Variety Content

Star Wars Fanfiction, Eventually more Elder Scrolls stuff. And I went back and deleted many of my pointless Reblogs, so now the HTTYD stuff is just Grimmel.🤭🤭 Sorry the title lies.

[starwars-tnichythe1]

Dathomir's Gifts

Note: Sorry if the events are rushed.

Content: violence, death, social conflict.

Part 1:

Nightsister society was individualistic. Girls ventured in the forest at night. They chose to pour hours into mixing helpful potions and studying fun spells, their clothes and accessories were all different, and they become close friends or child-like rivals. But Sisters that religiously revered tradition held society together. They never forget there were customs, such as the unspoken rule of hospitality, and "the Crucible" trained warriors.

A year after the Separatist attack, the Nyx Owl clan had two leadership roles to fulfill. The shaman’s health was failing, following over a hundred and twenty years of life. Still, no one knew the attack was the fault of a Sith Assassin, Asajj Vetress, provided by Talzin to the Sith. Talzin put a target on her Clan, fulfilling Assajj’s revenge.

At twilight, a few young Nightsisters gathered in the forest. The girls ventured much farther than usual, where narrow platos were surrounded by deep swamp. In the mud Bleeding Gut plants, Brula Fruit, and mushlings theived. Ahead of them, an owl flew from the brush and crossed their path. They cat-walked on high, slumped branches over the swamp.

Suddenly, a sound like rushing wind crept up on them, and a huge creature snatched up a hunter. The women panicked as the wind from its wings almost pushed them off the branches. It flew off. They didn’t see the creature, they only retreated.

Meanwhile, other Nightsisters were training. There were a few late teen initiates, two older women around forty mentoring them, and Sister Vonya.

One of the mentors was Vonya’s mother, Zalem. She instructed, “Strike fast. You can win the fight as soon as the first blow.” And she waved for Vonya to come demonstrate.

Vonya stood in front of the initiate, holding her spear at waist level, pointed up. “Counter attack.” And she quickly jabbed. She barely redirected it, paused and countered. Vonya said, “Faster.” And attacked her from a different angle. The initiative succeeded. “Good. Don’t–.”

“Not good enough,” Zalem said. “Practice.”

The group of hunters rushed back to the village telling the warriors what happened. “It’s never happened before. Something flew over and took her. It was as big as twenty of us and as black as night.”

The other teacher, Dormé, replied, “You were in the swamp. What did you expect?”

Nightsisters more in tune with Magick like Tasha and her friend Vonya felt the change in the air. The wilderness was always full of life and danger, but lately, a sense of hostility. Vonya thought she should kill a threat to them, and felt bad for the fear in the girls. She said, “Take me to where you found it.”

The girls looked surprised, “You sure?”

Vonya said, “If it came at dusk, then it would likely come at dawn. Take me there in the morning.”

...

In the evenings, Barukka (now called Brūka) read the Sith scrolls she took from the Sith tomb. She kept them to the inner-most room of the Lair. This room was never used, but it's where she fought that memorable match with Tasha. She loved this room for the Sith iconography on the walls. Not out of reverence, but curiosity, and believing they had similarities. A mural depicted a great warrior, painted in black holding a long skinny sword. Two opponents panted in white. And the four moons in red and white.

Brūka started keeping her collection here. Weapons she made herself. The scrolls had a metallic frame and a red, glass-like shaft. The ancient, grainy hologram detailed how the Sith lord was buried: put in a coffin with clothes, armor and personal things, as well as preserving the body with Sith Alchemy. Other uses of Sith Alchemy included causing plagues, and the scroll even explained how to learn this power over life.

The other scroll recorded the discoveries and achievements of the Sith it was buried with. He had a class of six students, and wrote about what parts of the Sith code he valued most. He was killed by another Master, as Sith usually duel for control or greed, or attack each other for a perceived slight. Savage.

The Nightsister Warrior stored the scroll on her leather Knife-roll, with many slots made of cloth. Then took one of the lightsabers, admiring the craftsmanship. She brushed the glossy red switch with her thumb. She put it back in its slot. She wanted a display rack. Later she'd settle on a stone chest. For now she stored her weapons in a roll.

She started writing her own achievements on a wood tablet, and storing it here. She even mentioned that she took the Sith weapons from the catacombs.

Brūka expected she would maintain this for many years. For younger Nightsisters to see (or discover), and remember her legend.

...

The following morning, Vonya put on her armor, and with her spear in hand, she was led by two of the girls to the place where the monster attacked them. Brūka would have done this too, but didn't hear of the attack soon enough. The girls stayed on solid ground and showed her, “We didn’t hear it coming until it was too late. D–do you think it was… an angry Spirit?”

Vonya replied, “No.” She walked out onto the branch, looking towards the rocky spires. The girls left and she waited for it.

In moments, she heard the rushing wind too. She glanced over her shoulder, only catching a glimpse of a giant winged creature, coming claws first. Its foot was just big enough to wrap around her and trap an arm.

It carried her high over the swamp and towards the cliffs. She planned when to break free and how to fight back. As it landed to crawl into the den, she jabbed the spear into its leg as hard as she could. It didn’t let go.

When it landed, the spear was knocked out of her hand. The den was very dark, so Vonya only saw its silhouette. She sensed it would bite her and she pushed its head with Magick.

In the dark she reached for a spear. She took it, and stuck the back into the den floor as it lunged to bite her again. The spear stabbed its mouth, and it recoiled. She positioned it to jab its neck and when it lunged again, the creature stabbed itself against the weapon.

It let her go and backed away briefly. Vonya scrambled to her feet, and gripping the weapon with both hands, she jabbed it with one foot back. The creature gave a deafening screech, and swatted at her with its wings. It knocked her aside, and she quickly recovered.

It collapsed. And Vonya gave it one last stab so it wouldn’t die in pain.

The Nightsister lit the room, revealing it was a Chirodactyl, a huge owl-like bat. It wasn’t an angry spirit after all. She felt pride and exileration. The den had other weapons from fallen warriors. She cut off its feet as a trophy. The Warrior looked outside the den, finding ledges and rocks to grab on the way down.

Vonya returned to the Lair, exhausted, cut up, and the creature's claws in tow. She just noticed she didn’t hold her spear, but a pike. It had a big and detailed blade, the shaft wrapped in red. She kept it, and began working on a name. The Pike of Mercy? Blood Thorn? Owl's Fang?

The Nightsisters, even the older women, liked her prize, and marveled at the beasts claws she brought back.

[starwars-tnichythe1]

Dathomir's Gifts

Note: Sorry if I repeat info or this chapter is a drag.

Part 2:

In the swamp, Nightsister Tasha practiced taming animals. She sat on a massive, low hanging tree branch, while communing with the animals, two Rancor rested by her. She still wore black clothes and her white wing necklace. Tasha felt a shift in the air as Brūka approached. When they fought, Tasha knew it was fear and stress from the massacre and loss of the Mother that motivated her, but it was also her love of their ways.

Strangely, Brūka came in only robes. No weapons, not even a belt, just her red and orange robes. She was surprised to see Tasha surrounded by two Rancors, but was calm. She said, "We are fortunate to be born on Dathomir." She sat cross legged on a stone. "I see your Magick skills have grown, Sister."

Tasha sensed her serenity, and replied, "Thank you. How are you, friend?"

"Grand... Our Sisters admirably grow in strength. Vonya has done splendid work, leading rituals. She also killed a Chirodactyl."

"Oh? A hunt is one way to start the day.”

She smiled, and continued, "Few Nightsisters are still abroad, making a statement. That the Witches of Dathomir are versatile and powerful, as hunters and bodyguards. Or as defenders."

Tasha added, “They bring us pride… Even those at work in simpler ways hunting, healing the sick, and forging.”

Brūka's expression stayed calm, "It is unfortunate then that some clans waste their potential… I heard about the Mountain Clan."

That Clan protected the heretical Book of Law, and were conflict avoidant. Tasha said, "We agreed they wouldn't survive an attack.. Although, the Matron had a very strong Magick essence.”

“Even so… there are two roles in life: predator and prey. Just as it is in nature. We shall protect our Sisters, by being the Rancor nothing provokes."

"Sure. And towards their kin, Rancors are tender. That goes for most animals. Society needs cooperation, but families need compassion." That last sentence, from the Book of Law, but only Tasha knew that.

"How do you control the beasts? With strength. Anger, right? How could you… control them with compassion?"

Tasha smirked, and chirped back, "I'm a better friend."

Brūka's hand clenched, and she sprang to her feet, "…Despite this,” pointing to the calmed animals, “you have ignored our ways. Those that fear death will never know power."

Tasha was quiet, because she agreed.

It was clear, Brūka still wanted to grow an Empire. She seemed to accept the last Mother's absence and move on, but continue her dream. Tasha believed secrecy kept them safe. She would remain a Shadow Killer.

~ ~ ~

Later, Vonya helped harvest fruit and forage for potion ingredients, with a friend, Lilith, and other Sisters. Not a task a Warrior would usually pick up but she was always open to socializing and helping her family.

Lilith gasped in pain, as she was bit by a small reptile. It crawled away.

Vonya saw the bite and said, "Get her back to the village. Carefully."

One Nightsister asked, "What do we do? If we don't extraxt the venom, she will die. We may just cut off her limb."

Vonya said, "I have an antivenom prepared."

One woman carried Lilith so her blood didn't flow so much, spreading the venom.

She was laid on the ground. A woman asked, "How did you create... uh, antivenom?"

Vonya said, "Out of brula fruit. In tiny doses it was an antivenom, in big doses it caused madness." She opened the vial, the scent filled her nose. "We will give her a dose of this, and a healing incantation. To be sure."

One said, "We trust your knowledge, Sister."

They didn't have time for a full ritualistic healing with an altar and water, just magick. They gathered around the dying Nightsisters.

Vonya gave her the soft fruit and they began chanting.

They robbed their hands over her and over their heads as they sang, and green mist appeared around the poisoned woman.

The Magick courses through them and they chanted louder. The green mist whirled between them. The girl squirmed as it took affect, dripping with sweat.

Vonya’s eyes turned up as the Magick filled her body. She dreamed of an unnatural wind from the forest. She followed the sound. As it became louder, Vonya made out heavy steps and the wind now whistled, and she hid by the trees.

She saw an animal with a wildcat’s body, a bird's head and wings, and green and white feathers. Its talons were covered in blood, and it seemed distressed, pacing and looking at the deep red sky. She had offspring by her feet, and led them away.

Now, the wind and the heavy steps were loudest. Far in front of her, between the trees, the mist turned green. To her right, the wind pushed it aside, and the mist took the shape of animals. Flying owls and running steeds ridden by ghosts. They turned wide around the trees, their pale eyes shining. Vonya’s heart raced, and she froze in place.

To her left, Nightsisters were gathered and armed. One group wore red, another in brown, and one in grey, with someone Vonya recognized leading them. She wore extravagant armor and robes, and held glowing weapons. She charged. From the right, the ghost hunters fired arrows and aimed their spears, and the owls soared.

In seconds, the ghosts flew through and over the Nightsister army, and left not one survivor. She shivered as she walked over the battlefield.

Vonya snapped from the trance, her chest cold with fear. She took a breath. The girl before them was healed. The Wild Hunt and the battle were either a warning, or a reflection of her hidden fears.

Vonya recounted the vision to her mother, Zalem, and later to her friends, Tasha and Lilith.

Vonya and Tasha recalled the Mountain Clan, and their Matron. This Clan would be seen as passive and unprepared for never fighting and never using passion, revenge and aggression. Though, she was very strong in Magick. And they were untouched by war. Whereas Talzin brought technology to Dathomir, and displayed powerful Magicks at the battle. These Nightsisters still don’t know what caused the massacre.

[starwars-tnichythe1]

Dathomir's Gifts

Part 3: The Fates

In Nightsister culture, affinity with Magick was brought status, and the capacity to dominate was understood as good for its own sake. When a particularly strong witch grew in power, she would replace the current Clan leader, either when they passed away or in trial by combat. They fully believed in providence, that the Spirits (the Force) would guide the right one to victory. Most with the power wanted the position with its reverence.

Zalem and Dormé spoke to Brūka and Vonya, not requesting an audience, but whoever wanted to listen came. Dormé started, “We’ve heard of the things that occurred… Sister Vonya’s fight with the great bat, memorizing all spells, and healing abilities proves her strength.”

Zalem added, “Sister Brūka is versatile. Proficient with every weapon, mixed many poisons, and Magick gives her the reflexes and senses of animals.” Brūka smiled, Dormé looked at the warrior, “And you beat five undead Sith…”

Dormé added, “We consulted the spiritual leader. She –and we– believe these are the Spirits testing you. Don’t get excited… But choosing a Great Mother is overdue. Because Talzin’s offspring are missing, candidates must meet other criteria.”

Zalem said, “Leadership is a heavy burden…  Are you ready for the last trial?”

Brūka and Vonya chose a place to fight. Zalem and Dormé followed. They chose a training ground, hexagon shaped with pillars around it, and few trees. An open space for them.

Vonya said to Zalem, “Mother… is it acceptable to only injure the opponent?”

Zalem paused, putting her hands together, “Hmm. You are replacing the previous ruler. A trial by combat implies this is the only way… To avoid leaving a potential rival around.”

Brūka said, “We need a Mother with resolve. That is loyal to Magicks and the old ways, for the strength of our family. Not a pacifist.”

Vonya said, “It’s a valid question.”

Brūka was conflicted too, but hid this fact. “Valuing mercy over violence is shortsighted. The Goddess would willingly die before raising arms against threats.”

Vonya crossed her arms, “Even the gryphon has talons.”

Brūka said, “I suppose… And our weapons of choice?”

Vonya smiled, “The pyke.”

Brūka’s mood was soured, “No. You will have more reach.”

“Well, it’s our choice.”

“You’re fast. Let’s– at least for weapons– let’s even the odds, by using the same one. Other than that, use anything you like.” Brūka walked around, one hand on her chin, “You say She has talons… Sickles.”

“Very well. And we shall meet here under the moons.”

Zalem and Dormé brought sickles stored within the Lair, along with a guide written on an old holo-tablet. Vonya trained according to the guide, and tried applying dagger techniques, which made use of grabs. But sickles were nothing like daggers. She practiced with the curved blade for hours. Her mother watched. Zalem feared the death of Vonya, and secretly agreed that victory upon injury was better than a fight to the death. Tasha offered her totem, she added hawk bones along the thread for protective Magicks, saying “You will need this. Hide it in your robes.” After training, Vonya rested before the battle and Tasha made blackroot tea for them.

When the sun had set, they donned red leather protection. Blood red clothes, exposing the arms and legs, and knees wrapped. Wide pauldrons and pointed shoulder pads, wrist wraps, and shin guards. Vonya wore a thick protective headband.

The two returned to the flat arena, as the moons were rising, the sky crimson and dotted with white stars. Brūka kneeled, meditating before the battle. She wore a loose hood and tall wing-like garment. In this environment, they couldn’t levitate huge objects, climb walls, or ambush, unless they used the old pillars.

A combatant can win a fight as soon as the first move. Most warriors think this means being more aggressive, but Vonya usually waits for them to attack, or baits attacks for an opening. It was much more fun and less exhausting to have one good move.

Dorme stated, “May the Spirits guide the hand of the true Clan Mother…” Then loudly clapped.

The warriors held the razor-sharp blades over a shoulder to slash down, off hand under the forearm. Brūka knew Vonya’s tricks, and waited for her.

Vonya slashed for the head, was blocked, and grabbed Brūka’s hand to make an opening.

With reflexes of a toocha, Brūka grabbed her weapon-arm, and managed to push her sickle into Vonya’s thigh. But Vonya’s hook reached her bicep. They stepped back to try again. So much for beating them in the first move, sickles were impractical.

Vonya leaned back to avoid the hook, then sniped Brūka’s wrist, protected by the bracer. She blocked a wide slash, each hook tapped the opposite arms, barely saved by the armor.

Brūka briefly closed her eyes, and used Magick to find a small rock. Without looking, she reached out and threw the rubble.

Vonya dodged, while Brūka hastily attacked. Vonya jabbed her torso, and Bruka scratched her face or stabbed the shoulder pad.

Finally, Brūka caught Vonya’s arm, then aimed for her leg.

Vonya fell, her leg was deeply stabbed. She rolled aside and to her feet, avoiding an attack.

Bruka took the lightsaber from her tabard, and flung the pink blade at Vonya. She leaned back to avoid a follow up, then pushed Brūka down with Magick.

Brūka dropped the lightsaber, and gracefully windmill-kicked to stand up. Their faces and limbs dripped with red. Neither of them felt malice, only pain. Onlookers became anxious.

Vonya pushed the hilt away. When Brūka slashed, she blocked, then winding the blade and hooks her wrist. Brūka was cut on the forearm, and grabbed the back of the blade to free her hand. Then struck, cutting the headband off and nicking Vonya’s forehead.

Vonya limped back. As Brūka switched weapon hands, Vonya saw Tasha behind her opponent, then remembered her white-wing totem.

Brūka hastily attacked. With one leg, and a little Magick, Vonya jumped over her, feet in the air, turned, and cut Brūka’s back as she landed.

Brūka fell on her knees in searing pain. She swung at Vonya once more who blocked, winding the sickle from her grip.

Vonya frowned sadly. Brūka stood on her knees and hissed in pain. They looked at one another, as Vonya said, “It is not too late for my mercy… if you swear you won't oppose me. Swear you shall not raise arms against me, poison me, or lead Sisters astray.”

Brūka said coolly, “I would only covet your role.” then grabbed her neck. Vonya jabbed her once more, finishing the duel. She held her friend, who said, “It’s alright… May… s–Spirits be with you.”

Vonya replied, “The Spirits will be with you.”

Brūka was the best warrior there. She would be remembered as a role model to most. The duel was recounted like an even match. Knowing death was a part of their lifestyle was only a bit comforting.

Soon after, Sister Vonya was healed, and participated in the burial.

The shaman saw Vonya in person before she died, and approved of her. Then Vonya’s new clothes were made. A long dress, baggy sleeves closed at the cuffs, and narrow strips hung from the shoulders, crossing over the chest and reaching the ankles. A rounded klobuk headdress with a wimple around the neck. For the wing like garment, the white claws of the Chirodactyl were used as the frame. They renewed the pike, with a new grip. They recited the rites, and Vonya became the Great Mother.

Some Clans didn't fight for leadership, as they wanted to continue this long peacetime. The Singing Mountain Clan, the Blue Coral Divers, and others respected Talzin's unity of them, and lived and led according to the Book of Shadows.

The Nightsisters let the Galaxy believe they were gone. And they thrived even after the Sith’s empire had fallen.

[starwars-tnichythe1]

I really liked the Thieves Guild Quest in Elder Scrolls. I guess I like rebellion, stealth, and cunning. For a long time I didn't really care for the ending of the Thieves Guild Quest (Skyrim) until I learned a lot more about Nocturnal.

Apparently, Nocturnal is a rebel herself. She stole the Skeleton Key from Azura. The Lady of Prophesy and Dawn and Dusk (transitions from day to night). So it only makes sense that the Skeleton Key doesn't just unlock anything from entrances to lock boxes, but it can help you unlock your own hidden potential.

(I'm keeping that key the next time I play)

[starwars-tnichythe1]

The Dark Jedi: Kota's Militia

Note: this is darkside Cal, but imo he isn't grumpy enough. maybe he's healing.

Kota's Militia

Cal went to Jedha for time to reflect. He entered the atmosphere and scanned for a safe place to land. The sky was dark, and the stars clear.

BD pointed out that on the scanners, there was a mining outpost, and a fight. With the Imperial presence here, there’s only one reason there would be commotion.

He flew closer, landed the Mantis a good distance from the mining outpost, and mounted the speeder bike he kept in the back. He swooped across the sand to the outpost, nestled on the side of a mesa. The exterior was tall, with square and triangle frames of dark material. Above were pillars of smoke.

Outside the walls, AT-STs advanced through a shallow ravine firing on rebels.

Cal set the swoop to slow down, and leaped off it into the fray, blue blade in hand.

These rebels didn’t try to overwhelm the stormtroopers. Rather, coordinated drawing fire to give each other seconds to shoot back.

A soldier called out, “Throwing!” Pitching an anti tank grenade at a walker, destroying it’s ankle-like hinge.

The Jedi climbed atop the other scout walker. He cut open the hatch, threw the pilot, and jumped out to escape the crash.

The last stormtroopers retreated up the ravine back to the base.

Cal holstered his weapon. The rebels had unfamiliar, seemingly outdated armor, and used A280 blasters rifles. The Commander approached, a human, dark skinned man, with a prosthetic left hand and metallic leg. His arm band had a grey fist.

Cal said, “Nice to see another Rebel Cell.”

The Commander spoke quickly, “Thanks. We got it from here.” Another human and a Lasat gathered.

Cal said, “You don’t want more troops?” BD looked up over Cal's shoulder.

“You wouldn’t be much help.”

The knight looked unconvinced. The other man said, “It could be a good idea, sir.”

The Commander said quickly, “Fine. Follow me. We're going in quietly, shooting bucketheads only, and destroying the mines. Obey my orders.”

Cal replied, “Understood.”

He said quickly, “I’m the commander, but you can call me Com or Aran. These are Del and Barak.”

“Cal.”

Com turned and called, “Push up!” Everyone split into groups of three or five.

Cal followed the Commander and the other two. The Lasat, Barak, had black sideburns, big brown eyes, and wore a huge vest and pack. He said, “So, you’re a Jedi. A Jedi used to lead this cell, y'know.”

Cal guessed, “But he’s dead now.”

Barak nodded, but continued lightheartedly, “I didn’t have the privilege of meeting him, but we’re still Kota’s Militia.” He looked at BD with a smile, “And he didn’t have a droid like that.”

The explorer droid chirped back. Cal looked around, “You don’t seem like a normal militia.”

“No. We’re mercenaries, Republic army vets, and citizens. Yet we fight like professionals.”

“Republic army?”

“Uh... They and Kota are the reason we plan so thoroughly. What about you? Are you with a cell?”

Cal let the mention of veterans pass, and answered, “Yeah. I’m with Saul’s Partisans.”

Barak felt unpleasant surprise, “Guess that’s what brings you to Jedha." He playfully nudged Cal's arm, “Well, you ready to see how we operate?”

“The Commander wasn’t thrilled to have a Jedi on his side, so this is very exciting.” Cal asked, "Why does he think I won't be help?"

Barak said, "The battle is won before it begins, as Kota used to say. Our leadership makes air-tight strategies and contingency plans we should followed. He thought you might just get in the way. Nothing personal."

Cal joked, "Rebels that don't like rebellion?" Barak smirked back.

The four snuck around the terrain, and walked on a ledge. Com used binoculars to spot threats.

Barak and Del spoke quietly. Barak asked, “Here we are in another desert. You’re from Tatooine, right?”

Del said in a low, serious voice, “That I am.”

“Close to Geonosis. Do you speak Geonosian?”

“I do indeed.”

“I’m impressed.”

“I do indeed. Fluent Geonosian.”

Com put away his binoculars, “A’right, let's hear it.”

Del replied evenly, “You wish you could hear me.”

“No. Now you're talking. Let’s hear some of that Geonosian.”

Barak said, “He’s a man of hidden depths.”

Com laughed, “Come on, Del. Speak that Geonosian.”

“I will not indulge you slime balls.”

They heard shots echo from another side of the base. The diversion.

Com whispered, “Let's go,” using hand signals to direct. They approached a side entrance. He used binoculars searching for servalense systems. None. By the door were two stormtroopers by the arch and two pacing.

He signaled for Barak to step up. Com and Barak quickly shot them down. Del used a keycard from a trooper to enter, making their entrance faster. The four entered, doing “fox steps” to move quietly.

In their first encounter, there were a security droid and stormtroopers. The KX unit got into a melee fight with Barak.

In the second encounter, two Purge troopers came, the Jedi was frustrated by the sight, thinking they would surely kill the team. He took matters into his own hands. Cal embraced his anger, reached out, and froze every enemy before him. Both lightsabers in hand, he ran into action. Kota’s men took the rest.

Com said friendly and firmly, “Hey! You almost got hit by us. Don’t act rashly, now.”

Cal collapsed his lightsabers. His chest burned, as if he sprinted and pushed himself too hard.

One of Kota’s men was heard on the Com link, “Commonduh, we’ve gotten the civilians aside. We’re on our way to turn off the pulverizers.”

“Good. Keep rollin’.”

The four stepped into the elevator. Del pushed the button to descend.

When they reached the bottom, the thuds of auger pulverizers slowed to a stop. They pointed their weapons as they looked around corners and down the hall. Down here was a giant hole, with scaffolding, bridges, cranes and control rooms. In the sandstone walls, the crystals were as many as the stars, big and small, shining white, pink and lime green.

Barak took off his pack, providing the team with detonite charges, an explosive for commercial demolition. These were planted in each control room and machine.

Del planted an explosive in a maintenance closet, and found a weapons crate, not labeled. He opened it, and couldn’t believe his eyes. “T-7 disruptors?” Cal perked up to the name.

The Commander said, “They should be phased out… Must’ve been stolen.”

The dark Jedi said, “The partisans have been trying to get their hands on those.”

Com faced Cal, “These inhumane weapons should be destroyed."

Struggling to hide frustration, Cal said, “I get the sentiment, but we haven't had it easy. We need anything we can get to win against the Empire.”

The other two moved on, down the stairs to the last control room. Com said sarcastically, “I’m sure throwing a grenade in a street of people is harder than forming a sound plan,” referring to the way Gerrera has no regard for bystanders.

“What?”

“I don’t think your Commander wants to put in the effort to make a sound strategy.”

Cal hissed, “Aggression is the only thing the Empire understands.”

Com said quickly, “You don’t have to agree with me, but see the big picture. These disruptors were used to put the Lasats on the edge of extinction. Down the line, no one will care why we used them, just that rebels did incinerate people, like the Empire. Then undermine everything we stand for… If you want ‘em, you take it.”

BD 's antennae laid down.

The other two passed through the room. Com said to them, “That’s it. Let’s go!”

Cal looked at the disruptors. If they were attacked on the way out, he would only be weighed down.

Cal walked out on a ramp over the mine, then took Dagan Gera's lightsaber from his belt, studying the details. Cal remembered Tapal’s words, that We don’t embrace aggression, we stand against it. Only now he truly understood. Then let it go. He and BD watched the gilded hilt fall into the darkness.

As they stood in a circle in the ascending elevator, Barak gave Cal a nod.

When they reached the top, the commander got on the comlink, saying, “This is Big A. Sound off, team.” One by one, responders gave code names and reported the living members and the few casualties. Com replied, “Begin extraction.” Then they followed the halls to an exit.

Outside, there was a platform with big crates and transports around. And they snuck beside the objects to avoid enemy detection. They jogged in two lines to hide their numbers. In the shade of night, they made their escape into the valley. In moments, the detonite charges exploded, and the Imperial base flared up.

Com shouted, “Good job, boys!”

Their positive energy filled the air. Cal's poncho flew as the wind picked up.

Cal approached the Commander, “Your name’s… Aran, right?”

“Yep.”

“Thank you.”

He smiled at Cal, “No problem.” He put out a hand, and Cal reciprocated. “Thanks for your help, Cal.”

As the Jedi walked away, Del told Barak, “I’m hungry… What would you eat right now?”

Barak replied, “Soup. Considering the cold weather.”

Del replied, “That’d be good. I'm in the mood for sliced Meiloorun.” He saw Cal walking by, “You wanna stay for chow?”

Cal said, “Don’t worry. I gotta get to my ship.”

Barak smiled, and put out a hand. They grabbed each other's wrists. “Come back sometime.”

Cal grinned slightly, “I might.”

“May the Force be with you.”

“Thanks.”

Cal left, feeling lighter. BD stood tall on Cal’s shoulders, saying, “Now we have to find the swoop.”

“Oh.”

[starwars-tnichythe1]

Dathomir's Gifts

(Nightsister Fanfiction)

~Note 1: Maybe bad other than cool factor. I just wanted to get this written.

~Note2: For Nightsister fans, I've posted a 7 Part Nightsister story already. don't be intimidated, I explained magick as simply as possible.

~ ~ ~

Dathomir's Gifts

After the Sith Lord betrayal and slaughter of the Nightsister Clan Talzin, and the disappearing of Mother Talzin herself, the Sith’s military continued to other regions before leaving Dathomir. Even a year later, the Nightsisters untouched by it --for now-- continued surviving as normal. Some Nightsisters expected war would reach them, either the Outsider's attack or by other crazed and fearful Clans.

For the Nyx Owl Clan, the shaman's health was failing, following a very long seventy years of ruling, and over a hundred years of living. So Barukka struck out on her own. She was a gifted woman, a Warrior that mastered the use of all weapons, and adopted the senses of predator animals. There were other warriors like her, but she was especially studious and passionate. She had blue eyes, cut her hair to chin length and pushed it back, and had traditional Nightsister tattoos, black lines on her face and limbs. She headed to the catacombs of the ancient Sith academy, looking for tools or secret power.

There was a magick veil hiding the tombs, but she knew where to look and waved her hands to reveal the sliding stone door. It was so large a few people were needed, but she levitated it easily.

Her steps echoed in the long, narrow halls. The red stone walls were cracked by outside erosion. She reached the back, a room with five coffins, and red moon light came from the cracked ceiling. Sith murals decorated the walls, depicting a single ruler over a civilization, and the wars they waged. The Nightsister began searching for weapons or records.

She opened a coffin. The bones of an ancient Sith wore black cloaks, metallic armor pieces, and, somehow, still had grey flesh. Objects were neatly stored around him. She grabbed a grey and red scroll, that shook in her hand. Wind seemed to blow from the flat tomb walls, the red light dimmed, and her head ached. The tomb was protected, or cursed.

The other coffins' lids popped off, and the mummified remains climbed out. Red light behind their sockets. She stepped back, but stubbornly stayed. They all held retractable swords, glowing red, pink, and blood orange. She drew her leaf-blade sword to fight. When the weapons collided, the edges dented and glowed like cinders.

Baruk ducked and rolled to evade an attack. With Magick, she push one Sith into the wall, breaking the skeletal body. Then was nicked with a light blade. She retreated, and raised her hand to burn another. She embraced her pain, to fuel her rage, and her Magick.

She snatched up a hilt, unsure how to use it. As another attacked, she grabbed it's wrist. Another came to stab her back, and she moved to let him stab the other. She panted. One dark lord stood.

Finally, she ignited the lightsaber, and locked blades with the last undead. A red glow behind his sockets. She kicked him, but he didn’t budge. Her arms and legs shook trying to hold him back. Seeing the Nightsister couldn’t be overpowered, the husk attempted to talk, and exhaled.

She heard him, and hissed, “I will not let go. Unless you let me keep your sword.”

He understood her behavior, similar to a darkside apprentice, and exhaled again, asking for her name.

"Nightsister Barukka, the greatest warrior of the Nyx Owl Clan."

He said, "You show strength and tenacity, witch. You are now called Brūca, for a conqueror you shall be. You may take my comrades lightsaber."

She took the new name as a sign of respect. She let him go, and took a lightsaber. The Sith waited until she was leaving to attack again.

A scroll flew and broke against her back and she fell. The Nightsister turned and flung out her hand, burning the husk to ash. Her headache stopped, and the room brightened again.

This abandoned temple was seen by the Nightsisters as proof that the Sith failed to understand Magick. But the mural showed the epitome of strength, security and self betterment. And their ruins provided her weapons. Bruka took two lightsabers, scrolls to read, and retrieved a skull from the Sith’s ashes as a trophy.

~ ~ ~

Thanks for reading

[starwars-tnichythe1]

Nightbrothers Of Dathorim

For Sons and Daughters of Dathomir, I have a seven part Nightsister fanfic, all parts now posted.

Don't be intimidated, I made it as light on lore as possible, (with info dumps).

Part One: The Massacre

Part Three: Nightbrothers

[starwars-tnichythe1]

The Dark Jedi

Note 1: I didn't know where to place this conversation, in a fanfiction. I only knew what I wanted at the start and the end.

Note 2: This is darkside Cal, sorry if he's too grumpy.

A Chance Meeting

On Utapau, in Pau City, Gererra sent spies to sniff out any Imperial activity. Cal Kestis, commanded by the recently promoted Mari Kosan, went to investigate. With psychometry and the discrete help of the Port Master, he found that there was a secret Imperial storehouse.

The Port Master wanted the Empire gone, but warned that Utapau's direct resistance would cause the Empire to destroy the city.

Cal replied simply, "We have no issue being blamed for it. Although, a heads up. My commander doesn't mind causing collateral damage too."

The Port Master muttered, "So, I'm given another creative way to harm my people. It seems we're better doing nothing." He began to turn away.

Cal raised a hand, "Alright. I'll try to talk her out of using the explosives."

"Try," he repeated. He hissed the words, "I would appreciate you're help, Jedi. But not at their expense." And walked away.

Mari, Mirienna, and a few other Partisans were waiting in the rafters of Pau City. Cal returned to his Commander, informing her, "Bad news. There is one Imperial warehouse--."

"Did they tell you where?"

"--And as much as they want the Empire out, they need us to not do any damage to the city. He almost refused, if we couldn't do that."

"He didn't send us on a diplomatic mission. The Empire won't care if we destroy a commercial building."

"And the Port Master does... Besides, there could be something useful in there... Gerrera has been looking for..."

"Those..." referring to T-7 ion disrupters. "Maybe illegal cargo is the reason this warehouse was secret."

"The only change we have to make is to use less explosives... Let me lead, I'll clear a path. "

The duo sent to bring the explosives came. One man was strikingly familiar, by his walk and his face under the helm. He had a gravelly low voice, "Commanduh, we've brought your Detonite Charges. As well as EMP grenades." A clone. Cal's heart lept.

The EMP's were a bonus. She said, "You really did extra effort." She looked at Cal, smiling, "Change of plans, men. We use the EMPs. We want to cause as little damage as possible."

The clone nodded, and rushed back the way he came. They put the Electromagnetic Pulses in their packs and on their belts.

Cal scowled at Mirienna for answers. She said awkwardly, "You missed him earlier. He's a new recruit." They headed towards the warehouse on the rafters. She hoped to assure him, "CeeTee's no trouble."

He replied, "If only you knew the truth."

When they got to the secret storage, they charged in, while others gave suppressing fire. In a critical moment, Cal used the darkside, dodging blaster fire, sending more troops flying, and cutting them down faster. They threw the EMP's and made their escape. Explosions went off inside the warehouse, flashing blue and white. Mari's snipers picked off the stormtroopers they could.

When the few Imperials retreated, the Utapauan workers were relieved. Not one civilian casualty. The Port Master smiled.

Mission successful. The partisans patted each others' shoulders, happy that at least most of them lived.

For the Jedi, the celebration was short lived, as CeeTee approached him, helmet still on. They watched each other as he neared, and CeeTee said "I haven't seen a Jedi in a long time."

Cal replied, "I haven't seen a clone in a long time."

"What was your battalion?"

"...Thirteenth battalion. Yours?"

"Three twenty-seventh battalion."

The Jedi's voice low and grim, "Who was your Jedi?"

CeeTee's voice was low and raspy, "Aayla Secura... We were last stationed on Felucia. The training can't prepare you for the flesh eating infections. Nocturnal predators... the blood, and cries of pain... Our Jedi Commander was our only hope... She told us we were the bravest men she had ever seen."

"I knew some of Tapal's clones. They seemed to like us."

"We were genetically modified to be more obedient, but we still felt respect, even admiration for her... We knew the war was ending. Under the helmet... I couldn't look her in the eyes."

"You knew ahead of time."

CeeTee nodded, "When the Captain received word, we raised our guns, she seemed to look around into the tall fungi, rather than look at us... I wonder if, perhaps, we couldn't be the threat, in her mind."

Cal looked him in the eyes. "The woman that fought along side you. Protected you... What made you follow through?"

The clones head was steady, "We had orders." The rest of the legion walked back to the transport.

Cal's heart burned, "We always have a choice." He disappeared in the moving soldiers.

[starwars-tnichythe1]

For Nightsister fans (and followers), I have a seven part Nightsister fanfic on my blog, already posted.

Don't be intimidated, I made it as simple as possible and light on lore (with info dumps).

~ Chapters

Part One: The Massacre

Part Two: Questions

Part Three: Nightbrothers

Part Four The Test

Part Five The Mountain Clan

Part Six: Confession

Part Seven: In the Shadows

[starwars-tnichythe1]

Sins of the Mother

(Nightsister Fanfiction)

Part 1:

Note 1: Sorry if if there're glaring issues or inconsistency. Or if Nightsister religion is too confusing.

Note 2: I wanted their beliefs of the Force (called Magick or the Spirits) front and center, even avoiding separating their Winged Goddess (the Force/ “light”) and Fanged God (the darkside of the Force) too much. It's not accurate, but it’s their belief.

Note 3: Tell me what I can improve.

Content: Mention of massacre; spirits, witchcraft, and religious language; conflict like arguing, friend drama, and in universe social commentary.

~ ~ ~

Part 1: The Massacre

A small party of Nightbrothers ran across the red badlands for four days, lungs burning and pace slowing. Sleep deprived, they saw the ghosts of Dathomir running by them and wandering in the distance.

The men stumbled towards a village of other Nightbrothers, and they weren’t treated like strangers. The men were given water and a place to rest, then the Nightbrother leader, Boris, asked, “Why have you come?”

One answered, “Outsiders have killed our Nightsisters, and the Mother is not with us.” The air went still, “They killed everyone in the Lair. And advanced to the ruins… everyone in the region is dead.”

Boris froze, then replied, “We should relay this to the Sisters.”

...

The Nightsister Lair was an old Sith academy, carved out of a tall rocky mesa, and abandoned hundreds of years ago. Now, it was surrounded by trees, and sheltered the small Nyx Owl Clan.

Today, the Nightsisters celebrated the initiation of new witches. Tasha remembers when she came of age and officially joined the coven.

As a child, a Jedi asked to take Tasha for her affinity with “the Force”, that is what they called magick. Tasha's mother refused, loving her child, and believing they were too weak willed to take what they want.

Tasha had strong affinity with Magick, and the gift like healing came easy to her.

Back then, Tasha’s nature was kind, but passive. Unlike her friend Barukka, a beautiful and fierce girl. She rose to a specialty rank, the Warrior. The spirit's gifts of passion, violence, ambition, deceit, and raw strength were more useful to a coven that loved power, and came easy to most Nightsisters. And ignoring this power was considered wrong by Clan Mother Talzin. Tasha envied her friends' courage and strength.

She learned well, honing her skills in Magick and becoming quietly proactive and stern. She mastered stealth, kept a dagger, threw darts, and as a Shadow Killer, donned a black robes. Tasha still got sparce and elegant tattoos on her face. She was worried about her difficiencies, until her initiation.

When she became a woman, she was initiated into the coven. Taken to the lowest, center room of the Lair, cited the pledge, and immersed in dark water. During the baptism, she had a vision. Pink and orange clouds against a starry sky. Her gaze fixed on a big white star far away. Behold, a woman with a shining face took shape, Her feathered wings stretched down. Tasha felt safe. To remember it, she made an amulet resembling wings. And she learned to accept her own strengths.

In the present, the Witches of Dathomir celebrated new Initiates, taking their first steps into power. The Clan gathered in a wide circle, and women performed a dance in the center.

The Shaman sat, elevated, smiling over the gathering. She wore a bone-white and crimson dress, claws and bird skulls hung from her neck and she had a crown-like headband of bones, and her volumous ivory hair in a bun, with curved bone pins.

Tasha sat with Vonya and Lilith, her best friends.

Barukka came by Vonya. Her slithery voice said, "Have it?" And Vonya handed her a plant, likely for a poison. Barukka was so proud of her skills, that when she got her traditional tattoos, she had black face tattoos, and matching jagged stripes down her limbs. She donned a red leotard and hood. She moved, and lowered her head between Vonya and Tasha, saying quietly, "I wanted to visit the catacombs after. Come with me."

Vonya replied, "Alright."

"You don't have to come, Tasha. I know you're afraid of ghosts."

Tasha said in full voice, "I am grown. I am not afraid."

She could hear the smile in Barukka's voice, "It's alright, Tasha. I know your Jedi blood doesn't like it."

Typical. Tasha said, "If you don't want me to come, say so."

"No. I would love for my childhood friend to come."

Vonya didn't like her teasing. Spirited Nightsisters were always blunt and had a dark sense of humor, but her meaning was heard. Baruk quietly believed the taunts.

Tasha ignored her, sipping her drink.

Five Nightbrothers arrived. The women's music lowered and their movement slowed.

A woman frowned, saying, “You come unsummoned, Brothers.”

Brother Boris pleaded, “Forgive us, Sisters. We have grave news for the Shaman.”

The Shaman, Brūha, lifted her voice, “Let them through.” And the women blocking them stepped back.

The men stepped forward, and each got on one knee, heads low. “Nightbrothers have traveled from the west… the message is a stone in our hearts. Everyone in Mother Talzin’s Lair… have been killed. And the Clan Mother is missing. Outsiders descended upon them… All Nightsisters, from the forests to the ancient ruins… are dead…”

Brūha sorrowfully said, “Yes… the Spirits were disturbed… Hundreds of voices cried in terror and pain. The cries of war.” The women around her were in disbelief, and panicked whispers filled the air. Mother Talzin ruled all clans. Now, there was no head. And the Shaman was left in charge.

Another woman chimed in, “This can’t be. The Great Mother gone? You don’t imply she fled from battle.”

While they spoke, Tasha noticed one man didn’t bow his head as low, as if he was just complying. His expression was not timid or solemn like his Brothers, and his amber eyes were vigilant. A defiant male didn’t threaten their authority, but it bothered Tasha and stirred curiosity. She remembered his face.

Brūha stood, “Thank you, Nightbrothers. With this in mind, I will consult the Spirits. Go.” The zabrak left. The old woman continued, “Sisters, do not leave the forest. I feel your fear and anger, but we won't go anywhere without a Clan Mother. I will return.” Brūha disappeared into her home.

Barukka complained angrily, “I hope we don’t idle for long. When outsiders face one of us, they should face us all.”

...

The next day, just after sunrise, Tasha, Vonya and Lilith went foraging. They grabbed bags, knives, and weapons, then entered the forest.

Small platos and twisted branches were above, puddles and Bleeding Gut plants lay below. They stayed vigilant for any danger, from predators to little venomous reptiles.

The young women began cutting off prickly fruits and digging roots, mindful to leave the immature plants.

By a pool, they spotted muddy tracks of a predatory Nydak. Vonya looked for more prints. “It went this way,” she said pointing, and they went the opposite way.

Lilith broke the silence, “Was that a nightmare? Nightbrothers coming unsummoned, and saying the Mother is gone?”

“No,” they answered.

Lilith continued, “Spirits protect her.”

Vonya replied, “Baruk wishes Mother Talzin will come, and rally the remaining Clans.”

As they walked, Tasha spoke her mind. Lately, to be strong, she became a bit defiant. “I never wished her harm, but she didn’t reject the broader galaxy. I did not like Mother Talzin’s practices.”

Lilith said, “Sister?”

“We rightfully don’t trust Outsiders, yet she sent warriors for the highest bidder, or traded her children for alliances. Dathomir has all we need, yet she wants outside technology, and their prosperity.”

Lilith replied, “Y-yes. She did make us prosper.”

Vonya countered calmly, “Do not question her rule. The Spirits chose her. If you become Mother, then you may dictate what we do.”

“Yes,” Tasha agreed.

They continued harvesting. Talzin wasn’t a hypocrite to Tasha, just didn't treat her family as hers. So many questions.

~ ~ ~

Chapters

Part Two: "Questions?"

Part Three: Nightbrothers

Part Four The Test

Part Five: The Mountain Clan

Part Six: Confession

Part Seven: In the Shadows

[starwars-tnichythe1]

Dathomir is just cool

(These are concept art from StarWars.com, concept art for Jedi: Fallen Order, art from The Book of Sith, and this last one, a screenshot of a background on Youtube Ambient music video. The stars were a Google image.)

Nightsister seven part fanfic on my blog, for any that are curious.

[starwars-tnichythe1]

Sins of the Mother

(Nightsister Fanfiction)

~Note: The Nightsisters have a Book of Shadow they obey. The Book of Law is a "revisionist" text with Jedi-like beliefs.

Content: Mentions of massecre; spirits and witchcraft; conflict, like arguing, social conflict and family drama; in universe societal issues.

Part 2: Questions

It was no secret that the Mother wanted to be seen and heard across the galaxy, and have galactic powers asking for her help, and fearing her strength. Others' faith started to crack, and argued that her actions contradicted their ancient secretive ways. Most around here insisted the Mother was wise, and would rally them.

That morning, mist was still on the ground, and bone chimes softly knocked together. Tasha, Vonya and Lilith returned from foraging, and they prepared the roots for roasting later that day. Meanwhile, meat cooked and stiff fruit was cut. So fragrant.

While they worked before the Lair's entrance, Barukka shared her fantasy about the Great Mother coming to lead them to battle, again. An argument started when Tasha voiced "questions", though they both knew Tasha was challenging her. A quiet crowd formed around them.

At the apex, Barukka shoved Tasha, “Ungrateful! Mother Talzin has done only great things for you!”

Tasha didn’t fight back. “I’m not ungrateful! Don't speak to me that way!”

“We should’ve let the Jedi take you!” Baruk's teeth showed between her tattooed lips.

“Girls,” exclaimed the Shaman. Everyone quieted, the crowd parted as she approached. “We are Sisters! We will not strike one another outside training.”

Barukka pointed with her long nails, “She criticizes Talzin, chosen by the spirits. She might as well cite the blasphemous Book of Law right now.”

Brūha raised her hand to silence her. “Our Clan Mother is off world. The spirits have spoken… We are all pained by the loss of our strong matron. But we will continue living, and upholding the rituals.” The Shaman came closer and touched Tasha's and Barukka's arms, head tilted to the sky, “Your feminine fury is beautiful. But we will not harm one another. You will use it in a noble pursuit.”

“Yes, Brūha,” they answered. The spiritual leader was second in command to the Great Mother. For now, her word was law.

“Go your separate ways. No matter what your opinions are, we are a family... I will continue to consult the ancestors, for our future is uncertain.” When the Force spoke to them or helped them, they believed it was the Spirits of nature and their ancestors.

Barukka was shaken, but frowned, and strutted off.

Vonya said, "Let us get back to work."

...

Later, Tasha, Vonya and Lilith kneeled in a circle on a high ledge by the Lair, with a tree on the edge. They practiced lifting many stones. Before they stacked them in a steady stack, like a cairn. Now, they were able to make a barely standing arch.

Lilith leaned forward to admire, her brown eyes wide under the hood. She marveled, “We are so close.”

“The prize for ambition,” replied Vonya.

Tasha remarked, “Ambition. Giving us unparalleled power… But what for?” Tasha stood and put her hands on her hips.

Vonya studied Tasha. Lilith said, “What’s wrong?”

Tasha slowly walked away, “…She wishes I was gone.” She leaned on a tree on the ledge, facing the sparse forest bellow. “My friend snarled at me.”

Lilith assured her, “You are wounded. Tasha, she was only angry.”

Tasha said, “We used to get along, now there's this competition and ruthlessness in her. And it is liked. There is… so little mercy. So little reconciliation. Or healing.”

Vonya answered, “We mustn't exhaust the Goddess with demands. And her power is harder to grasp.”

Tasha replied, "Perhaps that's because we don't try."

Lilith asked, "You feel we are unstable?"

Tasha put a hand in her chin, “…I don’t know… I need to learn more…” She said calmly. “Baruk mentioned the Book of Law…”

“No,” they said in disbelief.

She faced them, and said confidently, “I’m just curious. Until a new Mother appears, I want to explore. Besides, there may be some lost spells in there.”

Vonya said, “Tasha, we were commanded to not leave the forest. And that Book is full of lies.”

Tasha smiled, “I will not be persuaded. And if I am, I have you two to help me.”

Lilith smiled, “New spell tomes. Could be fun.”

Vonya smiled. She couldn’t resist either.

~ ~ ~

Chapters

Part Three: Nightbrothers

Part Four The Test

Part Five The Mountain Clan

Part Six: Confession

Part Seven: In the Shadows

[starwars-tnichythe1]

The Dark Jedi; Part 1/3

Note: I originally imagined the battle from an imperials perspective and Cal is the "boss" of the planet they invade. I added a lot to make it fit in a story.

All The Empire Understands

The Empire collected taxes from Dorin, and when the flow of credits slowed, the assigned Moff of the system came, pushing for more. Today, Moff Sticrie punished their outrage, the way the Empire did Lothal.

As the sun set, a harsh wind kicked up dust, with the scout walkers and destruction of buildings. Stormtroopers advanced across the valley, towards a settlement.

Kel Dor locals fired back at the troops, and Gerrera’s Partisans charged in, red bolts rained through the flying dust.

A dark Assassin working under the Inquisitorius participated. Her silhouette pitch black, her short dark hair brushed back, and her blade red like the fires of war.

A Jedi knight wearing a breathing mask deflected blaster bolts and killed stormtroopers one by one. An ethereal blue blade in one hand, and a blood orange blade in the other. His short, shaggy hair was thrown back by the wind.

He spotted his next target, the agent of evil. Because the Kel Dor people can be strong with the Force, and had a good opinion of the Jedi long ago, he figured the Inquisitorius’ participation was to take and kill Force sensitives.

Her haughty voice hissed in the mask, “War mongers, the lot of you.” Most Imperial Force sensitives were once Jedi. He didn’t recognize the Mirialan. She said, “You think you’re doing some good here? Our masters were villains for perpetuating the Galaxy’s conflict.”

He replied, “Speak for your own.”

Her words vibrated in the mask, “Your death will be my ascension to Inquisitor.”

The two engaged.

He fought with his whole body, spinning, jabbing and sidestepping in a flawless rhythm and coordinated footwork.

Inquisitors loved overswinging to make momentum, and try overwhelming their enemy. Her technique was fluid like a Jedi’s, but rough. Channeling her hate, she stayed full of energy and showed confidence.

A scout walker’s leg was blasted by a rocket, and it crashed onto a building by them.

In a red whirlwind, several attempts to block knocked his blades aside.

He dodged an overhead attack, but her riposte nicked his leg.

He yelled, and jumped back, holding his wound.

The woman said, “Accept your wretchedness. Power corrupts. The Force corrupts! My master was Luminara Unduli! Before long, I accepted her true nature! Under a mask of rationality, our masters were monsters!”

Familiar sentiment. From Malicos, Second Sister, and Gera. Now, he was certain the Inquisitor's were here to further desecrate the Jedi’s memory, also. She needed to die.

BD-1 on his back chirped, “Let me help.”

“No.” He let his hate flow, his heart brimmed with energy. They engaged again, his swift and messy attacks wore her down.

Like the electro-baton Purge troopers, he spun aside and struck her shoulder with furious speed. Cathartic.

She pushed him back for brief respite. The knight expertly stopped her push, only sliding back.

Her sapphire eyes wide, “The darkside…” She laughed weakly, “You’re slipping.”

His nose scrunched.

As she lifted the walker's leg to hurl at him. He stopped the metal mid air, and paralyzed her. In blind rage, he also froze a Kel Dor combatant, allowing them to get shot.

Cal dashed around the metal leg, and slashed the assassin.

She gasped, and fell to her knees. Their eyes met, hers communicated fear of death and resentment for him.

Usually, he tried to pity his enemies, but not after what she said. He gave her a swift death.

She fell flat on the ground.

The Jedi’s chest burned. His muscles quivered. His leg stung with every step.

With the loss of the dark Assassin and scout walkers, the Empire was driven away temporarily. Saul’s Partisans, however, had as much regard for the civilians as the Empire. Cruelty was the only language the Empire understands, right? The Kel Dor simply wanted the fighting to leave their world.

Cal limped to a private place, and stiffly sat down, trying not to engage his injured leg.

The explorer droid dismounted his shoulders and gave him a healing stim. BD said nothing, only looking at his human with concern.

After the medicine took effect, Cal shifted to sitting on his knees, and he reached out to the Force. Trying to block out the sounds of soldiers' harsh voices, and the burning in his leg. The distress of the civilians around him weighed on his heart. He could rarely escape the feeling that the dark is always around him. Inside him. This is his reality. He is the dark Jedi.

The Force energized him, and calmed him, but never spoke to him. He took slow breaths. The throbbing eased.

He looked at BD. “Let’s go.”

Cal approached Saul, and still frowned in discomfort, “I hate to ask this of you, but I have something I need to do.”

An eye squinted as he smiled under the mask, “Bailing on me so soon?” 

“I’ll get back in touch with you. As always.”

“I don’t like the uncertainty. See you around.” He put out his hand and Cal reciprocated, grabbing it. Then departed.

While leaving, the Jedi saw the now displaced people. Partly because of him. But anything to get back at the Empire, right? Even after spreading to so many system, nothing could satisfy its hunger. Even after the creation of a Galactic Empire, nothing could satisfy the appetite of the darkside.

As Cal stepped in the Mantis, BD asked, “Where to?”

He activated the holomap, “Jedah.”

BD whistled, “Okay. Listen to those signals in your body.”

“Thanks.”

“Even the power down signal.”

Cal sighed.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

~ Note 1: I thought to include little Jyn Erso, but I didn't want to rewrite things or shoehorn her in.

~ Note 2: This is just a random scene I thought of and reframed, & added stuff to make it fit in a story. Originally, I imagined it like a video game, in the point of view of an Imperial attacking, and Cal is "the boss". ALL I wrote after the Inquisitor's death is to link it to other chapters.

~ Note 3: This is pure fanfiction, and the characters that fight likely never meet or die this way.

[starwars-tnichythe1]

The Dark Jedi; Part 2/3

~ Note: The journal entry is just a lesson I heard, and wanted to include it in a Star Wars narritive. Idk if this would help Cal, (I want him to be okay). Sorry if this story feels rushed and disjointed, like key moments connected by vibes.

Voices of Days Past

“Cere and I won our battles with the darkside of the Force. You will too.”

Cal stared into the violet horizons, the sun just behind the orange and green earth. It felt as if the planet had crumbled around him. “You don’t understand. I could’ve held out a little longer. It didn’t have to go this way… and now I can’t see a way out…” He looked into his palms. “Maybe I can make the most of it.”

“Stop fighting for a while.”

Cal said annoyedly, “The war won't take a break with me.”

“Perhaps avoiding the battlefield will give you time to train. Train to stop using it.”

“Why do you care so much?”

She said, “You were a shining light when I first met you… It's important to me that you stay in your right mind. And that you’re happy.”

“It doesn’t matter! If you wanted to help, you would let me learn to control it.”

“Cal, this is what I mean!” She lowered her voice, “You’ve seen Inquisitors. You saw Malicos. The darkside causes insanity. It matters because you have friends. You have a child that will learn from your example.”

He was very quick to anger recently, and resistant to help, but he didn’t want to apologize. “We have a town to help care for her.”

“You’re right that it didn’t need to go this way. But it has. Let us work together.”

His com link chirped. “Duty calls.”

The long hyperspace jump between Dorin and Koboh gave Cal a chance to think. He recalled this conversation with Merrin before the battle on Dorin.

While on the control cylinders, he recalled that Gerrera repeated that he bests the Empire by not playing fair. Cal recalls he only won Tanalorr because he embraced the darkside. Himself, Saw, and others discharged Rebels burned their humanity to make a better future. Cal believed he could make the most of the darkside of the Force. But Cere didn’t. Of all people in his travels, Ravys summed it up perfectly, Without a code, you can only serve yourself.

Cere talked a lot about being tested. She saw herself as dangerous to those she cared about. After they escaped Fortress Inquisitorious, Her restraint from the darkside was admirable. She had developed unshakable trust in the Unifying Force. Trust and adherence to something intangible, to him. Faith he never understood. The Force seemed passive. However, she was never a inactive believer. Rather proactive and experienced, like most Jedi.

The sun had just set. The glittering sky was deep blue and a cool breeze put his body at ease. He arrived to a quiet, dim home. Orange lamp light gleamed on the antique bronze and grey walls. It was easy to be constantly tired and brooding.

While settling in, Merrin read a holopad in the lounge. He said shyly, “Hey, uh, I’m taking a break from fighting.”

“Good.”

“And… I’m sorry about earlier. I have been impulsive lately.”

Her attention turned to him, and she forced a grin. “I understand... I know you aren’t enjoying it.” 

He flashed a half smile, then said, “Also, what exactly did you salvage from the… library?”

“A few books, and a few data discs. I kept them in the wardrobe.”

“Thanks.”

The Jedi searched the walk-in closet, and among the data-discs and ancient books, he found a few discs labeled differently. These were Cere’s journal entries, rather than copies of the Jedi tradition.

He went to his secluded, dark meditation spot to listen.

Cere wore her white shirt and grey jacket. After reciting the date of her journal entry, she said, “There is so much destruction and pain in the Galaxy, so it doesn’t surprise me how many people don’t believe in anything. I’ve been there. I believed I was dangerous because of my use of the darkside of the Force.” Cal remembered that. How she tried so hard to resist the pull.

Cere’s muffled voice continued, “Not a day goes by when I’m not tempted by the darkside. It preys on my fear, grief, righteous fury, and the will to fight. I believe avoiding triggers has allowed the Force time to heal me. Only through self reflection and resisting the pull every day did I become stronger. Only through acknowledgement of my fear could I let go of it. This is the Jedi way.

“I know the Unifying Force has laid a path to restoration… and willed my repentance. Even if there’s no natural course, what’s right for the Galaxy doesn’t depend on what I believe. A day will come when judgement is passed on the Galactic Empire. Just like every other. Until then, I will fulfill the Force's will for healing, and start others on the path.

“Undeserved dark times will always come back, and the people that rise to the challenge are the guiding light. Rewarded are those that haven’t seen, yet have believed.”

The recording ended. Cal let the word sink in. He didn’t believe that the Force wanted anything, at best it gave him strength. The intriguing part to him was that she never stopped feeling the pull. Cal remembered Tapal's lesson that what stands in the way becomes the way. He repeated Cere's words, “We always hava a choice…” Something Cal and Cere shared was a desire to make a better Galaxy, and they fought for it in vastly different ways. 

The dark Jedi stood, and put the journal away.

He returned to the lounge, and sat away from Merrin. “…You really don’t think I could learn to control it?”

She put down the holopad, “I remember telling Cere that we Nightsisters learned to use the darkside of the Force and not lose control. I offered to teach her, and she said no…” She grinned to herself, “Later, I was the learner. I don’t know. And I don’t think you should try.”

He smiled with her, and asked, “I think I know what you were getting at.”

She ran her fingers in his hair, then said, “Get some rest.”

On Koboh, Cal reflected and faced his burdens with the guiding words of his Jedi mentors. The Jedi way was temperance, strength, compassion, and levity. Jedi Knight Kestis wasn’t very religious in thinking, but his dedication to his training was the most spiritual he had ever become. During training, he used Master Tapal’s double bladed weapon.

[starwars-tnichythe1]

The Dark Jedi; Part 2.5/3

~ Note: I had another chapter with this new Rebel Cell (half) written, but it got too long.

The Confrontation

Cal got an encrypted message from Saw Gerrera. Another attack on Kybor shipments by the Empire. He set his coordinates for Jedha.

He sat on the couch across from Merrin. Arms propped behind him, he said, “I’m quitting. I’m joining a rebel cell…”

Merrin asked, “What changed your mind about Saw?”

“Cruelty, for the right reasons… Days ago, on Dorin, we caused as much collateral damage as the Imperials… We always have a choice… This new militia I found, we destroyed a mining facility,” He huffed a little laugh, “I like Kota’s Militia more anyway… I met a few guys. Their banter was great, even the Commander.”

“You are doing the right thing now.”

“When I helped them, they showed me how it was done… They don’t even use basukas, stealing inhumane weapons for themselves wasn’t even a thought to them. Unlike Gerrera, who has tried getting his hands on T-7 disruptors.” (The weapon used to put the Lasats near extinction.) “And…they were forward about their disrespect for the Partisans, but I needed to hear it. We don’t embrace aggression, we stand against it,” he quoted Master Tapal.

Merrin said, “You also mentioned Saw has a low opinion of the Rebellion.”

Cal nodded, “That they play by the Empire’s rules. They aren’t ruthless enough. But I think they understand the need for ethical high ground for history to be fair to us later, and not undo our work.”

She wondered, “History doesn’t have a high opinion of the Jedi either.”

“How, other than the Empire’s opinion?”

“Cordova told me about the Clone Wars… Was it standing against aggression that spurred the Order to action?”

“I don’t remember how it started, just that the decision to fight was… a conundrum. So yes.”

“He was frustrated that the… Councilors agreed to participate at all… He believed research and learning was his calling.”

He tilted his head back, and remarked, “Scholars. I guess, every Jedi has their opinions on how to be one.”

“Variety brings excitement to life.”

A beep came from the command deck, and Cal stepped up to the control cylinder.

As the ship descended through Jedha’s clouds, he looked to his scanners. Lots of machinery gathered, kicking up sand. That was their mining operation.

He landed by Saul’s camp, not far away.

Cal respected these people. Their virtues were two-edged. Toughened by loss, embracing the possibility of death, and striking first with no mercy, but no regard for anything in the way. Of all people in his travels, Ravys summed it up perfectly, Without a code, you can only serve yourself.

The knight approached Saul, alone.

The veteran said, “You’re here. Good. Let me show you the plan.”

Cal corrected, “Actually, there’s something I need you to know. I’m joining a new cell.”

“For how long?”

“Forever. I’m just not a good fit for–.”

“Hey. We need you on the battlefront,” he said firmly. “Jedi make the best soldiers. You have the Force. Strength, foresight, adaptability.”

“The Force isn’t just power… The way I’ve been using it is taking its toll on–.”

“Jedi,” His voice raised and was hoarse, “The Empire isn’t playing fair, we can’t either.”

“Someone has to preserve the Jedi way. The Jedi you respect so much. I can’t do that if I’m just an Inquisitor at heart.”

He shouted hoarsely, “You don’t have the privilege of clean hands in war, boy!”

“It’s not a privilege. Doing the right thing is difficult.”

“Needless effort! Ideals won’t matter when you're dead!”

“It matters. Even after the war, we need to set an example, for future generations to be fair to us. I have friends to look out for. I have to hold the line for my master in more ways than one. I choose good because it’s right.”

“I thought you understood the cost! You’re no different than the moralistic Rebellion!”

“I haven’t left the fight. I have no ill will towards you.”

“Forget it! Leave indefinitely! If you can’t take it seriously!” The veteran limped away.

Cal let him. In his own way, Saul embraced the darkside of the Force. He had no one, no close friends, nor Jedi to remind him he is indiscriminately harsh.

Soon, Cal felt a shadow come over the sands.

[starwars-tnichythe1]

The Dark Jedi; Part 3/3

Note: I'm sorry if the fight is too long, too detailed, or disjointed. I wanted to include a few cool moves that shouldn't be ignored.

Notes at the end.

The Shadow

Cal hears a shuttle far away over the desert, but not with his ears. He felt a shadow cover the cold sand, then he recognized it. Darth Vader has sensed him. With an invitation.

Cal looked back at the veteran, leaving. “Saw!” He half turns around. “Vader is coming.”

Saw nods, and turns to command his men.

Cal walked by Merrin. She stands, “I sense it too.”

He said simply, “He’ll come this way if I don’t go.”

“Let me help you.”

“No… He’ll kill you… I need to face him with a clear head, and a clear conscience.”

She was afraid, “Our odds are better together.”

“I need to lead him away… and I’m not alone.” BD-1 peaked over his shoulder at her, but his antennae were low. Cal held her cheek, and kissed her head, “Wait for me in the ruined temple. If I'm not back by sundown, go on home, Moonlight…" She put her soft hand over his. He said, "May the Force be with you.”

He slowly pulled away, and began his journey. She always seemed to trust he would come back, but this time the possibility of his death felt real.

Cal jogged through the desert, his poncho tugged by the cold wind. He held his hood to protect his eyes from sand, thinking, All of my training, all of my pain, has prepared me for this day.

He entered the old temple, that was once an outpost. The warm sun was closed out. He found a place to meditate. He talked to himself, well, his masters, saying, “Cere, thank you for your final lesson. Cordova, for solace… Master Tapal… I will hold the line for you.”

He let the Force in, shifting his focus to the peace of space. The black void, emotionless. The stars, beautiful. Faint ringing and whistles echoed from far away. The Force never spoke to him, until now. This time he really listened. In his trance, he could feel a metallic hand around his wrist and heat hung over his head. Then he sensed an escape.

His eyes opened and his fear eased. He heard a Lambda class shuttle land outside, and he stood. His best droid friend crawled up on his back again, and he said, “Thanks for coming with me, buddy.”

BD gave a low beep.

The next room had a high ceiling, wind chimes, ancient iconography, crumbled pillars, and more modern abandoned tech collected dust. Laser gates were in every window and doorframe.

Soon, the great shadow entered the sandstone ruin, his cape obscuring his silhouette.

Cal raised one hand, and closed the electron walls, one by one.

The dark lord spoke first. “Kestis. You’re wanted by the Empire, and you’ve defeated four of my disciples. I am impressed. I have an offer for you.”

“My conviction won’t let me.”

“Will your conviction make you a free man? Will it save your comrades, or your friends?”

Cal answered with silence.

“Yes… You are close to someone… And you harbor much hatred for the Empire and the Inquisition. Join me, and only together can we replace the Emperor, and make things the way they should be.”

But Cal had heard it all before, “I’m not interested in power.”

Vader furled his cape behind his shoulders, and his lightsaber hissed like the release of steam, “Then I will destroy you and everything you love.”

Cal ignited his double bladed lightsaber, sky blue.

The Jedi fought defensively, to get a feel for his enemy’s strengths, and reserving his energy. Sand kicked up with each step.

Vader swung from the right, left, right, then an overhead chop, to fluster the Jedi.

Cal dodged heavy blows he couldn't hold back. And parried with fast ripostes, made easier with the two blades.

When they locked blades, Vader grabbed Cal’s hilt, pulled it aside, and raised his lightsaber.

Cal twisted his hilt to slash his leg with the opposite blade.

Vader groaned, and let go. Then continued with a slight limp. Slashing from right, left, right, then a jab.

They locked blades, Darth winds and binds his blade, and cuts the silvery hilt.

Cal recoiled to save his hand, and stepped back for a brief pause. The cut hilt sparked, he switched off one end. Fear crept in, he wanted to fall back on the darkside's strength.

A whole pillar was pulled down, and Cal dashed aside.

Vader levitated another huge brick. Cal was hit, but maintained balance.

A piece of stone wall flew at him. (The wall supporting a laser gate from which Vader came.) Cal fell, and quickly stood, thinking the darkside would help now, but he persisted.

BD jumped off his shoulders.

Once more, Vader winds his weapon, moving Cal’s blade, and punched him in the cheek.

Cal collapsed flat on the sand, and nearly passed out. He felt a thin hand on one shoulder, a large hand on the other. And a masculine voice saying "Keep getting back up."

BD leaped onto Vader, stabbing with his slicing tool, saving Cal one second to wake. Cal jumped up.

The Sith pulled the droid off to crush him.

Cal jabbed the black helmet, making his head jerk back, and making him release BD.

Cal stepped back, and took a deep breath. His little best friend on his back.

The dark lord stood tall, resilient but not invincible.

He threw his red lightsaber.

Cal lunged aside, and threw his lightsaber. It bounced off the black armor, leaving a cut.

He caught his weapon, and barely evaded the returning red lightsaber.

Vader caught the lightsaber, then threw another stone.

Familiar with the speed that he threw, the Jedi returned the stone.

Vader redirected it with the wave of a hand. Then Merrin made her presence known, by briefly holding the Sith in place.

Cal charged in for the attack. Vader Force repulsed them, breaking her grip and pushing Cal back.

Cal expertly tanked the push, only sliding back, and kept going. Vader grew exhausted, and deflected Merrin's occasional force attacks. The Force spoke to Cal. He knew how to move. He could almost see it play out. “BD. Again.”

He let his opponent lock blades. Again, Vader grabbed his right arm, and raised his blade to kill.

BD jumped on his back and shocked the cyborg again.

Similar to his under-the-arm finisher, Cal took the weapon in his left hand, raising Vader’s arm to pass under it, and slash his torso. Damaging the lower body's circuits.

The Sith was down on a knee, covered in sand and burns, a hand holding his side. His black hilt was taken by the Jedi.

Merrin appeared, standing by Cal. Cal raised his lightsaber to behead the dark lord.

Merrin exclaimed, “Look out!” Troopers stormed in through the destroyed electron wall, and opened fire.

Cal instinctively deflected the array of bolts. There must have been twenty men.

Merrin grabbed them and teleported behind an electron wall. They fell, then scrambled to their feet. The Jedi's eyes fixed on the agent of evil.

She took Cal's hand to lead him out. He resisted. He could stop so much suffering. BD tapped his shoulder.

A stormtrooper said, “Disable that gate!” They fired at the frame, the red screen flickered.

Merrin tugged his arm, “Come away with me.”

The shadow was still down, holding his slashed ribs, and one cinder red eye glaring at them through a shattered lens.

Cal met Merrin’s gaze. He had a chance to live on for them, at least. And maybe, to build a better Galaxy later. Cal glanced at the dark lord again, then retreated, with BD-1 and Merrin.

~ ~ ~

~ Note 1/4: I know I didn't include some of Vader's iconic moves like Force Strangulation, but the fight was getting tedious.

~ Note 2/4: I hate it when people use the Force to hold a lightsaber in place. If he lost a hand, I might have used it. Vader's grabs are more inspired by Revenge/Sith's choreography.

~ Note 3/4: For Cal's abilities, I didn't include Cal's freeze ability, b'coz I think Vader could resist it. Also, as much as I'd like to give Cal a blaster, they'd block it back and forth, haha. Also 2, dual wield would be too much like Force Unleashed or Rebel's, imo. So I gave him the lightsaber staff in honor of Jaro Tapal.

~ Note 4/4: I seriously think that Merrin could've dragged Vader down the way she did Malicos, but I know readers might think "But he's more powerful". I included her using it b'coz it can't be ignored.

[starwars-tnichythe1]

In a short story I wrote (not that great of an ending) I described a room in the old Sith Academy to have "Sith iconography". Didn't know what that would look like. I had a vague idea of humanoids fighting one another, painted with red. I think I found good inspiration.

Here is the result. I did it by hand on paper, tried to fix the lighting, sorry its scratchy and a little asymmetrical.

My inspiration was from Star Wars The Old Republic's Sith statues (which the "offices" and tombs on Koraban had), and the Zeffo's minimalist, ancient Egyptian-like murals. The story took place on Dathomir, so the circles are Dathomir's four moons.