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Coventry

Jedi Knight
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Coventry last won the day on May 1

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About Coventry

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    Psychokinetic Knight

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    Purity I
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    Dantooine Crystal - Magenta (3-3=0SP)
    Krayt Dragon Scale (Gauntlets) - (5-5=0SP)
    Krayt Dragon Scale (Chest) - (5-5=0SP)
    Lightsaber Crossguard (Singular) - (4-4=0SP)
    Demicot Silk Robes (Rank reward)
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    Alex Murphy
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  1. The Knife Edge

    "Karma," the white armored Sergeant said through the electronic piece in his white helmet which was streaked with a strip of blue as he hefted his light repeater. "Is a schutta. She's been nagging the Republic's ear for years, but today, Karma is gonna nag the Sith's ear! For today, we avenge the humiliation of the sacking! Today, we get to be the uninvited guest that puts their dirty-ass feet on the table and drinks all the beer in the fridge and steals all their nudie holos! I know some of you are scared. Most of you are gonna die. But you WILL put a boot up this Planet's ass before you do! The historians always thought they'd be talking about the sacking of Coruscant forever! But them historian fellas are gonna HOWL over THE SACKING OF DROMUND KAAS!" The soldiers roared in approval in the drop ship. Coventry was silent, eyes closed, reconciling himself with the fact he would inevitably kill someone here. This was a military invasion. It would be impossible to take most of its defenders alive, in spite of his desire to do otherwise. He focused on the Jedi Code, finding some comfort in its embrace. And then the drop ship had landed. He was clad in his dragonscale equipped robes and gauntlets a brand new, heavy durasteel mask covering his face, a large visor allowing him good vision He had left nothing to chance taking what was in his opinion his most versatile weapon...Carra's staff. His staff now. He had also brought Tongg's shoto, just in case. He couldn't NOT take Carra's staff, now that he thought of it. The battle plans had distributed them smack dab into Kaas City. He went ahead of the others to the hatch. "Hey Sarge! Why'd they give us a Consular!? Aren't they just diplomats?" one of the troopers called out. "He's one of their wizards!" The Sarge answered. "Ohhhhh...one of their real freaks," the trooper muttered. "You good at throwing stuff with your mind?" Coventry turned to look at the trooper, his dry gaze almost seeming to ask: "Dude, seriously?" The Trooper shrugged. "Never mind," he muttered, hefting his rifle. "Stupid question." "Their flagship crashed in the city. Thousands are dead, but there are still thousands left defending the streets to the temple! We stick together, and we do our Job. Jedi! I hope you can use that laser sword good, 'cuz we need some old fashioned psychic murderin'!" The Sergeant shouted. The hatch opened and Coventry's green blades flashed on as he ran forward, manuevering the blade around in a defensive Soresu pattern enhanced by the staff's wider coverage. He manipulated the blade around his body, deflecting a swarm of blaster bolts flashing from the defensive barricades in the street. The Temple loomed in the distance. Most of the city was on fire. The staff twirled around in tight arcs as he moved cautiously forward, expending as little energy as possible, moving only as fast as he needed to to intercept the bolts or dodge them, opening himself to the Force as the soldiers fired from behind his moving cover, advancing on the Imperial Soldiers firing desperately. The rate of fire increased, and his defensive arcs grew tighter, faster, the green blades a bright fan around his body, careful to keep from hitting the men behind him by accident. One man fired a grenade launcher at the barricade, destroying it and blowing up everybody inside. A flare of warning in the Force alerted him to the danger above him, and without really thinking he shifted to the nearest Republican soldier and shifted his blade in front of the man's face, deflecting a blaster shot that would have taken his head off. The rattled soldier chucked a frag into the window of the office building the shot had come from. A blast echoed seconds later and he felt the life within cease. The soldier he saved gave him a thumbs up and Coventry returned to the front of the group. So far, everyone with him was still alive. He intended to make sure as many of them as possible went home, Force willing. Just then another, stronger danger flared in his senses, and he barely managed to pull one of the troopers out of the way of a thrown red lightsaber. He saw him in the distance. A man in black robes and armor, catching his thrown lightsaber. The Sith Warrior went into a Shien stance. Coventry shut off one end of his lightsaber, holding the remaining blade horizontally over his head. The soldiers headed into the blown open building the sniper fire had come from. They weren't stupid enough to get in the way of a duel, knowing they would only make it difficult for him to fight a Sith. The Sith force leapt forward, a crushing overhead blow coming for his skull at high speed. Not being stupid enough to stand still and try and deflect or block it, he dashed out of the way with the Force's aid. He then found himself blocking endless fans of fury-filled heavy strikes, and he used his own knowledge of Djem So to inform his Soresu defense, not trying to outright block, only deflect and dodge, retreating around the street at every attack. "Stand and fight coward!" The Sith roared through his helmet. Coventry didn't respond to the barb, as he was not one of those Jedi who bantered during a duel. He had always found that a very annoying trait in some Jedi. One because it was unnecessary to talk unless it was a call for surrender or the enemy to see reason...not bloody likely in this situation. Two because with VERY few exceptions, such as Inoy, it was damn near impossible to pull off well or with any semblance of talant. His silently shook his head very emphatically at the Sith. No. He wasn't going to stand and fight. This seemed to provoke the Sith even worse than words would have. He charged, attacking from overhead and the side with fast, vicious attacks, and Coventry was just barely able to dodge or deflect them, as they came fast and with as much force as could be practically delivered by his opponent. He had talant, whoever he was. And experience. He was a focused attacker, constantly trying to hit the same side and wear him down, which was starting to annoy Coventry. He parried the swipes and stabs, even as it began to take more and more energy to react. Which wasn't good. The enemy blade was starting to get very close to skewering him with his Djem So assault, and he couldn't stay here and defend all day, he had to get these men to that temple intact. His defensive arcs passed close to his body as he manuevered on rocky, uneven terrain to escape the murderous attacks of his heavily armored and slightly stronger opponent. It was with great reluctance that as his opponents blade came down, Coventry forced his blade in a high block to meet it, shunting his opponent's blade off to the side... And activating his other blade, which he then transitioned with quite the strain on his ankles in a twirling downward slash that cut the man in half diagonally, who let out an ungodly scream of pain and rage as he fell to the ground in two halves, dead. "I'm sorry," Coventry said remorsefully, disgusted at having gotten blood on his hands. But the Sith had absolutely brought this on themselves. The Sergeant had been absolutely right: This was their Karma. Thirty years of it, crashing down on their heads. He wondered how long the Republic had been planning this massive invasion. It seemed even the Mandalorians couldn't stop them at this point. It mattered little. The same people who had planned the sacking of Tython had likely planned this. From what he was hearing among the troops and other Jedi, the planets controlled by the Sith were getting hammered harder than his intestinal tract after too much vegetarian chilli. The soldiers came out of the building, smoke obscuring the vision of the cityscape and part of the temple. He could still feel its evil radiating, even from this far out. "Is it dead?" The Sergeant asked of his newly slain opponent. "Like my potential as a singer," he croaked uneasily in his malformed voice, disgusted at having to take a life. "Thats one. A thousand more of those bastards to go!" The Sergeant roared. "Lets go burn their gorram school for fascists to the ground, boys!" "Oorah!" the troopers shouted. Coventry gave them all a thumbs up, activated his blades and they all charged down into the street toward the temple, intent on smashing their way through the next barricade, and the next one after that. They met with fierce resistance at an intersection between black, imposing buildings, Coventry lifting a piece of collapsed wreckage with his telekinesis, holding the large object with some strain, and hurling it at a turret nest, purposely giving those inside it just enough time to escape it, even though the soldiers behind him ended up shooting them regardless. Better than death by crushing. More Sith appeared, one armed with a saber staff, the other armed with two seperate lightsabers. Coventry went on alert at the sight of the one with the staff. His robes were a high quality silk, adorned with Sith symbols. His face, a Togorian man's bore all the traces of corruption. He grinned unpleasantly, and Coventry knew what he was instantly. One of their Inquisitors. His regalness, even in the face of what was certainly the destruction of his empire, gave it away. Even now, he thought the Sith could win. No sense in waiting to be attacked at this point. And there was nowhere for the soldiers he was protecting to retreat. He charged forward, shifting his attack stance to one bladed Soresu, intent on keeping the focus on him and away from his allies. Both the master and clearly the apprentice charged at him as well, the master flinging bolts of lightning, Coventry letting it grind against his blade as he got within striking range, the apprentice, a chagrian cutting loose with a furious Jar Kai assault, while the master attacked with staff Niman as well. Coventry kept his senses open, well aware of a Niman users propensity for encorporating force attacks in their sword play. They were both fast and strong too, and Coventry was forced to push his Soresu to the limit, ducking, dodging, parrying, shunting the apprentice's right hand blade into the path of his master to confuse and hold them off. He felt the burn creep into his muscles. A warning flared in the Force came as he sank deeper into the passivity of form three, not daring to apply any of the others he knew due to not wishing to take too many risks with the lives of those under his protection. He saw the snarling hate began to creep up the masters hand in the form of an electrical arc, and Coventry force jumped overboth of them as it discharged, and in that moment of terminus in his air time, he saw the world go upside down, saw the apprentice turning, screaming in rage and force jumping through the air... ...and getting peppered by some well aimed shots from the Sergeant's repeater. The Master turned, snarled, at the soldiers, clearly surprised as Coventry landed. He broke into a a Force dash, staff casually deflecting their shots. Coventry calmed himself, focused, and held out his hand, concentrating on the ground beneath the Inquisitor. The Inquisitor yelled in surprise as he began to lift up, spinning around in a mini whirlwind. "NOW!" The Sergeant yelled, and the platoon opened fire, even as the panicked Inquisitor desperately tried to hold off the storm of shots and uselessly misaiming his lightning while trapped in the whirlwind, Coventry straining hard to keep it going even as the Sith struggled to escape it. The Inquisitor gave a death cry when the bolts inevitably got through, blasting large chunks of him off and killing him instantly. Coventry ran up to them. The soldier he had saved from sniper fire, the one who had landed the shot that had blown the Inquisitors head off, gave him a thumbs up. Coventry returned it. "Hot damn, I never thought I'd get to kill a Sith set to spin cycle. Truly this is a day of miracles!" The Sergeant boasted. "You, Jedi...you're alright in my book." "Mutual," was all Coventry said. The Sergeant nodded, and the pair took point ahead of the others, prepared for any danger at this point.
  2. Knighting Ceremony of Coventry Desperaux

    "I will look into it immediately. But I'll need a ship, and a pilot, if you can swing that. Do you know anything else about the matter?" Coventry asked, eager to get as much info as possible before setting off for assignment. "Have these 'whispers' said anything about whether any of these supply thefts have gotten violent or whether any thefts got botched? Also, about these medicines...are they specific kinds or do they vary? Where were a good deal of these meds bound on the rim? Specific planets with repeat shipments? It might tell us something about the people stealing them and their motivations. Lastly, you said the Republic is sending the shipments. Are these civil shipping vessels or do they have ties to the military? Because, if the shipments are being overseen at least partly by the military than thats something important to look into. It could tell us how the pirates might be getting aboard. I'll look into it all of course, but every little bit of extra info you can provide will be of immense use in my...investigation..." Coventry finished, somewhat excited at getting his first real assignment as a knight. He was going to give it his full effort.
  3. Knighting Ceremony of Coventry Desperaux

    Coventry had indeed spent a night in quiet meditation, contemplating the massive hurdles he had had to overcome in his training. It had been a long, sore road, full of bruises, but he had arguably come out a better person. He felt peace after the spirit trial, his steps lighter. Like a weight was off his chest. He had meditated most of the night away and when he had been summoned to the council chambers, saw all the high council standing with their lightsabers ignited...including Eidolon himself, the man who had super mega epically castigated the Senate after Tython, Coventry, clad in his Green robes, styled in the short cut design of the Jedi Civil War, much like Brison's were, he kneeled down. And Eidolon spoke the words. Part of him almost couldn't believe it. Another part was immensely humbled. As Eidolon spoke the words that proclaimed him a Jedi Knight, giving him a short salute after moving his blade over both his shoulders, Coventry waited a respectful few seconds before rising. "I am honored. I will do all I can to uphold the will of the Force and protect the Republic," he said to Master Eidolon. As he spoke these words, a random memory triggered, of that vicious incident on Vornu. With no small amount of amazement, he remembered how his brother mentioned Eidolon had escaped that mad killer. How strange. He and his brother and Eidolon, linked in such a morbid manner. The Serendipity of the Force was a truly strange thing. It was in that instant he got an understanding of just how tangled a web the Force could construct, how great its reach was. Master Eidolon had been a catalyst. It was his recovery by the police on Vornu that had led his brother to possibly one of the darkest moments in his life, gradually exposing to Coventry what Kultram was becoming, exposing his obsession, his need to settle Vendettas. If not for Eidolon, Coventry might have not seen that ugliness until it was too late. If not for Eidolon, Coventry might have been more open to his brothers point of view on life. And that was what it took, in the end...a small window for which fanaticism could slip in. C'erian Eidolon had prevented all that just by getting entangled in Kultram's past, even if it was only in passing. And now here he was, here they both were, the Force's goal, ever mysterious, ever indecipherable, complete. He would have asked if he remembered. But it was best not to dwell on old memories. The spirit trial had taught him that. So he put it out of his mind after a few moments of amazement at where all those tipped dominoes had led to. Dominoes tipped by C'erian, whether he would ever know it or not. As he rose, his lightsaber came into view. It was three quarters the length of a saberstaff hilt, with a bronze and white color, a thick, bulbous pomme on one end, with a shovel shaped emitter shroud featuring a painted on, abstract blue eye that seemed to stare at you no matter the angle at which one gazed at it on the other, and took a slight, respectful bow to everyone present. Then he got to business. "Do you have orders for me, Master Eidolon?"
  4. Applying for jedi knight status, having completed three trials http://www.starwarsfates.com/index.php?/topic/6218-coventry-desperaux-and-the-hallowed-ground/ (Spirit Trial) http://www.starwarsfates.com/index.php?/topic/5545-bio-kinesis/ (Skill Trial) http://www.starwarsfates.com/index.php?/topic/5324-the-price-of-peace/#comment-76539 (Flesh Trial)
  5. He reached the mass of guards just as their bolts started to pelt the frieghter. He let his blade go through an arm on his right, arcing through a pair of legs on his left. He slashed through a rifle in front of him, deflecting a shot from his blind spot with the Force. Eight guards left, all falling backward, all firing. He pressed the attack, rushing and hacking through another weapon and a few pairs of arms with wide slashes. The guards started to try and break up now, trying to surround him. He didn't let them, immediately attacking those who were still the closest, slicing into exposed limbs and cutting down their weapons, he crudely deflected a wild spray of shots, wincing as one grazed him, but sheer adrenaline that day had kept him going, and as soon as he turned around, having exploited the target zones of the next three, summoning his sphere again to give himself some breathing room and absorb the shots. He waited until they all ran out of ammo. Then he struck. His attacks were quick, cutting off hands, cutting off feet, keeping their target zones in mind as he attacked, trying to adhere to Form Ones traditional principals in spite of the bloodshed. He disarmed them all eventually, but killed none of them...though given how the imps rewarded failure and now that he was quite literally experiencing hindsight, he realized that they would have been punished regardless. He sliced through the last pair of hands...just as an explosion sounded in the distance. He knew the sound. Knew it intimately. The whine of the frieghter lifted off in the distance and he watched it fly into the atmosphere in the distance. He still never learned what became of Odrania or the prisoners they had saved. He likely never would. But that was not his concern now. The question was upon him. He left the shuttle bay, sprinted through halls filled with dead, the smell of gas filled his eyes with tears. The guards were finally putting them down. Some prisoners had clearly been mutilated out of spite. Vostok kicked and kicked even when there was no further point. He gagged at the sights, unable to help himself. This was when he had felt it. Felt the hatred. He ran and ran, even though he knew it would make no difference. He could not alter the outcome. But he ran anyway. Carra Bhakti had meant that much to him. Even now, in this dream realm, he would run for her like he would run for no one else. He owed her memory that. He had felt her calling to him deep inside, felt her presence teetering. He had to reach her. The question had to be answered. The disquiet had to be settled. He reached the east wing, where prisoners were still holding out by some barricades. He stopped a fleeing prisoner, demanding to know where Carra was. The prisoner, a red furred Cathar male yelled she had gone down a hallway after the warden, and they were holding the guards off long enough for her to kill the bastard. Coventry ran, ran as fast as he could, ran until his lungs burned. He found the hallway where he sensed his master. He saw her, and his heart broke again. The prison had not been kind to Carra. Her hair had mostly fallen out from stress at the torture, a few strands hanging lonely at the top of her scalp, the blond color having gone white. She was thin as a rail, and bloodied and wounded like so many others, her ocean blue eyes having somehow dulled and lost their vitality. She had thought she had been using her own mental fortitude all this time to keep them strong, but now Coventry knew the truth: It had been the other way around. Coventry had been unconsciously lending her his own strength to keep her from breaking. She was clad in a prisoner jumpsuit like the others, her once dazzlingly beautiful face gaunt and scarred from beatings. The Warden was cowering in front of her. He was a pathetic creature, and Coventry's very blood recoiled at the idea of letting him go unpunished for all he had put them through. His features were aristocratic and fine, his hair cut in a military fashion and bright blond, with blue eyes. He was clad in the uniform of an imperial colonel. When they had first been brought here, Coventry had thought he could almost have passed for being a brother of Carra. He didn't think that now. His unvarnished evil and sadism had made it so that they were nothing alike in his eyes. They could never be alike. Never. "I...I was only following orders..." he got out hoarsely. "Of course you were, Mr. 'One, last, grand, mass torture,'" Carra sneered, seething with clear hate. "None of us may escape, but I promise you...you will remember me." Her red saber activated and she grazed his face with the tip, leaving a diagonal trench across it. He screamed, collapsing in agony and clutching his face. She raised the blade over her head, every torment the warden had ever inflicted about to bring the saber down like a lead weight and make him scream as much as he had made her. "NO! CARRA! DON'T DO IT!" Coventry shouted at the top of his lungs. "He's taken everything from me! From us! All our innocence! All our dreams!" she roared, tears streaking down her face. "He has to die! There has to be an exception! Just once! At least for someone like him!" "If you start now, you'll always make exceptions. And another and another! Until you're just as bad as he is! You do this, he wins! The Dark Side wins! Please, don't destroy yourself! End this cleanly! Prove you're better! Rob him of his victory!" Coventry pleaded, stomach twisting until he was ready to vomit. Tears were streaking down his face now also, the question twisting his brain into a knot over what came next. Carra hesitated. "He...did things to me..." "He did things to me too. Don't do this! Don't be like him! Give me the saber! If we die, lets die as Jedi! Please Carra! PLEASE!" he shouted. Carra raised the blade a little higher, struggling, struggling with a deeply violated heart. She struggled for seconds that lasted an eternity. With a cry of anguish, she dropped the blade. He caught it with the Force. "I...I'm scared, Padawan..." she said weakly. "I know," he admitted. "I'm scared too." She turned to him, trying to hope, reaching out to him for comfort. They probably had seconds before the guards found and killed them both. The ceiling gave. And the scream that tore from her throat as she was crushed from the waist down stayed in his chest, the sound recorded by his brain for an eternity. He rushed to her, watching her writhe in agony, blood flooding out of her mouth and out the sides of her face. The most perversely hallowed ground in all of Coventry Desperaux's many, many, terrible memories. He dropped beside her, sick at witnessing this a second time, body cold with sorrow at the sight. "Cov..." she gurgled, wincing as she heard the warden laugh, starting to pick himself up. "End him...end his miserable, God-forsaken life. For me, Coventry...for me..." And there it was. The question. The one he had never voiced, not even internally as he watched the Warden drag himself up against a wall. Laughing and pointing, in spite of his injuries. He stared at the blade he had taken from Carra, and finally voiced it. Finally found the courage to ask it out loud. His blood screamed for a catharsis, any catharsis. "If I could do it all over again...would I have honored her last request and ended you for the pig you are?" he asked grimly at the laughing warden. The walls seemed to close around him. He stared at the blades. Stared at the Warden. And he made his choice. He held out the blades...and dropped them, as he had before. "No," he said, steeling himself. "I would not." "USELESS!" Carra shouted in despair as he turned to face her rage. "I'm sorry, Carra. I can't," he said firmly. "Jedi cannot take revenge. Revenge is a Darksiders way. We can't take revenge, even for someone who was...who was like a parent to us." "TRAITOR!" she screamed, the agony owning her forever in her last seconds, the pain warping her spirit into a thing of pure fury. She reached out clutching her hand, and as before he felt his throat constrict...but he maintained his calm, letting go of his sorrow. Letting go of his guilt as the world around him darkened. He saw him finally. The reflection of himself. The anger, the burning rage that screamed at him as he dropped the blades. It appeared out the corner of his eye, tearing himself out of the walls. It looked like him, but was riddled with scars, its robes burnt and warped, its eyes sulphur. "She asked you for one thing!" his dark self screamed at him. "One simple thing! Kill the evil bastard! It wasn't hard! Wouldn't have ended the world! But you were weak! You were weak and she died hating you! See what the Jedi Code forced you to do! And you are still so stupid you want to listen to it!" "The Jedi Code didn't force anything. That decision was my own free will," he said calmly, letting it punch and spit at him ineffectually. But he wasn't going to listen. Wasn't going to let it win, not here, not now. Not after all he had been through. He saw it for what it was. His guilt. His failure at saving Carra. But he didn't want to rise to its bait. It had poisoned him enough already. He let it ran blows on him, refusing to feel the imagined pain that should have come with them. He was done with that. Done with Vostok, done with letting it drag him back here. He refused to fight back. It would have been pointless. He decided to do the best thing he could. He turned away from his pain, released it into the force, along with his guilt. He chose to accept the choices he had made that day. If he could go back, he wouldn't have changed a thing he did. He had followed the code, turning away from revenge, and he refused to regret that decision any longer. As his mirror self connected another blow, it shattered his evil self's fist like glass as it struck his shoulder. The mirror him stared in shock, as the whole of him started to crack and shatter, losing definition, until it finally collapsed in a pile of broken, glass like shards. Coventry then turned to his master again. "I'm so sorry, my master. I wish I could have found a way to ease your pain. To give you justice. But its too late. The only way to honor you, the you that taught me, is to live by those teachings. I did everything I could to honor the person that taught me on that terrible day. I showed mercy when possible, put others before my nigh-overpowering urge to help you. Urged you to reject your entirely justified rage. That the ceiling fell on you was a tragedy. A horrible tragedy. As was your choice in the final seconds," he said remorsefully. "But it was still your choice. Your choice to let the hate win in your final moments. And my guilt for not doing what you asked nearly dragged me down with you." The memory only stared at him in sorrow and hate, her eyes turning sulphur. "My guilt tormented me all this time. And I wondered if I could have a do-over, whether following your final request would truly have been such a bad thing. And...and I also wondered whether I should have stayed on Vornu..." he admitted kneeling down next to the memory of his crushed master. "But I know the truth now...if I had honored your request, than the you that taught me, the real you who smiled and joked with me as a child...that you was the you that would have failed utterly. I would have proven the Wardens goal then and there. And if I had done what Kultram asked, and stayed on Vornu, I would have denied the will of the Force, which called me to Tython. And though I slipped later, and fled Tython out of that guilt...I eventually came back...came back for you...because deep down, I could not let the You that taught me fail. But I cannot remember you like this. I won't. You deserve better. And I have to release you...release both of us." He took the weak hand of the memory, clasped it gently. He blinked, and they were both standing on the edge of a cliff, a whirpool of white clouds behind them. Carra was whole again, lack she had been in his 'ideal' world. A world he now accepted to be just wishful thinking. Perhaps his brother could be redeemed...but he would accept the Force's will if he couldn't. He knew it now...he wasn't his brother. He wouldn't do what his brother would do. The Dark Side was in everyone, but he had faced it in himself, and turned away from his bloodlines innate urge to punish the wicked. He wanted justice. Not punishment. "I have to let you go now, Carra." Carra said, nothing, merely nodded in understanding. She gave a little smile, the one she used to give when he made poor attempts at humor. He was still holding her hand. The wind from the whirlpool of clouds picked up. He felt peace. Felt actual peace for the first time in a long time. It was almost the way it used to be, before Vostok. He didn't fool himself. The scars of Vostok would remain. They would never fully go away...nothing that traumatic truly does...but he would not allow the rest of his life to be haunted by them, to be dominated by those scars the way Kultram was dominated by his. He would not allow them to make him ugly on the inside the way they had made most of his body ugly on the outside. He would live as a Jedi. He would take solace in that, and his friends, solace in helping others, for as long as the Force willed it. He let go of her hand, and Carra smiled as she was lifted up by the wind, flying into the gently whirling clouds, closing her eyes as the clouds closed around her. Coventry exhaled, and closed his eyes, felt something in his spirit lift him upward, and upward... He blinked open his eyes, and found himself back in the ruins. He did not question any longer whether he had escaped or was still in his cell. He had just left it. He felt...energized...and happy. Genuinely happy. Gojo opened his eyes, feeling the change in Coventry's spirit. The hope inside it. "Well done, Padawan." Gojo said warmly. "You passed. You faced your darkest, most unpleasant thoughts...and let go of them. I cannot imagine the kind of pain you were living with. It is a pain that would break many. I'm so sorry for your master. What happened to her was cruel beyond words." "We all deal with cruelty and evil in our profession. How we choose to react is what seperates us from the Sith. Carra made her choice. I hope some portion of her will find peace. She was too wonderful a person not to," Coventry said solemnly, standing up. "I wish to meditate a while, masted Kurak. I wish to reflect on what I experienced. Gojo nodded in understanding, standing up and congratulating him one more time before leaving. It had been twelve hours since he had first gone under. He was not quite the same person who had gone under. He felt secure in his decisions now. He had headed back to his dorm, but before he engaged in meditation, he stared at Carra's staff, sitting in its rest, and realized it was truly his now. He had earned it. He took out some tools and began to work, dissassembling the blade telekinetically, and began working on the emitters. After a half hour, he had onstalle new, shove shaped emitter shrouds on both ends, and, as was now customary, painted eyes on the blade, abstract, green ones against a swirling background of clouds on both shrouds. He then reassembled it and went into meditation a changed man. EPILOGUE. Three weeks before Coventry's rescue from Vostok... Odrania hadn't been on Vornu long, nor was she sure why she had dared come to a Jedi stronghold. The bald Rattataki hid her signature as she made it through the streets, the files she had gotten from Mikhail, who himself had swiped them from Vostok's computers, on a holodisk in her pocket. It had taken her a long time to find him. Months of tracking him down. But Odrania didn't like owing anyone. Never had, never would. So she had risked everything, because the thought of Coventry rotting in there while she breathed sweet free air kept her up at night. She had used a stealth belt to get inside the enclave apartments having found his room after doing some digging. Way she saw it, she wasn't just repaying a favor to Coventry...she was repaying one to his brother. As she took out the holodisk, she taped it to his door. No way he could miss it. And then she was gone. Going as quickly and quietly as possible. It was an arduous trek. And she didn't feel safe until she was back in orbit, in the same ship she had escaped Vostok in. All the other prisoners had gone to ground. She would likely have to ditch the ship to be safe. The Sith were royally pissed. They'd be looking for whoever had been suicidal enough to help the prisoners. Going to ground was the only sane choice. Time to pick out a new swamp. Odrania needed to strategize. So she decided to ask her mentor, Isobelle, who was hidden on Tattooine. Isobelle would know what to do. Odrania trusted her advice. Odrania set coordinates for Tattooine, and her ship disappeared into hyperspace. She dared to let out a sigh of relief. Perhaps she could even reaffirm her connection to the Dark Side. She had risked it greatly as it was with her altruism. She needed to connect with her anger again. And she needed to forget how good being the hero had felt.
  6. It was tough work for the next fifteen minutes, as some prisoners had to be moved very carefully, their injuries that severe. It was likely more than a few would be dead by the time they reached wherever they were fleeing to. Coventry had never asked Mikhail. Mikhail had taken so many risks in betraying the Sith, it was probably better if he DIDN'T know. Mikhail worked like a man possessed, Odrania helping him load prisoners aboard an already cramped starship. They were already near capacity when they heard the lightsabers. Robed Sith Warriors, their faces covered in masks that resembled ancient demons brandished their blades, both in a Shien stance. They were flanked by a squad of guards on both sides of the darkened hanger. Odrania's blade was out in a flash, along with Coventry's. One last prisoner, a Togorian man with reddish skin and sulphur eyes, flashed his blade on also, having clearly made his choice the moment he saw them, choosing to stand by Coventry and Odrania defiantly. "You want to kill us? Come here if you dare!" he growled boldly. The Sith and the guards rushed forward, using regular blasters in order to merely harrass them while leaving them open to attacks from the Sith. Coventry, Odrania, the alien Prisoner along with Mikhail himself charged also, Odrania and Mikhail engaging the guards while Coventry and the Prisoner engaged the actual Sith. The Sith synchronized their attacks against the two, using the strength of their blows to force Coventry and the prisoner backward towards the shuttles, forcing them to dodge or crudely parry strong slashes and chops directed at the torso and head, even while being forced to deflect the occasional spray of bolts from guards not preoccupied by Odrania, who was slowly but surely slicing through them, though Juyo was far from the best style for bolt deflection. The Togorian was being worn down, already injured by cuts to his arms and legs, and when one of the Sith managed to flank Coventry for a crushing overhead blow, the Togorian pushed Coventry out of the way with the Force, only to be impaled by his own opponent. He saw Odrania and Mikhail in the background of this, Mikhail strangling a guard with his bare hands, his blaster out of ammo, Odrania stabbing a guard repeatedly through the head with his own knife, all the others having fallen to her at this point. Coventry scrambled up, the Sith warriors attacking him with slashes and chops at the same time, and he could only crudely defend against the blows, dodging whatever he wasn't strong enough to parry, but they were pressing on him hard, not giving him time to retaliate, and he knew only the basics of form one at this point in his life. He was buying time, and dared not retaliate, only block and dodge. The warriors slashed and stabbed, and in desperation, Coventry played his only good card. He concentrated, struggling to summon the Force for his one good trick. Carra's gift. As the warriors drove him towards a wall, he parried a high strength blow with all his might crudely, barely getting the enemy saber clear of his body while making an overhead block from the other warrior. But he finally managed to tap the Force. As Jakar Forseti himself had remarked later during the one and only time Coventry had ever dueled the future Grandmaster, had it been used in a combat situation, it would have worked perfectly. This was the situation that had let Coventry know that. The Sphere flickered into existence in the immediate proximity of the warriors, red and seething, and they were caught in it as they raised their blades to attack, burning them badly, causing them to stumble backward and cry out. Coventry took no pleasure in what came next but knew that if he didn't they were likely all going to die. A pissed off Sith, after all, was always a bad thing. Inside the sphere, Coventry ripped his blade through their torsos, which were still caught inside it, killing them both. The act sickened him then as it did now. This was the experience, the experience of being so close to death that reminded him of the need for restraint. He watched sadly as they both fell to the ground, sliced open. Jakar had been right on the nose about the techniques effectiveness. He immediately went over to the Togorian prisoner. He checked him. He was still alive, but wouldn't be for long. "Thanks," Coventry said, picking him up gently by the head to stare at him. The Togorian, too weak now to respond verbally, could only give a crooked grin as he expired, eyes rolling upward as he died. Odrania and Mikhail, both badly wounded by this point, sporting burns on their arms and legs, could only drag themselves toward the shuttle. Odrania was cradling her left side. "Huh, tougher than you look, Jedi," Odrania snorted. "My bloodline is conducive to a survivalist mindset," he replied quietly, holding out his hand. "Thank you for everything you did. For the Prisoners. For me." "We were facing mutual destruction. Cooperation was necessary," Odrania grumbled. "But making the lightsabers for the prisoners in the first place wasn't. You could have just told Miky to piss off. You didn't. Your act was worthy of a Desperaux." Strangely Odrania seemed to perk at the name, mouth going slack for a few seconds before she decided to take his hand, shaking it. "You coming?" she asked. "We got some room left." "I have to help my Master," Coventry said firmly. "Coventry..." Odrania muttered grimly, sulpher eyes narrowing. "You can't seize this prison. Only escape it. You don't come with us now you may never get a chance like this again..." "I know...but my master...is my master. I have to help her." Odrania stared for a moment before nodding in resignation and boarding. Coventry took Mikhail's hand, shaking it. "Take care Mik. You're a real hero." Mikhail seemed to wince at the word. "No I'm not," he said morosely. "I was rank and file around here like anyone else. I ignored the horrors here for years. All I did was set my karma back to zero. Redemption is just a perception, a meme..." "I cannot believe that. No one who does what you did...all you did...believes its all just a cold hearted balancing of scales. Thats not what life is like. Maybe a lot of this things in this world are only just perceptions made by skewed and flawed people. Maybe beliefs are just memes...but that doesn't mean they aren't worth fighting for. You found your conscience. Not a lot of people do. You did what you did because you believe deep down...the world can be better...should be better than this. You believed it so badly you even managed to wake something in Odrania. You reached a Dark Jedi. Thats something a Jedi Master can strive for their whole career and never achieve. Believe me...you're a hero. Why you were not born a Desperaux is a decision of the universe which I find incomprehensible." Mikhail managed a smile. "Good luck Coventry," he said. Blaster bolts barely missed their head. More guards. Swarms of them. "GO!" Coventry shouted, deflecting the bolts and rushing forward to occupy the guards while Mikhail ran aboard.
  7. Technology Creation

    Well, I still want in on helping develop this. Sorry, misread initial post.
  8. Technology Creation

    Im in. Lemme try my hand at a submission. Ahem... Submission: Emri Desperaux's Zeison Sha Discblade: Weapon History: There is a reason Coventry and Karter happen to be good at telekinesis. The skill is inherited from their mother Emri, a former Zeison Sha who left the faction due to a long ago dispute, her family leaving with her in protest. The only thing Emri Desperaux, back then known as Emri Deep-Drinker, kept when she left was her specialized discblade, though after she and her family came to Corellia she never again wielded it in battle, nor did she ever again practice her skills, which tragically resulted in her death at the hands of a drug addict during her career as an EMT many years later...and the start of her first borns gradual slide into insanity. Description: A ring like construction comprised of Cortosis weave alloy with a handle in the middle of the structure containing a hidden purple shoto which can be detached via a magnetic clip, the edge is still sharp after all these years but only a true expert at telekinesis could hope to make use of the deadly weapon. Ideally the weapon would be Coventry's but if that is not feasible Id let Karter have it instead.
  9. Coventry helped Mikhail carry Luke to the shuttle bay through halls of dead guards and prisoners. Odrania spotted a badly wounded prisoner, a Rodian, begging for help, his arms and legs gone from lightsaber cuts, and knealt down. "Who did this to you?" Odrania asked quietly. "Sith Warriors...headed to the shuttle bay..." the prisoner answered, nearly delirious from pain. "Help...me..." Odrania seemed conflicted for a moment but picked the prisoner up and hoisted him over her shoulder in a fireman's carry. Coventry didn't bother commending her for it. Nor did he question why a Dark Jedi would show such generosity. Everyone had their reasons for doing what they did today. He theorized she may have simply wanted proof it hadn't all been for nothing. His comlink blared. "Coventry, you there?" came a ragged, stressed, but still feminine voice. It was Carra. Coventry's stomach twisted. It was the beginning of the end. And there was a question that he needed to answer. It was a question about fear, and one he hadn't looked forward to asking even when writing the script. And whether he passed or failed his trial would depend on how he answered it. And he wasn't sure what his answer would be even now. He couldn't know because there was still so much pain associated with it. "Yes, Master?" he called back on the stolen comlink. "We've cornered him. The Warden! I need your help to end this! He and his bodyguards are fighting hard but they're running out of ammo! They're trying to flee deeper into the facility! Drop whatever you're doing and hoof it to the east wing!" "I'm trying to get prisoners out of here through the shuttle bay!" he called back, heart twisting at the sadistic choice he had been given that day. But he decided what he had decided before. That saving what lives he could was more important. Someone had to escape. Vostok could NOT be allowed to prove its point by having him act selfishly. "Coventry I NEED YOU HERE!" Carra shouted over the link. "We're SO close! I'M so close!" "I'll...I'll try and get to you as soon as I can..." Coventry said, stomach in knots as he made the decision a second time. He had wondered hundreds...thousands of times since that moment if it was the right call. He still didn't know. But Vostok couldn't be allowed to claim ALL its victims. Coventry and company trekked through ruined, blaster bolt ridden passages, taking a few turns until they came into the shuttle bay. Incidentally it was the same one Inoy wound up dragging him to some time later. Mikhail and Luke had been busy. Between them they had destroyed shuttle bay security if the smoking turrets and sliced open guards were an indicator. Dozens of injured prisoners unable to walk had been painstakingly dragged here by Mikhail in a frantic attempt to save as many as possible. The rest of the facility was still filled with killing, but the guards were going on the offensive at this point. They had minutes at best. The prisoners still standing, light or dark, were helping load prisoners aboard what looked to be a tubular supply freighter. The truce between alignments that day had been strong indeed. No one cared what the person next to them believed. Escaping, beating, Vostok was more important. Coventry set Luke down and began helping the others load the wounded aboard.
  10. Coventry was silent as the speeder raced through the plains of Tython to the village of the twileks. Except he didn't intend to reach the village. He had a detour in mind. He had always regretted not having the nerve to go back to her gravestone. Always. He couldn't even remember what had originally stopped. He had made some half assed excuse possibly...his brain was just so rattled back then. But he needed to face it. Had to face it. Here, at least. "Pull over," Coventry spoke, steeling himself. "Why?" Carra asked, behind the controls. "I have to face something..." he admitted, not really talking to Dream-Carra. "This is off the route to the village," Kultram complained. "I know. Pull over." Carra reluctantly stopped the speeder. "Hurry up and make this quick," she muttered, seemingly losing her good mood. Coventry hopped out and Kultram followed. "What's wrong, Cov?" Kultram asked, "You been acting strange ever since Coruscant." "I don't know, in all honesty, whether or not this...dream...is real in its own way, or if its some waypoint between realities, or whether my mind makes all this real and not real in the same instant...but I know this..." Coventry said as he marched forward. "I don't want to live in this mindscape. Because it isn't the truth. Because it, at the very least, isn't my truth." "All perceptions are valid..." Kultram complained. "You would be happier here at least." "I'd be living a lie," Coventry replied as he came to her headstone. "Just like you were living a lie on Vornu. All too many times you showed me you hadn't changed. I don't want to live a lie. I want to face the truth, no matter how horrible." He knealt before the simple simple headstone, bracing himself. Carra's headstone was covered in grime and blood. Her photo was dirty and burnt. "In the last months before the breakout, you were constantly telling me that anyone, even a Jedi, should be allowed at least one exception to following the the rules set by creed they follow. I didn't understand you then, so I asked why. You said the one exception proves the true value of one's creed." "I didn't know what to make of that then, when Luke secretly arranged meetings between us so we could plan those riots. Between the drugs and the pain, perhaps...perhaps I was just being wilfully ignorant. On an intellectual level, I understood the surface level of it...how can one truly know how valuable ones creed is unless they come upon the one and only reason it would be understandable, acceptable even, to break their oath?" His hand reached out to the stone, touching it. "But on an instinctual level...I guess I knew the real reason you were saying it. Even back then, you were telling me, weren't you? That you were going to take revenge. That you planned to kill him. And I didn't catch it. Didn't catch the flaw in you the Warden had found." He felt bile in his throat and forced it down, head hanging in shame. "You didn't decide out of the blue to ask me to kill him. You had been wanting his blood on your hand for a long time, and I was too blind to see it." He stood up, taking his hand off the grave. "As I rotted in my cell after the riots, I always thought I had failed you in some way, not granting your final request. That's where a lot of it stems from, I think. That guilt. That guilt of feeling like I failed you..." A dirty, rotted hand burst out of the ground and grabbed him by the leg, dragging him into the suddenly liquid earth. He fell, crashing through something and landed on the floor of a destroyed control center, the area that had been maintaining air defenses...and ready to shoot down escaping shuttles. Coventry rose quickly, activating his lightsaber. He remembered this part. After he and Odrania had escaped the Warden's office, they had stormed the air control center, fighting through waves of guards in riot armor defending the place. Luke had caught up with them, but she was badly wounded, a bad lasceration on her abdomen, cradled by Mikhail, now armed with a blaster. Odrania was busily slicing up terminals, to prevent the guards from using anti-space craft weaponry slaved to those terminals. "Coventry!" Mikhail yelled. "Luke's hurt bad. We need to get her on a shuttle!" "Finally speaking my language!" Odrania snapped. "There has to be more than a few shuttles to flee with!" "We got a lot of wounded. We should try getting as many people out of here as we can! They've started using nerve gas! We need a frieghter at least!" "Forget it!" Odrania protested, walking up to him. "I risked enough as it is just helping you make the damn lightsabers! And it STILL didn't work! The prisoners are gonna lose! Even now they're being pushed back!" "Odrania! Please," Mikhail pleaded. "They're gonna die. Last favor. I promise." Odrania snarled in frustration, letting off a bolt of lightning at a terminal. "You're lucky we're such friends," she muttered bitterly. "They'll send people to try and stop you from taking off," Coventry said. "I'll act as an irritant. A distraction. You get as many prisoners as you can aboard whatever ship you find in the hangers," Coventry offered, knowing what happened next would be brutal.
  11. OOC Accounts

    Merge mine with Coventry. What happens to my other accounts?
  12. Swift Swords

    Master Sheol gave a long slow clap for all three. "I'm very impressed with how all of you fared here," he admitted. "And while Coventry's staff technique with Form Two clearly displayed beyond all doubt the weaknesses of combining the staff to this style, he still lasted much, much longer than I would have thought. Thuria however, is very clearly relying on her patience in a protracted fight, waiting until the best moment to attack during a lapsed defense. It appears you have an affinity for what we in the business of Form Two refer to as a Contentious Opportunity. And Inoy, your offense was spirited! You never relied on the same tricks twice and worked very well trying to fight someone who knew the same style and clearly more variants of it. I have a feeling you will become more skilled with time," he said. "I suppose that will be all. Continue studying but never forget that eventually study must be applied to the real world. A true enemy will not be generous most of the time," he warned. Coventry, having shut off his blades by this point bowed to all three people. "An honor. Thuria, Inoy, thank you for the duel. I learned much in the process. I hope you did also. I'm glad to count you both as friends," he said as warmly as he could with his defective voice. "So, either of you hungry? I'm starving."
  13. Coventry struggled, the vile creature snapping away at him, trying to sink rotting but sharp teeth into his neck. Adrenaline gave the creature strength to hold him down, while his own adrenaline didn't allow him to do much more than keep its mouth away from his neck. He punched it in the side, but this only seemed to make it angrier and it directed frenzied, clawing swipes at his face, making him yelp as one scratch raked his cheek, just like last time. That caused him another surge of adrenaline, and he finally managed to toss it off him, scrambling away, looking for his lightsaber. He heard the creature snarl behind him, heard its dirty clawed feet skittering behind him he dived out of the way when he turned around and watched it leap. Its mouth was agape in mid snarl, and he barely managed to duck, its hideous nature making it difficult to gaze upon for more than a few moments. It was THAT ugly. He broke into a run as he scrambled towards Odrania as he had before knowing he would need the back up. The vicious feral creatures tackle from behind had him once more fighting its mouth away from his neck, shouting for Odrania to help. Before the pale, yellow eyed beast tore out his throat with its teeth. He felt its claws rake his side, the fresh fire of pain followed by a sensation of wet reminded him of how its dirty fingernails had torn open a cut close to his ribs and still the creature's jaws kept snapping for him. He couldn't stop its feral strength that allowed its teeth to get ever closer to his jugular...its insane eyes devoid of anything resembling civilization. Not that he realized who it was he was not surprised that it was utterly animalistic...that mercenary on Hoth that had command of the Dark Side had managed to get inside the head of this creature, ripping out every tid bit of useful knowledge, irreversibly damaging the mind the knowledge had come from in the process. An act which, in a twisted way, had ended up saving his life...had he faced this creature in its prime, its sheer command of the Dark Side...of moving the very earth beneath its feet...would have been more than enough to slay him and Odrania. The feral monster, once a powerful Dark Side Witch, was in centimeters of taking a bite from his neck, when the beast was force-pulled off of him and onto Odrania's lightsaber, impaling the snarling monster through the stomach, and the blade instantly caused the beast to slide through it splitting in half from the waist up as the saber exited through its pale head, spilling yellowed organs and viscera everywhere, the stench of which reminded Coventry of manure and sweat and dried blood. It was a stench that permeated the immediate area and Odrania started gagging immediately, while Coventry rose up, breathing hard, having exhausted much of the strength he had saved for the breakout. He breathed, even through the stink of the fresh corpse. "What the kriff was it?" Odrania hissed. "Its no Twilek...organ structure is all wrong...and before you ask how I know that, its because I cut a few open in my day for...reasons..." she trailed. "Whatever it was," Coventry said, giving his original answer. "It escaped this hell the easy way..." Odrania tip toed around and over the stinking, slightly cooked remains and helped him up. "Did we screw up this place's defenses?" Odrania asked. "Cause I REALLY wanna get the hell outta this prison." "We shouldn't have much left to contend with air defenses save the people running the command center," Coventry mentioned. "Of course, now we have to figure out how to get out of here...hopefully there's a staircase or something. Worse comes to worst, we cut a path downward with our lightsabers." He spotted his blade and picked it up, and began venturing to the edge of the server room, looking for that door he had spotted the first time he had gone through this day. He found it, a simple turbolift that led directly to the Warden's office. He beckoned Odrania with a hand and as they made their way down beige colored steps he remarked on something he had before when experiencing all this in the real world. "The servers were destroyed. You could have run, dark sider. Why bail me out?" "You stopped me from getting my throat bitten out by that thing that attacked you," Odrania answered with an annoyed snap of her voice. "I repay my debts, Jedi. Consider us even." "As you wish," Coventry said respectfully as they went down a flight of stairs, before reaching the door. He braced himself and stepped through. ...and stepped not into the Warden's office, but to the shuttle bay of the Tython temple. "Bro!" Kultram called out playfully bidding him to a nearby speeder where Carra waited. "You're holding the mission up, Cov!" Carra called out. "Those villagers aren't going to save themselves from the flesh raiders." Coventry stepped towards the speeder, knowing where he would go next with this was just as stressful as Vostok. But it had to be done. He had to face...something...the truth...perhaps.
  14. Swift Swords

    Coventry felt the Force surge through his brain sensing Inoy land behind him and shoving a thrust toward his head. Apparently Inoy wanted to...make a point. Coventry wasn't sure if that observation counted as dry humor, but he was sure that if he didn't come up with a response quick, Inoy was going to win the duel. As he felt Inoy behind him, Coventry observed Thuria's arm seem to go slack a bit, watched her struggle slightly to readjust in the precious seconds. He decided he would take advantage of it. As Inoy launched his thrust, Coventry moved forward toward Thuria's low attack and parrying it, catching it with his other blade and entrapping it between both, still feeling the tip of Inoy's blade heading in his direction...clearly he had not anticipated Coventry simply moving forward to evade it and since they had coordinated so close together it put them within striking distance of eachother... While Inoy's blade reached him, Coventry wrenched Thuria's entrapped blade upward, using her blade tip to deflect his upward, releasing his entrapment of Thuria's blade and swinging his now free sabers in a a swift, sharply curving arc that would stop at both their necks, hopefully ending the duel then and there once they realized their weapons were in totally the wrong position now to counter them. If they tried to move out of the way of his saber points he would still nick at least one of them in the retreat and be able to defend against the other if nothing else. If they both tried to attack most of their body was now exposed. Makashi was mainly strategy but at some point one had to take a risk and end the fight, capatalizing on mistakes, as Thuria had done earlier when she simply batted the staff out of his hand in a manner that tickled even Coventry's notoriously dry sense of humor. "Ummm...I think the duel is mine...this time at least," he said.
  15. Odrania heard the snarls and her red blade went active. "What is it?" she hissed. "It's a...beast..." Coventry answered, thoughtlessly. "Oh, that's a lot of comfort, you not knowing," Odrania spoke. Coventry paused. His original answer had been "I don't know." Odrania had not acknowledged his new answer. So he had an answer as to whether or not he could affect this dream realm, at least, as far as that went. But it still didn't provide an answer as to what he needed to do to escape it. For now...it seemed he had to go along with it. Coventry ventured forward as the lights cut. Headhunter's doing. There had been no choice back then. He had tried to end it peacefully but every moment Headhunter continued to function more rioters died. "Odrania, start destroying every server you can," Coventry hissed, knowing what came next. He went forward shoving his red blade into the nearest server tower. Alarms sounded. The snarling got louder. "Intruder Alert," Headhunter announced. "Central control breached. All available assault teams requested." Coventry chopped through another server tower. "Prisoner Six psychological profile: Withdrawn, insular. Convinced of his ability to overcome Vostok Facility Mission Parameters. Refuses to submit. Intense resilience to psychological trauma, scoring higher than all other inmates. Telepathic assaults generally ineffective. One recorded incident resulted in fatal stroke for interrogator. Emotionally distant," the A.I. noted dispassionately. "Telepathic link to master exploited without success. Analysis of genetic structure suggests a predisposition to schizotypal disorders. Likely only remaining avenue to successfully breaking down prisoner is disillusionment and even that may not turn him to desired cause. Sexual preference unknown, despite repeated interrogatives designed to shame prisoner. Suggest immediate disposal. But the warden never listened. He was determined to cut the knot, so to speak." Coventry ignored the subtle taunt from the machine intelligence, cutting down more towers, while Odrania did the same. The turrets hidden in the ceiling popped out, attempting to target and fire on the two force users, only to explode. "Error. Unknown corruption in program. Suspected sabotage. Requesting maintenance after intruder disposal. "Thanks Mikhail," Coventry said, having not said it before. The Riots simply wouldn't have happened without his help. One man with a conscience COULD make a difference. Mikhail had been the real hero that day, not Carra or Coventry. Part of his insides twisted at what would happen at the riots conclusion. He fought it off, trying to focus on the positive, whatever was happening, it wasn't real. He took small comfort in the fact that as vivid as all this was, it couldn't truly happen again. So he focused on the present, cutting away at another tower. Headhunter had likely had multiple defenses to stop this scenario. The fact he couldn't activate any of them was testament to how effective Mikhail's sabotage was. It was starting to show with Headhunter itself. "You shall go to the fiery furnace of a man's dying heart. A place where only broken love and lost faith and anarchy reign," the Machine said, it's previously calm and computerized voice going erratic, its damaged intelligence warping with nonsensical musings. "The mysterious, unknown, elsewhere shall beckon the flaming sword to be quenched in its waves." Coventry sliced through another tower, ignoring how the dying machines musings seemed to make a twisted sort of sense, though what that was in context to was anyone's guess. The machine was breaking down, saying whatever nonsense jumping up its circuits. "All you know shall disappoint you." One sliced tower toppled into another, sending sparks flying and starting fires. "Is this my Karma?" Odrania got bored and just threw her lightsaber. The arc the red blade made sliced through the remaining towers on her end. "Sorry, that was getting REALLY creepy," she joked. She screamed as the beast leapt out of the darkness, just as Coventry expected. He saw it. The beast. It was scrawny, with a palid white color. It was naked with a wrinkled, barely feminine shape. He thought it had been tortured, whatever it was. It didn't even seem like a person anymore, despite having obviously been a twi'lek. He charged, kicking the snarling beast off of her, dragging Odrania up. The lightsaber was tugged out of his hand with a crude Force pull as the animalistic prisoner leapt on to him. Odrania tried to swing her saber and kill it only for the beast to crudely Force Push her into a wall. Odrania hit her head, knocking her out cold. And Coventry was forced to contend with the creature. The face was as wrinkled and disgusting and wooden as he remembered, but that only added to his surprise as he fought its animal strength. The creature scratched and clawed at him and gave him a look he had never been able to explain until now. It was a look of recognition. Hateful, murderous, dementia riddled, but recognition. And then it went back to trying to bite his face. For his part, Coventry had been too focused on trying to survive the first time around. Now, he was calmer, knowing ultimately it wasn't real, and he found he recognized it also. It was the creature He thought Carra had slain on Hoth.
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