A series of Star Wars One Shots
This is my newest outlet for writing, this 'story' will be a series of one-shots and one off stories, all of these will be star wars based. Expect them all to be rated M for possible language and violence. Leave a review and let me know what you think. A well liked character or story could be seen again. I hope y'all like these stories. This first story is of Lolsok, a Weequay Force sensitive man.
Stumbling through a haze of pitch black smoke a lone figure was illuminated for the briefest of moments by a sudden explosion. Dark eyes were visible for that moment, dark dead eyes that glinted only with the spark of rage. These eyes were framed by rough and wrinkled skin, obviously weathered and worn. The figure was clearly tall and muscular, and humanoid in stature, but his lipless face and weathered skin implied otherwise.
The figure righted himself and walked straight, every so often raising his glowing red blade and deflecting a stray blaster bolt. It seemed that he was paid little attention as he made his way across the war torn battlefield. All around him explosions were setting off, sending huge clods of dirt flying and propelling massive plumes of dust into the sky. It was hard to see through, but the screams and calls of the dying could be heard through the din of battle.
It had begun as just another battle between the Separatists and the Republic, but it had quickly devolved into brutal and unexpected combat all across the city. What neither the Separatists nor the Republic had taken into consideration was the presence of a third party on this world, and a powerful third party at that. Three days ago when the fighting had first started between the mechanical droid armies and the clone troopers of the Republic this third party had made itself known, ambushing both invading armies at once with devastating results.
This third party just so happened to be the private army of ex- Jedi Knight Rar Lolsok, a Weequay Jedi exiled from the Order. The army was powerful and efficient, a mixture of high quality and effective battle droids and many organics that Lolsok had called to his banner.
Raising the glowing red lightsaber with lightning fast reflexes and deflecting another stray shot the Weequay snarled. He had known it would only be a matter of time before the war reached him here, but he had hoped to build up his army even larger before it happened. But that was not to be. The war had come and he had been forced to deploy his army before it was ready. Had he had enough time he was sure that his army would have been able to conquer the planet and shortly after the system. That would give him the power he needed.
To his left the Weequay ex- Jedi saw two of his own troopers, organics dressed in all black armor, rise from cover and fire their rifles into the advancing mass of droids. To his right he could see three more of his troopers pinned down by heavy fire from the advancing clone army. His troopers were barely visible in the pitch black night, only visible by the light of the dozens of fires and the continuous explosions. Lolsok surveyed the battle quickly, and knew he needed to do something. His forces could not remain here, caught between the two powerful armies, or they would all be dead within minutes.
Raising his other hand, and clicking the communicator in it he spoke in a raspy and angry voice, "Pull back. All forces pull back. Regroup at the Supply Center." It angered him to retreat, but he knew it was necessary. He could regroup with his men and see how Captain Tavian had fared in his own assault on the invading armies.
Extinguishing his lightsaber and following his troops as they retreated from the hellish battlefield that was not much more than pockmarked craters and raging fires strewn with the corpses of the organic fallen and littered with the debris of the mechanical fallen. The battlefield had once been a forest, a massive and verdant forest with large hills and even larger clearings. This, however, was not the target of either the Separatist or the Republic forces. They had been fighting, going on three days now, to make their way to the capital city, Newsilver. Newsilver was what served as the administrative hub, and indeed the central focus of any happenings on the entire planet of Pehiri. Pehiri itself seemed to be nothing spectacular, it held no extraordinary resources or strategic value. It was simply a planet where nearly 12 billion beings called their home, most of them humans, but many of them not. And while Pehiri seemed to be an ordinary planet with nothing of incredible value to either side that was not strictly true.
Long ago, in an age nearly forgotten through the ravages of time and war, a school was built on Pehiri, a school for young Force sensitive beings to be trained in the arts of combat, deception, diplomacy, and many other disciplines. For centuries it was a place of learning and training for generations of Jedi. And what came along with being a Jedi Temple was the Temple Master, a Twi'lek by the name of Fimraso. A skilled swordsman and Jedi Fimraso's true skill laid in his artificing skills. He had devoted nearly his entire life as a Jedi to the creation of a single holocron, what was now a priceless relic to the Jedi Order. But even the Jedi Order did not know of the existence of this artefact, it had been wiped from their records by the very man who now sought it.
The knowledge of the holocron had been wiped completely from the galaxy, no written record of it existed nor did anyone except the one man know of it's existence or what it contained. It was this man, a tall man who walked with elegance and grace, who was leading the Separatist invasion of Pehiri, and who indeed was leading the entire Separatist movement. Count Dooku himself was on the planet, leading the assault, and he was none too happy about it. Three days of fighting and they hadn't even reached Newsilver, where the Temple was rumored to be. Thousands of droids had been destroyed thanks to the damned Republic Army and those black wearing troopers!
Letting his anger flow freely through himself the Count swung his lightsaber and decapitated another clone. The mysterious troopers clad in black armor had suddenly withdrawn from the fight, and he considered doing the same. These mysterious troopers angered him, they were skilled and deadly although not very many in number, but he did not know who led them or what cause they served. He had seen them gun down clone's just as he had seen them gun down his own droid army. Twirling around a blaster shot and looking up to the crest of the hill, where the mysterious troopers were currently retreating from, Count Dooku was puzzled. He was positive that he had seen a lightsaber, and a red lightsaber at that, but he could not see the lightsaber anymore nor could he see much of anything. Night had fallen and the two moons of Pehiri were dim and not in his favor. Signalling his own forces to retreat just as he illuminated the battlefield with bright blue lightning Dooku pondered what he had seen. One of the droids had reported a lightsaber wielding foe, but had not specified the color of the blade nor who the wielder was. He would have to investigate the issue more thoroughly.
Shutting off the pair of macrobinoculars as stabs of lightning filled the screen and replacing them in their pouch CT-7958, better known as Captain Crash, ordered the retreat of his own forces. He was the leader of the Republic forces on Pehiri, and he had gathered exactly the intelligence he needed. His cruiser the Unrepentant Justice had been commanded to come to the system and engage a Separatist ship recorded travelling to here.
During this battle, the latest in a string of dozens of smaller engagements, had proven what he had come to suspect. Count Dooku himself was on planet. This was major news, and the Republic and Jedi Order would definitely need to know. Watching as the droids and the locals retreated into the safety of the forest the Captain ordered his men about, first recovering the wounded and dead and then salvaging any equipment. The Separatists would not be making any more progress tonight, and he was unsure about this local army. They seemed to attack out of nowhere, always ambushing and moving swiftly. Crash had decided upon arrival on Pehiri that the best course of action would be to harry the Separatists, who seemed to have a plan of some sort. And so Crash and his men had been leading strikes and ambushes of their own against the Separatists, hoping to whittle them down and delay them from accomplishing their goal, whatever it may be.
But now that he knew Dooku was on the planet some changes had to be made. He had no reinforcements left, and even his cruiser was running low on supplies. They had been embroiled in the Outer Rim Sieges around Saleucami when they had been commanded on this mission, and their last re-supply was much too long ago.
Within minutes the Captain and the surviving clone forces had made it way back to their camp, and the clone Captain had immediately gone to the long range communications array. Communications had been spotty, especially since landing in this forest, but Captain Crash knew that he needed to get the report out to the Republic Command and the Jedi Order.
Cursing in Mando'a as he slammed the communicator down the Captain kicked a crate, lashing out with his foot against the supply crate. The communications were out again! When he needed them most urgently they had failed. Glancing disdainfully at the unreliable equipment the Captain walked away. He had another ambush to organize, and he was confident that once they reached a clearing or left the forest the long range communications would work and he could relay the important message.
Two black clad soldiers saluted sharply as Lolsok approached them. They were standing guard at the Supply Center. Behind Lolsok a column of weary, dirty, and battleworn fighters also clad in black trailed closely. Soon they were all inside, and the troopers split off to their barracks where they could wash, eat, rest, and get ready for the next day.
The Supply Center, which was really a large system of bunkers that marked the edge of the forest and the outskirts of Newsilver, was veritably bustling with activity. Dozens of organics and droids alike were shuffling around the various rooms before their various tasks, some of them doing simple resupply jobs, some of them running logistics, and some of them doing various other tasks. The Supply Center was the very edge of the city of Newsilver, and the Separatist and Republic armies had both been making steady progress closer and closer, though the latter did not realize that the objective was to reach Newcastle. From here Lolsok had been sending and leading the raiding and ambush strikes against both of the armies.
This was not the main headquarters of the Sons of Lolsok, as the troopers had taken to calling themselves, but it served it's function well enough. Lolsok made his way through the various chambers and corridors of the subterranean complex soon came to his personal quarters. A scantily clad Twi'lek dancer was waiting for him when he arrived, but he waved her off, instead going straight for his bunk. She exited the room, leaving him to his own devices. Lolsok was asleep within minutes, exhausted after the days battle. He had been forced to expend lots of his energy simply trying to maintain a hidden position and still fight at the same time. He did not wish to reveal his presence quite yet to either of the invading armies. Within the next 24 standard hours he expected that the Separatists would reach the outskirts of Newsilver and would press directly towards the abandoned and decrepit Temple. That did not give him an extraordinary amount of time to either rest or plan, but he was confident that Captain Tavian would perform his duties well.
The Next Day, Outskirts of Newsilver. Early Morning.
Several longs columns of battle droids marched through the eerily empty city of Newsilver, clanking their way through. A few armored units and Super Battle Droids were present in the marching army, but at their head the imposing figure of Count Dooku marched solemnly. He held in his hand the only map of Newsilver that contained the old Temple, and he was using it to navigate through the unnaturally neat, clean, and empty city.
It had taken an all night march through the forest to reach even the outskirts of the city, but it had been worth it. The march had gone unharried since the last ambush when he had seen, just for the briefest moment, the red lightsaber through the smoke. Dooku had not given this much consideration, but he figured that it could have been a trick of the dim light or the roaring fires that had been burning nearly out of control. But try as he might to dismiss it or convince himself as such he could not forget the glow of the blade in the distance, so similar to the glow of his own lightsaber.
Suddenly the Force shifted, and he knew what was coming. It was the familiar feeling of an immediately pending attack. "Ambush! Engage the enemy!" Dooku yelled as he lit his lightsaber, and took off running. He leapt over a pristinely clean bench, and at once deflected two blaster bolts. Waving his hand and sending the two clone troopers flying to the side Dooku ran towards their fallen forms.
Cleaving his saber upwards as one of the clones tried to stand, only to find himself suddenly bisected at his hip, Dooku spun and stabbed the other clone through the chest. More blaster fire suddenly rained down on him, splashing the area. Twirling around this incoming fire, which was coming from two separate positions, the Count dodged and deflected as he made his way forward. He had long since stowed the map in his robes, but reaching the Temple was the least of his worries currently. He could see out of the corner of his eyes that the clones were launching a rather large ambush, and had committed many of their troops.
One trooper stood up from his cover, hoping to catch the Count unguarded with a point blank shot, but was only rewarded with a glowing gash, cauterized instantly, across his chest. He fell, dropping his gun as he grabbed at his chest and the pain began to set in. His screams fueled the Count, who was now impaling another clone.
Hefting the clone's body up, still impaled on his lightsaber, and using it to block incoming blaster fire Dooku's face twisted in rage as he flung his hand outwards and blue lightning crackled forth. The lightning twisted through the air, immediately reaching two more clone troopers, and Dooku held them in it's grip. The two clones kicked and screamed for a scant few moments before collapsing, killed by the sheer anger and fury behind the attack. The Count was becoming more and more angry as each moment he was forced to deal with this ambush went by it was another moment he was not searching for the holocron.
An explosion rang through the din of battle somewhere behind him, and the smell of blaster fire was beginning to saturate the air. Slicing his lightsaber downwards and killing the final clone to stand in his way Dooku turned and surveyed the battle. It seemed that what had originally appeared as a full commitment of the clone forces turned out to only be a small ambush, quickly fended off by the droid forces. But the price had been paid, and two of the tanks were now just smoldering wreckage, burning in the street. The clones had retreated away, but not without consequence. The ambush had been quick and unexpected, which allowed them to destroy the two tanks, but it had been rather costly. Dooku himself had killed nearly a dozen clones, and he it appeared that his droids had killed at least another dozen.
Based on the size of the clone forces that had attacked in the forest the Count realized that it had been pretty costly to the Republic. The clones were slowly losing more and more troopers, and this last ambush had been a flop for the clones.
Returning to his place at the head of the column Count Dooku brushed some dust off of his black cloak, and kept his hand near the curved hilt of his lightsaber. Gazing around the pristine city of Newsilver the Count sneered. It was a clean place, sure, but it was unnatural and completely empty. The emptiness did not bother the Count, indeed he was used to cities being emptied and evacuated prior to combat, but usually in those cities trash and debris littered the ground where people had escaped in a hurry. This place, so neat and clean and devoid of life unnerved Dooku, at least slightly. But he pressed on with his droids, making their way through the streets.
Old Temple
The Sons of Lolsok had come to be over two years before the Separatists and Republic armies arrived on Pehiri. Lolsok had arrived then, and with him he had brought three of his earliest followers along. One of them was Tavian, an old Devaronian who had spent years travelling and fighting all across the galaxy. Tavian quickly gained a huge role in the founding of the Sons of Lolsok. Upon their arrival on Pehiri the local populace was disorganized and somewhat in shambles, embroiled in a planet wide civil war. Lolsok and his men had managed to bring peace to Pehiri, though the manner they went about it was originally looked down upon by many Pehirians. But these dissenting Pehirians soon found themselves put to the sword by Lolsok just as he had put the leader of the civil war to the sword.
And so that was how peace came to Pehiri, through the cold blooded assassinations and murders of hundreds of the leaders of the civil war. The Pehirians were afraid, grateful, but afraid. The civil war had ravaged their world for nearly a decade before Lolsok arrived and put an end to it within months. Much of the planet had been ravaged by the war, and many of it's cities had been destroyed. That was how the city of Newsilver came to be, it was only a few years old, but it was built as a testament to Pehirian resolve and attitude. It was kept flawlessly clean as a sign of how the Pehirians were now purified and united under Lolsok.
That was how the Sons of Lolsok had gone from a simple gang of followers to nearly a full blown militant cult. Membership was up, training was up, and most important of all, three Force sensitive youth had been found and brought to Lolsok. They were not infants, indeed they were all teenagers. Their training and conversion to the Dark side of the Force had been what Lolsok considered one of his greatest accomplishment. Through the use of the holocron and twisting the long forgotten technique that was hidden inside of it Lolsok had been able to twist the minds of the teenagers, slowly converting them to be his disciples, his minions. Of course they now had little room in their minds for free-thinking, but instead were completely loyal and obedient to Lolsok. These three apprentices were currently inside the old and decrepit Temple, where their training had been taking place. Lolsok had had to leave the Temple with his troops to combat the Separatists and Republic armies in the forest, but now he was back.
"Has everyone been evacuated?" Lolsok asked, his voice gruff and weathered. His oldest, and only, friend looked up. Captain Tavian, leader of the military branch of the Sons of Lolsok, was currently cleaning his sidearm blaster.
"Every single person. Only people left in the city are us." The Devaronian finished with the blaster and replaced it in it's holster as he stood up.
Lolsok spoke again, "We must be ready. The Separatists are almost here, and the clones are not far behind. I want an ambush ready. Let them enter the Temple, but do not let them get far inside or we will lose control." Captain Tavian nodded at the command, and went to go ready his troops.
Looking around the now empty room Lolsok grew angry once again. He had hoped that no one would know about the Temple, and that he would have the holocron all to himself. It had taught him much, despite being a Jedi relic practically dripping with the Light side of the Force. Lolsok had twisted and corrupted its teachings and techniques for his own gain, and that was just fine with him. But now that damn Count Dooku wished to take it, and Lolsok held no illusions that the Count would put everyone on Pehiri to death if that is what it took to locate the holocron. So the holocron must be defended, but not because Lolsok held any attachment to the Pehirians, but because he did not wish to allow his main source of power to fall into Dooku's hands.
Igniting his lightsaber Lolsok slashed through a table, and threw his fist in a punch, using the Force to send the two halves of the table flying into the wall. Destroying the table did little to relieve his anger, and in fact only fueled his rage further. Slashing at another piece of furniture and sending it also careening into the wall the same fate was met by the rest of the furniture in the room.
After minutes of destruction the room was left bare of everything except for the scraps and debris of the furniture. Gazing at his lightsaber Lolsok reflected on how he had come to obtain it. It was a unique blade, longer and thinner than a typical lightsaber, but it served him quite well. It was an ancient Sith artefact, from an era thousands of years past.
The sound of a distant explosion distracted Lolsok, and he extinguished his lightsaber. Leaving the room and walking into a cold and drafty hallway Lolsok walked further into the abandoned Temple. The Separatists were coming closer and closer, and Lolsok would personally be defending the holocron. His three apprentices would be sent on their own tasks, and Captain Tavian would be handling the defense of the Temple. The next few hours would be very trying for Lolsok and his Sons.
Newsilver City
Captain Crash sighed, and not for the first time in the last half- hour. The ambush against the Separatists had been much more costly than he had anticipated and he was running low on troops and ammunition. This god-forsaken city had proven to be nothing but a disaster for the clones, losing many soldiers. Possibly worst of all was that the captain was still unable to contact the Republic Command to tell them of Count Dooku's presence on Pehiri.
Waving his hand and beginning to jog instead of walk the clone Captain was followed by the remaining clones, a group of about three dozen.
One of the surviving Lieutenants jogged up beside the Captain, and saluted before speaking. "Sir, reports suggest our communications are being jammed. Most likely the Separatists are jamming communications."
The Captain replied as the group kept jogging along through the street. "We only have enough men for one more strike, and even then it will be costly."
"Sir, where are we going?" The Lieutenant asked, looking slightly confused. Many of the clone troopers shared this confusion.
"We'll attempt to cut off the Separatists. Hit them with everything we've got one last time, and if we can take out the jamming device then we can reach Republic Command."
The Lieutenant nodded, and falled back a bit to inform the troops.
The group jogged for fifteen minutes before things started to deteriorate, running a parallel route to the Separatists. Every once in a while a clone scout trooper would confirm that they were following the Separatists. It was of no real worry, at least until the scouts quit returning.
After losing the third scout the Captain signalled a halt, and the clones stopped jogging. Spreading out among an open air plaza the clones took lookout positions. Something didn't quite feel right to the Captain, and the men could tell.
The Captain was standing on top a bench, visually scanning the area when all hell broke loose. It lasted only a moment, but for that moment it was panic and devastation among the clones. Three simultaneous explosions rocked through the pristine courtyard, sending dirt and smoke flying, obscuring everyone's vision. In each of the three plumes of smoke a glowing red blade flashed and danced, and the sound of blaster fire echoed through the city.
The clones not engulfed in the explosions or the clouds of smoke all looked to the Captain for orders. He signalled them to wait, but prepare for combat. The wind gently blew through, and the smoke began to clear. It was when the smoke cleared that the true devastation was laid to bare. Over a dozen clones were dead, their once white armor burnt and scorched. The explosions had claimed some of their lives, but the obvious signs of lightsaber damage were present on the other bodies. Yet among all of the carnage and death left behind from the explosions no perpetrator was evident, they had completely disappeared.
The Captain leapt forward from the bench, his blaster in hand, and began shouting orders. "Clones, on me! We're getting out of here!" And as he finished his command he rushed out of the clearing and back into the street, with the rest of the clones following him. They were running at top speed, all doing their best to put some distance between themselves and the clearing.
For a few moments it appeared as if the clones had escaped whatever threat lay behind them. It was moments later they were proven wrong.
From the front of the group the Captain could hear occasional screams, with less and less time between them. Blaster fire once more echoed through the streets, complimenting the unmistakable hum of a lightsaber and the screams of the dying.
His men were being picked off, one by one, and while Captain Crash had never become as famous for his deeds as some of the other clones he was a fine example of clone persistence. He could not simply stand by while his brothers, brothers who trusted him to keep them as safe as possible, were being killed one by one.
"Hold, brothers! We must turn and fight!" Shouting his order the Captain himself stopped running and raised his rifle. He turned, looking down the sight, but saw nothing except his fellow clones and an empty street. He was dismayed when he saw how few remained and his heart clenched. His duty had been to protect the men under his command, and yet he had failed them again and again on Pehiri, leading them in ambushes that only whittled them down and hurt them.
The clones all stopped running as well, forming up into their squads and frantically looking around the surrounding area. For an instant everything was silent, and the clones waited in tense suspense.
Suddenly tracking movement to his left the Captain took aim and fired his blaster at a dark robed figure. Twin bolts of plasma streaked across the street, sailing towards their target. At the last second the figure dropped low, dodging the two shots. By now the rest of the clones had realized what was happening, and began firing at the figure. The red blade of a lightsaber exploded forth and the dark robe flew backwards, flying off of the figure to reveal a short and petite female. Her grey skin shone oddly in the light, and her eyes seemed dead to the Captain.
She twisted and twirled, dodging and blocking and deflecting the blaster bolts, yet she made no move to attack. The sheer amount of blaster fire was beginning to overwhelm her. Twisting her saber to the right while at the same time trying to sidestep another shot she stumbled, falling to the ground. It was the chance the clones had been waiting for, and over a dozen blasters levelled at her now crouched figure.
In the split second before any of the clones could fire on the now nearly defenseless enemy she slid across the street, gliding across the rough pavement in a jarring and unnatural way. She came to rest at the feet of a taller, yet still grey skinned and dead eyed female, yet this female held a fierce red lightsaber in each hand. She stood menacingly and imposing, yet protectively, over the smaller girl.
"Kill them both!" The Captain shouted, as he reached to his utility belt and detached his last thermal detonator. A barrage of blaster fire approached the duo, and the thermal detonator soared through the air, beeping ever faster as it came closer and closer to its target. The taller girl pushed both of her hands forward, sending the detonator away from them as it exploded. The clones flinched, and the two lightsaber wielding foes leapt forward, slashing and slicing, now on the offensive.
The clones were trapped in the street, and could not fire without risking hitting their comrades. Within a few short minutes only the Captain remained, the rest of the clones dead or dying in various states of dismemberment and disfigurement. The pained screams and the laborious last breaths filled the street, and the Captain frantically looked around in dismay. He had failed his men, and failed them utterly. He deserved the highest punishment and the highest shame, yet he still had one opportunity to redeem himself, not that it mattered to his decimated troopers.
As his troopers lay in piles the Captain raised his rifle, training it on the petite form of the approaching killer. Her eyes still held no life, and her skin still shone eerily. In the light of the sun the blood of the fallen clones shone on her face and arms, making her cut quite an intimidating figure, despite her size. She walked forward, her lightsaber lit by her side. The Captain stood tall, determination clear on his face as he set his jaw and squeezed the trigger of his blaster, only to have the lightsaber swing upwards and block the shot. This was repeated over and over again as the cold blooded killer approached.
Finally the blaster clicked empty, and the woman was just a few short steps away, the Captain was nearly within swinging distance. The Captain threw the empty blaster hard, aiming straight at her face. While she swung her lightsaber, slicing the blaster in half mid-air, the Captain took advantage, diving forward. He tackled her, landing a punch square across her face. The lightsaber fell from her hand, and the Captain followed through with another punch. She stumbled, and a kick hit her ribs hard. The clone Captain stood over her, another kick cocked back and ready to strike. As the kick swung home, aimed straight for the woman's ribs, but she caught it, and flipped the Captain as she stood. Using the Force the lightsaber leapt back into her hand, and the blade ignited.
From his back the clone Captain looked up, and in his final moments saw the destruction and death in what remained of the street. Scorch marks and debris filled the once impeccably cleaned street, and so did the bodies of the clones. Most had stopped struggling and succumbded to their injuries and now laid silent and still.
This whole fiasco had lasted way too long, and had been way too costly for the Republic, and Captain Crash held no doubts that that had been his fault. He had mismanaged the whole situation from the beginning, and it had only gotten worse ever since the first ambush he had staged. He had led all of his troops to their deaths, and the cruiser in orbit above Pehiri had no way of knowing of his failure, nor of Count Dooku being on the surface. They would eventually send a team down to the surface to find the Captain and his company, but they would no doubt discover the truth of the massacre.
Unfeeling and dull eyes were the last thing the clone Captain saw as the lightsaber pierced his armor and stabbed through his stomach. The intense heat cauterized the grievous wound immediately and blistered the skin around it. It was painful, the worst pain the captain had felt in his life, but it was did not last long. Within moments the last glimmer of life left Crash, and his eyes shut once last time, a final grimace of anger and pain frozen on his face.
The two women walked away from the street, extinguishing their lightsabers and looking towards the end of the street. A third figure stood tall, his own dull eyes having watched the entire battle.
Newsilver City, Near the Temple
Count Dooku had felt a strange presence, two strange presences to be precise. They had flared brightly, the Dark side clear and present for Dooku to sense. But this did not concern him, he could now pick up the unmistakable feeling of the Light side of the Force. It had to be the holocron. It was created by a powerful and skilled Jedi Master, and was no doubt steeped thickly in the Light side. But the Count knew exactly how to fix that.
This small Light presence was growing stronger and stronger to the well-attuned senses of Cound Dooku with each step he took as he led the droid column deeper into the city. The clones had not been seen since the flare up of Dark side a few minutes past.
The Count suddenly stopped marching, raising his clenched fist to send the order down the line. Behind him he heard the droids and the tanks cease their own marching.
The Temple, or at least the entrance to it, loomed ahead. It was of an entirely separate architectural style than the rest of the city. While the rest of the city was modern and clean the old Temple was made of a sandy colored stone, and the gate stood tall among the relatively short buildings of Newsilver.
"Send in a squad." Dooku ordered, and the nearest group of droids marched into the open gate. The sounds of blaster fire echoed, and the mechanical screams of droids being destroyed were heard throughout the silent city.
Dooku lit his lightsaber, and approached the gate himself as he once more gave orders to the droids around him. "Bring up the tanks, and the B2's. I'll lead the assault." The droids scurried to obey, the tanks setting a defensive perimeter around the gate entrance to the Temple, and the remaining Super Battle Droids and Battle Droids forming up in their squads.
Dooku waved his hand forward and spoke, "Let's go!" and set off into the Temple. Almost immediately the group came under fire from those bastards in the black armor. Droids were falling left and right as the Count raised and swung his lightsaber over and over, blocking the blaster bolts.
The droids returned fire, fighting their way through the entrance gate of the Temple, and into the entrance hall. For every three droids that went down it seemed that only a single black armored fighter fell, but Dooku was happy with that ratio. He still had plenty of droids, especially if it was simply a battle of attrition to fight.
Captain Tavian, Old Jedi Temple
Thirty years of bounty hunting and fighting his way across the galaxy had been rough on the old Devaronian man, leaving his body scarred and worn out. But that was before he had joined up with the mysterious and powerful Weequay man known as Lolsok. Lolsok had brought Tavian in and put him in command of his own militaristic cult, soon known as the Sons of Lolsok.
Tavian had revolutionized the Sons, training and drilling them hard until they were a competent fighting force. And those two years of hard work with the Sons were paying off now, against the Separatists.
The droids, led by Count Dooku, were now making their way through the entrance hallway, inflicting heavy casualties on the Sons of Lolsok. For every Son that fell in combat only about three droids fell, less against the Super Battle Droids. While it was good that each Son brought down multiple droids before falling it was an unsustainable rate for the limited combat capabilities of the Sons of Lolsok.
Tavian ducked as a blaster bolt slammed into the stone behind his head, and squeezed off a few shots of his own in return. The droids, who were still advancing further and further into the Temple, were easy enough to deal with, but Dooku himself was nearly impossible. He was a fluid fighter, twisting and dodging his way around every bolt that came his way. He was a fierce and deadly enemy, cutting down Son after Son, and Tavian could do nothing to stop him.
Flipping the activator on a thermal detonator Tavian tossed it down the hallway. They had lost the entrance hall, and now it was up to his four squads of fighters to delay and harry the enemy troops until Lolsok ordered a retreat.
Tavian, wearing his own black armor, kept firing down the corridor, with two other Sons by his side. The thermal detonator exploded, buying them some time.
Tavian shouted, "Get down the hallway! Hold the crossways!" And him and the other two took up defensive positions at the end of the hallway, aiming their rifles down the now smoke filled hallway.
As droids once again began marching through the smoke, their own blasters firing indiscriminately, Tavian and his comrades opened fire. It seemed that they had gotten lucky and that Dooku had not followed down this hallway and had gone somewhere else.
Reports were coming over the communicator that the droids were making steady progress everywhere through the Temple, and that little could be done to stop them. It seemed that what was once a steady river of droids was now just a trickle, but that did not matter quite so much as Tavian would have liked. Sure, the droids were slowing down, but that did not matter when he had so few of his own troops left.
To his left one of the two Sons fell dead, a blaster mark smoldering right over a crack in his armor. Within seconds the man to his right fell dead, both of the bodies hitting the ground in a dull thud that was lost in the sound of blasters and the yells of the dying that echoed from deeper in the Temple.
Captain Tavian knew that the droids had taken that section of the Temple, and had no options left but to turn and run, firing his blaster behind his back to delay the droids. Turning a corner and sprinting down another hallway Tavian found another group of Sons, this group was setting up a heavy repeating blaster to defend the hallway.
Within the minute the droids came marching down the hallway, only to be cut down by the incredible power and rate of fire of the mounted blaster. The battle seemed to be swaying towards the Sons, and if they could keep up this killing rate then they would be in a much better position.
A glowing red blade, belonging to the Count, ignited at the end of the hallway.
"Kill Dooku! All fire on Dooku!" Tavian ordered, and his troops focused fire on him. The droids got a few lucky hits on his men, killing one more, but the massive amount of blaster fire on Dooku pinned the old ex-Jedi down. He was busy dodging and deflecting shots, and he could not advance under this close quarters hail of shots.
A single droideka rolled into the hallway, and stopped when it reached Dooku's side. It's shields activated, and it opened fire on the Sons. The torrent of blaster fire immediately switched from Dooku to the droideka, and the Count took full opportunity of this.
Within a few long strides the Count was upon the Sons, swinging and slashing his lightsaber, striking killing blows with each swing. It was mere seconds before all of the Sons in the hallway were dead, and Tavian himself found the glowing red blade stabbing directly out of his own stomach.
The pain was searing, but lasted only a moment before the old Devaronian sank to the ground, dead.
In his last moment of life Tavian held onto his hope that the Count would lose, and was reaffirmed as he saw three more red lightsabers ignite, these belonging to the three apprentices, at the end of the hallway. Tavian died with a smile on his face, confident that Lolsok and his apprentices could defeat the Count.
What Tavian did not live long enough to see was the bloody slaughter of the three Dark apprentices at the hands of Count Dooku. The battle was fierce, but ultimately one sided.
Count Dooku, Old Jedi Temple
Swirling around the moment the three blades lit the Count was on the offensive immediately. Drawing one of the three new enemies to him the Count stabbed forward with his lightsaber, impaling the girl through the stomach. Using the Force to slam the stabbed girl;s body into the wall, shattering a section of stone, Dooku felt the Force and her life leave her body.
With a great shout a tall and muscular man charged Dooku, swinging his lightsaber wildly in his fury. Blue lightning shot forth from Dooku's fingers, catching the man mid charge, and electrocuting him severely. The man fell, his lightsaber falling to the cold floor of the hallway, and his body spasming and jerking.
The third combatant, the tall and also slender woman, leapt forward with her own two lightsabers in her hands. It was a short and tense duel, both Dooku and the apprentice battled hard and tensely. Sparks flew and the hallway was illuminated by the irregular glow of the lightsabers and the frequent clashes.
The tall woman stumbled, clumsily losing her balance, and she never felt Dooku's lightsaber bisect her nearly completely. She was dead instantly, her cleaven body falling to the side of the corridor.
"You bastard!" The male apprentice shouted, his gruff and emotion filled voice ringing off the walls of the hallway. For the first time Dooku saw the slightest bit of emotion on the man's face. Pure rage and venom were etched into the man's face as he re-lit his lightsaber and charged.
The Count was forced to raise his saber to block a fierce downward swing, and soon found himself on the defensive from fierce and fast strikes from the enraged apprentice.
It went along for several long moments, at least until the apprentice made a mistake, much as his comrade had and stumbled.
Dooku swung, his blade humming and singing in the somewhat cramped corridor, and the apprentice dropped his lightsaber, screaming in pain as he grabbed at the stump that had been his arm a moment ago.
The apprentice quickly found himself impaled on Dooku's blade, exactly as his two comrades had found themselves. Within minutes Count Dooku had utterly defeated and destroyed the three apprentices. They had been no real challenge to him.
Lolsok, Old Jedi Temple
Run. He had to run. That was it, and that was all. Lolsok hated it, but he knew it. Nothing could be done now. Tavian was dead, he could sense it, and so were his three apprentices. With each passing moment more and more of the Sons of Lolsok died fighting the droid army, and Dooku was making his way through the Temple at an alarming speed.
Lolsok was sprinting through the complex labyrinth of tunnels and corridors that made up the old Temple, and soon burst into the oldest and what was once one of the most sacred parts of the temple. Old statues of Jedi Masters and important figures line this room, and many chairs and meditation spots were set out. But that is not what Lolsok was after, he was after the lectern in the center of the room.
Floating a few inches above the lectern was his prize, his most valuable possession. The ancient and powerful holocron hovered, lazily fluctuating it's height.
Lolsok could sense Dooku was nearly into the chamber as well, and knew that Dooku would arrive before he could escape the Temple.
Retrieving his lightsaber and igniting it as he tucked the holocron into his robes, Lolsok turned just in time to face Dooku as the Count barged into the room.
"Hand over the holocron." The Count ordered, his own lightsaber held at his side, blade humming and ready.
"No. The holocron is mine, and it will stay that way." Lolsok responded, bitter anger and hate leaking through his words. He could feel his rage building, his heart thumping faster and faster. The man across the room from him had cold bloodedly slaughtered his only friend, and his three apprentices.
Dooku stepped forward, dropping into a combat stance, and Lolsok raised his blade. The two circled each other, the tension rising. The presence of the Dark side of the Force rose and rose, soon becoming a veritable hum in the atmosphere of the room.
"You won't escape here, Weequay. You'll be dead before you can reach the door." Dooku said, his power evident in his voice.
The weathered and gruff Weequay responded, "Then strike me down now, Count. Strike me down, or are you afraid?"
Count Dooku kept his calm, but Lolsok could see the rage building in his eyes. If Lolsok could provoke Dooku into striking first he would have a much better chance of escaping this chamber alive.
"I know what you're doing, Weequay, but it does not matter. You'll die here in this Temple." And the Count sprung forward, his lightsaber shoved forward in a stab. Lolsok hopped to the side, bringing his longer and more slender blade in a downwards strike. The Count turned, dodging the blow.
Dooku pushed his hand forward, using the Force to shove Lolsok backwards. Once he was far enough away blue lightning leapt from the Count's hand, leaping the distance between the two combatants.
Lolsok saw it coming, but could not dodge it in time. It was much too fast, and for a moment he was afraid that he would be caught in the lightning. If he was caught in it he held no doubts that it was very unlikely that he would escape.
Bringing his lightsaber down, in the very last second, before the lightning hit Lolsok absorbed it into his blade. The hilt of the lightsaber shook and vibrated, unused to dealing with such raw Sith power, but the blade held firm and blocked the lightning.
Rising from the cold stone ground of the chamber Lolsok kept his blade focused on blocking the lightning, the blinding flash disturbing his eyes. Dooku, on the other side of the lightning, was pumping more and more power into his attack, focusing his hate and anger more and more.
A sudden moment of clarity came to Lolsok. He could use the technique he had adapted from the holocron. It might give him a fighting chance, or at least a chance to escape the chamber. Focusing as much as he could of his own mind, drawing power from his anger and rage. This particular technique took a lot of strength, and it would not be fully completed, especially against such a strong and willful mind as Count Dooku's.
The lightning kept up, it seemed that Dooku was unwilling to relent his attack against Lolsok, and Lolsok held his lightsaber firm while he gathered his power for a sudden strike.
For a moment the Count pressed so much power and hate into his lightning that the Weequay fighter was afraid he would not be able to contain it anymore. It was now that Lolsok struck, breaking his connection to the lightning and jumped to the side. The lightning, now unburdened, slammed into the stone floor, sending chips and bits flying through the air.
A single chip of stone slashed across Lolsoks face, drawing blood and making a deep gash below his left eye. The blood ran down his face, flowing through the natural grooves and ridges of the Weequay man, and dripping onto the floor.
The Count, for his merit, was not surprised by the sudden break of combat, and simply lunged forward in a sweeping slice of his lightsaber, careful not to overextend his reach. His brow scrunched in slight surprise when he found that the Weequay was no where to be seen.
In fact Lolsok had used a blinding speed and his cunning to position himself behind the Count. If his special technique was to have any chance of working then Lolsok would need to be behind the Count, just as he was now.
Cupping his free hand and gathering all of the power he could Lolsok focused, entering a short meditative trance that allowed him to focus his will on the Force he gathered. Keeping in mind exactly what he had learned from the holocron and exactly how he had tweaked it the Weequay let loose his attack, sending it directly into the Count's back.
The Count was shoved forward, hitting the stone wall with much force. Dooku's lightsaber fell, and the man rubbed at his temple. The crash into the stone had hurt, and had dazed him, but what he was much more preoccupied with was the sudden presence in his mind. Strong feelings and urges to simply give up soon hit him, but he realized they were not his own thoughts.
Dooku struggled to his feet, and used the Force to retrieve his lightsaber and re-ignite the blade. He saw the skin on his hands now had the slightest greyish glow to them, just as the skin of the three apprentices he had killed earlier. So that was how this Weequay had converted the three Force sensitives, he had used some sort of impulsion or mind control through the Force. And that was indeed the subject of the holocron that Dooku was seeking in this old and abandoned Jedi Temple.
It had taken Dooku several long moments to recover from the unusual Force attack, and by the time he did recover the Weequay was gone, no trace of which way he had gone, and even his Force presence was dead.
Dooku hailed the surviving droids on his communicator, and informed them to be on the lookout for a fleeing Weequay, and that he should be shot on sight. Hopefully the tanks would be able to take care of him.
The reply cackled back over the communicator, "Yes sir, Lord Dooku. A friendly cruiser has just entered orbit, and we are sending reinforcements."
Count Dooku smiled. This was the first piece of good news that he had received in hours. He would now have plenty of back up troops, and would be able to scour the city properly.
Lolsok ran hard through the tunnels, rage coursing through his veins. It seemed that every corridor he passed held the bodies of more and more Sons, and none were alive. The only consolation was that for each body of a Son he found he came across many more destroyed droids.
He had had the opportunity to possibly strike down Dooku while he had been disorientated in the chamber, but something had stopped him. Something of pure anger and hatred, something that radiated undiluted and unrestricted power. Lolsok suspected that it had been an embodiment of the Dark side of the Force itself that had stayed his hand, but he was unsure.
Turning a corner, and running into a group of three Super Battle Droids and a handful of Battle Droids Lolsok immediately went on the offensive.
Sprinting forward to close the distance and swung his blade, slicing one of the Super Battle Droid's in half. As the top half fell to the ground Lolsok used a Force Push to send three of the regular B1 Battle Droids careening into the wall, where they smashed into bits.
One of the remaining Super Battle Droids swung, and found itself suddenly missing an arm. Within seconds the droid was missing its other limbs, and was impaled through the chest piece by Lolsoks lightsaber.
The third and final Super Battle Droid, and the remaining ordinary Battle Droids, had fallen back to the end of the corridor and were firing their blasters. The first shot Lolsok reflected back into one of the two B1's, and the second shot he reflected into the other, all the time steadily advancing forward. Once he was within range he bisected the last Super Battle Droid, each half falling to the side.
This short engagement had likely been noisy, probably echoing through some of the nearby hallways, and more importantly it had eaten up his time. Lolsok knew he only had a matter of time until more droids came and sealed off his exit for good. Cursing he turned and ran down the hallway once again, headed towards an old escape tunnel deep underground.
After a few minutes of running through the various halls and chambers Lolsok reached his destination. It was not an original part of the Temple, but instead was an addition that he had had secretly constructed just in case this exact type of situation arose. He would have much preferred to have Tavian, and perhaps some of the other Sons at his side, but he could sense that what was once his own proud and militaristic cult was destroyed completely. His last hope was that he could reach the secret hangar that was buried deep beneath the city.
He now stood in a secret speeder bay, which was much deeper under the city than the other parts of the old Jedi Temple. He would be able to take a speeder from here, into the city via a turbolift, and then take the speeder through the city
Quickly walking through the speeder bay Lolsok chose a fast and armed speederbike and mounted it. He again would have preferred to have a companion or two with him so he could take one of the larger and heavily armed speeders, but seeing as he was alone and mobility would be key for escaping to the hangar he chose a speederbike.
Firing up the engine and priming the mounted blasters as he idled the speederbike over to the turbolift Lolsok took a moment to confirm that the holocron was safely secured in his robe pocket. It would not do to lose his most prized and valuable possession by having it carelessly fall out of his robes during his escape from the city. Lolsok did not know, but he suspected that the Separatist forces would be crawling the city looking for him.
The turbolift took him upwards, several hundred feet, and deposited him in the interior of a fake building, constructed specifically as a hiding place for the escape route. The building appeared completely normal from the outside, but was really just a waystation on the way to the secret hangar. Lolsok would have much preferred to have a direct route from the speeder bay to the hangar, but the local geology would not allow for it.
Opening what was essentially a large garage door the Weequay man took the speeder out onto the street, seeing no immediate resistance. Immediately setting off, speeding through the city streets and alleys Lolsok made good time. The secret hangar complex was on the opposite side of the city, but that should not be an issue, especially if he could continue at this rate of travel.
That was not to be, however, as Lolsok rounded a corner and found himself very nearly staring down the barrel of a Separatist tank. It was only his quick reaction and a speedy swerve out of the way that prevented the barrel of the tank from demounting him. Lolsok killed the engine of his speederbike and leapt off of it, jumping onto the roof of the tank. Using his lightsaber to cut through the hatch and to slice the droid pilot he jumped off, back to the street. The tank, now without a functioning pilot, careened off course and into a building, crashing through the wall and exploding moments later.
On the street several Super Battle Droids and Battle Droids were converging, beginning to fire at Lolsok. Only his sharp reflexes and skill allowed him to dodge the volley of blaster bolts, and mount the speederbike again. Taking off, still under fire, Lolsok piloted the bike straight through the group of droids, using the blasters to take a few out on the way. He crushed one droid completely, and escaped the droids altogether.
He was positive that these droids had gotten the message out and that his location was now known to the rest of the Separatist forces. That cut down on the time he had severely. He needed to get to the secret hangar, and quick. Otherwise he would be stuck in the city, and even if he did make it to the hangar he might get shot down in his escape attempt from the hangar.
The next few minutes passed quickly, though not as quickly as Lolsok would have liked. He did not run into any more droid patrols, nor did he see Dooku himself, but Lolsok knew that was because he was trying very hard to mask his presence and not let his position slip.
Parking the speederbike and running to his own personal starfighter, a completely black HH-87 Starhopper, Lolsok fired up the engine. While it did have several engine, weapons, and navigational upgrades Lolsok knew that it was no stealth ship and that it's engines would be put to the test to escape whatever forces the Separatists had in orbit. Patting his side once more Lolsok ensured that the holocron was still safely in his possesion. Satisfied that it was safe the Weequay fired up the ship and it's sensors and breathed a sigh of relief.
It seemed that while the Separatists had two cruisers in orbit the Republic had one of their own, and the three were fighting it out above Pehiri. Closing the cockpit of the Starhopper and engaging the wings Lolsok also primed the weapons systems.
The engines activated and everything was working as it should. Rising slowly, Lolsok used the Force to open the hangar bay doors, and the Starhopper made it's way out of the hangar.
Pushing more power to the engines and gaining speed Lolsok soon found himself high over Newsilver, and shortly after he was in breaking free of orbit. A slight shaking and bumping and the Starhopper broke free of Perhiri's gravity and was going into space.
Lolsok deftly avoided the space battle taking place above Pehiri. It was not difficult, the battle was mainly happening thousands of miles away. Slipping away into the inky blackness of space did nothing to alleviate Lolsok's anger, but he was happy to be escaping the planet alive. Flipping a few levers and running some calculations on the onboard nav-computer Lolsok quickly made the jump to hyperspace, leaving Pehiri thousands of lightyears behind.