Dark Hour

Cyrin ducked as a lightsaber slashed for his neck, seeking to decapitate him. He thrust out with his violet blade, carving a hole through the Dark Jedi's chest, where his heart had once been. As he rose, he noticed a group of Sith moving towards the dormitories—where the Younglings and Padawans were.

Extending a hand, Ash sent two Dark Jedi flying away and crashing into the pillars, as Vandar slash across their chests.

"At this rate, we might as well be dead," Tarn muttered, standing back to back with his former Master.

"Calm yourself, Tarn," Ash replied, breathing heavily. "You have far much longer than I to live."

"So you say," the younger man muttered.

Ash feared the young man was right—at the rate they were going, and the fact that the Dark Jedi outnumbered them 4 to 1, it would only be a matter of time until someone fell.

"Ash, they're moving towards the dormitories!" Cyrin called out, as he leapt over one of the Dark Jedi, slashing the Dark Jedi's back, while he spun about and deflected two lightsabers aimed for his stomach.

"Let's go," Ash said, as he and Tarn moved away from the battle the other companions were involved in.

Frreral let out a growl as he nimbly deflected a lightsaber aimed for his head. With his free hand, he slammed the Dark Jedi in the face and sent him sprawling back. Rotating his grip on his golden blade, Frreral swung his blade in a figure eight, sending two other Dark Jedi back.

They lost their grips on their lightsaber, as the wookiee Jedi sent their blades angling away.

Seizing the moment, Frreral brought his blade to quickly slash to the right and to the left, lopping off the heads of his opponents. Where's Dante when you need him? He thought, looking about as he walked towards the other Jedi who were fighting, taking time to swing his lightsaber onto the chest of the Dark Jedi he had sent to the ground with one of his wookiee fists.


Ash Merrick and Tarn Seethes raced across the corridors, hoping to beat the Dark Jedi to the Younglings.

I can't imagine what will happen to the Younglings if the Sith get their hands on them, Ash thought ruefully.

As the pair raced in silence, they spotted five crumpled forms, and two other Jedi that stood there. One of them had the familiar T-shaped head of an ithorian.

"Sneed! Len!" Tarn called out as they noticed the crumpled forms were Dark Jedi and not children. Tarn exhaled in relief.

"There's more," Len said softly, his tone saddened. "And they're not Dark Jedi."

Ash looked at the nautolan. "Who else?"

"When we arrived, they had killed a few of the Younglings—and we tried to stop them," Sneed tried to explain, his voice cracking.

"Where are the others?" Tarn asked softly, as he rested a hand on Sneed's shoulder.

"They're safe—we put them in a room, but Rena and Febe are missing," Len answered.

"We'll have to find them later. For now, we need to--," Tarn was cut off as a figure approached them.

The figure was clad all in black, sporting specially grafted Bothan goggles and carried what appeared to be a rebreather. His blood red lightsaber thrummed, as he stared at the four Jedi before him. This was what Deus had been waiting for all of his artificial life.

"You," Len said, as he and Sneed ignited their lightsabers. The four Jedi stood abreast of one another, their emerald lightsabers glowing as they prepared themselves for the onslaught of this powerful Sith.

"I've been waiting for this for so long," the heavily synthesized voice replied. "Now I will be the one honoured with killing all of you—in one last stroke." He let out what would be construed as laughter, as he raced towards them.

The Jedi brought their lightsabers up and joined in the charge.

Deus spun about, forcing the four Jedi to block, as he leapt towards the ithorian Jedi, running him through and jumping over the screaming carcass.

Ash felt Sneed's life wither away, and realized that the figure they were fighting had been toying with them during the fight in the Senate.

Tarn brought his lightsaber over his head, blocking the slash Deus made for him.

Len took the lapse in Deus' judgment and thrust out, only to be sent back with a shove from the Force.

Deus spun about and slashed horizontally, forcing Ash to block, while Tarn swung his lightsaber over his head, bearing down on the crimson lightsaber that somehow managed to block Deus' head.

Growling, Len extended one foot and shoved Deus back. The Masters stood side by side once more, as they prepared themselves for Deus' relentless assault.

Deus readied himself and leapt towards them, swinging his lightsaber in horizontal and vertical slashes that the Jedi Masters were forced to deflect against, as the Sith continued his attacks.

Len blocked another swipe to his face, as he thrust out his lightsaber, only to be deflected and guided away from the fight by the Sith's crimson lightsaber.

Tarn growled in frustration as he was continually pushed back along with Ash.

Ash angled his lightsaber, attempting to guide Deus' lightsaber away, as he landed a kick to the Dark Jedi's stomach.

Len, behind the Sith, seized the lapse, as he continued his onslaught, aware that Deus had extended a hand and sent his companions flying towards a fallen beam.

Deus focused his attacks on the nautolan, aware that this one was exceptionally skilled in lightsaber combat. He lunged, feigning an opening.

Taking the opening, Len found his lightsaber locked with the taller and much more muscular Dark Jedi.

Deus grinned underneath his mask, as his lightsaber was locked in an upright manner, to Len's horizontal blade. He shoved his blade against the weaker Jedi, and sent the nautolan moving back.

Len recovered quickly, and growling with his own anger, he came in downward swipes, slashes as he deflected and attempted to parry off each strike Deus made with his own.

Both Jedi were moving with rapid speed, as the Force swirled around them, honing and augmenting each one's abilities, as their lightsaber moved in blurs of crimson and emerald.

And in a blur, it was over, as they fought in figure eight patterns, where the crimson blade pierced through the emerald defence.

Orange sparks fluttered from Len's right elbow, causing him to scream in pain as his arm flew away, carrying the lightsaber in its grip.

Deus grinned underneath his mask as he spun about, extending his lightsaber as he decapitated the nautolan.


Cyrin felt the death of Len and gritted his teeth, as he felt the loss of one of his best friends. In the overhead lightsaber lock with one of the Dark Jedi, he screamed fierily as he brought both blades bearing down on the poor Dark Jedi. The lightsabers decapitated the Dark Jedi, as well as cleave the head in half.

Strafing away from the move, Cyrin looked at the trio of Dark Jedi that rushed to face him. Tired and injured, the Jedi poised himself as he watched the trio close the gap between them. This is it, he thought, with closed eyes. I will be joining you soon, my friends—but I will give them one last fight to remember me by. He opened his eyes and saw the Dark Jedi raising their blades to meet him.

He felt the surge of adrenaline course through his veins as he met them blade for blade, spinning between them, as he smacked one crimson blade away and sliced one Dark Jedi in half, the torso falling before the legs. He grunted as he felt one of the Dark Jedi's fists land a blow to his face.

Parrying, both Dark Jedi coordinated their efforts as they whirled around him, slashing across him, and over his head, searching for weak points in the Jedi Master's admirable defence.

Cyrin crouched and whirled his lightsaber, severing the legs of one enemy, as he rolled away from the other crimson lightsaber that accidentally sliced its comrade in half.

The Dark Jedi recovered quickly, block the violet blade that came for her head, then for her stomach and her legs. She was slowly being pushed back, as the dark skinned Jedi Master continued to relentlessly push her back.

Cyrin slashed left and right, shifting his grip on the lightsaber into backhand strikes. He continued sending the Dark Jedi back, as he brought his lightsaber of his head and swung down with all of his might.

She screamed as she just barely managed to bring her lightsaber up in a horizontal block, as she saw the piping red hot energy come within an inch of her eyes.

Cyrin continued to push his weight into it, as he saw her struggling to prevent it from burning her head away. He leapt back, causing her to stumble as he raced towards her again, slamming his lightsaber against hers, as he swung in a wide figure eight pattern, and he spun about, pivoting his weight as he kicked her across the face, sending her back.

She crashed to the ground and rolled away, putting weight on her back as she sprung up, face first into the lightsaber that sent her head rolling away.

Cyrin looked around and noticed the Dark Jedi were reduced in number, which surprised him. He saw Frreral dueling against two other Dark Jedi, while Vandar raced across the walls, sending waves of the Force crushing down his opponents.

He turned to face Jolee, who continued to deftly parry each strike that came his way. He was outnumbered, and Cyrin could feel the Force slowly ebbing from his former Master.

He began to move towards the older man, as he felt subtle waves of the Force, which told him to duck. As he did so—dropping his lightsaber in the process—, he noticed crimson bolts slamming into the group of Dark Jedi that stood there. Cyrin turned and noticed platoons of Republic Soldiers, all heavily armed, as they entered the Temple, led by Forn Dodonna, Bastila Shan and Dustil Onasi.

Bastila leapt over the Jedi Master and embedded her golden double-edged lightsaber into the chest of a hapless Dark Jedi, as the rest charged to face the Republic soldiers.

Dustil moved towards Cyrin, his blue blade thrumming, as he extended a hand to the Master who lay on the ground. "Master Jace," he said, "I am Dustil Onasi."

Cyrin took the young man's hand, and noticed the dark haired man looked very much like one Admiral Carth Onasi. "You're Carth's son, aren't you?" It was all he could manage, as he saw the others engaging against the Dark Jedi.

"Yes, sir," he replied. "I believe we have an enemy to stop," he said, "so if you'll excuse me, Master." He raced towards the Dark Jedi, who were fighting against his own Master and Jolee.

Cyrin looked for his lightsaber on the ground, commanding it to his hand as he felt its warm grip. He ignited the blade and looked at Forn, who ordered the soldiers to move towards strategic positions, as they poured seemingly limitless amounts of crimson bolts towards the Dark Jedi. His heart warmed as he saw her, and then he moved towards the corridors—where Ash and Tarn were. He could only hope he wasn't too late.