable of convincing the entire galaxy of anything, no matter how ludicrous or self-conflicting. Truly, he thought, the desires of the rabble are nothing more than the chains with which I might bind them to my will.

The turbolift stopped, and he exited onto the bridge, where many of his masked followers milled about, going about the business of preparing for a hyperspace jump. They all turned towards him and bowed their helmeted heads as he passed them, The Force heavy with their worshipful awe of him. He reached the raised command platform and mounted the steps. Reaching the top, he pointed to the man standing at the console to his left.

“Helmsman, set course for the Durallian sector.” With a wordless nod, the man turned back to his console and began the sequence. The black void outside became streaked with blue, and for an instant the massive ship seemed to stretch itself to infinite length, before vanishing into hyperspace.

___________

Jay examined he body of Jedi Master Hazzu. Like the previous victim, he had been killed by a lightsaber wound, his body left to rot by his assassin in this abandoned corner of Gleemgil Sarr. Unable to discover anything beyond the cause of death, Jay stood up and turned to look back at the entrance, where Reith and Nadia stood guard. From this distance he could hear the two women engaged in quiet conversation, never taking their attention from their task: watching for any trouble. He approached the two of them, hoping to hear what they were saying, but they ceased speaking when he approached.

"Find anything?" Reith asked. Jay had requested her presence after their encounter on Serulis Minor, after notifying her handler back on Coruscant that she was being commandeered for special assignment to avoid any confusion or concern. He felt that she would be useful to him in this investigation, although he couldn't place exactly why. But he hadn't become Grandmaster of the Jedi Order by not trusting his instincts.

Nadia had been a surprise. She had met them in orbit of Gleemgil Sarr, stating that she had been ordered by the Council to assist him in his mission, although based on the wording of the orders she had presented, Jay suspected the order had not been so much given, but requested. He would have to have a discussion with her to remind her later about the importance of not making themselves suspect. Not even the Grandmaster of the Jedi Order was above scrutiny after all. But it would not do to have such a conversation within possible earshot of his new temporary companion, so he resolved to keep his silence until their next scheduled time alone.

"No." He said, in response to Reith's question. "Just the same lightsaber wound as Master Konzali."

"Whoever did this was careful." Nadia offered. "I can't sense anything residual, not even a trace of violence." Jay nodded. He had sensed as much as well.

"They struck while his guard was down, which means he either knew his assassin, or they took him completely by surprise."

"Is that possible?" Reith asked. "Master Konzali I can believe, but Master Hazzu was a member of the High Council, there's no way he could be taken by surprise, right?"

"If his assassin was more skilled in the arts of deception and Force cloaking than he was in detection, it is possible," Jay said, "but that narrows down our list of suspects to a very small group of individuals."

"Who?" Reith asked. Jay shrugged.

"Members of the Dark Council, I can think of two with the skill and knowledge to pull this off, but as far as I know neither of them have any particular animosity towards Master Hazzu. And only one of those two Sith would kill a Jedi Master for no specific reason. It could also be a Dark Jedi, that would explain why his guard was down when he was killed. If it was someone he knew who has fallen, they wouldn't need to take him by surprise, merely deceive him for a moment."

"Do you think the other missing masters are all like this?" Nadia asked, and Jay could perceive just a tremor of fear in her voice, one that she disguised well from all but him.

"I don't know." Jay replied honestly, turning to look over his shoulder at the body still lying on the floor. "But this situation is beginning to look grim for all of us."

_____________

The massive door to the supposedly abandoned factory blew inward, crushing most of the guards assigned to watch it before they knew what had hit them. Lord Demise stormed through the opening, a hail of blaster bolts following behind him, felling several of the remaining guards before Demise descended on them like a whirlwind and sliced the last few survivors into pieces. Blaster fire came from down the hall, where a new group of the skull-helmed assassins where opening fire, attempting to fell the Sith Lord before he could reach them. In a blur, Demise charged down the walkway towards them, his lightsaber deflecting every bolt that didn’t outright miss him. Vette answered their fire with her own, using a wall support as cover. In a matter of moments, the entire group was slaughtered.

Klaxons blared, and the sounds of running boots on steel echoed along the walkway the two intruders had just cleared. From over the railing, Demise could see the massive factory floor, now running at full steam, and filled with Reapers scurrying about with disciplined urgency. Another group of security guards stormed out of a hallway half a klick ahead of him and opened fire. Demise went into full defensive mode while Vette advanced to another wall pillar closer to the enemy. When she was in position, he charged.

He slammed into the enemy like a cannonball, his massive bulk bowling his assailants over to be trampled and crushed under the Force-enhanced stomping of his boots even as his lightsaber tore their comrades to shreds and a steady and accurate stream of blaster fire poked the survivors full of holes. One of the trampled guards tried to bring his blaster up to fire point-blank into Demise’s back, but a single blaster bolt from one of Vette’s pistols hit the power pack and caused the weapon to detonate. The guard and the bodies around him were charred to a crisp by the explosion, while Demise barely even noticed, the flames and pressure wave simply flowing around him, as if an invisible barrier protected him from all harm.

The last guard discovered the truth of this when, to his surprise, his lucky shot to the Sith’s head merely bounced off of the Dark Lord’s helm as if it were made of some impenetrable material. A single thrust from Demise’s saber put the man, and the confused storm of thoughts whirling in his head, to rest.

The klaxons were still blaring, but it appeared that the steady stream of security guards had abated for the moment. Demise took the opportunity to lean over the railing and observe the organized chaos below. None of the factory workers were armed, but they all wore the signature helmet of the Reaper cult. Despite the intrusion, they all seemed to be going about their usual business, albeit in a state of hyper-vigilance.

Taking a closer look at the assembly lines themselves, Demise noticed that the components being produced and assembled were most definitely archeotech, a mix of Gree and Rakatan technologies, with some unidentifiable features belonging to neither culture. Whatever they were producing here, it could not be good for the Empire.

“Vette” he called over the commlink, “We’re blasting this place sky-high.”

“Never doubted it.” She shot back. He closed the link and began barreling down the gangplank, making his way towards the control room he saw on the other side of the massive complex. Vette scrambled to catch up, firing into empty hallways along the way. A few more security forces attempted to stop them, but they plowed through those as quickly and easily as they had the others. When Demise reached the door to the control center, he found it sealed tight. He began slicing through the door with his lightsaber, the smell of molten metal almost undetectable above the overall stench of the factory. When he finished, a simple Force Push sent the door flying inward, this time crushing only one of the gunmen inside. The others opened fire, and Demise found himself unable to pass through the choke point the doorway created because of the sheer volume of enemy fire.

A small black canister rolled past Demise and into the room, unnoticed by the occupants. It detonated in a brilliant flash of white light as bright as a star, and the gunmen abruptly stopped firing. In seconds Demise was through the door and had hacked them all apart. Noting the complex-looking consoles that covered nearly all the surface area of the room’s four walls, he turned and nodded to Vette.

“You’re up.”

Vette grinned and flexed her fingers as she closed in on one of the consoles, while Demise moved to stand guard at the entrance. Her fingers flew across the keys and she jumped from console to console as she bypassed the many security checks and firewalls put in place to stop people like her from doing what she was about to do. Meanwhile Demise had begun to engage a group of security guards from a distance, Force-choking one while using his lightsaber to deflect the bolts of the others right back at them. More and more guards were appearing to reinforce them however, and Demise realized that it wasn’t going to be much longer before he was overwhelmed.

“Vette?” He yelled, expectation in his voice.

“Almost there!” She hollered back, scampering between consoles and performing borderline acrobatic maneuvers with her fingers in her rush to input commands. Finally after a few more tries a glass case covering a big red button popped open and she slammed her fist down on it. “I got it! Let’s go!”

Demise immediately stretched out his free hand, Force-pushing the group of Reapers and sending them all stumbling back. It was a momentary lapse in their fire and had taken a lot of effort and focus on Demise’s part, but it would do.

“Run!” He commanded, and the two of them dashed out the door of the control room, heading for the emergency exit eighty meters away. The recovered group of security opened fire as a voice speaking in Huttese began to declare the need to evacuate the facility. Below, workers began to rush towards the exits, with minor stampedes induced by panic beginning to spread. When Demise reached the exit, he kicked it open, the door flying out of its threshold, and the two of them ran out onto the fire escape platform and leaped off of it, plummeting down towards the permacrete surface of Deraldis.

Before they had fallen more than a few meters however, a speedercar flying at a height that was most definitely illegal, swooped in and gave them a nice open back seat to land on. It was a luxury model, so the backseat was actually useable as a full bed, and made a comfortable landing spot for the two assailants. Pierce turned the steering control and the car took off down another street, heading away from the chaos that was about to literally explode in this district.

“Nice day for a drive eh m’lord?” He asked casually.

“Indeed.” Demise responded, as he righted himself and leaned against the slanted back of the car, giving Vette a glance to make sure she was alright. “Lets head back to the ship, I think we’ve overstayed our welcome.”

“Roger that m’lord.”

___________

Darth Aruk stood bent over the console of the large holoprojector in the center of his command bunker on Solemnus IV. He flipped thoughtfully between the reports coming in from across his Sphere, barely looking at them, lost in his own thoughts. He had been able to block that filthy xenos pretender from getting his grubby little paws on the artifact from Setmus Prime. Whatever that false Sith wanted with them, Aruk would be damned if he was going to let him get it.

Still, other events had been taking a curious direction lately. This new cult of “Reapers”, as they called themselves, was comprised of traitors from not just the Sith Order, but the remnants of Imperial Intelligence as well. They struck at both Imperial and Republic targets, seemingly with no regard for sides or alliances. They didn’t seem to be influencing the war one way or the other, merely killing as if that in and of itself were the goal, as if they were guided by some inscrutable plan that Aruk had yet to see.

It was then that an alarm on the console sounded, and moments later warning sirens filled the air of the underground complex. A holographic image of a Star Destroyer suddenly appeared, pictured as being in orbit of the planet, with alerts popping up to indicate that the ship had been reported as destroyed some time ago.

“My lord!” Came the voice of Lieutenant Gofga over the comm, “We have a Star Destroyer in orbit, it is in position to begin bombarding the fortress!” Aruk cursed, half in awe, half in rage. In order to pull off a hyperspace jump this close to a gravity well, you had to have the exact coordinates down to the thousandth decimal. To come out of hyperspace exactly in such an advantageous position would have required his attackers to know everything about this planet, his fortress, and the entire star system. He had been compromised.

As he set the archives to wipe themselves and the facility to self-destruct, Aruk swore he would make whoever was responsible for this pay. Once he had retreated to another safe house, he would find the mole and make sure that they regretted their decision. As he left the command center, he commed Lieutenant Gofga.

“Prepare my escape shuttle, I will be at the hanger shortly.”

“As you command Darth Aruk.” The man answered, and Aruk closed the channel. After taking a few turns and walking down a rather long hallway, Aruk reached the high-speed track that would transport him to his secret hanger on the other side of the continent. From there he could board his stealth shuttle and escape into hyperspace while the intruders wasted their time killing his men. Boarding the large podcar sitting on the track, Aruk took a seat and strapped himself in. After a brief countdown, the podcar accelerated rapidly, quickly reaching the tremendous speed required to traverse the vast distance ahead in a matter of minutes.

When it reached its destination, Aruk stepped out of the pod and walked briskly into the hanger, where his sleek escape shuttle was waiting. He noticed that it wasn’t already running, and based on this it seemed likely that the pre-flight checks hadn’t been done. Aruk had just resolved to execute the Lieutenant for his failure to follow orders, when he detected a strange and almost familiar presence. Despite the familiarity he couldn’t quite place it. It was like having a word on the tip of his tongue but being unable to actually speak it. He drew his lightsaber, realizing he was not alone, and that the Lieutenant had likely already paid for his failure, just not by Aruk’s hand.

“Where are you?” Aruk demanded of the vast empty space. “Show yourself!” His eyes surveyed the hanger carefully, looking for any hint of the intruder. He was so focused on the task that he failed to notice the figure behind him, wearing heavy black armor of repurposed Rakatan tech and an Obroan-style helm with a skull face. When the intruder dropped the Force Shroud that was obscuring his location from Aruk, the Sith Lord whirled around, instantly recognizing the intruder based on description alone.

“You!” He snarled, charging at his new foe, whose lightsaber remained hanging on his belt as Aruk closed the distance. In an instant, the double-bladed weapon leapt from its owners hip into his hand and activated, the purple blades coming up to block Aruk’s overhand strike. Thrown off balance, Aruk was forced back by the rapid flurry of interweaving blows and strikes that The Reaper responded with. His lightsaber moved fluidly and with such speed and accuracy, that Aruk couldn’t even block them, because he couldn’t predict where the blade would go.

But he had never been much of a swordsman; he had always relied on the power that flowed in his veins. He summoned that power now, even as he retreated, feeling it build within him to a crescendo, until it unleashed itself from his outstretched hand in a shaped blast of Force Lightning. At the last second however, his opponent shrouded himself in the Force, and the deadly energies passed over him harmlessly like a wave over a rock and dissipated.

Aruk growled. While his opponent wouldn’t be able to do that again for a while, that had been his best opener, intended to stagger the enemy and set the pace for the duel. It was an uphill battle now. The Reaper moved with preternatural speed, closing in on Aruk in less than a second and unleashing a storm of acrobatic attacks that only the powerful Force Barrier Aruk cast next protected him from. Sheltered behind the invisible bulwark, Aruk unleashed a storm of lightning at his foe, channeling his hatred into a river of painful energies that enveloped the enemy, holding him in place as he resisted the agonizing volts.

Aruk continued to pour out his wrath, but his opponent didn’t fall under the electric assault. Realizing that his Force Barrier was rapidly running out of energy, Aruk intensified the attack, trying to end the battle before it could end him. His opponent suddenly started to crackle with his own energy, and before Aruk could react, The Reaper raised his saberstaff over his opposite shoulder and then brought it across in a sweeping motion that unleashed a wave of pure Force Lightning. The wave slammed into Aruk’s barrier and it collapsed instantly.

Aruk brought his lightsaber up just in time to parry the first volley of attacks, but his foe now began to use telekinesis, throwing his lightsaber at Aruk with a spin, turning it into a spinning, buzzing plasma saw. The deadly disc moved as if it were somehow alive, assaulting Aruk from every angle, while The Reaper channeled the Dark Side to restore his energy and heal from Aruk’s successful attack. Every time Aruk tried to escape the blade and charge on his seemingly helpless opponent, the lightsaber would strike at his exposed points, or come at him from an odd angle, forcing him to change course or retreat.

Just as Aruk was about to charge for the fifth time, the blade suddenly leapt back into its master’s hands, and he disappeared for a moment, only to reappear just outside of striking distance, seemingly having teleported over twenty meters. He threw his lightsaber again, this time on a vertical angle, and it flew towards Aruk, ready to slice him in half from top to bottom. Aruk dived to the side, and the blade stopped where he had been, still spinning, for the briefest of moments, before returning the same way it had come, neatly settling itself in The Reaper’s gauntleted hands.

Aruk managed to roll out of the way of the intended coup de gras his opponent tried to deliver next, and used his momentum to spring to his feet. But once again he found himself on the defensive, as his foe pelted him with a series of complex acrobatic maneuvers intended to confuse as much as to kill. Aruk felt the power burgeon in him once more, and he laughed maliciously. He channeled the dark energies, lightning coming out of his eyes and gathering around his off hand, until he stretched it out and unleashed the power with a gesture.

The power blast rocketed towards his enemy, and this time no Force Shroud was erected at the last minute. The Reaper was thrown off balance for the first time in the entire fight, his personal shield absorbing most of the blast, but not preventing him from its kinetic effects. A minuscule crack appeared in the chestplate of his armor, and dark energies began to leak out.

The feeling of familiarity grew stronger, but Aruk was too lost in the heat of battle to notice. He gathered his power again and unleashed it in a river of lightning that once more enveloped his foe, inflicting untold agony and forcing him to channel most of his power into defending himself from the ravages of the Sith Lord’s power. With a quick hand gesture, the armored figure suddenly vanished from sight. Aruk let the power fade and redirected it towards encasing him in Force armor to protect himself from any surprise attacks. Unfortunately for him, the change wasn’t quick enough.

Before Aruk’s Force armor had a chance to stabilize, a violet blade blossomed from the air behind him, piercing his shield, armor, and heart thanks to the greatly Force-enhanced strength placed behind the strike. The Reaper materialized after his weapon, both hands firmly gripping the hilt, the cool metal pressed against Aruk’s armor.

The Reaper deactivated his weapon, and the dying Sith collapsed to the floor. Watching through glowing lenses as the last vestiges of life vacated his enemy’s body, the cult leader returned his weapon to his hip, and walked slowly back to the waiting pod.