Disclaimer: I don't own Star Wars or Dragon Age

This chapter introduces the main Jedi protagonists. Plus some mature scenes (though tame in comparison to what else is out there :) but not explicit so it still falls into the T-rating I think.

Dragon Wars: The Force of Others

Episode 24: 13 the broken

Yavin-4

Fourth moon of Yavin, a mostly forest environment, riddled with temples from the days of the ancient Jedi. Strong in both aspects of the force, it was an ideal place for the home base of the Jedi service corps, and the location of the Jedi order's second academy. Deep into the forest, through obstacle courses and natural cave formations a man sat cross legged on a rock. He was dressed in black and brown robes worn over a white shirt. His greying beard and short hair were well kept and recently cut. A glove covered his right hand, which he rested like his other hand on his knees. He blew, a deep peaceful breath of content.

"The force is with me," he whispered.

As he meditated, a leaf drifted around his nose, making it twitch and him sniff.

"Itchy nose," he blew the leaf aside and sighed in content again. "The force is with me," he repeated his mantra again.

There was a rustling through the trees as round remotes flew out.

"Now what," he let out an exasperated grunt.

The remotes circled around him, their movement speed increasing. Suddenly, the man moved, missing several blaster shots. They were not designed to scorch, leaving no mark on the rock. The man fell between the remotes, shifting the direction of two with his hands, and another with his foot, launching them into others. He landed in a cross legged position, the bushes rustling behind him. A glowing yellow pole was swung through the trees, aiming for the back of his head. He tilted his head, smoothly dodging the strike. Immediately after dodging the strike, a Zabrak girl came down from the trees, drawing a quarter staff from her waist. She thrust it towards him, only for him to weave between the staff, stepping to the side and knocking her through the bushes into the human boy hiding in them.

"OW, watch it Sayla," the human said.

"You watch it Kaine," she retorted.

Their target then stepped in front of them, pushing them across the dirt with a simple thrust of his hand. He had his eyes closed throughout the encounter, keeping them closed even as a Kel-Dor boy came up behind him. The Kel-Dor youth aimed a fist towards his mid section, only for his hand to be grabbed and for him to be thrown onto the two youths. Once the encounter was over, the man put his hands behind his back and opened his blue eyes.

"A good try my students, but better luck next time, out of all of you Tiko had the most success, come out Tiko, well done," he said, turning to the rocks where a Rodian teen stood, several remotes floating around him.

"A tactic fit for a coward," Kaine huffed.

"Tiko isn't a coward," the Keldor said.

"You are correct Jay-Den, there are many ways to fight, but remember Tiko, when your fellow Jedi rush out into battle, it won't be right to simply let them be," the man said.

"Yes Master Klue," Tiko said.

"But well done each of you, do not be disconcerted, failure is a teacher as well, I myself failed the trials a few times," Jedi knight and Service corps master Klue said.

A reformist of the Jedi order alongside Meetra Surik, he refused a spot on the Jedi council in order to teach the youths dismissed by the Jedi order for training. He also worked within communities in a more practical way than others of the Jedi order did. Whilst Jedi from Coruscant and Typhon rarely ventured into the Outer Rim, Klue and his service corps often actively went into the outer rim, seeking the down trodden, investigating and fighting crime syndicates.

"Now I want you each to run the course before we head back," he said and the four youths groaned.

He pulled a helmet into his hand, it had a visor painted over, meaning whoever would wear it would have their vision blocked. Blinding oneself was often something Jedi did to train themselves in using the force. By blocking their vision, they were putting their trust in the force and relying on their other senses, not hearing but instincts. Klue had set up a course, whilst blocking the shots of a remote with their tech blade, his students had to run across the forest, run across a log over a chasm (actually a six foot drop) jump up three rock platforms, swing from one tree branch to a ribbon they had to grab, jump across the chasm and then run back to their starting position.

As each of his students ran the course, Klue thought of what made each of them unique. Kaine, a human from Coruscant's slums. He had been an exceptional pick pocket in the capital, leading Jedi Seeker Mira to believe he was force sensitive. She brought him first to the training centre on Typhon. Kaine though lacked a high midichlorian count, and proved to have more difficulty than even the younger students in using the force to enhance his senses and move objects. But in Klue's opinion it wasn't all about the rocks. Mira sent Kaine to Klue, and Klue encouraged Kaine's other talents. Force speed and stealth were some of the techniques Kaine excelled with, matching his upbringing as a thief.

Sayla, a human and Zabrak hybrid, her parents maintained a happy marriage and took up moisture farming on one of the Outer Rim worlds, Arvala 7. Brianna the Echani Handmaiden and Jedi battle master once protected Sayla and her family from a band of mercenaries. Drawn to Brianna's skill in a fight, Sayla was inspired and was practically begging Brianna to take her. Her parents had three other children, and though they had their suspicions about the order, they agreed that Sayla could seek a new life with the Jedi. Unfortunately she didn't pass the initial trials, and proved lax in the theory and study aspects of the Jedi texts. She did however have a good grasp on staff fighting.

Tiko, he grew up on the Rodian home world and despite his parents being botanists, Tiko became a natural mechanic and engineer. Jedi disciple Mical found him in what Tiko described as a boring encounter in which he noticed Tiko altering the state of a droid through a hand gesture. Whatever feat he performed wasn't one Tiko was able to repeat when it came to testing however. He went to Yavin and showed his technical genius. He also showed that he was quiet, shy and sometimes went out of his way to spend more time with droids than people. That wasn't to say though that he was anti-social, Klue considered him gentle and caring, not weak.

Jay-Den, often called Jay by his friends (sometimes misspelt as Jayden). Klue had taken him in himself, discovering him on a Keldor colony world ravaged by the Army of light and the Dark Brotherhood. It had been the early days of their conflict, Jay-Den's mother had been killed during an orbital bombardment. The Jedi council noted that Jay-Den had some basic potential for the force. But they refused to train him on the grounds that witnessing the blood shed by both dark and light Jedi had put him too close to the dark side. He hid deep feelings of anger over his mother's death, his father's absence and the conflict between darkness and light. Klue however believed every aspect of the force needed to be nurtured. Darkness and light could find a balance, Klue had a good grasp for duelling and force telekinesis. But his real talent was as a pilot, most Jedi made decent pilots because of their enhanced spatial awareness. Jay-Den however had the inventiveness and guts to be an incredible flyer.

Each of them had their stumbles, or would take a shot from the remotes, or even fumble a jump. But they were Klue's students, and he had faith that they could be great Jedi one day. If not, they still protected the galaxy through their work in the service corps. They walked back to the temple, their clothes dirty, but each holding a ribbon. Once they crossed the edge of the forest, they came upon the Jedi temple, where rows of Jedi Padawans in their traditional robes and braids practiced with their tech blades and remotes. Tech blades were a substitute for a real sabre, able to deflect blaster bolts, but they didn't have anywhere near the cutting power of a light sabre, functioning more as a club than anything else.

" Klue, holo-call for you in the briefing room," a Jedi in a beige shirt with a shoulder pad said.

"Thanks Kyle," Klue said.

Much of the inside of the temple was dark, consoles retrofitted some with engineers still working on them. A group of volunteers from the republic military came to the temple, many of them still in a type of uniform. Engineers wore grey clothing with a red jacket and a blaster holster on their shoulders. Scouts in the ruins wore leather boots, brown trousers and brown sleeveless jackets over their beige shirts. Then there was the soldiers, not Navy marines or troopers, but men and women in basic body armour over blue jumpsuits, packs on their backs and holding DC-15 rifles. They regarded Klue with some respect, a few of the volunteers were old soldiers whom came out of retirement from the Mandalorian wars. Klue had been a Padawan when he and his master joined the republic's militia against the Mandalorians.

"Come along you four, you can listen as well," Klue said to his students, walking up to the holo-map.

He pushed a few buttons, seeing that someone was on hold. The holographic map of Yavin 4 disappeared, replaced by a holographic image of a Xexto man.

"Porla, how are things old friend?" Klue asked.

"Business is booming as you humans say, I'm calling regarding the ship I helped you investigate, you had me check what was left of the wreckage and I was able to find the black box, it confirmed what you believed, the ship had an organic passenger on it," Porla explained.

"Good, where are you now?"

"Conducting some business on Savareen, I'm going to be there for a few days," Porla said.

"Good, good, we'll join you there as soon as we can," Klue said.

He cut the call and turned to his students.

"I think it's time we began getting each of you hands on experience," he said.

Korvis

Broken, he was broken, Daylen looked at the stump and cybernetic arm. He sat as he had before in his cell, other prisoners outside conversing amongst themselves. Perhaps some were discussing escape, or how they would succeed in the arena. He didn't care, couldn't care anymore, what good would it do to care. How could he possibly help when the best part of himself had been taken? How could he used his magic without his hands to focus it through? How could he fight as well as he could before without the feel of natural hands? And his plans? They were all dead because of his plans.

"It was a path that we all chose Daylen," Jowan said.

No, not Jowan, not his friend, just his guilt manifested into some ghost. One life, that was all a person had and Jowan's was gone. His best friend dead because of a path he had convinced him to take.

"Daylen, it's not over," again that echo spoke to him.

Shadows passed over him, but he didn't look up. He was taken to a room, his eyes were open but he didn't look. His cheek was grabbed, forcing him to look, but he didn't see. Maladi looked into the slave's eyes and saw emptiness. She stepped back, to the side of her escorts and turned to the slave's master.

"I have had considerable offers for him," Torvan said, gulping.

The Devaronian woman wasn't the tallest of her kind he had seen. But there was something eerie about her, her crimson skin was a darker shade than most of her kind, much like the unique red hue of Talon. Krayt's cult called itself he 'One Sith' order, most of the members painted their skin red along with black tattoos. Their meanings, Torvan did not care to know, but they always made him feel uneasy. His statement had been a partial lie, some had been interested in purchasing 13. One of those Kaminoans even offered fifty thousand credits for a sample of 13's blood, which Torvan was happy to give.

"My master would be willing to negotiate a fair price, granted we know that he knows he would be of use to him," Maladi said.

"I cannot be certain Miss Maladi, perhaps he will fight again, but I don't know enough about his species, or his mutation, or whatever it is, I'm no expert on the force."

"His force potential is low, yet my master has an interest, thus I have an interest," she said. "Send him back to the arena and we will see if there is a use for him."

"Very well," Torvan bowed his head.

Maximus stood in the other room, leaning next to the door frame, he huffed as he watched Maladi leave.

"Jedi rejects," he muttered.

He walked with the droids dragging 13 back to his cell, seeing Vim wash the blood off of some of the training weapons.

"So the boy remains with us," the hooded man stated.

"Of course, he has no choice to," Maximus said.

"We all have a choice Mandalorian, this one I think has more life left in him, more fights left to fight, a cause yet to answer to," Vim said.

"Causes!" Maximus huffed.

"Never underestimate the power of a cause, it can grant great strength and clarity."

"I once fought for a cause, I bore the armour of a Neo-Crusader, I fought beneath Mandalore the Ultimate, for the promise of honour and glory. The Mandalorian way, the way of the true Mandalorians, not those pretenders whom insult the name. But even the true Mandalorians, those led by Mandalore the preserver have lost all honour. We fought farmers, slaughtered millions, stole and destroyed and we gained no honour. We hid behind our cause as much as we did our helmets and..." Maximus stopped, unsure of why he was telling this to the man.

He unravelled his whip and Vim stepped back. It was enough of a warning for the slave, yet the man still smiled. Maximus resumed escorting 13 back to his cell. 13 sat in his usual pose, head down and eyes still empty.

"Torvan still sees value in you, your swordsmanship, that's the kind gained by watching others isn't it? You remember things to a photographic detail, an impressive skill to have. Torvan is going to make an investment in you, pay a little bit and gain more later, he'll use you, even if it's just an object for some lonely dame or lord with appetites to fulfil. You can either be a trophy, or something of value, you can either die in that sand there or on your feet," Maximus explained, looking down at the slave.

The sun sunk and 13 remained awake. When breakfast came in the morning, he left it for flies to scavenge. Droids had to drag him out of the cell, into the training area. He stood with a weapon but didn't protect himself. Stun batons slammed into his back, wood swords bruised his face, and blasters on stun shook his body. Lunch came and he refused, training resumed and he was battered.

"I am about to put money into you slave, where is the fire you had in the arena, where is that drive to survive? If you do not recover your fight by the third day, there will be consequences, mark my words," Torvan yelled at him.

Dinner he refused, and the chance to speak with others passed by his cell. All he had was the ghosts conjured by his mind.

"Pathetic, truly pathetic, they'll replace your hands you know," Cousland said.

"Don't, he has the right to grieve," Tabris said.

"He's not grieving, he's sulking," the former lord huffed. "I failed, got my hands cut off, lost my friends, poor, miserable me, I can't achieve anything because of that."

"Just leave him alone!"

"Alone is all he is," Cousland said before he disappeared.

Night came to pass and the small form of Dworkin shook his head at him.

"What good are you if you can't use your fire, or lightning, hell even ice? The rebellion needs big explosions, I mean I left some plans but let's face it, they never would have made a bomb as good as mine without me," he explained.

"Go away Dworkin," Greagoir said.

The dwarf shook his head and walked out through the cell wall.

"Oh, sorry you guys, carry on don't mind me," Dworkin said from the other side.

Greagoir looked down at 13 and shook his head.

"There's more to your magic than what you can direct with your hands, there's the kind you can direct within yourself. Earth armour, fade shrouds, haste, if you concentrate you should still be able to enhance weapons with elements, it is all in the concentration Daylen, take your time to grieve but don't let yourself give up. The loss of your grandfather did not break you, Irving's tranquillity did not break you, Surana's death did not break you, do not let this break you. I have known many mages and many templars, many warriors in my life, but you Daylen are the bravest of them all."

The echo looked at 13, waiting for a reaction, for something within him. But there was nothing, only the emptiness of a broken man. Day came and still 13 refused to eat, he was dragged to surgery again. Circuitry was fixed to his nerves and again he yelled, for Maximus again refused to have him be given pain killers. He had been given five digit hands this time, not the best cybernetics but good enough to fight with. But again he was beaten on the training field and again he refused lunch. He sat on the ground of his cell, this time his eyes drifted to his hands. Hands of metal, gears turning as he moved his fingers. The weight of it all crashed down on him as the tears began to leak through his eyes. He lowered his head and let out a yell, a scream that echoed around his narrow world.

"Let it out Daylen," Petra said.

"We understand, so let it out," Niall said.

"SHUT UP! JUST SHUT UP!" 13 yelled. "STOP TALKING! STOP IT!"

He raised his head and screamed. Suddenly, the cell doors opened and the droids came in, dragging 13 out of the cell. Torvan rubbed the sleep in his eyes, frustrated by the fact he had been woken up. Maximus swung his whip into 13's back, the droids holding him up. Crack, crack the whip went, burning the slave's back, filling his body with electricity. Tears fell off of his cheeks not because of the immense pain of his body, but the pain in his soul, his mind conjuring the images of a battle he had fought in. Torvan stood and watched his property scream. Vim stood near one of the pillars, hand on his chin as the young man raised his head and yelled out. The slaves too began to lean through the bars of their cells. Moorint and the Twi'leks watched the boy. A Trandoshan briefly looked up to hear the sorrowful cries of another slave. A Dathomiran Zabrak man and his group looked at the whipping, a Duros, an Ishi Tib, a Sullustan, a group of Niktos, Quarrens, Bothans and Selkath all watched the young man take the lashing as if he welcomed it. As Maximus whipped the slave, her wondered what this man's name was, he wondered whether that fighting spirit he saw in the arena had truly been extinguished, or if as he hoped, no, it was foolish to hope here, he betted that each strike filled the slave with enough anger to regain his spirit. In the end he as thrown back into his cell, and the next morning he wasn't given breakfast, wasn't put on the training yard. Instead he was taken with a few of the other slaves. Humans, the Twi'leks, Mirialan's and Togruta, men and women, those deemed 'beautiful' by judges.

"He's burned," one of the men overseeing the slaves in the skiff said.

"He's tall and he's got muscles, besides a lot of freaks out there like scars," another man said, putting a collar on 13's neck.

"Shock collar, is that necessary?"

"Punishment, he's been defiant, won't train or even eat, that Torvan guy is an amateur when it comes to slaves."

"What do you expect, he thinks he can get a champion into the arena."

The slaves were loaded into a transport and sent across the sands to an event being held by Kalla the Hutt. Her palace had a squad of armed guards protecting it, guests from the darkest parts of the galaxy had come to enjoy the drink, music and the sight of the slaves being subjected to humiliation. From underneath her cloak, Talon looked at the Twi'lek women being forced to dance. Put into scanty clothes, chains, whipped and dancing to the music as Kalla laughed. She looked towards the slave, 13, and saw a pathetic, empty eyed shell of a man. Maladi had already recovered his hand, and was sure enough genetic material could be gained from it. If the power he wielded was genetic, then it would be the One Sith's to use. It would be her master's ton control, Talon knew than an army of powerful warriors capable of wielding the elements could destroy the republic. But looking at 13 she saw someone who wouldn't train such an army, someone whom would be useless to her master.

"Now this is my kind of party," Daveth said.

"Such excess, and dishonourable behaviour," Jory shook his head.

Daveth grinned, watching a Theelin woman in a fur coat go by with her Twi'lek friend. They both looked at 13, walking towards him.

"Do not tell me, the famous Lyn Me and Rystall Sant, I was your performances at the opera hall in Coruscant, my I didn't realise you were arena fans," Torvan said.

"Of course not, we attend these events for other things, may I?" Lyn Me asked, moving her hands to the burns on 13's body.

"Lucky bastard," Daveth muttered.

"You realise of course he is in no way consenting to this," Petra said.

Both Daveth and Jory however stared and Petra shook her head in dismay. Lyn rubbed herself against 13's chest and Rystall rubbed his arm. They weren't the only ones groping slaves. Some were rich women touching the slaves of both genders to test for later, men with unwilling women on their laps. Rich and fancily dressed, smugglers, thieves, arms dealers, people from all walks of life but with one thing in common, they were despicable. Rystall caressed 13's face, running a silk gloved hand over his dry lips.

"Handsome somewhat, even with the scars and the burn, open your mouth slave," she commanded.

13 remained motionless, his face blank, even as Lyn Me moved her hands down to rub his groin area. Torvan pushed the button on the collar control he carried, shocking 13's neck and making him gag. Rystall viciously slammed her lips into his, moving her tongue against his. She moaned, enjoying the taste and oblivious to the looks of disgust across the faces of the lost. Well, Daveth chuckled and Jory blushed, whilst Kinnon and Niall nearly dropped their jaws. She moved her lips away and looked to Lyn Me, shocked by the disappointed look on her face.

"Nothing?" she asked.

"No, nothing," Lyn Me moved her hand away from 13's groin and sighed.

"Ladies, um, he's just going through the stages, you know how slaves are, once his spirits are back he'll be standing to attention before you know it, I'll offer him to you for a night at a reduced price if you reserve now," Torvan explained.

Much to his disappointment, the two women laughed and walked away. Music began to play and the lost perked up.

"Is there something familiar about this?" Jowan asked.

"Oh no, this song," Niall groaned.

"You've got to be kidding," Petra said.

"Koo ne tang, na' na' na, ah lawah, KOO NE TANG!"

"Hate this song," Jowan said.

"Agreed," said Greagoir.

"Seconded," Tabris and Cousland nodded.

"It has its advantages," Dworkin said.

"Yeah, like Ooh La, la," Daveth said.

As the band played the song, a green skinned Twi'lek danced amongst the slaves. They had to followed her movements, but she was just as much a slave as them, a chain attached to the collar on her neck.

"Wait, that is Oola, something's not right, I thought she was a celebrity in the empire," Jowan said.

"Now that there isn't a screen between us I think I see, she's scared out of her mind," Daveth said.

"Yes, I recognise fear, it seems the empire uses edited footage of these performances as some kind of entertainment to offer us," Greagoir explained.

Talon shook her head at the performance, looking to 13 again. She saw his head twitch slightly, the shaking of both of his hands.

"This is disgusting, she's sweating, over worked, no woman should have to bear this," Lily said.

"Something terrible is about to happen," Cousland said.

"Yeah, I see it too, the blood lust in the eyes of these 'people'," Tabris sneered.

"Look at the platform, that's a trap door," Niall said.

"This isn't entertainment, this is an execution," Petra gasped.

"No, entertainment is exactly what this is," Jowan widened his eyes and then looked at 13.

Oola felt Kalla tug on her chain. She pulled back, praying and begging as Kalla cackled. The Hutt slammed her fist into a button by her bowl of grubs. At that moment, 13 moved, rushing towards Oola.

"NO!" Torvan yelled.

The platform opened and both 13 and Oola fell into the hidden pit below, the Twi'lek woman screaming as she went down. 13 crashed into a pile of bones, one sticking into his shoulder and splinters covering his legs and cheek. But most horrifically of all, a massive bone had pierced through his right elbow. Oola brushed the dust off of her body, standing and looking up at the ceiling as it closed. There was a click, and the whirl of a mechanism.

"I knew it Day, I knew you couldn't just stand by I knew you..."Jowan stopped himself, looking down at the motionless 13. "You weren't trying to save her, by the maker, you want to die here don't you?" he asked.

There was a growl as the blast door in front of Oola opened. She stepped back, trembling in fear, her face an expression of pure horror. Her scream echoed through the pit, making the people up top laugh.

"Day, no, oh maker, please Day, don't let this be the end, if you let her die then you truly are dead," Jowan said.

It emerged from the blast door, roaring, saliva coating the ground beneath. Kalla's pride and joy, the albino, Bull Rancor. The creature roared and stomped its feet, and Oola ran to the other side of the pit.

"Day, get up, do at least something, you don't give up, you don't stop trying," Jowan squeezed his hands into fists. "You are my friend, the person I admired, the person I wanted to be, you're a hero...that was your dream!"

'Shut up,' 13 thought.

He looked up at the people through the bars on the ceiling, seeing them crowd around to get a better view.

'This galaxy, is grotesque, I couldn't do a thing, couldn't save anyone, couldn't change anything...don't want to see this ugly place any more, don't want to see, ugly home anymore, don't want to live ugly life anymore,' 13 thought.

"What do you want?"

His vision drifted to his right, to the image of a red skinned Chagrian.

"You defeated me, started your rebellion, what else do you want if not to be a hero? Would this be the kind of person the woman you love would be proud of? I know you don't believe in the Maker, in another life, but if there is something beyond this do you really think she'll want to see you?" the Chagrian asked.

"Can't fight," 13 whispered.

"Maybe not my boy, but there's more than one type of magic, and you're no ordinary mage. If there's trouble getting up, then know that through the dark side, your chains can be broken," the Chagrian grinned before disappearing.

Oola screamed as the Rancor reached for her. There was another great cry, and the Rancor looked towards another, more aggressive prey. He stood, right arm dangling off of its socket, the metallic fingers of the useless prosthetic dragging against the door. With his other hand, he ripped the other bone out of his shoulder, the splinters dropping onto the floor as a feint red haze emanated from him. The watchers had stopped their cheering and jeering and looked down at the slave in shock. Talon's interest was rekindled and she looked at the slave. He turned to the Rancor, back slouched and breathing aggressively. He grit his teeth together and looked up at the Rancor. His eyes continually shifted from glowing red, to aggressive yellow. The yellow of a man drawing from the dark side.

"Blood magic Daylen, no!" Jowan whispered.

For Torvan it was a very different image he looked at. He didn't see the slave number 13 anymore. Indeed, up until that point the man that had occupied the cell on his estate, that had rejected his food and taken beatings from other slaves and guards was a simple number. The man had now awakened, Daylen Amell.

Next Episode 25: Operation on Ophuchi

Hope everyone enjoyed the chapter, Daylen's lost a little bit more of himself (figuratively and literally speaking :) but he's back.