Good day all,

On to another chapter of this tale. We are….ABOUT halfway now, depending on how I break up the following chain of events. This story has come alive for me and I am very much so enjoying bringing it to you in words. And, as always, I can't thank you all enough for the reviews and the messages – they mean the world to me.

Trigger warning in this chapter and for the rest of the story: violence, fighting, blood, death, and gore are prevalent. If these bother you, please refrain from journeying any closer. A new dynamic is being introduced here, and it will live to the end of the story.

I hope you all enjoy – this was actually very difficult to write so that the underpinnings of the story make sense. A lot is still to come, so hold on tight.

Happy Writing,

Eliana

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Yun-Yammka was the Slayer, the ultimate decider in times of war – and Lun Annul had been honored to wear his likeness on his arm as he followed his fellow warriors into the field. These demons they hunted were the epitome of sacrilege, heathens brought and wrought on a planet so full of riches that they chose to worship from a distance. They protected each other from pain, fought against death, strove for life… all for the sake of some pretend connection with 'nature' that made no sense to him. So, when his Lord Hidora had brought himself and his kindred here and explained that the great god Yun-Yuuzhan had gifted them this world in exchange for the blood of these infidels, he had been eager to rid the planet of the devils that lived on its surface.

Hidora had long separated their ranks and families after he heard the voice of Yun-Yuuzhan two and a half standard years ago, and it was the greatest honor Lun had ever been gifted when he had retrieved his weapons and followed him. Twenty-five thousand of them were on this planet, all herding and luring these bright skinned devils into their trap that would destroy them all in five days' time… and as that glorious moment drew near and he heard word of more of these creatures to sacrifice to his general, he gripped his weapon ever tighter.

One had separated themselves, he noticed as he ran toward the edge of the trees. A lone female, a worthy sacrifice that would surely honor his general and his gods more than any other kill he had achieved so far. It looked and initiated easy enough – these heretics were too tied up in their grip of the world to realize the glory of pain they could feel – and once she fell to the ground, he raised his spear to end her life. A wonderful sacrifice.

A flash of green was what Lun remembered seeing, and then that wonderful, washing, releasing agony awoke his every nerve. Both of his arms had been severed from him in the blink of an eye, and as his body reeled from shock and his black blood painted the ground, time seemed to slow down.

Standing over his aimed kill was another of those demons, swift and fit and fixated only on him. He had intervened faster than Lun had counted on and still stood, poised over the unconscious female with one hand holding the lightsaber behind him and the other pressing his fingertips to the ground. A true monster was this thing in front of him. Skin as red as the color of his people's blood shamed by a single white stripe up his nose that accented his eyes – eyes that looked straight through him in a decision of damnation.

The molten gold of this devil's eyes was swallowed by black, starving intent, and the red lips pulled back to present the fanged white teeth that so desperately wanted to tear into his prey. This one walked a razor's edge between Jedi code and savagery, honor being the only thing that had him guarding the female's body with his own instead of giving into that primal instinct to kill. In that moment, Lun understood that his general had been right: a true, disgusting entity truly did hide among the infidels that were here… and hell came with him.

Djibourdi wasn't the one to end his life. The hell he brought with him were the Reapers that did that for him, charging straight past him in a flurry of torn grass, wind, fury, and intent to tear down the grey-skinned enemy in front of him along with the others who trickled from the woods. They had dared to threaten harm to their commander and did harm one of his protected – so they would feel the full vented fury of what the Reapers had for them.

Djibourdi had no concern for his mens' ability to solve the issue at hand, and instead shut down his lightsaber and moved himself to crouch next to his friend. Her arm was wounded and bleeding, but thankfully not broken… but the wound to her lekku was of more concern. Had it been any other context he would have been worried about concussions, but right now the best he could do was taper the bleeding and get her back to one of the medics. It wasn't nearly as bad as he had feared it to be, but the weeping wound brought forth emotions that he had to banish to the Force as quickly as they arose.

The wound easily packed with the sticky salve he retrieved from one of his belt pockets, and he gently tapped a couple fingernails against it after it hardened into a protective seal over the wound. He was fortunate enough to have made that salve months ago and kept it with him – it was of clear use now, he told himself as he quickly packed the wound on her arm next. It would have to do until he got her back within the camp walls and to Bones.

The sound of tearing fabric was the catalyst that woke Ahsoka from her sudden induced sleep. The first thing she registered was the deep throb of her lekku, then the sharp pain in her mouth (when had she bitten her tongue?), and then finally the sensation of tender fingers wrapping her stinging arm in cloth. Her eyes focused in on her friend's face as it came into focus, relieved to see that he looked like his normal self again.

"Ugh," she grunted out, her uninjured arm bringing her hand to ghost across the sealed wound on her head. It was closed because of her friend, and her eyes told her that the cloth that bound her arm came from the now-torn hem of his shirt, "Dji? What are you… Wait – did I get knocked out again?!"

He didn't answer beyond a small smirk as she sat up. She translated what he wanted to say – and she twitched her lip at him. Jerk.

"I'm not gonna have any braincells left after this mission is over," she rasped out, noting that the Reapers stood alert around them as her friend found his feet. He offered her a hand up, which she accepted, and then held his arm as well when her head spun.

"Sirs, we should head back," one of the Reapers urged them, his brothers gathering close after retrieving the loose weaponry from their slain enemies.

Djibourdi nodded in agreement and shared a look amongst his men. The distance back was not far for them… but suddenly they found themselves in possession of a wounded ally with their enemies on fast approach. Their normal maneuver would have sent them in the opposite direction, away from the camp. With the enemies being what they were distance from the unprepared was best, and usually he and his Reapers would have drawn them off so that Tombur could run the reserves Djibourdi had readied to tear them down from behind. That wouldn't happen today, and their time to decide was very quickly ticking away.

He could feel their feet digging into the earthen ground, hear the pounding of the hoofbeats of the beasts that pulled their chariots, registered the sharp song of durasteel and bone weaponry that echoed off of the trees- they were coming. They were coming quickly, and all he could do was try and pull Ahsoka along to get her back to the camp. She couldn't be out here, shouldn't be out here, and he had to get her off of the playing field.

"Wait, wait, Dji," she stuttered to him, letting him pull her along as she sensed his urgency. The Force was only shaking with their presence and the presence of the clones, so she was struggling to understand his anxiety, "What about the fight you were just in?"

He shot her a side glance.

"Everyone's dead."

His answer was dry and blatant, no hint of humor or sarcasm tinting the words. His façade had fallen back into place. Tombur nudged at his mind with concern and question – wondering why his padawan was moving toward the camp instead of away…but he didn't know how to answer him yet. He didn't know what answer he should give his master, or if Tombur was even aware that Ahsoka was here with him instead of safe in camp. The only thing he could focus on was getting her back before it was too late – she wasn't ready for this enemy.

She was brave, fearless, more than capable to face anything that came her way…anything but this. She was not ready for this, and these things would tear her apart if they caught her. They worshipped death past the point of savagery, and she would be an ideal target for their blasted beliefs with her honor code. Her honor would have her aiming to spare their lives if she could, and against these enemies she would receive no such mercy in return…he did not have that handicap.

Jedi or no, he took the slaughter of his people to heart and drew a hard line when it came to his sister. He would break any code he needed to in order to keep her safe, fight any manner of sharp-toothed demon that crawled its way from the pits to defend Kachina, stand in the way of a stampeding charge if it meant he was sure that they would both be free.

His code was as simple as his master's: he wouldn't fight unless they struck first. Their intent would be matched justly: if they wished death to him and he was doomed to meet that fate, they would be coming with him.

Ahsoka wasn't supposed to be out here with him – she was supposed to be safe behind the wall, tucked away with Kachi and Eddy and Tocarra and Donny where he would be sure she was out of harm's way. Capable or not, this was a different level of danger that he wanted her far away from. They were being hunted by outsiders, dark beings that taunted the living with agony and fear and tortured the life-force out of them. If they got their hands on her, they would rip her apart. He had to get her out of play; off the field, out of contention, away from the hunters that were closing in.

They had made it thirty-seven steps. Thirty-seven steps that were silently spurred along with urgency and strangled silence, Ahsoka keeping herself as steady as she could with the dizziness that stirred in her skull. When Djibourdi understood they could go no further, even as they just reached the sightline of the camp wall, he pulled them all to a halt.

"Too late."

His steady words shot goosebumps up Ahsoka's spine, and the nausea that came from the wound on her head doubled when the clones around them activated their shields. The weapons they had retrieved were held ready.

"Ahsoka."

Djibourdi drew her attention to him. His voice was startlingly calm.

"You've been in hand-to-hand combat before, right?"

"Yes," she answered hesitantly, "I've fought plenty of times in close quarters."

His head barely nodded in acceptance when he looked at her. His accent, thickened with stress and concern, strummed his words.

"Good, you will need that. The creatures that are about to come out of these woods have a very simple method of engagement. The Force will not help you against them – use it to protect you and affect their weapons instead."

That she already had learned, her throbbing arm reminded her.

"They do not aim to simply harm; they aim to kill… you must find it within yourself to do the same. Their desire will be to separate the group, but we will not do that until I say – and I need you to do as I say. We only match intent, we do not cause harm until they do. We are one: we fight together and if we go down, we go down together. Do you understand?"

Ahsoka hesitantly affirmed, then jumped when her friend spoke to his men in Togruti:

"Shalone la sine zat xahie, auf hauven fordi fi'orta phida."

And then to her:

"You must find it in yourself to show them no mercy, Ahsoka, for you shall receive none."

His warm, golden irises dilated heavily again, and they moved to pin down a coming noise that was hidden by the trees. To his master, he pressed a heavy warning of incoming enemies and danger, straightening at the confidence that was sent back. Tombur was confident in him to hold the field, and he would hold the camp… all against the wall of sound that was about to rapidly descend upon them. In a final command, he spoke to all in his company:

"Stay together, and we will survive."

With great effort Ahsoka's lungs filled with a deep breath. It was ripped back from her violently when her friend let out a snarling hiss at the tree line to their right – and like gundark charging their prey, they came thundering deafeningly from the cover of the trees.

Wheeled chariots, pulled by Togruti-marked keirar (their people's chosen beast of burden), rumbled down on them, sharpened durasteel spires whistling on the churning wheels. More of their grey-skinned enemies poised themselves in the charging chariots, each in pairs and all staring straight down to them like starving lions as they moved around them and through each other's path. Six in total, she counted, and those not in the chariots were making their way straight toward the camp.

Djibourdi took their presence as an affront, their circling as a taunting fake-out to get them to move. In a final insult, one that Ahsoka would hopefully never understand, he recognized the marking on the animals and the chariots as the same that had been wrested from the village he and his master had found. He had yet to draw his weapon… he wanted to understand how they chose to engage first, but this was a hard tear. Follow the Code, he reminded himself – he had to swallow the primal urge to rip them apart.

"Stay close," Djibourdi's steady voice spoke to Ahsoka more than she gave it credit for. He had a sense of calm amidst the lethal danger whipping around them, his full attention on every detail of the maneuvers that their enemies took, "We don't move until they do."

It was the only time he was going to give them an option to reconsider what they planned, but their answer to his gesture was a sudden surge of violence. Kore raised his shield and deflected the first projectile that was shot at them, and that intent was all the indication and catalyst Djibourdi needed.

"Rounded column!" he ordered, and Ahsoka watched the Reapers circle around the two of them, backs to them, shields locked, before crouching behind the new line of defense. She drew one lightsaber to her hand and activated it, her mind screaming a thousand bits of information to her at once.

A sharp project was swatted out of the air by her lightsaber when she realized Djibourdi hadn't drawn his own yet. The single line of shielded clones wasn't going to be able to withstand one of those chariots – he could at least draw his weapon so he was ready if they charged! These weren't droids, they wouldn't take much time to form that idea and, as if reading her mind, one of the grey-skinned drivers turned his thundering weapon toward them.

"Shields locked, stay together," Djibourdi ordered his men, watching him approach, "Hold."

He was getting closer, the spire on his wheel ready to shred anything in its way.

"Hold."

Ahsoka could see the yellow of his teeth through the blue shields.

"Together!"

They called the command back to him and pulled together on the interlocked shields, sending the spire that was shearing from the wheel bouncing off of them and rocking the chariot as it sped past. Another followed quickly behind and the same effect occurred, the loud clanking of durasteel scraping off of a forcefield accented by the alarmed cry of the running keirar and the sound of blaster fire in the distance.

Anakin hopped off the back of the medical transport as soon as he brought it safely through the gate, Tombur doing the same before he was charging to the line of men his padawan had arranged to guard the camp.

"Rex, they're going to come from the north, too! Shoot to kill, they're going to come quick!" the human hollered as he took the steps up to the top of the wall three at a time, the screaming of blaster bolts drowning out his steps.

He had a nagging feeling that he couldn't shake, a feeling that told him something was very wrong; it wasn't the enemies pouring in from the wilderness that bothered him. Ahsoka should have been next to him begging for a hand in the chaos by now, but she was nowhere to be found – and that was far from normal. A sharp spin around still left his sight void of the female Togruta. Now this was very concerning.

"Rex, where's Ahsoka?!"

"Out there, sir," Rex called back, pausing his fire to point to the field in the distance.

"What?!"

There wasn't much that could truly make Anakin Skywalker anxious… but the sight of the circle of blue shields being circled by bloodthirsty outsiders was successful in doing it. The shots ringing from his troops over the heads of the poised Chargers deafened him to Djibourdi in the distance.

The padawan had reached out to grab hold of one of his hooked lightsabers, pulling it into his grasp but leaving it inactivated as another driver aimed right for his Reapers. Ahsoka caught his ruse and readied herself.

"Hold…." He ordered, watching the chariot start to skid by before the order of, "Deck!", had the two Reapers in front of him falling face forward.

The green lightsaber hummed through the air as it flung from his and sliced through the wheel of the chariot with ease thanks to his friend's slowing pull of the Force on the vehicle, sending its weight to veer off balance and setting off a chaotic chain of events. That chariot was thrown by intertia into another, that now damaged chariot lost its driver at the blow sending it charging into another, that one careened its charging keirar into the ground sending the chariot flying into a final in the series. That final chariot pulled over and its connecting lines broke, leaving its driver holding desperately to the reins of the spooked animals as he was dragged across the ground.

From six chariots to two.

"Well done!" Djibourdi called to them all, his lightsaber returning to his hand and the two Reapers quickly relinking their shields.

Ahsoka was learning quickly, Force-pushing another projectile out of the way of their troopers. Djibourdi was already calling the next play, the names of six of his Reapers rolling from his tongue in Togruti along with his orders while he grabbed ahold of one of their confiscated spears.

"Ahsoka, keep the field," was all he gave her before he was gone, jumping out from the safety of the circle of clones and charging like a predator on the chase after one of the intact chariots.

The six troopers he had called to deactivated their shields and had drawn their weapons, leaving the wall of men to jump into the middle of the fray of the enemies that had been thrown from their vehicles and those that had turned from the camp to join the fight. Ahsoka made the call to keep the others circled with her in the center, and they heeded that order. She could keep their enemy's attention and draw them in close… the Reapers would handle them after that. There was certainly no shortage of the hissing humanoids that seemed intent on her.

Djibourdi was hot on the heels of the chariot who tried to speed away from him toward the camp, tossing the spear he had retrieved lightly into a throwing position in his hand. The animals pulling it were growing exhausted and slowing their pace, making it easy for him to trail. The warrior looking back at him hissed through rotting teeth before throwing his spear – one that was easily dodged before the Togruta's came sailing back, accelerated through the Force to become a weapon of incredible damage.

It flew to its target and beyond, skewering both driver and rider through their skulls and ending their lives. The frightened animals screamed in alarm at the roar of approving yells that sounded from the camp that they were now only yards from as the blasting came to a sudden stop. They found a bit of remaining energy as the padawan outran them, their panic sending them veering into, over, and slicing the spires of the chariot wheels through a handful of remaining enemies that Tombur had yet to handle. Their blood sprayed the air like ink on a canvas.

Djibourdi rounded himself back to return to the field, eying his Master who was guiding the fifty reserved outside of the camp wall to finish the remaining of the outsiders who threatened its safety. The Echani let out one sharp whistle and a shout of "Red!" as he neared, the vibrosteel broadsword flying from his master's hand to his own. It was caught without thought and without slowing – these outsiders would be handled with the blessing bite of a sword. They met force with force, and their steel would be met with his.

Anakin stood amongst the cheering 501st as the teenager sailed by, headed toward the cusp of the ridge where he pulled himself to a skidding stop. There should be one more, he remembered, one more rolling deathtrap of outsiders that had to be dealt with before he could set all of his men on the stragglers. One more cause of potential harm to his men and his friend that had to be ended, regardless of how harshly his breath was wheezing from his lungs.

It came steamrolling toward him once it saw his position, Ahsoka holding the wall of clones strong enough that it harmlessly bounced off the linked shields. The hope of its driver was that the younger Togruta was too worn to keep fighting…and they weren't far from being correct. He was becoming frayed and shaky from the excessive use of the Force – not only from this fight and the one earlier, but from his efforts to save Tocarra and his desperate urge to be of assistance in possibly saving Donovan. If it was only his own merit that he fought, he would have decided to hang back with his master and try their chances as a group. That wasn't reality.

Reality was the thing that had him running forward, right at the creatures that aimed to kill him, because there were priorities that he now had to protect. These people were only here to slaughter his kin – that most ultimate of sins that the demanding voices of his ancestors commanded him to address. His priorities were to protect his kin, both blood and chosen, and to end what was, undoubtedly now, an occupation designed for slaughter.

He was glad to show them what those priorities could make him do and, when the concentrated push of the Force knocked the frightened animals that ran at him off their feet and Tombur's sword sliced through the neck of the outsider who was sent flying through the air above him, the primal side of his nature chittered in joy.

He hadn't stopped his run when he called the remaining of his Reapers from their hold and into the fight. They were glad to oblige, all of them and Ahsoka cutting down the few remaining outsiders that scurried about and effectively ending their fight. He finally cantered himself to the ridge between both sites and stopped, breath heaving in his lungs, listening beyond the chaos that was in front of him for any sign of further risk. When he found no more enemies coming the broadsword, coated in inky blood, was raised above his head in a sign of victory.

It was met with a roar from both sites, Anakin's voice raised with the energy of his men who cheered the victory. Ahsoka turned herself to take it all in – her eyes not doing justice to the victory that they had won. These people - blood the color of the deepest sector of space, non-use of any form of technology, determination to fight hand-to-hand, not focusing on the clones but her and Djibourdi instead – were so strange among all of those she had ever fought before. They weren't interested in conversation about what they were doing here.

Her friend wasn't either, she had come to realize. The sweet, gentle, soft-spoken Djibourdi that she had come to know had become someone else entirely in a very short time. He was effective, cunning, precise… and finally she understood that Sam's warning to her about these clones that now guided her on was well placed. They had been trained by the two Jedi that just managed this with nothing but lightsabers, vibroswords, wits, and shields.

Yet after all of that carnage the Reapers were suddenly just normal clones again, their own slight fatigue showing as they escorted her ever closer to the camp. The air between her and them seemed different now and, walking between them all, she had to wonder if this was the feeling of respect that Djibourdi received from them so readily. She had proven herself a fighter worthy of command to them.

Ahsoka felt the nausea of her head wound curdle into the desire to vomit as it mixed with the adrenaline crash she was experiencing now, her legs heavy and barely wanting to obey her order to move. This type of fighting was so much more exerting than she was used to. Gone was the hope that some bolt-brained droid would open a margin of error wide enough for her to exploit and gain the upper hand… these enemies meant to kill her with every fiber of themselves. Without her friend's warning of mercy, she had to question what path she would have chosen. Secretly, she was grateful that none of their lives were ended directly by her.

What was strange to her, one thing that she hardly understood as she pulled herself along, was why her friend had spared the animals. Not one was slain, not one had an injury more substantial than a gash or bruised legs. No such mercy met their enemies.

She saw Djibourdi watching her from the edge of the ridge as she trudged up toward him – he was coated in black blood and sweat and sand, his breath somewhat short in his lungs and wheezing from him with effort. If she was feeling the hit of this attack, he had to be on the verge of collapse. That concern was validated as his eyes glazed slightly and she watched his arms droop to his side, his weight stumbling from one foot to the other. Her friend was exhausted but perked at the whistle and voice that carried from the camp yards away.

"Red, that'll do!" Tombur summoned him, and the now-familiar trill answered the command.

Djibourdi was back across the field and into the doors of the camp before Ahsoka was able to make it back herself with the protective clones around her. The reserves that had remained in the camp were led out to the field by Sam, their task to handle any newcomers that wandered too close and remove the carnage that littered the ground. Ahsoka's only thoughts were on making it back, finding her master, and checking to make sure Djibourdi wasn't hurt. He didn't look well.

When she saw him next, he and his master were on the side of the procured medical transport. The blood-crusted vibrosword was rested on the side of it, seemingly now an afterthought.

Tombur was pulling the armor from his companion and tossing it carelessly to the sandy ground, a surprising amount of tenderness marking the concerned pats of the master who searched his protesting padawan for injuries. Finding none he gave a relieved sigh and spoke low enough to Djibourdi that she couldn't decipher his words. They were always so quiet in their discussions, she grumbled to herself. Surely it had nothing to do with her head wound.

Djibourdi nodded an affirmation to his master, pointing with concern next to a weeping cut across his master's forehead. A trivial injury, it was waved off for later by the Echani. They briefly bowed their heads together, Djibourdi letting out a low chittering sound from his montrals that marked the brief moment of peace that allowed him to catch his breath, and when they parted they were moving rapidly again.

Her fellow padawan and his master climbed onto the now-obtained medical transport and ripped through its contents, sending clones with armfuls of bloodbags, dressings, boxes, and vials into the medical tent before Djibourdi gathered another armful of supplies and scurried himself (Increasinly unsteadily) behind them to join Eddy. She went to follow him, but a porcelain arm shot out to block her path.

Tombur's look was less than pleased. Master Obi-Wan had the most unnerving corrective looks of anyone she had ever met…until now. The light in his eyes was not pleasant, and the mud and black blood that was splattered on his face and in his snowy hair intensified the sensation of his stare. She was thankful that it shifted to Anakin when he jumped down to stand with them, but there was no protection in his eyes either. Most disturbingly it almost seemed that, despite their clear displeasure with her, there was a different subject that they were bouncing between them.

"I believe there is a discussion you two must have," Tombur spoke to Anakin instead of her. She gulped nervously.

"Yes, there is," her master answered as his arms crossed, "We're visiting a med droid, then it will be addressed."

Tombur shocked her when he looked back to her, the slightest hint of a smirk on his porcelain lips.

"You fought well, Ahsoka. But next time…could you at least try to pretend that Anakin hasn't taught you his methods of selective ignorance before deliberately disobeying me?"

She had to try and speak a couple of times before the words finally came out.

"I can do that, master."

The Echani took the words as assurance before dismissing himself into the medical tent as he started pulling off his own armor. His men and his padawan were his main concern now – they had been fortunate to navigate this attack without any losses, but the potential of that not being the reality had been thrown into existence when his apprentice had to pull his energy in three directions at once.

He busied his hands assisting Kix in treating his men, every so often casting a guarded glance into the tarp-covered entrance of his padawan's workspace. Hopefully this aid didn't come too late for the wounded in that room – and hopefully Djibourdi had enough energy to spare to bring one final win to them today. He and his apprentice had displayed their secret, their way of fighting that demanded differently of them than their Jedi kin who stood against the swarms of droids that overwhelmed the galaxy.

The Force was a wonderful ally and the Living Force was very giving of strength and resilience when called upon….most especially when they were both focused within. External use of their gifts was rare in paths of battle that he and his padawan walked, but the demand of their utilization of it could be costly if they over-extended. It was lifesaving, it made them both the most formidable figures in a field of swords and shields and blood where there were fine lines that couldn't be crossed– but it also commanded a level of control that was strict and punishing.

Djibourdi had promised him that he had energy left to spare, but the rumbling of his padawan's shields showed him that he was digging harder than he had ever been forced to before. Tombur couldn't use concentration to heal wounds like Djibourdi could, he would be useless if he tried to assist his padawan with his task. Compassion and honor commanded Tombur to let his apprentice define his own limits… so all he could do now was hold on for dear life and pray that the demand that was thrust on his young friend's shoulders didn't increase anymore.

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Into the chaos, my friends. For Shili.

Happy Writing,

Eliana