Log:Sith-Jedi: Felucian Blindside

Sith-Jedi: Felucian Blindside

OOC Date: September 14, 2022
Location: Felucia
Participants: Jedi Order: Kasia Ashkuri and Rune; Sith Empire: Tarq Najjic and Darth Ferren

Who knows what has brought both the Jedi and Sith to the same place on Felucia? Just kidding, there's actually quite a good reason.

A deserter from the Sith Empire is on the run. If any indication was needed on how desperate they were to escape, the fact that they have come here should suffice. The distress call had come in to the Jedi through a circuitous route, but it checked out as authentic, and a chance to get a peek behind the curtain of the Sith's workings.

By the same token, the Sith have wasted no time in mounting a pursuit, and now a dark-winged star courier rests in the fetid fungal jungle with its dark messengers on the prowl.

There are few landmarks an offworlder could locate on Felucia, and the Sacred Abyss, an ancient and expansive sarlacc beast visible from high in the sky like a sore radiating out from where the creature resides in its center. The deserter, still dressed in his mussed and torn uniform, huddles as close to the sarlacc as he dares to approach beneath a spreading shroomcap, shrinking back as a tall man, garbed in black fabric and metal, steps into the glade. A long, heavy cape falls behind him, and the deserter shrinks back at the sense of his presence.

The message proved to be authentic, and luckily Kasia was near enough and in the company of her padawan that it made sense for them to respond. Knowing that the Sith Empire will likely have some sort of presence here, she is well armed and ready to move before the ship even enters the atmosphere, and she looks a smidge tense as they touch down on an open field not too far from the sarlacc that hopefully won't eat the ship while they're gone. "Keep on your toes here, there's no telling what we'll find. Nothing friendly, and that includes all the local flora and fauna, this world is deadly." The ramp for the ship lowers and she descends at once, following a small map with landmarks and a small beacon that guides their way. "Let's go."

And then she's off, luckily having had her heavy duty boots handy for the expedition, she moves with more concern for speed than stealth, so by the time they arrive in the area where the black clad man is, the chance of sneaking up is pretty nil.

During the trip, the broad-shouldered Kuati was not talkative. On the flight he read up on the target and the planet. Since landing, his head has been on a swivel, his movements stiff, and his air distracted. Something is bothering him: the fabric of life that he parses in passing on Nar Shaddaa, the fleet, or even on Coruscant is thick, layered, and oppressively pervasive here on Felucia.

His velvet cape's movements are slow and heavy, belying the distracted mind of its wearer. He has made no concessions to the climate, still wearing the silk chiffon shirt with gemstones and belled sleeves, and the shimmering black linen pants. His boots have the mud, offal, and assorted substances secreted by the denizens of this swamp ruining what was once a careful polish.

As they approach the deserter, he says quietly to Ferren, "Whole place feels wrong. Tarq Najjic thinks maybe is sarlacc; maybe-"

His head turns slowly to his right, the closest humanoids finally coming close enough that his consciousness in the web twigs to them. He lets out a sigh when he sees who it is. "Turn 'round. Leave." He jerks a thumb at the deserter, who appears to be trying to disappear into the ground. "Comes - with - us."

Having just been speaking about the mysterious Sith and their secretive plans the other day this almost felt a bit like a trap, as the two Jedi made their way down the Crisis's ramp toward the distress call. This was the first time Rune had been to Felucia and he can definitively say he hates it. With a promise of unusual and great alien beauty, the world instead is home to nothing but inhospitable and dangerous wild and plant life... quite like his home if Ossus were bathed in a light green hue.

Regardless, Kasia rarely gives anything but good advice and her warnings of the planet are heeded, the black cylinder of his lightsaber already in hand as they beat feet across the surface. Making for the giant Sarlacc, a rather easy target to track, the pair step from the wild to find the Sith already having found their man, a not so pleasant request directed at them in so few words. "I would think if he wished to come with you he would not be cowering in fear." The ripe emotion streaming from the deserter as if he were clutching a neon sign that said, 'I'M AFRAID'.

With a glance toward his Master, Rune's thumb itches at the green button that would call forth his blade, the tension of the moment already working well on the Padawan's nerves.

Darth Ferren doesn't need to look over his shoulder to know when the Jedi arrive; his head simply lifts from staring down the location of the deserter to the view of the scene at large, taking in the sarlacc where it writhes vaguely in its pit, surrounded on all sides by the tall fungal growth that rings it in like a haunted ampitheatre.

He turns with steady steps until he faces the pair, master and apprentice. Dark eyes gaze steadily at the two of them with none of the dismissive attitude of his own apprentice. "You know who I am." He wears no mask, and no modulator hides his low voice. The lightsaber at his hip is easily unshackled, the blade igniting with the classic hiss of red fire. "And I know /what/ you are. What you have come for belongs to us, I'm afraid. No? You see his uniform?" His off-hand gestures back with a finger at the shrinking figure under the mushroom cap, only boots really visible from how deeply the pilot has crawled up against the thing.

"They won't go," he mutters to Tarq under his breath. "But I respect your optimism."

Kasia's hand is already on her lightsaber as Tarq tells them to leave, her response to that is to tug the weapon free of it's home on her hip and hold it in hand. "Or you could leave." Her gaze moves from the familiar, eccentric figure to the cowering man. "As he said," she cants her head toward Rune without looking at him. "Looks like your friend doesn't want to go with you, so I will ask that /you/ leave instead, and make this easier for all of us. Make the right choice here, Tarq. Make the better choice, even, and turn your back on that madness. There's nothign for you at the end of that road but despair." She doesn't move to attack, but seeing that red blade, she ignites her own saber and takes a defensive position.

The man sniffs in hoity-toity fashion, then makes a face. At the suggestion or at the smell of this place? "Despair takes /all/ - who lack - conviction." He unclips his lightsaber from his belt, flipping the switch to ignite it and holding it up and out. "Many a Jedi, in their end."

"If will not leave," he says slowly, "Will give you /reason/ to depart." He raises the saber, pointing it at Rune and stepping closer to the apprentice, stepping as he does so to half-circle the Ysanna so he is between the Kuati and Kasia. He voice is unapologetic: "Nothing personal." He takes a few more steps closer. "Whoever you are." And he whips the blade out in a horizontal swipe at Rune, then another few cuts and an outstretched lunge before stepping back.

See, Kasia gives excellent advice and makes generally good decisions... the same can't be said for the youngest of the group, the Ysannan pretty much already moving forward to meet his rival before the Sith takes his first step forward. In his initial stride the emerald blade is called forth, springing from the cool metal hilt in his hand, the humming weapon brought skyward defensively as Tarq advances.

The first attacks are easily seen and felt, the Force helping to move the young Padawan's body as the ruby blade passes by. However, in his haste to score an attack, Rune steps forward into the unforeseen lunge, said red blade passing easily through the sleeve of his robe. Rune steps back in shock, looking at the seared hole in his coat. "It feels a little personal, I must admit." the initiate states before he goes to work. Three rapid slashes scorch the air around the eager Sith, Rune turning and bringing the weapon to bear time and time again, only slowing to regain his footing before the saber is brought to guard.

Ferren's brow lifts slightly as Kasia's pink saber makes its debut. "Now that is a new one," he demures to himself, but he recovers himself shortly, raising his voice back to a conversational tone.

"Despair?" the dark lord chuckles dryly as he advances on the lady Jedi, his red saber held low at his side. "As if it waits at the end of the road and not at every stop along the way. Despair and I are no strangers." The crimson blade licks forward sharply, clashing against hers, holding it in place. Flashes of light play across the crags of his features as he somehow glowers and grins at the same moment. "We're old friends." As the clash breaks, his weapon swings back twice more, each time turned aside by hers or avoided completely.

"It took your old friends, it'll take you too," Kasia tells Tarq, but he's moving in on Rune, and Ferren is addressing her. "Of that I have no doubt," she answers as the pink blade rises to meet red, sparks bursting outward at the contact. She twists out of the way of the second swing, and again rebuffs the third with a loud squeal and shower of sparks. "Your sort always tell a sort of truth, and a big dose of denial on what always happens to you in the end." As she's speaking she presses the attack, three slashes at the dark-clad man in quick succession, but none make contact with the desired target. She is aggressive when she attacks, and fast, just not quite fast enough.

"Okay, bit personal," Tarq concedes. He launches a thrust towards Rune, finding no purchase, but then presses the red plasma beam against Rune's green. Sounds of static and flashes of light. "Is not every fight, when close enough to spit on them?" He brings his grip up to his shoulder, freeing his blade over the top of its bind with the Padawan's and bringing it down in an oblique cut towards his opponent's arm that scores a hit. "Take moment - for introductions, then." A followup slice misses.

He fades back a few steps and spreads his arms wide. "Am Tarq Najjic. You are?"

"It is no wonder then, that you are such a stick in the mud." Rune quips at Ferren over the clashing of sabers and stomping of boots, each of the two colliding in a hail of sparks and sound. He probably should have paid more attention to the fighting going on between himself and the Sith apprentice, his confidence growing after narrowly avoiding another fierce attack, the Jedi sliding inside Tarq's guard to lock blades. Instead, he had gotten caught up in the battle of words being tossed about by his Master and the Sith Lord. For his dallience he receives a saber blade slash down his forearm, the bright crimson dragging a deep cut from elbow to wrist, nearly severing the arm from his body...

"Nnnnnnhhhh!" Wide eyes of surprise meet the assaulter, stumbling back, just barely able to avoid the third attack that would see him done. Rune's injured arm is buried in the robes at his waist, trying to prevent the limb from detaching entirely.. "L-lucky.... lucky shot." he groans, stepping forward to floppily return an attack. Each swing telegraphed from nearly a mile away, the Padawan well and wholly out-matched, only in the fight through sheer stubborn will.

Rune doesn't give his name, any and all thought that remains with the Jedi simply maintaining his survival and the ability to clutch the glowing device that may keep him alive.

"What happens in the end?" The corners of Ferren's eyes crinkle in amusement as he catches her blade again, enjoying the opportunity to flex his muscles, both literally and metaphorically. "What happens in the end is very simple. Death comes for all of us. Subsumed back into the living Force, that's what your Jedi teachings say, is it not?" The pink flickers and sparks against the red, close in hue but very different in tone.

"Your padawan, if you call them that, looks like he'll be finding out shortly," the Sith lord remarks with a glance past the master towards the foundering apprentice. "Perhaps he will send you missives from the beyond, to explain the ways in which I've bent the truth." His words are both wry and mean-spirited, dark eyes watching Kasia's face more than her body or blade.

It's impossible to miss the sound of Rune being hit, but Kasia doesn't dare take her eyes off her opponent and open the door to joining him. It is nice to flex the muscles here, even if the stakes are a bit higher than she personally cares for, but she's competent with the weapon, and faster than one might expect her to be. "Are you okay?" she calls while blocking a hit, pushing back with the force of the contact. She slashes once, twice, and that second one comes so close. So very close. There's a momentary flash of a person who is enjoying this more than she probably should, but she reins that in hard, drawing a breath and trying to center herself. "All of your words are twisted, that's just how it is with you all. Twist, poke, provoke, try to get under skin to get a reaction. You're not the first of your kind I've known."

The Ysanna is no match for him, it's clear. It's time to finish off Rune, and pivot to join his ally. Two on one, their odds would be greatly increased.

Tarq's gaze shifts, looking at Kasia, engaging in a battle of words and weapon with Darth Ferren. Then he turns his inner sense and eyes both over to the Dark Lord of the Sith. Imposing, implacable, ideologically impervious - a true believer with a vested interest in the system and philosophy they've spread from Coruscant outward. That will never change.

The fingers around his lightsaber flex out and then back, as he looks back down at Rune. Then he turns away from Rune - and towards Darth Ferren. "Should - have listened - to Sebek. Do not know what proper thing to do is," he admits. "But is closer to this than that."

" His blade flicks forward in a quick poke and a chop, neither hitting, before an upwards slash seems to make it past the Dark Lord's defenses.

"I.... I am... I am fine." comes the rambling stutter that spills from Rune's lips. He is most certainly not fine, his legs are wobbly, his remaining good wrist feels like jelly, and the lightsaber in his hand is all but clattering to the ground. Rune's blood would also be flowing if it weren't for the wound being cauterized the instant he was injured. Weary eyes are locked onto his opponent, his boots shuffling on the ground while he tries to maintain his defense, lightsaber raised in an attempt to stop an attack when it comes.

Rune's hazel eyes watch as Tarq readies his saber to deliver what will probably be the final blow, any sort of strength could easily push through his block and part his life from his body.... and then the ruby saber slashes at his Master instead...

With what is perhaps the widest-eyed reaction yet, the Ysannan watches as the duel shifts, an unexpected ally in this moment of absolute pain... that was delivered to him by the one now attacking the other Sith. Rune doesn't understand, nor does he pretend to, instead he fumbles backward until he is behind Kasia, saber still held at the ready though his entire being sags toward the trampled dirt.

"It is the natural course of things," Ferren is saying to Kasia, turning aside one of her blows only barely, a close call that brings a genuine smile rather than fear to his face, though the smile is swarthy and grim. "You've a touch of the dark in you, yourself! Feels good, doesn't it?"

It's all going so well, until he notices Tarq standing off to the right, giving him an odd look. The look he's been waiting to see the Kuati give him.

When the twin sabers come in at him, he steps back from one attack, bats one aside, and the last comes so close that his hand snaps out to stop it. The line of white-hot plasma halts in its upward swing, the crimson halo around it wuthering and juddering back as it meets the force of his will, beads of sweat standing out now on the dark lord's brow.

The black amusement evaporates, and all is storm and fury as he turns on Tarq instead, and it is hard to imagine two fighters more opposite, the towering powerhouse bearing down on the willowy acrobat with pure brute force brought to bear. The two Jedi are all but ignored, the deserter huddled under the fungus forgotten.

The grin, the question about the dark in her, Kasia meets it with an unhappy expression that in no way denies the existence of the darkness in her. She knows about it, tries to fight it, but those who recognize it can sometimes spot it in her. It's there. Always there. She doesn't have a chance offer a retort to the dark figure's question though, because a surprise attack comes at him from the side. Not one to miss her chance, she scrambles back from their fight and points at the huddling figure they all came here to find. "You. Do you want to live? Come with me now!" She can fight Ferren another day, another time, her focus goes to Rune next. "Can you walk? If so on your feet." She doesn't try to leave yet, but the preparations are being made for a departure from this now very strange situation.

Blocking those kinds of attacks isn't really in the cards. At best he can drive aside an thrust, and rely on his footwork with the interjections of his blades to keep from getting pummeled. Eyes narrowed, looking less angry than he is determined, the two battle back and forth, counterattacks getting blocked and rebuffed in turn.

At last, as a downward chop would catch him, Tarq slips slightly to the side - close enough that a few curls of his hair are burned and sliced - but moves himself close enough with the dodge that he is free to make a cut towards Ferren's torso. "Could use - ride," he says, backing up with blade still out.

Walk, he can do... that's about the only thing Rune is able to do at the moment, the stabs of pain ratcheting up his arm, the limb itself feeling like it is on fire. He nods to his Master with his emerald saber still held wobbly before him. The two begin their retreat, looking to make the duo a trio if the deserter gets the stones to run. Through the agony all he can think is what a weird group the Sith are... turning on each other just as soon as they would turn on an enemy. If nothing else, he's happy he doesn't have to watch his back around the Jedi.

Outnumbered by far and caught off his footing, Ferren's attempt to shift his focus entirely to the traitor in the ranks bears scant fruit. The same power and size that make him a menace to those without a lightsaber prove an exploitable weak point for the faster fighter as Tarq slips under his defenses and scores a deep gouging blow to his side.

The dark lord collapses under the weight of his ambition, undone, ironically, by his decision to hope that people can change.

As he lies back in the mud, gasping for air, his lightsaber deactivated, he barks out a wet chuckle, dark eyes glinting as they stab in the Kuati's direction. "I don't blame you, Najjic. I blame myself. Go." He coughs, glancing at the Jedi. "Use more prudence than I."

No more wise words left to utter and little air left to say them, he cages himself about with black looks and the sensation of an dying tiger; it has an expiration date, but gettting too close too soon could be a poor decision.

This is not at all how Kasia expected any of this to go, her eyes track the dark clad man as he topples back into the mud and muck of this world. She doesn't dare to get close, instead skirting around the man to try and urge the original traitor to move -- provided he is still there -- and either way she eventually looks back to Ferren. "You can make the same choice that he did." The offer is put out there, but this is an injured beast, and she knows better than to get too close, or provoke too much. Instead she turns to escort the others back to her ship so they can escape the world before they find their way out interrupted by orbital bombardment.

Flowery speeches or philosophical declamation might be in order at a moment like this among those religiously devoted to the Force in one of its many facets.

Tarq Najjic has neither the words nor inclination. He regards Ferren from a safe distance before deactivating his own lightsaber, turning, and walking after the Jedi and traitor. There will be two traitors on that ship.

"Goodbye, Ferren."

Before shock fully takes him, the young Jedi extinguishes his blade and looks to the downed Sith, wondering at what the future holds for such a being. Even if he could see what lies ahead, in as crazy of a galaxy as this, any thing is possible. He had been staring down the red blade of death to find the one that held his end to be his greatest defender. As the ramp lifted the wounded Ysannan into the belly of the Crisis, his eyes peered at the world that had irrevocably changed him, certainty being shaken free into a puzzle left to be sorted.