Mercy is the privilege of the holy and the powerful, and Skylah is neither.
Though I feel really bad about it, and she probably won't die anyway, there's room for some people to intervene. Also, Dark Side will have a stronger grip on Skylah yada yada.
That... That makes you a little bit angry. "Redemption doesn't have to be... be..." you flail for the words to describe it, "it doesn't have to be this all or nothing thing like that. It can just be... just, bit by bit, year by year! If someone just gives her a chance, at the right time."
Jorden, frustratingly, is unphased and seemingly unconvinced. And he zeroes in on the slipup, not anything of substance: "'Her'?"
On a tactical level, killing is the best choice, but I don't want to move right to killing in a Dark Side temple where Skylah's already in turmoil from her earlier kill.
Skylah: "Sith are still people, they can change and grow"
[a Sith shows up]
Skylah: "Wow, it would have been really convenient for this point I was trying to make if you weren't an openly gleeful psychopath"
What are the Sith even doing on this backwater? I mean, fermenting a rebellion, yeah, but the planet doesn't look densely populated. Where will they even get enough slaves faithful servants to threaten the Republic after they carpet-bombed their capital world?
Then again, it worked out in the original trilogy for the good guys, soooo maybe?
What are the Sith even doing on this backwater? I mean, fermenting a rebellion, yeah, but the planet doesn't look densely populated. Where will they even get enough slaves faithful servants to threaten the Republic after they carpet-bombed their capital world?
Then again, it worked out in the original trilogy for the good guys, soooo maybe?
If the Sith Empire has basically fallen apart but not all the Sith are gone, one of the most obvious things to do would be "grab any place you can to wring some power/money/whatever out of". Or they could just legitimately live here. They gotta live somewhere.
Also, I'm not sure why you think a Gazetteer vote won't have the listed consequences.
If anything, I'd think it's the other way around, and she won't survive either option, meaning that the vote is about how mercilessly Skylah approaches such fights in future. The option isn't 'don't kill her', it's 'give a chance'.
Also, I'm not sure why you think a Gazetteer vote won't have the listed consequences.
If anything, I'd think it's the other way around, and she won't survive either option, meaning that the vote is about how mercilessly Skylah approaches such fights in future. The option isn't 'don't kill her', it's 'give a chance'.
It can go either way, I would agree, I just thought that "oh noes, she's a living reminder I've tried to kill someone without giving them a chance" is a bit stronger narratively than "oh, I've given her a chance, but she dead now anyways oh well".
If the Sith Empire has basically fallen apart but not all the Sith are gone, one of the most obvious things to do would be "grab any place you can to wring some power/money/whatever out of". Or they could just legitimately live here. They gotta live somewhere.
This is incredibly dangerous and while from a narrative standpoint, I think it's unlikely to get Sklyah killed, there's a real chance she could get seriously injured. Maybe even break the records for Star Wars protagonists and lose an arm in the proverbial first thirty minutes.
Of course, as a counterpoint, the enemy is unarmed and at our mercy. So, you know, bit morally fraught to kill her.
What are the Sith even doing on this backwater? I mean, fermenting a rebellion, yeah, but the planet doesn't look densely populated. Where will they even get enough slaves faithful servants to threaten the Republic after they carpet-bombed their capital world?
Then again, it worked out in the original trilogy for the good guys, soooo maybe?
"You've lost," you tell the downed Sith. "Give up and I'll let you live."
She blinks up at you. If anything, the offer, after a moment of confusion, seems to make her even angrier. "You cannot be serious," she mutters. "This is the one who beat me? This?"
"Yeah, me," you confirm. "I'll kill you, if you don't surrender." You've found some steel from somewhere inside yourself to gird your voice. Fundamentally, you're not bluffing — if she makes you, you will kill her.
Jyte stares up at you, dark eyes meeting your red ones. You're both aware of Jorden fighting the other Sith still, but even injured, he's driving the younger man back. "... Fine," she says, body going slack. "I surrender."
You had not, in your heart of hearts, seriously expected this to work. You're momentarily taken aback. "Uh... good, then!" What now? As you consider that question, your guard wavers just a tiny bit, for just a fraction of an instant. It's enough.
Jyte's hands shoot up so fast you don't even have time to run her through before crackling, blue-purple lighting is forking out of every remaining fingertip she has. You bring your lightsaber up to block, muster your defences to dissipate the attack, but it's too little, too late. Every fibre of your being explodes with blinding, thought-killing pain, seeming to stretch on and on forever.
A training session one year past. Your mother correcting your stance, from the way you hold your lightsaber to the way you're standing. "Stay grounded," she says, "use the lightsaber to absorb as much as you can, but the rest needs to be sent into the ground. Well, into anything that isn't you. The Force will work with you, it doesn't really want to be used that way, to hurt beings like that. Honestly, you need to start guarding a tiny bit before they start, though, to actually block it all."
You sigh in frustration. It's all theory, and it's difficult to wrap your head around as an abstract. "This would be way easier if Pa'ma would just help out and let me really block some."
"Yeah," Mom agrees. "It would be, probably."
"So why won't she?" you sound a little petulant, and you don't love that.
Your mother lets go of you, and you deactivate your lightsaber as she moves around to face you. She's barely taller than you, a human woman of well preserved middle-age, blonde hair not yet showing any grey. The two of you are standing in a familiar training room, natural sunlight coming in through an angled ceiling, floor worn underfoot. It's summertime, but not horribly so. She grins at you. "Because she loves you, Lah-lah."
You're way too old to still be called 'Lah-lah', you feel. But one battle at a time. "What does that have to do with anything?"
"If you knew what it feels like to get hit by that stuff, you wouldn't need to ask." Your eyes drift involuntarily down to her left forearm, all these years later still marked by a fading tracery of branching scars.
"It can't be that bad," you insist, even though you know you've you've lost the argument.
You were wrong, wrong, wrong. The lightning finally stops after several agonising seconds. You realise you're on your knees, lightsaber having slipped out of a spasming grasp. Someone is roughly holding your head up by your hair with a mangled hand, pressing your own lightsaber so close to your throat that you can feel a layer of skin burning away. There's also shouting. Lots of shouting, but you can't make sense of anything.
The fighting has paused, and you catch sight of Jorden, frozen as he stares at you, listening to whatever Jyte is yelling at him. The last thing you see, before the rushing darkness takes your consciousness, is Jorden dropping his own weapon to the ground.
==========
Avress
"Skylah?"
"No," you groan, pushing yourself up to your knees. It wasn't a comfortable landing, leaping into the ruin ahead of the rapidly closing door. Your arm still stings from the blaster bolt that skimmed it. The room is pitch black, but you're still holding your saberstaff. You ignite half of it again, bathing your surroundings in green light. Standing over you, covering his eyes against the sudden flash, is the shifty looking Pantoran. Keel. "It's Padawan Dar," you tell him.
He frowns, taking his hand down as his eyes adjust. "Where is she? Is she still out there?" He gestures vaguely in the direction of the door that sealed behind you.
You consider that question, a little abashed, all considered. "She stepped in and saved me from a blaster bolt to the chest," you admit. "There was a grenade, though, and... well, she's still outside, but she's with Master. They'll be fine."
"Really."
"Yes!" His skepticism bothers you. It's unwarranted, you tell yourself. Your master is a seasoned Jedi Knight, quite possibly on the verge of being made a Jedi Master, once he's completed your training. A veteran of the Dromund Kaas invasion, with experience righting wrongs and moderating disputes all across the galaxy. He's not about to be brought down by something like a few fools with blasters.
... even if you nearly were, yourself. You stagger to your feet, a painful twinge in your arm causing you to make a slight whimper that you don't manage to suppress. Hopefully, Keel didn't hear that.
"Are you okay?" he asks.
Or not. "I'm fine! It just grazed me!" You shrug off his attempts to investigate the wound, or help, raising your saber higher to get a better look at the room you're both standing in. You're standing in an antechamber, an odd, large room with a ceiling slanting on four sides up to a single point. Like the top of a pyramid. The walls are covered with dense, arcane-looking writing, in a language you don't recognise. Directly in front of you, taking up most of the room, is a stairwell descending downward like a gaping maw. On the far side of it, life-sized and staring right at you, is a statue of a Pureblood Sith, pointing one hand imperiously down the stairs. Its eyes seem to follow you as you shift to avoid its line of sight.
The feelings you've been getting since landing, of darkness and volatility, seem utterly suffocating in here.
"What's the call?" Keel asks.
You frown at Keel, who is fishing in his jacket for a small light, its white glow balancing out the pure green tones from your saberstaff. "The 'call'?"
"The door's stuck," he points out. "Elra couldn't budge it, and neither could your Master. So that's no good. Waiting around for Skylah to stop being busy seems like... not a great bet, right now, and Rist is down here too. She at least knows how to open the door, right?"
You try to parse the different mix of feelings from him, when he mentions Skylah, Eltra and Amira Rist. "You are... concerned for Skylah?" you surmise. "I can feel it in your emotions."
He scowls. "It is way less cute when it's you doing that," he says. "Yeah, I'm worried. I kind of only just met her, but she... helped me out first thing, and I'm the one who dragged her out here. She's been straight with me." Keel shakes his head. "I can't do anything to help her out now, though, so... I say we try to find my sister, who we maybe can help."
A good Padawan would want to keep an eye on the Interlopers, make sure they don't touch anything they shouldn't. A Jedi knight can (theoretically) handle herself for a little bit longer.
