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 MOTF Book I: BOTE Chapter 4

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MOTF Book I: BOTE Chapter 4 Empty
PostSubject: MOTF Book I: BOTE Chapter 4   MOTF Book I: BOTE Chapter 4 EmptyTue Jul 01, 2014 3:00 am

MOTF Book I: BOTE Chapter 4 Screen25
The Zygerrian throne room was a sight to behold indeed. Tapestries hung on either side of the room, with intricate patterns woven into them. Guards were stationed all around the room. But perhaps the most impressive sight was the Zygerrian king sitting in his large golden throne, surrounded by several scantily clad female slaves from a wide variety of different species.

Darth Nefarus stood in front of the throne with a group of lords and acolytes sent over from Korriban a couple of months ago. Nefarus had been stationed on Zygerria for the past decade to safeguard it against the Triumvirate. As a prominent Sith Master in the Sphere of Dueling, Nefarus was one of Darth Slazer’s mightiest warriors, with several decades of training and experience underneath his belt.

Nefarus had spent several years on the battlefield, striking down some of the Jedi’s greatest warriors with his lightsaber. Many a night, Nefarus would just stare into it’s searing crimson blade, the blade itself seemingly almost tainted by the blood of the countless Jedi Nefarus had killed over the years.

After years of frequent combat on the battlefield, Nefarus had accepted the position on Zygerria because he was needed here. The Zygerrian Slave Empire was allied with the Sith, and the benefits brought to the Sith from the slave trade were too valuable to be ignored.

Aside from the practical benefits of an alliance with the Zygerrian Slave Empire, Nefarus held a great amount of respect for the Zygerrians and their ways. Their Empire was a perfect example of the Galaxy under Sith ideals. Many in the Triumvirate viewed slavery  as an affront to life itself. It was appalling to them. An abomination that deserved to be ended.

Nefarus knew that those who detested slavery were simply too weak to grasp the truth. Slavery was the dominance of the strong over the weak. The weak existed to serve the strong, and there were examples of this all throughout nature. In wildlife and civilized life. the predators devour the prey. Heads of corporations, the Triumvirate’s own senators, and even some of the Jedi themselves thrived off of the success of those beneath them. Slavery was just a less subtle form of this great truth, and for that it was criminalized by the Jedi and their Triumvirate.

It was freedom that was the lie, freedom that was the perversion. Slavery was just the Galaxy in it’s natural state. The weak could never attain freedom, as their fate would always be in the hands of others. It was only those who were powerful that could attain freedom, and that was the great truth that Darth Nefarus lived his life by. That was the truth that had transformed him into one of the fiercest warriors the Galaxy had ever seen. But this day, he was about to be faced with a warrior greater than himself.

“Lords and acolytes!” Darth Nefarus announced in not a booming voice, but a softer one subtly hinting at a greater power behind it seeking to conceal itself. “Whether or not you survive today depends on how well you listen to what I am about to tell you, so listen up.”

As soon as his underlings turned their attention to him, he began to speak, “The Triumvirate is sending their armies here to put an end to the Zygerrian Slave Empire. As Sith, we cannot allow some of our most important allies to be silenced by the Jedi. It is our job to protect S’car Scager, King of the Zygerrians from the wrath of the Jedi. One Jedi in particular. The Jedi Blademaster Amoye Ilu.”

Amoye Ilu was the greatest duelist in the Jedi Order, perhaps in its entire history, and Nefarus knew the danger this Jedi posed. As soon as Nefarus mentioned his name, he saw recognition, excitement, and fear manifest itself in the eyes of the Sith he was speaking to. All but one at least.

“If you are to survive you must be prepared. If we are to survive we must be prepared. When Amoye Ilu shows up, we will be ready to pounce on him with the full power of the Dark Side!” he announced to the cheers of the acolytes. “We all have some role to play in this fight, and now is the time for us to determine what those roles are.”

“I can attack with force powers suddenly and without Ilu noticing!” cried out a young warrior. From the past few days of working with these new acolytes, Nefarus had become familiar with each of their names. This young acolyte called himself Flash, but at times Nefarus wondered if “Dim” would be a more appropriate name for him.

Their was a brief moment of silence before the rest of the acolytes and lords burst into roaring laughter. The Zygerrian King rolled his eyes from his throne with a twinge of amusement on his face.

Darth Nefarus however wasn’t laughing or smiling. The Sith master simply stared at him with a look of disbelief on his face. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He closed his eyes for a brief second, trying to comprehend the sheer idiocy of what had just been said. “What?” he sternly asked after the brief pause, the astonishment in his voice barely contained.

“For force feats I favor the force push alot,” Flash continued. As the laughter in the room continued, Flash looked around the room with an expression of confusion on his face. It was not the first time the Sith Master had seen that look on his face.

“What?!” Flash demanded, evidently unaware of just how stupid he sounded at the moment. “I caught one of my sparring partners off guard with a force push, and Master Ilu has no feats as a force wielder. Unlike Ilu I do have an impressive force feat, outright stomping my sparring partner. This makes me leagues better than Ilu in force combat.”

Nefarus abandoned all attempts to reason or educate him through conventional means, and instead met his stupidity with a cold glare. Their eyes met each other for a brief few seconds before Nefarus’s gaze dropped to a certain object resting on Flash’s waist as a cruel grin spread across his face.

Suddenly there was a red burst of light as Flash screamed, staring in horror at the lightsaber blade stabbing through his left leg. As the unfortunate acolyte fell to the ground, his blade still attached to his waist cleaved through the rest of his leg, all the while his cries filled the throne room as the other acolytes observed with malicious pleasure.

“What did you do to me!” Flash wailed and howled in pain and fury as his body lay crumpled on the ground.

“I attacked with force powers suddenly and without you noticing” Nefarus nonchalantly responded as the Zygerrian king leaned forward in his throne, observing the exchange with great interest.

Nefarus turned towards the king and dipped his head forward in a slight bow. “I apologize your majesty, but I’ve been waiting to do that for the past few days.”

The king gave a hearty laugh and responded, “It is of no consequence,” as he snapped his fingers. “Stupid things will happen to stupid people,” he chortled as the acolyte, now screaming in pain and clutching the stump of his leg, was dragged out of the room by two of the king’s scantily clad slaves.

Turning his attention back to the Lords and Acolytes who were now stunned in silence. “The Dark Side of the Force has no time for those who are weak,” Nefarus explained. “Weakness is more than just physical or in the Force though. If you are a complete and utter retard, the blade of your lightsaber will do little to prevent your demise, no matter how well you wield it.”

“In preparation for the imminent Triumvirate attack you have all been provided with a set of Cortosis armor that is now in your room. You will equip your armor and then you will meet me back here,” Nefarus ordered.

As the Acolytes and Lords shuffled away, he signaled his two apprentices, Sith Lords already clad in Cortosis armor to come over to him. “It is time,” Nefarus said with great purpose in his voice.

The two Lords left, and returned a few seconds later carrying a large black chest in their arms. As they set the chest on the ground, Nefarus could feel the dark power radiating from it. He walked over to the chest, and as he placed his hand on it he felt a wave of energy cascade over his body.

After reveling in the power of the Dark Side for a few seconds, Nefarus opened the chest, and stared intimately at its contents. Inside of the chest, sat Nefarus’s very own set of dark armor. Nefarus had never worn this armor into battle, but instead spent hours every day meditating and infusing this plated armor with his own dark energy. The armor slowly absorbed more and more power, saving it for the one day Nefarus would need it to survive. That day is today, Nefarus realized as a cold chill went down his spine.

Nefarus quickly pulled off his shirt, exposing his scarred and tattooed chest. As his apprentices placed each plate of armor on his body, Nefarus could feel the intense heat of the Dark Side as the armor began to recognize its master. The armor felt almost like a second skin to him, and he felt more powerful and focused than he ever had in his life. At that moment, all of his fears were supplanted with a sense of new found purpose, and he was ready to confront the Jedi. He was ready to confront Amoye Ilu.


There is no emotion, there is peace.
Jedi Master Amoye Ilu knew the first mantra of the Jedi Code by heart, having lived and fought his whole life by it. Living by the Jedi Code was a struggle at times, even when the Galaxy was at peace. Fighting a war however made the Jedi Code even more difficult to follow for many of the Jedi, and a good number of them fell short of its great glory.

Amoye Ilu was one of the few Jedi who was capable of easily maintaining a grasp on the Jedi Code despite fighting in a war. In fact in some ways, combat actually allowed Ilu to experience inner peace in a way that even meditation could not afford him. As the Jedi Order’s first and foremost blademaster, he was more knowledgeable about the art of lightsaber combat than any other Jedi or Sith alive, perhaps greater than any who had ever existed.

There is no ignorance, there is knowledge. From the beginning of his life, Amoye Ilu had trained in the art of lightsaber combat. As an Echani, he had a natural affinity for melee combat, and spent the first fifteen years of his life honing his skills in form I lightsaber combat as well as mastering the martial arts of his own people. As a young boy, Ilu had spent several hours each and every day refining and perfecting the basics of lightsaber combat, and learning the intimacy of physical combat in ways even his own people would be impressed with. Even as a padawan, many of the Order’s greatest masters believed Ilu to be a master of lightsaber combat in his own right.

With a strong foundation for martial combat built, Ilu moved on to Makashi, then Soresu, and for the next few decades spent much of his time mastering, refining, and perfecting every sequence and move of the first six forms, and learning how to use them in tandem with one another, or how to apply them individually in their purest forms. He had become so skilled in the art of lightsaber combat, that many of his fellow Jedi considered him to be a living legend. Many of them would refer to Ilu as “the skilled one.” But his training was not complete even at that point. He had still lacked training in one aspect of lightsaber combat; Form VII.

Ilu held a certain level of distaste for the Juyo and Vaapad variants of form seven, as they required him to draw on his emotions to fuel himself. Nevertheless, learning the move sets of Form VII, and learning to control his emotions when unleashing pure aggression had been necessary for the direction Ilu was planning on taking his fighting style. Ilu was seeking mastery of the obscure and seldom practiced Form VII variant, Juyo-Kos.

Juyo-Kos was perhaps the least practiced form of lightsaber combat in the history of both the Jedi and the Sith. Its only true master prior to Amoye Ilu was Jaric Kaedan, a master of combat who had been described in the Jedi Archives as a living weapon of the Force, and through his own immense skill, he spearheaded the capture of the six Dread Masters. When Ilu had first learned about the Juyo-Kos form of lightsaber combat in his studies, it caught his interest almost instantly, being the pure representation of everything he was hoping to achieve in his life.

Juyo-Kos worked in a similar fashion to Form VII’s other variants save for one difference. Rather than using one’s emotions to empower and guide them, one would eschew their emotions, in favor of the guidance of the Force. A true master of Juyo-Kos would achieve inner peace within themselves, and by doing so would transform themselves into a perfect conduit for the will of the Force to flow and act through.

Perhaps one of the most difficult things about wielding Juyo-Kos was that it required one’s mind and soul to be in complete harmony with the living force. The body and blade of a duelist must be guided by the Living Force as much as one’s own will. Should the will of the practitioner prove underwhelming, they would not possess enough control over the currents of the Living Force to guide them into their blade work. Should the will of the practitioner prove overbearing however, they would be too guided by their own will to be able to properly attune themselves to the will of the Living Force.

The further and further away one’s own will strayed from the tempo of the living force, one’s own efficiency with Juyo-Kos decreased drastically. If one managed to achieve harmony with the will of the force however, they would intuitively know which moves those around them would make, and with which moves to properly respond, with the power of the force fueling their every move, making them stronger, faster, and more precise. This was a true master of Juyo-Kos.

After a few decades of training, Amoye Ilu had become so intimately linked with the Form of Juyo-Kos that his own will and that of the Living Force had become indistinguishable from each other to many, including himself. With this great connection to the will of the Living Force, supplemented by his own Echani affinities and his perfect knowledge of every sequence and move of lightsaber combat, Amoye Ilu had become the perfect weapon. As a weapon of the Light Side of the Force, Ilu was often sent by the Jedi to strike at the hearts of darkness throughout the Galaxy.

This particular darkness was that of slavery and its heart was Zygerria. A couple of centuries ago, the Sith had helped the Zygerrians rebuild their slave empire, and the Zygerrian Slave Empire had been an ally to the Sith in this war ever since. With the protection and alliance of the Sith, slavery had been allowed to flourish and grow like a cancer infecting the Galaxy. Master Ilu was here to put an end to that.

The Dark Side flourished wherever slavery was involved, and Zygerria was certainly no exception. Amidst all of the slave markets and buildings, Ilu had seen several Sith Acolytes, Lords, and even a few Masters stationed here and there.

A few hours ago, the Triumvirate had begun their assault on Zygerria, utilizing resources and troops from Felucia. With the battle raging on the ground, Amoye Ilu scrambled across the rooftops with two other Jedi, Masters Koeing and Joydar. Ilu had trained with both for innumerable hours back at the Jedi temple, and while neither of them were on his level, they were still highly adept duelists in their own right. Amoye could not help but find himself wishing his apprentice, Kagar, were here. He quickly pushed the thought out of his mind, given that he had a very important task ahead of him.

Ilu and the two other masters were here to capture the Zygerrian King, and force his people to surrender to Triumvirate law. This was the reason they were scrambling over the rooftops of the Zygerrian capitol drifting ever closer and closer to the King’s throne room. When they finally reached the rooftop of the Royal Palace, the trio stopped and squatted down, staring at the circular skylight they would be making their entrance through. Koeing was the first to speak.

“I sense several Sith in the throne room,” the Mirialan master announced.

“Then let us end them!” Master Joydar cried out as he sprang back to his feat and prepared to charge through the skylight.

“Patience Joydar,” Amoye whispered in a hushed tone. “Killing Sith is not our primary mission here. We are here to capture the Zygerrian king and force a surrender on our terms.”

“But the Sith are waiting to meet us in battle nonetheless,” Joydar countered.

“I know,” Ilu responded in a calm but confident voice. “I will engage the Sith, while you two capture the king.”

There was a brief moment of silence, and after a few seconds, they charged towards the skylight. They smashed through the skylight in one synchronized motion, with glass falling to the floor like snowflakes as the three Jedi twirled through the air, and struck the ground gracefully with their feet. Ilu had propelled himself right into the crowd of Sith Lords and Acolytes, while his allies had launched themselves towards the throne.

Almost instantly, the room was bathed in scarlet light as dozens of crimson lightsaber blades flared to life all around master Ilu. Almost immediately master Ilu knew something was wrong. Every Sith who stood before him was encased in black armor, that Ilu knew from experience could only be made of cortosis, an ore resistant to lightsabers.

Perhaps almost as disturbing as this was the dark presence he felt, permeating everything in the room, giving the Sith strength and causing his own strength to wane. With a quick glance, Ilu noticed four Sith lords kneeling, each one in a different corner of the room. Ilu felt a growing sense of dread within himself as he realized that each of those four sith was trained in the art of battle meditation. Their presence saturated the room with waves of dark energy that were almost palpable.

There is no passion, there is serenity. As Amoye Ilu drew his own lightsaber and activated it’s blade, a purple brilliance enveloped him and he felt all of his fears and doubts melt away, replaced by serenity. He could feel the will of the Living Force converge on him as he opened his mind, and let it join with his very essence. He closed his eyes for a brief second as Amoye Ilu, and opened them as a weapon of the Living Force.

Five Acolytes were arrogant enough to charge at Ilu in the split second that his eyes were closed. Two Acolytes on his right, and three on his left converged on him. With his thoughts drifting together with the will of the Force, Ilu immediately knew what to do. He took a step towards the two warriors on his left as they swung their blades at Ilu, their moves, power, and even their breathing empowered by the Sith Battle Meditation emanating from all sides of the room.

As both blades arced towards him, Ilu swung his blade in an elaborate and elegant arc, redirecting one Sith’s bloodshine blade into the neck of his partner, and immediately bringing his blade back around to cleave the unwilling traitor’s head in two.

Before their bodies could even hit the floor, Ilu spun back around to engage the other three acolytes, quickly felling them with a series of savage thrusts and slashes at the weak points of their armor. By this point, the rest of the Lords and Acolytes had formed a tight circle around Ilu with their sabers all drawn and ready to move in for the kill.

Suddenly, the two dozen Sith now surrounding him swarmed him. A hurricane of blades struck at Master Ilu from every side, each Sith moving in perfect conjunction with the Sith next to them. Their abilities greatly heightened by battle meditation, and their bodies mostly protected by cortosis plates of armor, the crowd of Sith moved together like a single organism. A beast of searing red blades and dark power.

In response, Amoye Ilu twirled his lightsaber around him, carving intricate patterns through the air as he defended and struck back against the horde of Sith, his very blade becoming a force of nature. Amoye Ilu, the will of the force, and the violet blade in his hand were now in perfect synchronization with each other as Ilu fought back as the sole light in the dark now seeking to envelope him.

Frustrated at their inability to kill this singular Jedi, the warriors of the Dark Side took a step back as their very blood began to boil with fury. Their rage mounting, and their power peaking, the Sith flung themselves at Ilu with all of their might and power, acting in perfect unity with each other.

As the swarm of Sith Converged on Ilu for the second time, their power and focus even greater than before, Ilu was encased in a fiery sphere of red and violet light, and ten seconds it was all over. A pile of dead Sith laid on either side of Amoye Ilu as he turned his attention in the direction of the golden jewel encrusted throne at the center of the room. His gaze soon fell to the floor as horror struck him.

On the ground a few meters away from him, lay the bloody corpses of Masters Koeing and Joydar, his allies, his companions, his friends. Amoye forced himself to look away from the tragic sight, and saw three Sith still standing even closer to the throne. Two of the Sith were lords, encased in cortosis armor, one holding a saber staff and the other holding two separate blades.

Between the two Lords stood another Sith, this one encased in an armor of a different sort. This Sith’s armor was glowing red with energy, and Ilu could feel dark torrents of energy rolling off of each individual plate. Immediately, Ilu recognized that this Sith was no mere Lord or Acolyte. This was a master. A cruel sneer spread across the Sith Master’s face as Ilu noticed his plated boots, flecked with blood.

Amoye Ilu could feel the grief and anger building inside of him. Almost immediately, he pushed those thoughts and feelings aside, suppressing them with the power of the Light Side of the Force. There would be a time to morn the loss of his friends, this was not that time though. Right now, Ilu had a duty to do for both his order, and the Galaxy.

Ilu and the three Sith still standing rushed at each other at the same time, their blades splitting the air as they struck at each other with great speed and precision. Ilu recognized that the two lords were far more skilled than any in the mass that had attempted to swarm him, but nevertheless, eliminated them almost instantly. He stabbed his blade through the gut of the one wielding the saber staff, and flicked his blade into the face of the one with dual blades less than a second later.

In less than five seconds since they charged at each other, Ilu and this Sith Master were the only two left standing, but in the end there could be only one. From Ilu’s own analysis, even without any increase in power this Sith was a master of Makashi, even managing to seamlessly blend moves from several other forms into his sequences. Fueled by the power rolling off off of his own armor, and emanating from each corner of the room however, he was a true powerhouse, a force to be reckoned with.

Their blades clashed half a dozen times, the very air itself crackling and sizzling with the power and speed behind each strike. Immersing himself fully into the Living Force, Ilu rained down a flurry of savage but elegant, ferocious but precise blows against the Sith Master. This Sith was a master of lightsaber combat in his own right, and was fueled by an extensive amount of external energy, and even had lightsaber resilient armor, but even that could not save him from Master Ilu’s supreme skills.

The Sith Master was all but defenseless as the flattened and pointed blade of Ilu’s violet lightsaber struck him in a dozen different places both on his body and his armor. After ten seconds of his ferocious new assault, Ilu’s great blade angled its way beneath the Sith’s chest plate and straight through his heart.

As Ilu withdrew his blade, the Sith fell to his knees in pain clutching at the armor covering the gaping hole in his chest. Amoye quickly glanced at the pile of corpses surrounding him. All dead. All gone from the Galaxy forever, friend and enemy alike.

There is no death, there is only the force, Amoye Ilu thought to himself as he severed the wretched Sith’s head from his body. Suddenly, Ilu returned his own lightsaber to his belt, and summoned four of the Sith lightsabers into his hands. With the will of the force guiding him, he thrust one blade towards each corner of the room, where each individual blade found its mark, impaling each meditating Sith Lord through the throat before they even had a chance to stand.

Amoye Ilu victoriously turned back towards the throne, where the Zygerrian king was cowering back with a look of sheer horror on his face.

“Your majesty,” Amoye Ilu announced as he drew his blade once more and angled it in the direction of the king. “I believe it is time to discuss the terms of your surrender!”
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MOTF Book I: BOTE Chapter 4
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