suitably_heroic | Malachor V, Some Time... Some Time

Green.

The word shot through Atton's mind, bounced merrily off a couple of synapses, then escaped through his mouth as a grunt. Green, he thought again, and then: Ow. The word 'ow' rocketed off his bones, poked around the wound in his side, then took a running jump off the new scar on his chest. He grunted again.

"This wasn't my fault," he said.

That thought didn't hit him until the words were already out of his mouth.

"Have to... stop her... or she'll bring the screams of Malachor V to the galaxy... the way we carried the echo... all this way..."

Now what did that mean? Atton racked his mind for it, but he couldn't come up with anything-- and then he realized it hadn't been his voice doing the talking. He stumbled onto his feet and tried to take stock of his surroundings - grey, grey, green. "Green," he muttered. "Bao-Dur?"

No answer. He staggered towards the faint pinpoint of a presence he could feel. There he was - a huddle of horns and pale skin and blue. "Bao-Dur?" he repeated, but he didn't get an answer. And that pinpoint... had that even been there in the first place? He couldn't feel it now. "Bao-Dur?!"

Nothing.

"E chu ta," Atton spat. He took a deep breath that hurt like hell and reached inward, asking the Force to put something nice and good in his cracks, the parts that hurt. When he opened his eyes again, he could see more clearly - Bao-Dur's body, yes, and the wreck that was the Ebon Hawk behind him.

"Meetra?" he called, but he couldn't feel her either. Actually, it was hard to sense anybody here. There was this thick blanket of pain and wrong, ten times as terrible as Korriban. It made it hard not just to use the Force, but to breathe.

He choked out another curse, then turned around. Rocks, sticking high up into the sky. Above, the crackling of thunder, the constant bright flashes of lightning. In the distance, ugly grey things roamed around, he didn't know what. Didn't think he wanted to know. It was still hard to think. He reached for his side and found the lightsaber clipped there still, thank the Force or whatever was responsible for making that happen.

Glancing down, however, also made it obvious that Bao-Dur's wasn't the first corpse to occupy this general area.

Malachor V. He had sat in a ship in its sky as tens of thousands of lives had been snuffed out in an instant - but he'd never been here. On its surface. Breathing in the poison. He lit his lightsaber and let out a cough. "Okay," he mumbled. "Pure pazaak."

What was, though, he wasn't sure. As he began his walk across the toxic surface of a planet made of grey and green, the only thing he was really sure of was that whatever he'd meant, he'd been wrong.

Atton	Atton walked across the planet's surface for what felt like an eternity. Sometimes, beasts would stagger out of the shadows and attack-- they were easily dispatched, but not enough that he didn't start getting paranoid. Started jumping at shadows, slipping into any passage that seemed beast-free. The more poetic part of his mind, that messed-up one that had been in the pilot's seat an eternity and five seconds ago (half an hour) wouldn't shut up, talking about how this place felt like him, this dull featureless grey riddled with monsters hidden in dark places, revealing its sickly inner light through small cracks in the shell. Green, yellow, something, he wasn't sure what any of it was, what any of it meant. He just knew he didn't feel too good. This... the past few days, the day ahead... it was going to leave scars, if it was going to leave him anything at all. His body ached just like that, to warn him about that. His state of mind became almost like a trance; he wasn't even sure why he kept going, except that he had this feeling, somewhere, that she was still alive. That he had to find her. That somewhere in this featureless mess, there'd be... there'd be something... "...is that a Wookiee?" The hairy... thing... didn't pay him any mind. It stalked off through one of the cracks in the side walls and vanished. The shock of red hair that came after him, though. That stopped moving.
Mira	Hanharr had said they were close. Mira was tempted to keep going until he got her to the Exile, but something... something was drawing her attention. She knew better than to ignore her instincts, so she looked. "...Atton?"
Atton	"Mira?!" Space. Okay. That jerked Atton's brain out of whatever haze it had been in and he took off at a run. "Mira!"
Mira	"How many ship crashes are you planning to survive, and how can I get out of being on board when you do it?" Mira called, but in all honestly, she was relieved. She glanced quickly back towards the crack Hanharr had gone through... and didn't spot a sign of him. "Damn it!"
Atton	"What's going on?" Atton managed. "Who's the damn Wookiee? And where are you going?" ... Poodoo, where was he?
Mira	"That's Hanharr," Mira said. Now that the shock of Atton's arrival had passed, she was getting right back into that crack, trying to figure out where he'd gone. "He's an old... friend... of mine. He was taking me to the Exile. But now he left. Thanks."
Atton	"How was I supposed to know?!" Atton snapped, following right behind. "I don't even know where we are. Or what's going on. Where's Kreia?"
Mira	"Wherever Hanharr's going," Mira said. The crack led her to a cavern, but there was still no sign of Hanharr. Nice tiling, though. Very... grey and red. "I told him to take me to her, technically. I just figured that where she is..." She trailed off.
Visas	"I knew they were alive," Visas said quietly. She stood near the back wall of the cavern, her lightsaber in her hands, and she was not alone.
Mical	"We must be careful," Mical said. He had a gash in his forehead, but he was otherwise in one piece. And relieved, for that matter. "We have reason to believe that Kreia is in the next chamber." He paused. "But I am grateful to see you are alive."
Brianna	"I'd be more grateful if the Exile was here," Brianna growled. "I am tired of standing around."
Mira	"Yeah, I'm glad to see all of you, too," Mira said, with a roll of her eyes. "But if Kreia's here... why are you still standing around?" She didn't actually wait for an answer. She walked right past them, onwards to the next room. She'd been walking around this place long enough, she was tired of how sick it made her feel. It needed to be over. Now.
Atton	"Hey, hey, calm down," Atton said, snagging her arm before she ran into the next room and set off Kreia - if Kreia was there at all. "How about we go in with a plan, all right?"
Mira	"I don't want to be here any longer than I have to," Mira snapped, pulling her arm loose. "This place killed my family. I'm not planning to let it kill me."
Atton	Atton blinked. "...Your parents were here?" he said. And he'd thought the way he lost his parents had been messed up. Damn.
Mira	"No, my family," Mira said. Did the guy just not listen to her, or what? "I'm a Mandalorian, Atton. Yeah, my family was here. Now let's deal with Kreia, find Meetra and get out of here. That's the plan." She didn't wait for an answer. She got going again.
Atton	Atton ran a hand through his hair. "Son of a Hutt," he muttered tightly. The others passed by him without another word. Of course they did. Out of everyone involved, Mira was the only one who didn't have some stupidly black-and-white, 'they're the bad guys and we must throw ourselves at them like morons' thing implanted in their ferrocrete skull. Poodoo. And his mind was still screaming, all of the protections he'd piled on over the years to keep from hearing it again rubbed off and raw. In the end, he followed. What else was he going to do?
Mira	"I say we fire a rocket at her right now," Mira said, "and blow her screaming, burning body into the heart of this planet." On the other side of the cavern had been an outcropping - the one she was standing on now. From here, just in the distance, they could see this weird... temple, with half-arches curling out like horns or claws, a bright red spot in the middle of the cave. And now Kreia had arrived in it. They could just about see her from here.
Atton	If someone had to be the voice of reason-- fine. "It wouldn't work," Atton said with a sigh. He came to a stop right behind her. "If there were other distractions, maybe. If she wasn't telepathic, maybe." He shook his head. "This is what I mean. If you want to kill her like that, you need something else to occupy her attention, otherwise you might just wound her. And then we're all in trouble." Might be if they killed her, too. Because as far as he knew, Meetra hadn't found a way to cut that connection just yet, and if they killed her... no.
Visas	"This battle will not be decided by weapons," Visas conceded. It was one of the reasons why they had decided not to charge in just yet.
Mical	"You are wrong," Mical said. He frowned. "Manipulation is Kreia's strength, not battle."
Brianna	"Let us see what transpires... and plan our attack," Brianna said. She was frowning, too, but her frown looked more like the last thing you'd see right before someone punched you in the face with a vibroblade.
Mira	For Force's sake, Mira had had enough of this. If the rest of them wanted to be cowards, fine. She hopped off the outcropping and onto the path below. "We've come a long way, Kreia," she snarled, stalking towards the woman now meditating in the center of the room. "Don't bother getting up."
Kreia	"Ah, the huntress," Kreia said. She did not get up. The closer they got, the more obvious the changes she had gone through became - now Kreia's skin was a bright white, her hair an alternating pattern of black and white, her cowl dark as night. "To come alone... you are braver than I thought."
Visas	"She is not alone," Visas said. Her feet hit the pathway with a thump, and then she was moving. "We stand with her."
Brianna	Brianna was next, moving without hesitation. "And with her stand all the Jedi."
Mical	"Indeed," Mical echoed. He was the fourth to approach Kreia, his jaw set. He would not leave the others to face this alone.
Atton	And Atton was the last, of course. They were being idiots - there was no way they'd get out of facing Kreia alone like this. Not without the Exile, towards whom the old lady actually felt some level of affection. So he planned his escape in the back of his head, just in case, but he didn't let it show. Instead he drawled, "And now I come in, saying something suitably heroic," and walked towards Kreia with a swagger in his step.
Kreia	Was it any surprise that Kreia's expression held nothing that could remotely be considered impressed? "Children with lightsabers... but not Jedi, I think," she said. "Come close, let me look upon you and see what the exile's teaching has forged." She ignored the sounds of lightsabers igniting. She stood up and faced Mira, first. "An assassin," she said. Next, Brianna. "A slayer of her own kin," she said. And next, Mical. "A wasted pawn of the Republic." Visas. "A blinded slave." And at last, her old pawn-- Atton. Perhaps the most dangerous of them, though she would never admit it. Nor did it matter. "And a fool." Kreia raised her hand - and her empty sleeve on the other side. "Which of you wishes to try yourselves against me? As you can see, I am unarmed." Her gaze fell on Brianna again. "You, perhaps? Come, child, where you walk, it is not far from battle, slaughter, and the blood of your sisters."
Brianna	Brianna let out a snarl. She deactivated her lightsaber, but fell into an Echani fighting stance instead. She rushed at Kreia, lashing out, punching and kicking with techniques it had taken her a lifetime to master.
Kreia	This foolish girl... it sapped none of Kreia's energy to dodge her blows, familiar as she was with the Echani styles. When Kreia's own blow finally landed, the girl hit the floor immediately, all consciousness flooding from her. "You, perhaps?" she said, paying Brianna's body no more heed. It was Mical she looked to now. "You are a wasted pawn of the Republic, young one. You could have been so much more, even with your wide-eyed innocence, your naive love for others."
Mical	To spend time on this terrible planet, be around the remains of this terrible atrocity that caused so much pain... and then have her mock him for his altruism... it was too much for Mical to bear. He rushed forward with lit lightsaber, striking at her.
Kreia	Kreia merely reached and took his throat with the Force, lifting him high up above the floor. She listened dispassionately as he choked and struggled... then when he fell limp, she dropped him. So predictable. "Think. Think, before you throw away your life for her. Think of everything you will lose by dying. Your lusts, unfulfilled. A dance, unfinished. A love, requited. Think, before you give it up so quickly." She would not do them the pleasure of telling them which one she was speaking to. It did not matter. It was time to speak to the Miraluka. "And you, blind one, you have hungered to strike me down ever since you saw the bond the exile and I share. Can you feel the Force running through me, even past the veil, past your bloodied eyes? You know you cannot win."
Visas	She would not fall as easily as the others. Visas lifted her chin up high, felt the new strength in her body now that it was hers again. "The Force runs strong within you, Traya, but in the howling of a storm, it is difficult to hear the whisper of the blade," she said quietly. She brought up her lightsaber. "You have forever been the blind one. You were given a gift few are ever given, and yet you let your gift of sight warp you, tw--" She could not finish the sentence.
Kreia	Kreia lifted Visas Marr's beloved body up high above the ground, using the Force to crush it-- slowly. "You think your existence under your Lord was torture, Miraluka? I will make you see." She could sense the Miraluka's pain in the Force as her body came crashing back down, spent. "And an assassin," she said lightly. It was Mira's turn now. No speeches for her. She would not appreciate them. No, merely a push of the Force, sending the girl's skull crashing against one of the giant teeth of her stronghold. It gave a crack-- and then the girl fell silent. One left. "As for you, fool," Kreia said, and turned... ...to find nothing but a cloud of dust where Atton Rand had once been. Well. Perhaps she should have seen that coming.