"God this is so boring," Dawren said finally. Dawren and his master, Rom Ten, were both sitting in a delivery hanger on Hoth. They had been sent out to watch over a delivery of supplies to a small settlement a few hours north of this hangar. The hangar was in the middle of nowhere with the closest spaceport a half days speeder ride away. But it came in handy for shipments to isolated settlements, and also a prime target for bandits. The last few shipments had been raided and they had been commissioned to see this one got through. Jedi didn't have entirely too much to do nowadays.
Rom was leaning against one of the speeders they were going to be riding in. His long dark brown robe draped across his shoulders, the sleeves had been torn off at one point so now it hung more like a cape with a hood. His long white beard rested against the fabric, the hair spotted with flecks of frost from his breath freezing. Dawren laid on one of the heavy metal shipping containers looking up at the ceiling. His long black leather coat hung off either side along with a few strands of his black hair that he kept at a rather disapproving length, a piece of which was tied into his Padawan's braid. His black leather wide brim hat sat on top of his face as if he were asleep, but his latest outburst dashed that theory.
"You know how important this mission is my young padawan," Rom said gruffly. Dawren sighed. He had spent six of his nineteen years with master Rom Ten. He was wise to say the least; he could even have a seat on the council if he had taken an apprentice earlier. It was true that master Ten had spent all of his years as more a scholar than a warrior or teacher. But when the council called upon him to take an apprentice, he had shown a strange connection with Dawren. He had learned things from his master he couldn't have hoped to learn from any other teacher.
Dawren set his hat aside and leapt down from the container then took out his lightsaber. The hilt was of his own creation, as all Jedi's weapons are. A matte black with a few chrome rings adorning the bottom and top of the hilt. Activating it a blade of deep purple burst from the end. Dawren was one of the few who had received this particular color. It was one of the reasons they had commissioned Master Ten to train him. They thought that maybe he could make sense of the situation.
He grabbed hold of one of the knobs on the side of the hilt and turned it; the blade seemed to lose some of its initial glow as the intensity of the blade lowered to nothing more than a stun stick. "Then maybe we can do something productive while we wait," Dawren said grinning and bringing his blade up to barely an inch from his master's throat. "You just never learn do you?" Rom said, a faint smile forming beneath his beard. A blade of shimmering green swung through the air and knocked away Dawren's, and sliced through a crate that had been sitting right above Ten's head.
"Hey I turned my intensity down," Dawren sputtered as he recovered from his Master's attack. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize you're still at such a tender age. Did you want me to get a couple of wooden sticks instead?" Dawren's grin returned as he brought his blade's intensity back up to a lethal level. "Fine then, lets go," Dawren yelled before running towards Ten. His lightsaber brought to bear in his favored Sokan style. A variation of the common Ataru style, it incorporated the acrobatics and force techniques of Ataru. The only difference being that Sokan was more aimed at the vital parts of a person rather than their weapon that made Ataru the dueling style that it is. Another advantage of Sokan was that, since it aimed for lethal stikes, it could be used against multiple enemies. Since, in the hands of a master, none of you're opponents should be alive to continue the fight.
Ten held his lightsaber in a Niman style. Not surprising since Rom had no qualms about advertising his position as a scholar. The Niman style was a broader perspective of swordsmanship that didn't focus on one single area. This allowed whoever used it to focus on other things rather than fighting, be it a scholar or a diplomat. But in the hands of a master it could be just as lethal as any other style.
Dawren leapt to his right, planted his feet on the container placed there, and used a burst of force to send him speeding toward his Master. He threw a quick strike at his master's chest, which was easily parried. Dawren continued traveling past Ten and threw a second quick strike at his back, which was dodged with almost choreographed ease. Dawren tucked and rolled before springing into a back flip in an attempt to get behind Ten again. A full force blast slamming Dawren toward the ceiling ended that thought immediately. Bringing his feet back underneath him Dawren pushed out of the ascension and began his fall back down.
With another burst of the force Dawren sped back to the ground. Ten had jumped up on one of the shipping containers and was waiting for him. The next strike was aimed toward Ten's head, who brought his blade up for another block. Dawren pulled out of his fake strike, tossed his lightsaber above his head, and used both hands to push a huge blast of force energy right at his master. The blast caught him off guard as he leapt from the container that immediately bent inward. Dawren landed on the destroyed container and leapt right after his Master and caught his lightsaber as it came down again. Landing behind him, Dawren saw his opening as Ten attempted to right himself. He switched his style to something for a killing blow, activated the blade again and lunged. Ten jumped into the air suddenly and brought his arms and legs close to his body and deactivated his lightsaber.
In the next moment a burst of energy flew in every direction, taking Dawren off course and slamming him into one of the speeders. Disoriented from Ten's powerful force repulse, he couldn't see or hear the lightsaber being activated and leveled at his throat. "You lose," Rom whispered sounding out of breath. "Fine, this time," Dawren mumbled. "Ha, you mean every time," his master said holding out his hand. Dawren took it and dusted himself off as he got to his feet. "You changed styles," Ten said after a moment. "Yeah, thought I had you there at the end," "Changing at such a critical point in a fight is bad enough but using a style you have such little skill in," all the humor was gone from his voice as he shook his head. "Master Windu has barely mastered Vaapad and you attempt to use it, stunts like that'll get you killed." Dawren looked him straight in the eyes before continuing, "I'm sorry Master, the mistake was mine. I'll… try not to do so again." Rom met his gaze and put a hand on Dawren's shoulder, "We're all human." The hangar door started to open with a loud whirring of heavy machinery.
"Finally," Dawren said raising his hands and lacing them behind his head. They began to walk over to the ship pulling into the hangar. It appeared to be a standard goods transport with a rusted brown exterior and a lower-able ramp in the back. Dawren grabbed his hat, set it on his head, and pulled the brim down over his eyes; his equivalent to a standard Jedi's robe hood. The ramp lowered, Dawren and Ten both grabbed for their lightsabers. Inside were at least fifty of those stick figure looking battle droids all armed with E-5 blaster rifles. Standing in front of them was a man in a black robe that completely concealed his face. If Dawren didn't know better he swore the man was surprised to see them standing there.
They stood completely still for what seemed like hours. Finally the robed man pointed a long finger at the pair and all the droids brought their weapons to bear. Both their lightsabers activated at the same time as they dived to the side of the ship. Blasterfire scorched the ground where they had been standing moments before. The droids advanced as Dawren readied his Sokan stance and he saw Rom doing the same with his Niman. Nodding they both jumped out from behind their cover and faced the droids head on.
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The battle raged. Droid after droid fell to the Master and Padawan's blades. Until finally the last one was in pieces. Dawren looked at his left arm to find several scorched holes in the leather. Something he knew could wait till later. The two finally turned back toward the robed man who still stood in the same spot on the rear of the ship. The two Jedi pointed the tips of their blades at the man. "Give up, there's no chance for you. Come with us and be delivered to trial," said Ten in the most official voice he could muster.
Silence fell over the hangar as they stood. Faintly Dawren thought he could here the man in the ship talking. It grew louder until Dawren realized he was laughing. It was cold as ice and struck the two Jedi right to their core. The scariest part, he didn't move at all. Throughout his entire maniacal laugh he stayed in the exact same standing position. Then he raised one hand in an almost absent-minded way. Blue lightning shot from his fingers and slammed into Dawren sending him flying back across the hangar, pain shot through every part of him. Every muscle convulsed and continued to do so as he slammed into the wall and let his blade drop from his hand.
Rom rushed to meet the robed man, just as he pulled a lightsaber of his own from the sleeves of his robe. The bright red blade met with green in a clash of sparks. The man jumped to Rom's side and made another swipe that was just narrowly deflected. It was obvious his Master didn't stand a chance against this man. Dawren tried to rise to his feet but pain shot through again and he stumbled back to the floor. They sent blows back and forth for some time, neither one of them giving in. But the day's events had left Rom exhausted. The final swipe he threw was dodged as the robed man ducked down and brought his blade up in an upward slash. Rom's hand was severed as he cried out in pain.
The man caught the discarded lightsaber, activated it, and brought both down in scissor shape across Rom's neck. He was forced to his knees and at this man's mercy. Dawren finally made enough of his muscles work together to cry out, "Master. NO." Rom looked back at Dawren one last time before the robed man uncrossed the blades across his Master's neck. Everything fell silent as he fell to his side. The man placed both lightsabers inside his robes and walked back to the ship. Before the ramp closed he looked back at Dawren, the light revealing the bottom of his face. He was smiling and kept on doing so until the door closed and the ship lifted off. Silence filled the room as Dawren sat in a mangled heap. Battered, bruised, and torn from the inside out. His anguish and all events leading up to this point caught up with him as he took one look at his fallen master. Darkness swept over him until he fell into a blissful sea of unconsciousness.