AN: Hurrah, I survived the hurricane. Basically no damage around here, except for a fence a few houses down that had some bits blown over. As I said, this chapter was nearly done when I posted the last one. Shouldn't be too long for the next either, I've gotten in to a groove and know exactly how I want to take the story. While I know I have things I want to happen, I don't have to story fully fleshed out and things might change, as I am writing it as I go along.

Anyways, review responses for the last chapter at the end of this one, as always!

Vader watched the girl retreat down the path, her red cloak vanishing into the trees. His patience was wearing thin, and the intrusion of the Grimm had only made things worse. He turned his gaze back to the clearing, breathing heavily as he collected himself. The strain of killing that creature with the Force had taken far more concentration than it should have. In his weakened state, even crushing a simple beast had nearly drained him.

He clenched his fists, frustration simmering beneath the surface. He was stronger now than when he had first arrived, but he was still far from the power he once wielded. The Grimm had caught him off guard; it had taken every ounce of focus to immobilize it, let alone crush it. He could feel the ache in his muscles, the pull on his mind. It was unacceptable.

The dark side of the Force still flowed through him, but it was like a stream where there should have been a raging river. He closed his eyes, letting the anger and frustration build, reaching into the well of darkness within him. He had faced worse setbacks before, and he had always regained his strength.

Vader took a steadying breath, pushing the exhaustion to the back of his mind. This was only temporary, soon his full power would return and these creatures would mean nothing to him. They would be mere obstacles, as insignificant as the enemies he had crushed under his heel in the past.

But there was something more troubling—the girl. He hadn't sensed her approach. She had been able to come close enough to see him, close enough to witness his meditation. He hadn't even felt her presence until she had called out. It was a small thing, perhaps, but it grated on him. His weakened connection to the Force made him vulnerable, and that was unacceptable.

And yet, there had been something peculiar about her. The way she'd looked at him, the curiosity in her eyes. She hadn't shown fear, not exactly, but something else. He'd seen it before—an eagerness, a curiosity that bordered on recklessness. She reminded him of... no, he wouldn't think of that. The past was the past, and he had buried it long ago.

Vader straightened, drawing himself to his full height. He would not be distracted by a child. The girl was nothing more than an annoyance, a curious bystander. If she had any sense, she would keep her distance. He had no patience for meddling children.

His thoughts drifted briefly to the sword he had ordered from the blacksmith. At the time, he had seen it as a necessary tool—something crude, but serviceable in this unfamiliar world. He hadn't considered that this place might possess technology more advanced than the primitive weaponry of other isolated worlds he had encountered. But last night, he had seen that strange communicator in use, a device that seemed commonplace and yet sophisticated enough to suggest a deeper level of technological capability.

He began to consider the possibilities, an old ambition stirring within him. If these people could build advanced communication devices, it was possible they possessed the materials and components he would need to construct something far more useful. Perhaps, with the right resources, he could build a new lightsaber. He hadn't dared to hope it might be possible here, but now, the idea had taken root, and it refused to be ignored.

A lightsaber would not only restore a piece of the power he had lost, but it would give him the edge he needed to assert control over this world. Even with his strength in the Force still diminished, a lightsaber would allow him to wield the power he had mastered over so many years. And it would allow him to cut down the creatures of this world with ease—no more struggling with crude weapons or relying solely on the Force to eliminate threats.

But first, he needed to learn more. He needed to understand what level of technology these people had, where he could find the materials he required, and whether he could trust anyone here to help him acquire them. The blacksmith was an obvious start, though he doubted the man would be useful beyond crafting basic tools. No, he needed to find those who truly understood the technology of this world, who could guide him to the resources he needed to reclaim his power.

A grim smile touched his lips. He had work to do.

Vader made his way back toward the village, his steps measured, his purpose clear. The sun was higher now, casting long shadows across the path as he entered the outskirts of town. The people gave him a wide berth, their curious glances quick and fearful, but he paid them no mind.

He approached the blacksmith's shop and pushed open the heavy wooden door. The familiar clang of metal on metal greeted him, along with the acrid scent of smoke and molten steel. The blacksmith looked up from his work, his hammer paused mid-swing, a mixture of surprise and apprehension crossing his face.

"Back already?" the blacksmith asked, setting down his tools. "I told you it would take some time to make that sword."

"I'm not here about the sword," Vader replied, his voice low and commanding. He stepped further into the shop, his gaze sweeping over the various weapons and tools lining the walls. Primitive things, most of them, but useful in their own right. His eyes settled on the blacksmith again. "I want to know more about the technology your people have."

The blacksmith's brows knitted together in confusion. "Technology? What do you mean?"

"Communication devices," Vader said, his tone brooking no room for evasion. "I've seen your people use them. Devices that project images, transmit sound over distances. I need to know where to find them and how advanced they are."

The blacksmith scratched his head, looking a bit puzzled. "Oh, you mean Scrolls? They're common enough. Everyone around here uses them. Not much to 'em, just tools for staying in touch and keeping up with things. But they're not my specialty. I just make weapons and armor."

"Who makes these Scrolls?" Vader pressed, his voice tightening with impatience. "I need to speak with someone who understands them—who can tell me how they work and where to find their components."

The blacksmith hesitated, clearly uneasy under Vader's gaze. He glanced around the shop, as if hoping for an escape, but Vader's presence was unyielding. "Well, I wouldn't know much about that," he said slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. "But the mechanics over in Vale—they know all about Scrolls. Some of the academies, too. They handle the repairs and upgrades. They'd be the ones to ask."

"Vale," Vader repeated, filing the name away. He'd heard Taiyang mention it as well. If it was as advanced as the blacksmith suggested, it might be exactly what he needed—a place with the resources and knowledge to help him rebuild what he had lost. "How far is it?"

The blacksmith let out a nervous chuckle. "Well, it's across the sea. Takes a boat to get there, usually, but there are airships too, if you can afford 'em. But I don't know if they'd just let you waltz into an academy, asking about Scroll tech. They're pretty tight-lipped about that sort of thing."

Vader gave a dismissive wave. "I don't need this Scroll technology specifically," he replied, his tone sharp. "What I require are components—electrical parts, mechanical pieces. I can build what I need if I have the right materials. Tell me where I can find these parts, and I will handle the rest."

The blacksmith blinked, caught off guard. "You're a mechanic?" he asked, clearly skeptical but not daring to show it too openly.

"I've built far more advanced machinery than you could imagine," Vader said, his voice carrying a cold certainty. He didn't need to explain himself to this man, nor did he care to. His time as Anakin Skywalker, the engineer, was long past, but those skills were still there, sharpened over years of necessity. He had designed and built machines of war, weapons of power. A simple lightsaber was child's play compared to what he had once crafted.

"Look," the blacksmith said cautiously, "if it's parts you're after, there might be a place nearby. There's an old scrapyard not far from here, on the edge of town. Some folks go there to scavenge for things—old tech, spare parts, you name it. It's not much, but you might find something useful there. It's the best I can think of without going all the way to Vale."

Vader nodded, considering the suggestion. A scrapyard was far from ideal, but it might yield something of use. He had worked with less before, salvaging parts from destroyed droids and ruined ships during the Clone Wars. "Very well," he said. "The scrapyard will do—for now."

Without another word, Vader left the shop, his mind already focused on his next steps. If this world had even a fraction of the technology he required, he would find it, piece it together, and rebuild. He didn't need the academies or their secrets. He would make do with what he could find, and once he had constructed his weapon, the rest would fall into place.

Vader made his way through the village, the path toward the scrapyard guided more by the blacksmith's vague directions than anything else. As he moved, the town began to thin out, the bustling streets giving way to quieter paths lined with trees and scattered homes. He kept his focus sharp, his thoughts on the task ahead.

The scrapyard came into view after a short walk, a sprawling mess of metal and discarded machinery stretching across a dusty patch of land. Piles of rusted metal and broken parts lay haphazardly, some of them ancient, others seemingly more recent. It was a sight he was all too familiar with, though back in the galaxy he had once called home, such places were a last resort. Here, however, he had little choice.

Vader stepped into the scrapyard, his eyes scanning the area for anything resembling the components he needed. Wires, circuit boards, power cells, transistors—all of it would be necessary if he was to build a functioning lightsaber. He pushed aside a pile of scrap metal, noting how old and weathered most of it was.

He sifted through the piles methodically, his fingers brushing over familiar parts—things that could be salvaged, even if they were outdated. A few broken communicator pieces, damaged but potentially fixable. He found a cracked power cell, dented on one side but still holding a faint charge. It would take work, but it was something.

The process was slow, tedious. He reminded himself that he had done this before—long ago, before he had been a Sith Lord, when he had been a boy on Tatooine, scavenging parts from the wreckage left behind by others. But that had been a lifetime ago, a path he had abandoned for power beyond anything he could have imagined back then. Now, with his connection to the Force weakened, he felt as though he had stepped back in time. The irony was not lost on him.

He continued to dig through the scrapyard, piling together a small collection of parts: a few damaged circuits, a bit of wiring, some metal casings that could be reshaped. It was crude, but it was a start. As he worked, his mind drifted to the design of the lightsaber he intended to create. It wouldn't be like the one he had lost on the Death Star, but it would serve him until he could acquire better materials.

As he turned over a rusted sheet of metal, he found the remnants of what looked like an old battery. He examined it closely, noting the faint glimmer of energy still contained within. Not ideal, but it will do. With a few modifications, he could use it as a temporary power source.

He moved on, continuing to sift through the scrap heap, pulling out wires, broken conduits, and fragments of old circuitry. His hands worked with the precision of someone who had done this many times before, though his mind was already anticipating potential problems.

As the hours passed, and he pieced together more of what could be the framework of a lightsaber, a nagging thought began to grow in his mind. Despite the collection of parts, despite the crude assembly he was managing with what he had found, something was missing—something vital.

The Kyber Crystal.

He paused, the weight of the realization settling over him like a dark cloud. Without a Kyber crystal, the lightsaber would never be more than an empty shell. The crystal was the heart of the blade, channeling the energy into the iconic, precise weapon that had made the Sith and Jedi so feared throughout the galaxy. Without it, no matter how many components he scavenged, the weapon would be nothing more than a small metal cylinder.

Vader's fist clenched around the half-assembled hilt he had been working on, frustration mounting. He had hoped that this world's technology, crude though it might be, would offer some alternative—some power source or crystal substitute that could take the place of a Kyber crystal. But the deeper he delved into the scrap heap, the more apparent it became: nothing here could match the raw, focused power. The materials he had scavenged, while serviceable for basic mechanics, lacked the refinement needed to channel the energy in the way he required.

Worse still, even if he somehow managed to find something close, the condition of some of the components posed another problem. Many of them were damaged, corroded by time and the elements. The wiring was brittle, the power cells unstable. If he activated the blade with these parts, the energy field that should shape and stabilize the plasma would likely fail, causing the blade to melt through its own casing. The result would be catastrophic.

He exhaled slowly, allowing the frustration to simmer but not boil over. It would not work. Not with these parts. Vader tossed the unfinished hilt aside, watching it land in the dirt with a hollow thud. The realization was bitter: this world was not the galaxy he knew. It did not have the resources he was accustomed to, nor the materials required for something as sophisticated as a lightsaber, at least in a scrapyard. He was stranded in a place where even building the simplest of his former tools was an uphill battle.

But as he stood there, contemplating the bleakness of his options, an idea began to take shape in his mind. He had built advanced devices before, using technology far beyond what this world seemed capable of. But what if he approached the problem differently? What if, instead of trying to find the exact components he needed, he could create something that would allow him to make those components himself?

The thought intrigued him. In his years as both a Jedi and a Sith, he had worked with molecular furnaces, devices capable of breaking down raw materials at the molecular level and reassembling them into entirely new forms. They were typically installed on mining droids to let them power themself from the energy gained from materials, but also had more powerful versions in mining platforms. The technology was advanced, precise, and required vast amounts of power to get started, but the concept itself was relatively simple, and after it was turned on it could be fed any material to power it.

He began to consider the possibilities, the idea slowly taking root. If he could construct even a primitive molecular furnace, he might be able to bypass the need for specific materials. With such a device, he could take whatever he found—scrap metal, old wiring, even organic matter—and break it down into its basic components. From there, he could reconfigure those molecules to form something useful.

It was a long shot, and the technology to build a fully functional molecular furnace likely didn't exist here yet, but a crude approximation might still be possible. He didn't need it to be perfect; he just needed it to work well enough to provide him with basic components. If he could harness even a fraction of the molecular energy from the materials around him, he could transform them into the parts he needed to rebuild his weapon—or perhaps even create something entirely new.

Vader's mind turned over the technical challenges, one by one, assessing their feasibility. He would need to build a reactor core of some kind, even if it was a makeshift one, to contain and direct the energy. He would need to find a material capable of withstanding extreme heat and pressure, or fashion one if none existed here. And he would need to modify whatever primitive electronics he could find to give him the necessary control.

It was a daunting task, but it was not impossible. The more he thought about it, the more the pieces began to fit together in his mind. He would start with the basics, building up slowly, testing each step of the way. The molecular furnace would be crude, but if it functioned well enough to provide him with raw materials, it would be worth the effort.

As Vader considered the concept further, a new realization dawned on him. The furnace didn't need to be perfect—not at first. If he could build a functional, if primitive, version, he could use the components it produced to construct an improved model. And then, with each iteration, he could refine and enhance the furnace, scaling up its capabilities bit by bit.

It was a recursive solution—each version of the furnace creating parts for the next, more sophisticated version. The more he thought about it, the more he saw the potential of this approach. With enough iterations, he might eventually reach the level of precision and power needed to produce the specific components for something as advanced as a lightsaber. But even beyond that, he could aim for something truly remarkable.

A synthetic Kyber crystal.

The thought was both thrilling and daunting. Synthetic Kyber crystals were difficult to produce, even with advanced technology and the deep resources of the Empire. He had once overseen such projects on an industrial scale, the massive furnaces required to forge them glowing with the dark side. Yet, in theory, the process was possible on a smaller scale, provided he could refine the molecular furnace enough to reach that level of precision.

If he could create a synthetic Kyber crystal, he wouldn't be bound by the limitations of this world. He could forge a blade of pure plasma, the very essence of his power encapsulated within it. The crystal would be his to shape, to twist as he desired. It would be a weapon not just of necessity, but of true power—a testament to his strength and his resolve.

The challenge would be immense. The synthesis of a Kyber crystal required extreme control over molecular alignment, as well as an intense focus of energy—both electrical and metaphysical. He would need to enhance the furnace to an extraordinary degree, far beyond the primitive devices he could currently conceive with what he had on hand.

Vader's mind raced as he envisioned the process. Each iteration of the furnace would bring him one step closer to the end goal, the path toward a synthetic crystal clear in his mind. It would take time and patience, but he had both. Every molecule he manipulated, every component he crafted would bring him closer to forging the ultimate weapon.

For the first time since arriving in this world, he truly felt the cold thrill of ambition rising within him. He would start immediately, scavenging whatever materials he needed to begin the first crude version of the furnace. Once it was operational, the path would be straightforward: refine, upgrade, iterate. And with each step, he would be one move closer to reclaiming his destiny.

Ruby wandered through the town, her mind still reeling from the strange encounter that morning. She had tried to push it aside, to focus on anything else, but her thoughts kept drifting back to the stranger in the forest and the terrifying display of power she had witnessed. She wasn't even sure what she had seen—only that it was unlike anything she'd ever felt before. There was something dark and fascinating about him, something that pulled at her curiosity even as it warned her to keep away.

She kicked a small rock along the dusty road, her pace aimless. She was close to the edge of town now, near where some of the older buildings stood, and most of the people were back in the village square. It was quiet here, with only the occasional rustle of leaves breaking the silence.

But then, she heard it—a faint clattering noise, like metal striking metal. Ruby stopped, her ears perking up as the sound repeated, growing slightly louder. She couldn't quite place where it was coming from, but it didn't seem like the usual village noises. Curious, she followed the sound, weaving her way around the side of an old shed and toward the source.

The clattering grew more distinct as she approached, echoing from what she knew was the scrapyard. Peering around the corner, she saw a figure crouched over something, his movements quick and precise. It took her a moment to recognize the tall, imposing silhouette—it was the stranger.

He was focused intently on a collection of metal pieces in front of him, tools spread out on the ground around him. She watched as he picked up a piece of scrap, examined it, then set it aside with a swift, almost mechanical motion. The clattering she had heard was him shifting through the parts, discarding some, setting others aside with a sort of meticulous care that made her wonder what he was building.

Ruby bit her lip, unsure if she should stay hidden or step forward. She knew she should probably leave, to avoid drawing his attention again, but her curiosity got the better of her. She edged a bit closer, straining to get a better look at what he was working on.

It looked like... a strange kind of device. The parts were unfamiliar to her, but she could tell they weren't just random pieces. He was assembling something, though she couldn't tell what. She squinted, trying to make sense of it, but then she shifted her weight and accidentally stepped on a loose rock.

The clattering sound it made seemed impossibly loud in the open area, and she froze, her heart pounding as the stranger's head turned sharply in her direction. His gaze locked onto her with that same cold intensity she had seen earlier, his eyes narrowing as he took in her presence.

For a moment, Ruby considered turning and running. But she forced herself to stand her ground, her curiosity winning out over her fear. "Uh... hey," she said, trying to keep her voice steady, though it came out a bit higher-pitched than she intended. "What... what are you doing?"

The stranger didn't reply immediately. He simply watched her, as if weighing her presence, his expression unreadable. Finally, he brushed the dust from his hands and spoke, his tone as cold as ever. "Why are you following me?"

Ruby hesitated, realizing she didn't have a good answer. She hadn't meant to follow him—she had just stumbled upon him by accident. But now that she was here, she couldn't help but want to know more. "I... I heard something," she replied, trying to sound casual, though she knew it wasn't exactly convincing. "And I was curious. I don't think I've seen anyone work with parts like that before."

He studied her for another long moment, his gaze piercing. "Curiosity is dangerous," he said, his tone almost dismissive. "I suggest you direct it elsewhere."

Ruby bristled at his words, the stubborn part of her flaring up. "Well, maybe I just want to know what you're building," she countered, crossing her arms. "It looks... interesting."

He raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "It's none of your concern," he replied, bending down to pick up another piece of metal, his focus shifting back to his work. "I have no need for an audience."

Ruby stood her ground, glancing at the scattered pieces of machinery around him. She didn't recognize most of it, but she could tell there was a purpose to what he was doing. She leaned forward, taking a step closer. "Well, I don't think you'll be able to find all the parts you need here," she said, tilting her head. "The stuff in the scrapyard is pretty old. My dad says it's not good for much other than spare parts."

The stranger's gaze flicked back to her, a hint of annoyance in his expression. "I know that," he said flatly. "Now leave. I have work to do."

Ruby frowned, his harsh tone grating on her nerves, but she couldn't ignore the pile of tools he had been working with. They looked worn and dull, some of them almost falling apart. If he was going to build something—whatever it was—with any real precision, those old tools weren't going to cut it. As rude as he was being, a part of her still wanted to help.

She hesitated for a moment, then took a deep breath and spoke up. "Well, you're not gonna get very far with those tools," she said, trying to keep her tone light despite his clear irritation. "The stuff here is ancient. I mean, I'm pretty sure I saw some of those tools back in Signal's history books."

He glanced up at her, clearly unamused, but she pressed on. "Look, I know you don't want my help, but I do have some tools that might be better for what you're trying to do. I use them on my weapon all the time, and they're a lot newer than... that." She gestured at the old, rusty tools he had spread out around him.

He didn't respond immediately, and she could practically feel the disdain rolling off him, but she stood her ground. She was used to people underestimating her, and she wasn't about to back down now. "I mean, you might not need them," she continued, "but they're good quality. I've got a precision welder, some fine-tipped screwdrivers, a portable heat torch, and a couple of other things. They could help you get things done faster."

The stranger's gaze flickered with a hint of something—whether it was interest or annoyance, she couldn't quite tell. After a moment, he set down the piece of metal he'd been working on and turned fully toward her.

"You would lend me these tools?" he asked, his tone skeptical.

Ruby shrugged, trying to seem casual. "Sure. They're not doing me much good sitting in my room. Besides, if you're building something, I'd like to see what it is when it's done. I mean, it's only fair, right?"

He regarded her for a long moment, as if weighing her offer. She had the feeling that he wasn't used to accepting help from anyone, but then, with a slight inclination of his head, he nodded.

"Very well," he said, his tone grudging. "If your tools are as capable as you say, they may prove useful."

A small smile crept onto Ruby's face. She didn't know why she felt the need to help this man, especially when he was so cold and standoffish, but something about him intrigued her. Maybe it was the mystery, or maybe it was just the challenge. Either way, she was in now.

"Just so you know, my house is a bit of a hike from here," Ruby said, glancing back at the path that led to her home. "It'll be about an hour before I get back with my tools. You'll just have to be patient, I guess." She flashed him a quick smile, then turned and jogged off, leaving Vader to his work.

As she disappeared down the path, Vader let out a quiet sigh of relief, thankful for the brief respite from her incessant questions. He wasn't sure what to make of her persistence, but he couldn't deny that her tools would likely be of some benefit. He returned to the parts in front of him, assessing his makeshift components with a critical eye. Crude, but enough to begin.

He spent the next hour carefully piecing together the rudimentary framework of the furnace. His motions were controlled, each piece meticulously placed, but without access to precise instruments, he was forced to improvise. It wasn't long before he realized just how insufficient his current tools were. The clunky wrench he'd salvaged from the scrapyard was all but useless, slipping from his grasp and damaging a screw in the process. He clenched his jaw, discarding it with a rough toss to the side.

As he continued, he felt the frustration mounting. With no precision tools at his disposal, each component was a painstaking effort. The work demanded finesse, but the blunt tools he'd scavenged were barely adequate. He attempted to attach a crucial part to the central casing, only to feel the makeshift screwdriver snap in his hand. He gritted his teeth as he tossed it aside, watching it land among the scrap.

This is impossible. He'd barely made progress, and already, two of his tools lay broken and useless. He had underestimated how difficult it would be to create even a simple framework without the right equipment.

Just then, he heard the sound of quick footsteps approaching. The girl rounded the corner, a toolkit in hand, looking a bit winded from the trek. "I'm back!" she announced, setting the toolkit down beside him and looking at the scattered pieces around him. She glanced at the broken tools, her eyebrows raising as she took in the scene.

"Looks like I got here just in time," she said, clearly trying and failing not to smirk. "Guess those tools weren't exactly doing the job, huh?"

He didn't respond, but instead reached for the toolkit she'd brought. He opened it with a precise motion, pulling out a fine-tipped screwdriver and a set of pliers. Already, he could feel the difference; these were far better suited to the task at hand. He turned back to his work, choosing to ignore her smug expression.

"Thank you." He said stiffly after several seconds, his tone begrudging..

The girl's face lit up. "Hey, no problem! I'll just hang out over here, in case you need anything else," she said, leaning back against the wall with a self-satisfied grin.

Vader resumed his work, this time with the improved tools at his disposal. He could feel the faint stirrings of progress now, a faint light in the otherwise dim world he'd found himself in. As he continued, he was acutely aware of the girl continuing to watch him, but he found that, for now, he didn't mind.

AN: Hurrah, Ruby has found a way to actually interact with Vader in a way he'll grudgingly accept! Let me know what you all think of the story so far, and if you have any concerns or comments!

Review Responses for the Last Chapter:

skyway920:"Will Vader go total Jedi? Stay a Sith or more of a grey balanced path? Will EU Force powers be used in this story?"

Vader will likely never be a Jedi again... if he'll become a good person however, that's a different thing entirely. The Jedi as we knew them in the OT era were *not* very good at what they did, they had become lazy and corrupt, beholden to the senate, and refused to even believe that the Sith could possibly still be around until it was basically shoved in their face. And afterwards, the republic went to war and basically told the Jedi to join them, and the Jedi *agreed* and did so. This is on top of them basically brainwashing kids that showed any potential in the force by taking them from their parents while they were still young and malleable. The Jedi as we knew them would likely have disgusted the light side Je'daii of old. As for EU Force powers? If they make sense, mayhaps!

Hairypen:"If this were an RPG, what level would Vader be right now? How would he fare against a huntsman, or an elder grimm?"

I'd say if you used a standard 100 is max level system, perhaps around 13 or 14 by the end of this chapter? Tough to say really. New students at beacon would likely be around a 7 or 8. If we were talking dnd, I'd say he's about level 7 whereas Ruby is level 3 at most. He likely would be on par with teachers at beacon if you didn't factor in him using Force powers and just gave him a weapon. While the Force allows him to react quickly and use a type of battleprecognition, Aura clearly allows someone to do enhance their speed and reflexes in the same way (Though it doesn't allow themprecognition). Someone skilled enough, such as Qrow, would likely defeat Vader as he is right now (Weakened in the Force) with just pure skill and speed. Knowing where the strikes will land doesn't mean much if you can't react fast enough. Not to mention he doesn't have Aura, and they would, so it would take a lot more to put them down than he would think.

triscythe59:"What does this mean for Vader? Is he still a Sith Lord? Will he continue the Rule of Two?"

Right now, yes, he is still a Sith Lord. Just a temporarily weakened one. As for if he'd continue the Rule of Two, that rule was pretty much broken with Palatine long before he even became Vader. There's certainly no need for it now or even after order 66, as its main purpose was to allow the Sith to grow in strength without allowing the Jedi to become aware of them. With the Jedi mostly gone, its reason for being a rule is too.

That's all for now folks, see you soon!