Sisk_Renelo
SWRP Writer
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- May 24, 2012
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Jedi Temple
Coruscant
Lowest Level
Ancient Training Hall
Coruscant
Lowest Level
Ancient Training Hall
The walls were old, covered in dirt and grime, cobwebs hanging freely from the stone. Darkness reigned in the hall, absolute blackness swallowing any details that might have been discernible. Decayed wooden benches, training dummies, broken stone fragments, and torn banners littered the floor, hazards that seemed determined to stumble those who entered this forgotten realm. The air itself reeked of neglect, trapped as it had been for over 1000 years, and when released, it had seemed to have whispered a sigh of appreciation in the Mandalorian's ear as it passed.
In this ancient room, among the decrepit ruins of the Jedi, Sisk Renelo waited patiently. He had been here for several minutes, and had spent that time in earnest, preparing his chosen battleground for his foe. Concealed charges were placed carefully in alcoves, infrared tripwires extending from them to the opposite wall. Several charges were clamped to the ceiling as well, all of them designed to wound, not kill. Sisk had also taken several lengths of cord from the spare grappling hook in his belt, running the nearly invisible wire tight in between various supports, at multiple levels, designed to hinder any acrobatic movements or use of force speed in the confined space. Finally, he had destroyed the lumen globes that had still flickered with any signs of life, plunging the room into its current state. His buy'ce, set on advanced nightvision, allowed him to see almost as well as in the daytime, and the infrared components allowed him to watch his tripwires.
So he waited. A shadow of death in the darkness, his call unanswered in his mind. But she was here. He had felt it. And he had no doubt that she would bring her master along. After all, it wasn't like the Sith to fight a battle alone. But Sisk had come singly, his black beskar'gam cloaking him better than the shadows could on their own. His weapons were stowed, tightly wrapped to his body to insure that he did not rustle when he moved. There could be no sound, no warning, no more than the barest flicker of apprehension before he struck. Sisk had wrapped himself in the Force, allowing his mind to cloak his potent signature, leaving the room feeling empty and lifeless.
But they would come. There had been a direct challenge. They would come. Sisk stood patiently, and waited, the only sound accompanying him his own thoughts. 'Ib'tuur jatne tuur ash'ad kyr'amur.' "Today is a good day for someone else to die."