Battle for Coruscant: The Dark Lord, The Grandmaster, and the Soul of Coruscant

[Rom]

The Duel for the Soul of Coruscant​

~~~~~~The Past~~~~~
Two figures stretched out on the sands of Korriban, breath fogging in the cold desert night as they gazed up at the stars. One was a young girl with thick hair and curiously wide eyes. She held a glass flower in her hands, rippled and streaked with the lightning that had helped craft it, and gazed up at the moon through it's semi-clear pane. The other was a reptilian creature, cloaked in black and looking for all the world like some nightmare escaped into reality with red eyes and a long bladed tail snaking out next to him.

“Master.... will you tell me a tale from your homeworld? I know you don't have any flowers there, but what do the people there do or believe in?” Her voice was soft, and to anyone who did not know her they might mistake it for fear. In truth, it was simply the way she spoke; a soft and cautious soul staring out into the world, waiting for it to hurt her again with the silent promise that it would never get another chance. The reptilian turned his head slightly and with a shrug decided to humor this unique Apprentice he had taken on.

“There iz a story amongst this onez people of two opposing forcez, both terrible and wonderful in conception and duty. One iz fate; the infinite tapestry of the starz that iz woven long before we are ever born that guidez us along our path to our destiny. The other iz Choice; the ability of any sentient being to look at their lot in life and take a different path, throwing off the trappingz of fate and making their own destiny.

Fate marshals her forces and begins the long process of making your choices lead to that final path, regardless of the road you take. Choice in turn createz new branching pathsz bringing your life down a road you never planned, for better or worse. Back and forth they clash over the course of your life, pulling ahead and falling behind az unexpected pitfallz and trialz change you.”

The reptile fell silent, his sanguine eyes narrowed as he stared at the bright moon, his mind clearly occupied. After a few moments of silence, the little girl nudges him and says in a small voice, “Master... which one wins?” He turned to her and held her gaze, before smiling ruefully, reaching out a clawed hand to press the fallen flower back into her grasp.

“Neither, little niphredil... Because regardless of what fate weavez or choice decidez, Death iz waiting patiently at the end of the journey."


~~~~~The Present~~~~~~~

Vereor was thankful for the helmet covering his face, as he would not have been able to hide his shocked look as Chief Bastele walked forward, spewing bravado, and then suddenly kneeling. It took a moment to understand the slight (as the Barabel himself did not wear shoes with laces) and once he did his fury rose to new heights. This fool, who dared to feign bravery and righteousness as he shook within his boots? It would not be tolerated. He was already reaching out with his will to wrap the Chief almost lovingly into a telekinetic embrace before crushing him into infinitesimal pieces when the man rose and fired his blasters directly at the Dark Lords chest.

The Dark Lord snarled in annoyance as he swung his blade up in a redirecting slash, ricocheting the blaster fire towards Bastele's forces as he aimed to bring the saber across Bastele's legs at thigh level and cut him down to size. Vereor knew that the man would never have accepted the terms anyway, but the sheer audacity he had displayed in his foolish attempt to mock him could not go unpunished. The red bar of plasma closed in on the target, and suddenly he was gone; pulled back before the strike could hit him, the tip of the blade burning uselessly through his pants, and replaced with a burning bar of green plasma that sought to cleave him in two.

The Barabel quickly twisted his wrist about and caught the blow on his saber, using his superior physical strength as well as the aid of the Force to keep his blade locked against the other, green and red sparks flying as he glared hatefully into the eyes of the Grandmaster of the Jedi Order. He admittedly had not expected the man to attack first, especially not in defense of the man who had him and his order branded traitors. Then again, Jedi were well known for making foolishly forgiving choices.

“You should not have interfered, Old Man. Dont you know it's rude to interrupt your betterz!?”

As he finished speaking the Barabel reached out and felt his second saber slap into his palm and activated it with a snap-hiss, sending a red blade spearing through the area the Grandmaster was standing; with his blade locked against Vereor's he would have to throw himself backwards to avoid being gutted. Pivoting to his left and taking a few steps back to put more distance between himself and the Jedi, the Dark Lord began to speak quickly into the Imperial comm channels, relaying his orders. “All Sith forcez, keep the prisonerz in your custody at all cost. If escape lookz inevitable, kill them. We will not grant the Alliance even a semblance of victory. Mando'ad Bralor, take your basilisk and secure the Senate Datacenter, make sure we get those recordz.”

Any other orders were forgotten as the Sith Lord brought his sabers around, deflecting blasterfire into the growing chaos as his black eyes found his target, and with a simple thought he reached out his mind and brutally sank telepathic tendrils into Bastele's consciousness, projecting so that his cold voice would echo within the Chief of State's mind. 'You are a greater fool than thiz one ever dared to imagine... you had thiz one chance to save this planet and the people on it from certain death... and instead you ensured it, with your stubbornezz and pride. Gaze into the horror of what your arrogance haz cost you... and remember this onez last, Chief. Your Jedi friend won't be there to save you next time.' and as his message echoed within the man's mind, Vereor poured a small trickle of Force Horror down the link as he sent a mental picture of Coruscant swallowed in darkness, massive storm clouds raging across the sky as skyscrapers lay shattered along the walkways and floating in a fathomless sea of blood spewing from the lower levels.

The Dark Lord smirked as he turned, his gaze focused on his foe as he absentmindedly blocked several shots from the surrounding forces... the one with whom the contest for Coruscant would truly begin. It did not matter if the armies triumphed if the Jedi and their Leader escaped to wait and strike again in the future. If there was to be any hope for a quick victory, they had to be killed today. All of them, starting with their Grandmaster. Vereor dropped into the Juyo opening stance and tipped his saber in a mocking salute at the man before charging forward as he let out a terror-inspiring wordless roar of rage. He kept rushing toward Sigur, appearing to be engaging in a reckless charge until the last second where he suddenly leaped high into the air and flipping forward over the Jedi, his sabers angled defensively to catch any attempted swipes before he landed and quickly moved down the corridor towards the main Senate Hall, his mocking laughter ringing out behind him.

“This way to learn all about the deathz of your pathetic Order, Master Jedi.... and to join them."

 

[GABA]

The energies of the Force pulsed through Sigur as he prepared himself for the counter to his swipe. He could feel the sparks dot through his robes and on his skin, but did not flinch as he pressed against the Sith Lord’s blade, never responding to the creature’s remark. There was the distinct sound of another blade being ignited, a warning rung in Sigur’s ears as he followed the Force’s guidance, forcing the two to break their lock as the Grand Master avoided being impaled by the second Sith blade. Sigur took a step backwards at an angle, feeling the hot plasma narrowly sliding too close to his abdomen.

The Dark Lord also followed suit, breaking away and creating distance between the two of them. The war waged around them, shouts came from both sides, Alliance, Jedi, Mandalorian, and Sith as they allowed the battle to consume them in its weave of darkness. The Grand Master didn’t take his focus off the Sith before him, it was a show down, Sigur knew only one of them would come out alive. They circled one another as the lizard commanded his orders, however, there was something else in the Force as Sigur focused. The Barabel flicked his blade, deflecting stray bolts away from him before moving into a familiar Juyo stance.

Sigur readied himself, pulling on the Force, listening to the ripples as they crashed against him, nothing was soothing about the Force on this day. The Sith gave a mocking salute before charging. The Grand Master was no duelist, he preferred words over combat, however, that didn’t prevent him from knowing a few tricks against those who did indulged in the fierceness of battle. He gripped the hilt of his blade tightly, waiting for the exact moment to defend, the Force building and building until the Sith leaped into the air clearing himself over the Grand Master, his lightsabers positioned to keep the man from catching him.

However, due to the limitations of being airborne, Sigur reached out to the Force, gripping the Lizard in a telekinetic grasp before allowing him a not -so-soft landing as he forced him into the duracrete flooring. The Grand Master walked cautiously up to the Sith, still keep his distance as he waited for the Sith to just barely recover before releasing another push into the Sith.

 

[Rom]

Vereor rode the telekinetic pull down, rolling with the fall to minimize impact even as the gel lining within his armor activated, softening the force from the impact on his body. The Dark Lord smirked behind his helmet as he pretended to slowly force himself to his feet, his left handed blade falling to a magnetized plate while his left hand, hidden by his bent frame and cloak, reached for the pistol holstered at his leg. He slowly counted to three as he felt the energy building and pushed himself into the wave of the Force push riding it down the hallway he had been trying to enter in the first place and raised his pistol, firing four beams of blue maser in rapid succession aimed center mass of the Jedi. Vereor waited until he was nearing the doors and pushed out with a wave of Force energy, negating his momentum from the Force push and leaving him standing exactly where he had wanted to end up with lightsaber in one hand and his pistol in the other.

"Let'z play, Jedi."

 

[GABA]

The Sith Lord had slowly rose to his feet, but Sigur didn't care, not having hesitated with his Force push that sent the Sith down the hallway of the Senate building. His lightsaber still ignited, the Grand Master followed after the Sith, a slight flickering of his wrist blocked rogue blaster bolts as he made his way after the Barabel. Changing his trajectory, the Sith took advantage of the Grand Master's push, moving with it, he had pulled another weapon, firing at Sigur.

His senses rung, Sigur twisted let the first two bolts move pass him, his lightsaber turning to meet the next. But they weren't normal balster bolts as the Grand Master let out a muffled cry of surprise. The energy of the bolt forced his saber arm to bend back uncomfortably, sending the bolt in an awkward angle into the ceiling, the last bolt he was just barely able to catch near the base of the plasma blade. However, it forced the Jedi to lose his grip, the hilt bouncing behind him.

The Force stirred within the Grand Master again, sending the decorative potted plants into the Darth while he recalled the hilt to his palm, igniting the green blade once more.

"Play? Shame, I thought we already were."

 

[Rom]

Vereor laughed as he started to move back further into the hallway, never taking his eyes off of the foe. The dark power thrummed to life and surged out of his body, the potted plants diverting course and slamming into the wall infront of him where they fell with the sound of shattering porcelain and dirt hitting the floor. Smirking behind his mask the Dark Lord let out a hiss as he focused a portion of his power towards his tail and pivoted to his left, making a sweeping gesture with his tail at the gathered pile of dirt and rubble while unleashing a force push to send the debris back at Sigur, coming up with his pistol raised and firing off three additional beams in a staggered line across the narrowing hallway following in the wake of the cloud of debris.

His saber was held defensively, ready to react to any attack as he considered the old man's words. "This one hasn't even started yet, old man... though az this one recallz, false bravado is the way of the Jedi. Your Weaponmaster demonstrated it just yesterday before my fleet gutted the Light of The Force. It waz such an exquisite sight, watching the future of the Jedi Order die in one last blaze of futile resistance. This one really doez have so much to thank you for... starting with the pointlezz deathz of hundredz of your own comradez."

 

[GABA]

The Grand Master knew the potted plants would have been easily thrawted, as they were just a distraction to get his blade back in the meantime. A small rumble in the Force could be heard as it was followed by the shattering of the potted plants. The breaking of porcelain echoed in the hallway and the Sith Lord took it upon himself to through the dirt and debris back at Sigur.

The Grand Master released another push into the hall towards the Sith Lord. The energy taking the particles of dirt in the opposite direction, however, the maser bursts still followed in a staggered succession, braking through the push as they continued their path to the Jedi. Sigur was better prepared, knowing what weapon the Dark Lord possessed, he amplified his strength though the force to absorb the bolts.

Taking a step forward and to his left, Sigur caught the bolt aimed by the Dark Lord, easily avoiding the other two. His words were eating at his heart about the Light of the Force, the Grand Master knew the ship had left in just the nick of time, it wouldn't have surprised him if it did run into trouble, but the thought of losing the entire crew and all the Jedi who were aboard was something the Grand Master didn't want to fathom a thought about. He didn't feel anything in the Force, however, the darkness that engulfed the core, it was hard for any Jedi to adjust their senses accordingly.

"You can hunt down as many Jedi as you want Sith, but you can never destroy us. A futile effort." The Grand Master retorted and with a sharp burst of speed, he closed the distance between him and the Sith, his blade came down in a sweeping arc meant to sever the pistol in half.

 

[Rom]

Vereor ignored the dirt smacking uselessly into his armored form, dropped his pistol as the Jedi made his swipe towards it and instead stepped to his left and moving forward into Sigur's guard, taking advantage of the overextended sweep to strike at the Jedi with his left force-powered armored fist, aiming to embed his fist into the Jedi's gut, with his saber sweeping down aimed to strike at Sigur's blade emitter.

"Oh, this one thinkz you will find that you are mistaken in that regard. With the loss of your archivez, your holocronz, your next generation in the evacuation and destruction of the Light of the Force... the Jedi are broken. And all under your watch. It iz not a question of if, but when." His words were laced with his own strong Force Horror aura, which combined with the chaos of the planet, the grief Vereor could see in the old man's eye at the thought of so much destruction, and the darkness of the Force should hold some slight effect on the Grandmaster

 

[GABA]

There was a thump on the floor as Sigur's blade cut through air, the Dark Lord dropping his pistol. His blade continued through its movement, arching back around, but not quick enough to guard himself from the powered punch to his gut. An Umphf escaped the Grand Master's lips, forcing himself to stumble backwards, and out of reach of the Sith's lightsaber as it would pass through the air also.

Sigur pulled on the Force, gathering back his strength and composure. The Sith Lord begun to speak again, his words were unusually heavy as they blanketed Sigur's mind. He tried to close off his thoughts, but the darkness that veined through the core and Coruscant easily following into every action he did. His thoughts threatened to take him back to the Preceptor as he pushed the waning thoughts of the fate of the Light of the Force from his focus.

The faces, struck with horror, before one Sith Lord sent them back with the Force, he wondered if the Dark Lord was right, if that's how they died also. He felt pain in his heart, his reality blurring, a cold wet blanket over his senses. He stumbled back a few more steps, his blade still raised in defense. His search into the light was dim, but there and he gave a strong tug, he felt his reality return. Perhaps it wasn't so, he couldn't feel the ship, he knew he would be able to feel their deaths.

Would he?

 

[Rom]

The Horror of Sigur Vainikainen
​

Darth Vereor grinned behind his helmet as he pressed forward, the flickering overhead lights of the hallway briefly dying completely as an explosion rocked the building, plunging the pair of warriors into complete darkness with the only light coming from the green and red bars of plasma. The hum of the sabers dominated the audible sense, though the screams of the frightened and dying within the building echoed through the opulent halls of supposed democracy. The barabel could feel the fear and death surrounding him and it made him shudder in pleasure, his mind drawing those emotions and last futile moments of life into himself and feeding on the intoxicating power it presented. The Jedi was weakening, even now he could see the resolve and inner peace fracturing as his Force Fear took effect... perhaps he should try harder. The Dark Side roared in response to his call as he pressed out with his senses, his Horror aura growing stronger as he began to speak, his words with their force tainted terror burning into the Grandmaster's mind.

"Can you hear them Old Man? All of the death... the agony sweeping thiz planet. Can you feel it? Each life lost shrieking out in horror before being consumed in flame. Here and there you can feel the brighter onez, the tattered remainz of your Order, pure light in the Force growing dimmer and dimmer before fading in a burst of pain that thrumz through your very soul? This one can.... and it iz so similar to the deathz on the Light of the Force, the prismatic light of your precious Order fading under the dark embrace before being snuffed out in a hail of missile and turbolaser fire."

The Barabel allowed his helmet to slide up, revealing his black scaled visage and black eyes with burning yellow pupils twisted by dark power; not the face of a barabel, but the face of some sort of demon from the Corellian Hells. His fangs were bared, slick with red blood, and they flashed in the returning light as the backup generators struggled weakly to provide light, seemingly in an attempt to help the Jedi find his way through the dark haze of horror that pressed upon him, before plunging the hall back into darkness.

"Their comms were open when the ship waz destroyed... you should have been there Old Man, oh how they cursed your name in their final momentz. They did not face their end with serenity; the Hungry One took them into his embrace shaking and screaming and shitting themselvez in fear.... but in the end, they blamed you. Your ineffectual leadership bringing them to that moment; 'If only Sigur had fought harder, smarter, better' they cried. 'If only he could have led us through the darknezz.' But you couldnt... could you Old Man? Poor... broken... stupid... hopelezz Old Man. A part of you alwayz knew that you would fail your Order.... a part of you alwayz knew that you werent good enough to lead them. You knew."

His words were tinged with Horror and Suggestion, feeding upon the man's innate fears and the darkness surrounding him. It was an insidious type of manipulation; using Force Horror to weaken his resolve and bring his fears out into the open and grow them exponentially, and then prey upon those fears with the power of suggestion to make them even more powerful than his aura allowed. Vereor smirked and reached out with the force, his mind crashing together in a net around the Grandmaster and force pushing him forward powerfully, aiming to send Sigur flying down the hallway and into the Senate Chambers as the horror took a deeper hold. His hissing laughter followed the Grandmaster as he careened through the air, cruel words lashing into his mind with the full weight of the Dark Lord's malicious and insidious power behind it.

"You failed, Master Jedi.... do you know why the Dark will win?"

 

[GABA]

The building shook from the aftershock of the explosive blast. The lights flickering, forcing the Grand Master to rely on his Jedi senses in Order to perceive his surroundings. Sigur kept his blade ready, uncertain of what the Dark Lord was planning next. The physical darkness that engulfed them periodically fitted well with the Darkness that blanketed the Jedi and the Sith in the hallway. He tightened his grip on his lightsaber, his breathing heavy as he worked against from being engulfed by the Dark Side.

The Sith spoke, his words finally sending an icy chill up the Grand Master’s spin; he narrowed his eyes in concentration, pushing his thoughts deeper inside his mind as he could feel the tendrils of the Dark Side vine up into his head. He didn’t want to think about the Light of the Force, but the nagging thought of if they were able to escape or not ate away viciously at him. It was his job to keep the Jedi safe, to guide them away from danger, especially those who were obviously not meant to fight in the fires of war.

The faces of the Preceptor bled into his sight, their screams that echoed in the silence of the ship and space still echoed in his mind. Teasing thoughts of if those same screams could have been heard on the Light of the Force, or even now as they all fought on a final defense for Coruscant. Sigur took a small step backwards, regaining his footing as he thought he felt himself starting to lose balance. Something didn’t feel right to him, nothing felt right anymore, not in all the darkness, the death, the pain that dominated the senses of anyone attuned to the Force.

He caught a glimpses of the Sith’s face as the front plating slide upwards between the flickers of the illuminators that struggled to function in the hall. It wasn’t the Sith’s face that would strike fear in the Grand Master, it was the fear that Sigur knew what the lizard was capable of. The echoes of pain rung inside Sigur’s head, he closed his eyes tightly reopening them again a few more times before accepting they were not an illusion, or so he would think.

Sigur stepped forward, “Stop with your words, Sith.” He hissed, the ionized air reaching the Jedi’s nose as he passed where his blade once hovered. He didn’t want to fail his Order, he only wanted to protect them, to do what was best with what he was handed. The Jedi had been dealt a difficult hand; war was never a strong suite for any Jedi, prolonged war was even worst. He had watched how a strong Order, both in its ties with the Alliance as well as those in the Order itself crumpled in the matter of three short years. He knew it was wearing on everyone, rumors of a schism in the Order perked up only months earlier; he couldn’t seem to get along with the Chief of State, Bastele , perhaps why the Jedi went through so much cycling of their council, was because fate determined they were no longer needed.

Pain suddenly struck the Master’s heart, for him to even phathom such ideas was out of the question, but for them to happen as they did, and for him to believe that there was a reason for everything, then why was it happening? The Dark Side was winning, it was dominating in the waves and whorls of the Force, conquering the light in the very soul of the Jedi Order, in the very soul of Sigur Vainikainen. His mind was lost to his own doubts and fears, quickly spinning out of his control as they were consumed by the Dark Lord.

Sigur felt suddenly weightless and then pain racked his body as he felt himself tumble, his world spinning until he came to a stop against one of the settled pods. He had lost his lightsaber, but for now, it didn’t matter to him, nothing seemed to matter as the Dark Lord closed the distance between himself and the Grand Master. He wanted to badly fight off the Dark Lord’s words, to tell him that the Dark Side would not win, not today, not tomorrow, but he couldn’t find them. He opened his mouth to speak as he pushed himself to all fours, but the words he wanted didn’t come.

“Why?” he asked in between breaths, “Why will the Dark win?” Sigur asked, looking back up at the Sith Lord.

 

[Rom]

Vereor disengaged one of his twin sabers and drew the hand and a half sword from it's sheath across his back, the Sith sword crackling with black lightning and pulsating with a malignant dark aura. Lazily twirling the sword in his grasp the Dark Lord stalked forward like a wraith, black eyes gleaming in the reflected light of the Senate Chamber. Sigur lay slumped and broken at the base of one of the floating pods, his eyes empty and his voice hollow. the Barabel contained a shiver of pleasure, barely; this had always been his favorite part of fighting a Jedi - to take something so self-assured of it's goodness, and twist it until it was only a broken relic of it's former splendor.

His dark gaze burned into Sigur's own eyes, visions of death and despair glimmering in the black pools; even now he was weaving his Horror aura over the Jedi, forcing him to hear his terrors surrounding him and see the Barabel as the embodiment of all that he feared and loathed and despaired.

"The Dark will win because it already haz. You Jedi have never understood; dabbling in the Dark az if it were some mere instrument to be picked up and discarded when you will. The Dark iz in all thingz... in the heartz of men, women, and children a dark seed sproutz and growz. You cannot fight the nature of the world any more than you could prevent this one from destroying the Light of the Force. Inevitably, the dark grows. Every jealousy, every fear, every moment of hatred or anger... they all feed into the Darkz' design.

The brightest light castz the darkest shadow, Old Man.... and within the shadowz, darkness thrivez. You cannot defeat the Dark because the Dark is eternal. The Dark definez all existence; the passage of time, the position of starz, the perceptionz and depth of the world. The Dark hidez your secret fearz and desirez within it's embrace, and it iz for that reason that the Dark will win. It will alwayz grow and thrive in the heartz of men... and where light cannot be found, the Dark reignz... and where the Light goez, the Dark will alwayz follow. At your back, beneath your shoe, within the depthz of your soul...

The Dark is alwayz there."

As he spoke, his voice a deep hiss filled with reverence and malice, the Dark Lord crept closer to the Jedi Grandmaster with his bladez held at the ready before pivoting to his left and sweeping his armored tail down across Sigur's back like a bladed whip, his dark aura growing to encompass the room as his voice dropped down to a cold whisper.

"But most importantly.... the Dark winz because *you*, Grandmaster Vainikainen, gift wrapped the Galaxy and the headz of your Order and personally delivered it to this one."

 

[GABA]

The Light was gone, Sigur could no longer touch it as he was drowning in the sea of darkness. He reached for it time and time again as the Barabel spoke, his words feeling like an eternity to his demise. He watched as his hope floated off, popping and engulfed by the dark side, he no longer knew why he could fight, he was losing a bit of himself each passing moment as the horror took its effect on the Grand Master, his fears conquering himself.

But he couldn’t find himself to disagree with the Dark Lord, the Jedi did hand the galaxy to the Sith, he was right, ever since the day were Jhon Cordatus, sitting as the Chief of State interim declared war on the Imperium. He had watched as the council destabilized a chain of events that literally cracked the very foundations of the Jedi Order. Cracks so large that Jedi fell through lost to the darkness that they allowed to continue their destructive rampage through the systems of the galaxy.

Sigur could feel the Dark Lord grow closer, his shadow holding the weight of star destroyers as it threatened to crush the Grand Master beneath. The elder Jedi tried pushing himself back up to his feet, however, the armored tail of the Sith slammed into his back, forcing him painfully back into the floor.

Could have they done more to stop it? There was always more that could have been done, but what was the good now? Would there still be any good to try anything now. He knew the Order was on the verge of a schism because of it, infighting amongst the guardians and protectors of peace and justice, where they cannot even find peace within themselves. And now here the Grand Master of the Order, on his very hands and feet, his head hung as he knew the Dark Lord was right, he was responsible for handing the galaxy to the Sith, the darkness had won.

 

[Rom]

Theme​

Vereor let out a low growl as he sensed his opponent break down even further, the once proud Jedi Grandmaster laid low and made nothing more than a hollow imitation. It truly delighted the Barabel to fight Jedi; so prideful and sure of their strength, they always were the first to crumble. It was almost disappointing really, what had promised to be the most powerful duel in his life had turned out to be full of manipulation and deceit; instead of embracing the horror and using it to strengthen himself, the Jedi fell under the weight of his guilt. Perhaps... he could help things along a little bit.

"Well, here we are Old Man... the hallz of your faux-democracy. The Dark iz strong here, can you feel it? A haven of back-stabbing, plotting, and greed... It practically singz with darkness. You are truly alone now... this one haz felt you reaching out for the Light, only to find darkness. Shuffling about az if blind. Why do you weaken yourself when you could be strong? Why do you fall to your kneez when you should stand and fight. The Dark iz all around you... why dont you use it?"

His words were honeyed; like the temptation of a holy man promising eternal life or salvation, the Dark Lord reached out a clawed hand az if offering power, tendrils of dark energy and blue-white lightning arcing between his claws. He stood with just his Sith sword in hand, held out at his side in a pose that seemed to be completely relaxed and without care at the idea of giving his enemy a tool to strike out at him with.


"You've proven yourself to be one of the greatest Dark assetz in the War.... The Light has abandoned you here, Old Man... Feel your pain, your fear, your failure. Use it. Your friendz, dead. Your Jedi, dead. Your Republic, dead. All mauled and ravaged by you and I. Armor yourself in your hate for this one and yourself, and destroy this one where he standz... Do it!"

 

[GABA]

The drums of war beat with the cries of death. The Sith were feeding from it at the cost of civilian, Alliance and Jedi lives. Sigur’s heart ached for them as he laid on the cold floor, his hands squeezing into fists as he tried to push against the darkness that siphoned through his veins. The Grand Master closed his eyes and let out a slow breath while the Barabel spoke, hope dwindled, it no longer fueled him, he wasn’t sure if it was worth rising to his feet one last time.

He listened to the Sith’s words, offering him a second chance to stop the very thing he had sworn to protect the galaxy from. The Dark Side, another source of power, a faster power. He could embrace his pain, fuel himself through his fear, and not give into failure, to continue to protect the Jedi and those of the Alliance. The Dark Lord had held out his hand, Sigur managed to push himself up, looking up to the figure before him before finding the strength to stand on his feet.

He was offering a second chance for the Grand Master to fix things, a second chance to help the Jedi and the Alliance. Sigur lifted his hand to take the Dark Lords, the dark side streamed from him, beckoning the elder Jedi, a second chance.

No.

“No.”

It was chance, and that was all it was. Sigur retracted his hand.

“You and your army may have won today, but those who survive, those who had seen what transpired yesterday, and have lived through today, will not fear tomorrow. The Dark Side will never truly reign, Sith.”

 

[Rom]

No...

No..?

NO?!

The Dark Lord's aura exploded with tightly coiled rage, black arcs of lightning dancing over his armored form in a cloak of electric malice. His power buffeted everything around him as the dark energy around the Sith Sword seemed to triple in potency, the Force surrounding the two leaders of the galaxy's Force users seeming to scream in anguish as the Barabel twisted the energy of life around himself into a palpable aura of death. Vereor was incensed at the refusal; while he would never have allowed the man to live, the pleasure of forcing another Jedi's fall from grace had been snatched at the last moment by a sudden surge of fortitude, and it left the feeling of victory hollow and ashen in his throat.

"That, Old Man... waz the last mistake you will ever make."

His words were a cold hiss of fury that faded into the death-like stillness before the demon blurred into motion, appearing nearly invisible to the naked eye as he pivoted to the left and swung his tail with all his strength and speed of his gained momentum, the armor clad bladed appendage cutting through the space between them with a whirl of displaced wind and slammed it directly into Sigur's side and sent him flying through the air with the muffled crack of metal meeting flesh and bone.

"Ignorant, cowardly Jedi... This one offered you a chance to end all thiz! Your damnable pride haz cursed the galaxy with this one'z reign... you and Bastele both. An Alliance of Foolz; how apropos... You are a true Jedi of Old, Sigur Vainikainen, defiant to the last moment and a bulwark against the Dark.. but all wallz crumble, Old Man, and your time has come."

The Dark Lord dropped his sword and reached out with both hands, lightning sparking between the claws as he lifted the injured Grandmaster high into the air and slammed him backward into the main pillar supporting the Chief of State's senate pod, the gut-wrenching sound of bones cracking and popping out of place echoing in the largest hall of democracy in the galaxy. Sigur was held against the wall with his arms spread wide from his body parallel to the ground and his legs pinned together - the brutal telekinetic hold putting pressure against the old man's many wounds and keeping him paralyzed and unable to react. The Barabel strengthened the Force Horror with a flicker of thought, removing the Jedi's ability to bear his torture in silence; the insane do not silence their screams for pride.

"It iz only appropriate, thiz one believez, that you live and die by the Old Code..."

Vereor paused only a moment to reach out and flick the switch that activated the Holocams and began to beam the footage of the Senate Hall out to Coruscant and beyond, and then began his brutal work; small beads of telekinetic power appearing inbetween the joints of Sigur's hands and exploding outward with a thought, pulverizing bone and rending flesh. As the Barabel began to speak, a distinct tone of amusement coloring his voice, he was nearly drowned out by the agonized scream that burst from the Jedi's lungs, filling the desecrated hall and echoed throughout the building and the streets of Coruscant. The holocams focused in on the only living beings in the hall, generating several close ups of the immobile Jedi Grandmaster and the victorious Dark Lord.

"There iz no emotion, there iz peace."

Reaching out a single hand, Vereor twitched a clawed finger and grinned behind his mask as the muffled sound of ribs cracking one by one with each twitch of his finger.

"There iz no ignorance, there iz knowledge."

Waving a hand negligently towards the wall behind him, his sanguine eyes never leaving Sigur's own pain-wracked features, the Dark Lord waited patiently as three large spikes of metal pulled themselves from the pile of wreckage near the entrance hall and floated to join him. The spikes were thick and smooth, small support beams that helped to stabilize the walls; their only imperfections the jagged sharp points at their ends from the tank flying through them. He paused for a moment as the spikes moved into position and gave a vicious fang-filled grin as the spikes surged forward; two burying themselves into the Grandmaster's wrists and spiking him to the wall, whilst the final spike slammed through flesh and bone of both feet, the telekinetic hold vanishing on his body and letting him hang in agony from the pillar in an improvised crucifixion.

He raised his voice to be heard over the screams that now echoed through the entire Senate Building, surely gaining the attention of the men and women fighting throughout the halls of Democracy, and well beyond into Coruscant itself and the homes and cantinas in space beyond the Core. The inherent mocking tone never changed.

"There iz no passion, there iz Serenity."

The Dark Lord stalked forward, his sanguine eyes burning into the tear-filled eyes of the Jedi as he writhed uselessly in utter agony. Taking another step the Dark Lord appeared to be walking on invisible stairs as he levitated himself up higher so he was even with the suspended Sigur. Reaching forward, Vereor laid a clawed hand upon Sigur's face and gently cupped the Jedi's cheek, forcing him to cease his thrashing and face the Sith Lord with one last moment of clarity. He was whispering now, too softly for the camera's to pick up.

"...Do you understand now? No... no you don't. Your Order was laid low by the slaughter on Tython and the destruction of the Light of the Force... it will be shattered with your death and the fall of Coruscant. Your kind are going to die out... this one will see to it. Starting with the ones who escape thiz world. They will fear the Dark, just az you do now. The darknezz within themselvez that will scream and rail against their shacklez when they see what this one doez to you, to their fellowz, and to thiz world.

They will not be able to resist the siren song of vengeance... that iz what you do not understand. This one doezn't need to kill every Jedi in order to win. They will kill themselvez... they will fall to the Dark, and this one will have won, because it haz never been about the death of all Jedi... it haz been the death of the Light. They will stumble on the path, they will give in to their baser desirez and rage... when the sun setz they will discover that the night iz dark and full of terrorz, Old Man... and thiz one haz robbed them of their light."

Pulling back from his closeness, Vereor raised a second hand up and held his palm against Sigur's stomach and stared deeply into the Grandmaster's eyes before intoning just loud enough for the camera's to hear, still speaking with the amused tone as he made a mockery of the Jedi Code "There is no death, there iz the Force." The Dark Lord's gaze sharpened as he delved deeper into Sigur's psyche, bypassing the shattered defenses that had fallen under the Force Horror, and with the precision of a neurosurgeon, pushed a full-powered Force Insanity into the very core of the Grandmaster's mind and released a blast of Force Lighting from his second hand, punching through cloth and flesh as if it were paper and burning arcs of dark-side energy into Sigur's organs; rupturing his large intestines and frying part of his stomach. The Insanity dredged up every failure, every fear, and every horrible moment in the Jedi's life and jacked up the intensity, while taking all of his good memories, hopes, and dreams and shredding them into ash all before Sigur's eyes, all at once.

The wound was undoubtedly fatal, but it would be a contest to see whether it was the lightning or the shattered screaming and flailing while still crucified to the pillar that would do him in. A contest that Vereor fully intended to witness for himself. Reaching out with the Force, Vereor pulled the Grandmaster's saber to his hand and carefully placed it on his belt.

" "The Dark iz generouz.. it iz patient... and it alwayz winz. Farewell, Old Man... give the Hungry One this one's regardz."

 

[GABA]

The Grand Master knew his refusal would enrage the Sith before him, but not in the manner as he suspected. Sigur was ready to accept death, but it wasn’t going to come as swiftly as he hoped. The heat of the lightning burned against his skin, the dark tendrils of the Force wrapped around his weakened body, only to be slammed into the central pillar of the Chief of State’s pod. He felt everything pop and crack, without the energy to cushion the throw, his older body felt everything. A cry of pain ripped through the senate halls, he couldn’t recall at any point in his life if he had ever hurt this bad.

He could hear the Sith mock the old code of the Jedi, one that still used for meditation, but not strictly followed as the Jedi of the Old once did. It still held truth to the Jedi Way, but that was the last thing Sigur could think about as he felt his rib bones cracking up his sides. He tried isolating himself from his pain, it was the least he could do, to cut himself off, but all he could find was darkness, the deaths of thousands of Jedi and millions of civilians is what greeted him. He couldn’t escape, misery sat on both sides.

Sigur let another cry, the Sith Lord’s red eyes burned into him, it was hard to breath, he couldn’t catch his breath. The Force rumbled with the Dark Lord’s command, spikes pieced his wrists and ankles. He knew he yelled, but he could no longer hear himself; he could taste his own blood as he coughed, still unable to breathe properly, his world spotted and spun, Sigur knew it wouldn’t be much longer until it was over.

The Dark Lord was now beside him, he didn’t remember him moving and closed his eyes again, listening to the Sith’s dark words. He could feel the horror that came with it, he wanted to believe he was wrong, but hope no longer existed in the Grand Master, he couldn’t do any more and he would fall just like the Grand Masters before him. Sigur only felt the cold, he opened his eyes one last time, his hearing only ringing as he saw the Dark Lord mouth the last line of the code.

The Barabel’s hand ripped through the clothing and flesh of the Grand Master, frying the flesh and organs of the Jedi leader. The wound didn’t take long to prove itself fatal, leaving the Grand Master in his last thoughts of despair as he was finally able to be leave this world, releasing an agonizing death convulsion that ripped through the Force, his end viewed and felt by trillions in the galaxy.