Just to be a little clear on the part about the barely legal thing. When I first started this story the Jedi Consular advance classes had not been named. In fact, it wasn't until I started on Exposed that they came out. So there are a few things that just won't work. For example, Verra uses a single bladed lightsaber for this and The Primal Vice.

Likewise. And probably true. I don't love his lack of recustomizations.

mandaloriansweaterpuppies, however.

Yes, they can be.

Actually. Beskar is the word for Mandalorian Iron. Beskar'gam is your armor, and most beskar'gam wasn't made entirely of Mandalorian Iron as it's such a rare material. I use a lot of Mandalorian Iron in cyberteching, though I generally sell it. Supposedly Torian crafts his love interest some or wants to, but I've yet to get any in the mail.

JPG is a very low standard for images. You're not smart.

Of course it should go both ways. I'm uncertain what that has to do with the statement itself, though. There is a difference between: "I'd like to talk about" and "You can't talk about." One is someone expressing interest, the other is someone stating that someone is not allowed to do that.

Again, it's a jpg. As in, the picture quality is severely diminished. My game looks nothing like that. In fact, my game looks amazing. You're either a bad troll or you have a bad computer. Either way, bad disgusts me.

Your computer is garbage. http://i.imgur.com/dCQQU.jpg That's a jpg.

The issue with this is not that people don't get along, it's that every "RPer" has some sanctimonious belief that if someone else is not doing what they want then they must be "doing it wrong". For example, one statement was: "if two people are discussing you something you dislike, ask them to take it elsewhere". That does not follow any social norm. If two people are having a conversation and you dislike it, don't include yourself in it. Piggybacking off of others, attempting to persuade someone through threats to do something else, and making snide passive aggressive remarks will never diminish an ongoing debate - it will generally encourage both sides to ignore the complainer and continue with their task at hand. This is another example of "I like RP, I hate RPers". Their self-importance is disgusting and they believe they have the right to moderate others. Just shut up and live. There are a lot of things that irritate people: most of those that complain about one are doing the other. For example, if I log into the game I have no desire to see a bunch of socially awkward teens-to-early adults sitting around trying to flirt with what they believe to be the other sex. And when I say flirt, it should more aptly be called "make horrible sexual advances and references". Conversely, conversation of some merit (which will generally encourage disagreement) is shunned in favor of trite and childish ribaldry that serves no purpose other than to try to encourage someone into a state of "character advancement". This is carried forth further by the same type of person who disparages the inclusion of others because it takes away from the uniqueness [read: overbearing and unoriginal drivel] that comes from them as pertaining to the things they have to say. There was a saying. "The difference between you and I is that we all have opinions, but you believe you have rules." To clarify, everyone feels a certain way but it takes a certain type of mistakingly over-entitled person to believe that their opinion must be followed or the other person is "wrong". Clannishness does not mean that a person is correct, only that a group is clannish. The worst thing for a channel is not someone leaving. The onus of the community is not to entertain the individual. The worst thing is for people to believe they have more power than they actually do and attempt to intimidate others with it. This leads to prepubescent declaration akin to "i have u on ignore", so on and so forth. In the end, it matters little and accomplishes less. Just be an adult and ignore others without having to make a song and dance about it.

You all click and you're all bad.

"I don't want to make something if people insult me." "HEH HE'S SUCH A WHINER!" He isn't your slave.

Keep in mind that the Sith purebloods and humans are the non-aliens. Alien refers to someone that is from a different origin/outside of your background, so it is feasible that everyone else is an alien to them.

If the prequels had not been made, there would be no KOTOR fandom. Let's keep in mind that the release of the prequels is what re-energized a dying IP. Whether bad or good, they brought attention back to a new generation.

The Sith Code never says "live forever and you're powerful".

She voices Satele Shan as well...

I can see where he's coming from. Why would he want to make more movies when people devote their lives to saying they hate him?

The Clone Wars has Katee Sackhoff as a Mandalorian. This is the best development since beskar.

You seem to equate with living a long time with power. So in your definition of the word power, someone that is very old is powerful. Okay. In the terms of "power is the ability to affect/control others", it is Sidious that wins handily. You're still wrong. Again, this is summed up in TCSWE.

I don't have to. You have no authority. The system states who is strongest. It is not the Sith Emperor. In fact, he's a pale imitation of others. If you just look at Sidious' wookie page, he dwarfs your fan made nonsense: The ability to create wormholes, destroy entire planets with force storms, and create his own force techniques places him leagues above anyone else. You're done.

It's proven by the laws of canon. You see. C-canon stated (in The Complete Star Wars Encyclopedia) that Sidious is the most powerful Sith lord to ever live. In fiction, words are actions. That's all the proof anyone needs. You're wrong. The end. If you don't like it, join a different fandom.

if not for those, this game would not exist.

Kharnis Tarly the Craven.

Having played BH to 50, I can say that the story gets kind of weak at the end. In fact, the ending mission is almost indistinguishable from a quest on Corellia. That being said, getting there was pretty damn cool.

Epilogue: Untold. Theirs was a glorious charge that would go forever untold. With nothing to do but wait for the moment when the Exile arrived, Revan had devised a four stage plan that would accomplish all that their small group would need to. The first part he said would require their most dangerous and volatile member, and since both he and the Exile had traveled with HK-47, it was no surprise that the droid’s name did not need to be stated specifically. The citadel from which the Emperor ruled was one that stood above all others. It had two main entrances, an east and a west, which meant that if an attack was launched from one direction, generally the other side would be less guarded than before. The question became how to convince the enemy to believe they were being assaulted and not simply victims of a diversionary tactic. Initially, Revan had thought to galvanize the Light-Sided Sith he had embedded within the Empire. With a small enough army he could make it appear that an uprising had occurred, thus presenting his group with enough time to slip inside. But to use them so apathetically was a tactic that he would have employed a lifetime ago. He had learned to value not only the length of a person’s life, but also what it might accomplish if allowed to run its course. Theirs was an influence that would spread, slowly, throughout the Empire. No, he would instead have to rely upon the theatrics of a truly malevolent and depraved individual. As it turned out, HK-47 was more than willing to make up for the slack that was presented in not having an auxiliary force behind him. “Emotional Divulgence: There has been pleasure in terminating meatbags with you, Master and False-Master. May your kill count come within half the range of my own.” It was as heartwarming a sentiment as they were going to get from the assassin droid, they knew. Even T3-M4, who had been relatively well behaved, was given to relate a few sentimental chirps and whirrs as he parted company with his vocal counterpart. If HK-47 was capable of crying, Revan did not doubt that he would have done so; partially from the sorrow of his inevitable demise. But mostly with joy at the arsenal he had been given with which to meet it. “Delighted Exposition: Yes, yes! This will be fun. Very fun.” The Exile, relegated to the status of “False-Master” she assumed, could not help but think that the droid had taken on an almost soldierly look. With more than enough blaster clips on his person, enough grenades and mines to stop a platoon of Mandalorians, and heavier arms than some starships sported, he was a force to be reckoned with. It was with that thought in mind that she gave him a salute and departed with the others to their next destination. With the first step of their plan thus prepared, Revan, the Exile, and T3-M4 only had to wait for things to get started. Thankfully, that was not something that required much ambiguity or patience. Once he was sure that the others had made it to their positions, the well-armed assassination droid lived out his wildest fantasy. This was total war and no one was going to stand in his way! Against the night’s sky, the single rocket appeared very much like a comet as it cleared the distance between the assassin droid’s position and its desired target. With enough of a punch to stop a Krayt dragon in its tracks, the explosive impacted soundly with the western face of the citadel and sent a plume of flames into the air. Having anticipated a need for further pyrotechnics to impress upon the enemy the appearance of an actual siege taking place, Revan had with much difficulty and care, placed several additional explosives along the citadel’s crevices. With the first strike landing, the successive explosives ignited with enough force to shake the building and sent detritus showering toward the ground below. No different than ants emerging from a kicked hill, the Sith swarmed outward and into the direction of their assailant. With the high ground as his ally, HK-47 placed his munitions to the test. The initial conflagration was a sight to behold, but it was only after the sound of blaster fire filled the air that Revan knew to command his group forward. They would have preciously little time to cover ground and with T3-M4 moving at a pace that could not necessarily be considered alacritous, they would have to be efficient if not swift. Naturally, any attack on the citadel meant that there would be a guard presence to the eastern gate, but Revan and the Exile proved more than capable of dealing with them. Lightsabers at the ready, they prepared the second part of their plan: the siege. When Revan’s ability and the Exile’s prowess were placed together, the Mandalorians stood not a chance. It served as no surprise that when the two of them clashed with the remaining Sith guards, their enemy could not provide an answer to the problem they presented. For Revan it had been the Star Forge where he learned to engage the Sith head-on; for the Exile, it was the remnants of Trayus Academy. Alone each of them stood a good chance of breaching the citadel’s defenses, but together they were a force unstoppable. Now was the time for their training to be related to their opponents and with each second that passed, that relation only intensified. It felt as though the Force had consumed both Revan and the Exile in those moments of combat. While it was possible that they could have fought through the legions of Sith on their own without HK-47’s noble sacrifice, now that there were a scarce few in their way it proved to be no problem to engage them directly. The Force came to Revan naturally and bolstered by the presence of the Exile’s connection to himself and the surrounding area, he found that what would have once been a whisper of uncorrupted energy was turned into a roar within him. Subsequently, the Exile who excelled in lightsaber combat found herself much more agile than she once was. The two complimented each other perfectly and thus presented not an ounce of weakness for their enemy to exploit. Where the Exile attacked, Revan parried. Where Revan pursued, the Exile covered. Even T3-M4, who was more or less a decoration in the middle of battle, shared a deluge of flames time and time again to ward off approaching soldiers. It had been many years and a mind-erasing ago since Revan set foot within the citadel, but he remembered well enough the layout. The continued in a steady line of progression through the halls, meeting and dispatching Sith wherever they might be. The difficult part was not in locating the Emperor, for his was a hubris that far exceeded explanation. No, the difficulty would be in what followed. “You know what to do from here,” Revan said as he drew to the area that would eventually lead to the Emperor’s throne room. Once before had he braved it with another only to have that person turned against him. Although he did not speak that fear to the Exile it was the motivating factor in what was to follow. T3-M4 came alongside him and regarded the Exile with a series of chirps. This was it and she knew there was no way around it. The sound of T3’s words of encouragement brought a misty screen of tears to her eyes for but a moment before she nodded her head. “I will buy you as much time as possible, Revan. I cannot say how long that will be.” “After what I just saw,” Revan said with a bit of amazement. “I’m pretty sure that will be more than enough time.” The Exile nodded her head and looked away from the arching mouth of the tunnel that would soon swallow Revan up. Her eyes trained upon the distant darkness where eventually the Sith would return from their meeting with HK-47 and turn their attention to her. She may not have been as strong as she would have been had she gone with Revan, but she did not doubt that his intentions, this time, were pure. She listened as Revan and T3-M4 began to make their way down the hall and then turned back to face them. “Revan.” The sound of his name drew him to a halt and he turned. “Yeah?” “When you tried to apologize before,” she began softly. “I wanted you to know that I accept it.” It was an odd thing to say. The incident had passed – she had marginally accepted it before. But the words had never left her mouth and for the remainder of her life she did not want to regret not letting them leave her. If she held onto that resentment, even for a second, then she knew that she would fall in a way that there would be no recovery from. Revan had fallen to the Dark Side and emerged from it; she had experienced the death of the Force and subsequently its rebirth. If there was one thing she knew, it was that regret was something best done away with. Revan’s smile explained his understanding of that concept. “I figured that,” he answered. The Exile gave him a slightly confused, though interested look. “Oh?” “Well, you’re standing here now, aren’t you?” The Exile shared her final chuckle then and nodded her head. “Touché,” she conceded. “Touché.” As the sound of Revan and T3-M4’s retreat down the hall met her ears, the Exile stood tall as a sentry to guard their retreat. She closed her eye and inhaled, calling upon the Force as never before in order to not only augment her awareness, but also safeguard her against the torrent of discord that was coming her way. Before she heard the humming of their lightsabers or felt the venom of their souls, the Exile could detect where the Sith were. She steeled her resolve by remembering all of the people that she fought for; her friends, now rebuilding the Republic in her wake. There was a good deal of comfort to be taken not from the fact that she was going to die, but that she was going to be rejoining with old friends. In time, she knew, her companions would pass on as well and the Force would accept each of them as a lost child. Perhaps she was the fortunate one to get a head start on them? It was a macabre thought, though one that allowed her to hold onto her smile for just a moment longer. The sound of the Sith drew closer and at last she opened her eyes. The horde of Sith that approached her faced not only a reborn Jedi, but something much more dangerous: a woman that fought for the memory of her friends. Fearlessly, she charged their center and set to the task of buying Revan more time. _______________________ The sound of lightsaber combat was not at all lost upon Revan, who heard the sound of the Exile’s struggle as he moved quickly own the hall. To think that his final companion in the assault would be none other than the utility droid he had picked up on Taris was almost humorous in its own right. But T3-M4, with what Revan assumed was grim faced determination, rolled on alongside his master as they cleared the distance between himself and the room where he had fallen and Alek was lost to him forever. “Bet you never thought you’d be rushing to save the galaxy once again, did you?” He asked T3-M4 as the droid kept pace alongside him. A series of swift whirrs answered the question, which gained a chuckle from his master. “You never know when to keep it in, do you?” The third stage of their siege was fast at hand. Revan knew that the Sith Emperor would dispatch his palace guards to the fore when he realized what was happening. Although he was certain that the Emperor had not expected him to return in so hostile a fashion, that did not mean that he would expect the man to be surprised when finally they did meet face to face. Revan drew himself to a standstill and held his hand out, stopping T3-M4 from moving forth. Before them was the throne room. Between them, the Emperor’s personal guard. “Stay back T3-M4,” Revan stated. “This part of the plan rests on me.” He ignited his lightsaber as the first of the palace guards stepped forward. “You may want to attack me all at once,” he insisted. “I’ve learned a few more tricks since the last time I was here.” _______________________ No matter how many of the enemy she cut down, the Exile knew that there would be more upon the horizon. She weaved out of the way of one strike, then slashed upward to remove the arm of a would-be assailant. Her lightsaber strokes had become increasingly fluid, relying more upon the Force than the intensity of her muscles or the burning desire that was within her to keep fighting. Once a person had resolved herself to dying, she realized, there was nothing to keep her from giving her all. The last of a particular squadron of dark Jedi met his end as she dispatched a flurried series of attacks in his direction, but no sooner had he fallen than did another group emerge from the tunnel ahead of her. Gritting her teeth, she bounced on her toes to remain focused, before shouting and charging into them as well. It was a tactic that had done well to take them off their guard, as the psychological advantage of seeing a lone Jedi battle through legions of their comrades was enough to make the lesser experienced Sith doubt themselves. Utilizing Juyo for the time being, she gave them not a moment to reconsider before they were sent into the afterlife. The question on her mind, of course, was just how long it would take for Revan to get to the fourth step in his plan. Holding them off was a task in itself, but judging it against the events that were to follow was not only taxing but also mind-boggling. An ear piece would have been nice to have, but she supposed that she would simply have to make due with the metaphysical energy field that had treated her so well throughout the course of her life. If nothing else, she knew it had relatively good reception. A lightsaber’s stroke came perilously close to her face. Though she initiated a backhand spring to avoid being stricken, it foretold the fact that she would not be able to fight forever. She landed in a crouch and twirled her lightsaber once before engaging the one that had almost been the end of her. With her attention turned to him she saw him defeated in a matter of seconds, but the indication that she could be harmed was not lost upon his comrades. Their numbers increased, they swarmed inward once more. She could only hope Revan was getting closer to his goal. _______________________ The palace guard, impaled upon the end of Revan’s lightsaber, burst through the door. The Jedi extended his hand and sent wave of the Force outward to dispose of the fallen one as he turned his attention toward the throne before him. Behind him, the remains of the palace guards acted as something of a shrine to the memory of Alek’s fall. Unlike the time before when he arrived the Sith Emperor was not seated. Instead, he stood beside an attendant who assisted him in fitting his armor on as he looked down toward Revan. “I thought I felt the presence of a traitor,” the Emperor drawled. “Decided to return to finish the job you failed so miserably at before?” Revan found it difficult to control his emotions then, but he knew that he needed to at that moment more than ever before. The slightest crack in his façade would bring all of his plans to an end, and since he could not simply go back and tell the Exile to abandon her valiant defense, he knew that was no option. “I was indeed once a traitor,” Revan said without hesitation. “I betrayed the Code that I believed in and turned on the people that I loved. I failed them once, but I shall never do so again.” A chuckle left the Emperor then that expanded throughout the room as though thunder. He waited as his attendant adjusted the pauldrons on his regalia and then stepped forward. “I do not believe that the option of failure is yours to decide,” he stated with malicious bemusement. “But you knew that when you came here. Suicide, is that the best that the Jedi have to offer?” “That and a lightsaber,” Revan stated smartly. “You’ll find that this time, I won’t be aiming for anyone’s jaw.” The Emperor held his hand out to the side. From the wall furthest from a double-bladed staff jettisoned through the air and smacked against his palm. He gripped it at its center, then twisted it and held it before himself. Though the edge was honed to a point, there existed upon the blade a presence that Revan had never before experienced. It was alchemical metal, no doubt. “I’m rather fond of this jaw, but I would not mind taking your lightsaber. Precious toys they are.” “Then allow me to give it to you,” Revan remarked as he twisted the blade and brought it to shoulder level. “Blade first.” _______________________ The Sith were too numerous and her energy nearly depleted. Bodies upon bodies lined the entrance to the tunnel, but the Exile knew that she could fight no further. She responded to the stab from one Sith by shoving him away with a block, then kicked out sharply and backed another into a corner. Not since she had wandered the galaxy bereft the Force had she felt more alone, but she knew that there would be no saving grace this time. The end of her energy would mean the end of her life and that was a fact that could not be changed. She reached into her soul and found whatever was left, responding to a charge from a Sith warrior by shifting o her left and allowing him to pass, then slamming her lightsaber through his back and twisting about to check the advance of another. If the best offense was a sound defense, then she truly did not have much to give on either front. Her robe had become drenched in blood and sweat; tattered where lightsabers had almost pierced it. Yet onward she fought, unwillingly to relinquish the hope that a few more seconds might mean all the difference in the world. Sharp hissing filled the air as more Sith approached. She gave a weak cry and met them again and again, bashing and slashing with all of her might to keep them from passing her. A slow strike with her left hand was dispatched and in horror she watched as a lightsaber closed in upon her. Searing pain filled her mind; her hand and the lightsaber that it held were severed and sent to the ground. It felt as though her world had finally come to its end then. With so many Sith around her and disarmed, the Exile hissed as she backed away. There was nothing that she had that could prevent them from proceeding beyond that point. She staggered then and fell to a knee, the bloodied stump brought to her chest where the other arm hugged it. Though she had used them as her center of strength before, the humanity within her could not help but mourn the fact she would never again see her friends. Their faces returned to her as she looked toward the ground and closed her eyes. The Sith would be upon her in a matter of seconds. There was no weapon to aid her now. But it is not a weapon that a Jedi requires, she heard a voice say within her mind, it is the Force. And there was truth in that unlike any that she had heard before. It was a truth that revitalized and invigorated; that elucidated and emancipated. All but within the strike radius of the Sith she knew that they delighted in seeing her suffer at long last. She clenched her eyes shut and thought of those very same faces that had passed through her mind; of Revan who now battled against the Sith Emperor. Though the Dark Side was present within the area, there too was a trace amount of the Force, itself. She latched onto that then and drew it inward as though inhaling. Slow at first, it began to coalesce within her core and grow ever stronger. The Force was an ally that could not be bested. Against all odds, the Exile rose to her feet and extended her remaining hand toward the ceiling. In doing so, the Force was released from her in a manner that created a sonic boom, forcing those about her back and sending still more slamming into nearby walls. With the energy extended as far as it could, she clenched her hand into a fist and slowly drew it down. The very citadel began to tremble, stone falling from the ceiling as though preceding an avalanche before she ripped downward completely and brought the area about the tunnel crashing down to seal off Revan from the amassed Sith forces. It was all she could do to buy him time. Her eyes opened and she smiled for the final time as she felt one of the lightsabers pierce her body and send her plummeting into darkness. _______________________ Revan felt the Exile through the Force as she made her final attack. It was a sensation that filled him with sorrow, a sorrow that invigorated his focus and reminded him of what he fought for. Gritting his teeth, he struck out against the Sith Emperor but found that the man’s prowess was far beyond anything he had ever dreamed of encountering. Revan had faced difficult adversaries before, but to the Emperor he was nothing more than a child. One of the Emperor’s blades blocked his lightsaber, before he shifted forth and rammed his shoulder into Revan’s chest. As the Jedi was pitched backwards he slashed outward and carved his mask in half, then propelled the Forth to carry him further still to smash against a wall. “This is the best that the Jedi had to offer? I should have invaded long ago,” the Emperor quipped with another of his sinister chuckles. Striding forth at a leisurely pace, he seized hold of Revan through the Force and pitched him into another wall and then another. So harsh was the impact that small showers of rocks descended from the ceiling and covered the Jedi before he was sent still further into another assortment of objects. “You’ve felt your friend perish. Whatever it was she did before her demise, it was for naught. I would extend to you the option o capitulate once more, but you are surprisingly… weak.” Through the pain, Revan endured. He held tight onto his emotions and grunted as yet another pummeling occurred as a result of the Dark Side’s presence. If he was like starring in the Heart of the Force, then the Emperor was a Star of the Dark Side. The entropic energy that wafted off of him was almost contagious and it took a good deal of self-control on Revan’s behalf simply to keep from falling back into his old way of thinking. He had to endure if he wanted to succeed. “For centuries I have sat and plotted, believing that the Jedi were as capable in this day and age as they had been in those before it,” the Emperor went on to say with a noticeable level of contempt. “Imagine my surprise when I find that they are nothing more than broken men and shattered women. How is it that you were capable of defeating Malak, again?” “Don’t you dare say his name,” Revan growled against his better intentions. It was such an obvious ploy, he could only scold himself for responding to it. The Emperor laughed and drew Revan inward them. “Oh, did I strike a nerve?” “No,” Revan spat as he was pulled forth. “I just can’t stand the sound of your voice anymore.” There was a jocular nature to Revan’s voice that touched the Sith Emperor in the wrong manner. Was it possible that this insignificant man was taking his power as a joke? He snarled and clenched his hand into a fist, forming a vice upon Revan’s throat. “Insolent whelp! I will crush the life from you!” It was not the first time that he had been Force choked; however, it was the only time in which he was uncertain he could escape from it. Baiting the Emperor’s rage was no less foolish than throwing raw meat a rancor, yet Revan knew that if he did not take the man off of his game somewhat then he would certainly be outmatched. As he felt the grip upon his throat tighten he ground his teeth and closed his eyes. Breathing was becoming difficult, but that did not mean he was completely at a loss. He had held back long enough. Now was the time to fight back. The Force arose within him then with no less splendor than HK-47’s rocket salvo had created in the wake of its utilization. Revan extended his will far beyond himself and drew from it the strength necessary to break the Sith Emperor’s grip upon him, battered and beaten as he was he would not surrender himself without a fight. The Sith Emperor let off a grunt of irritation as he felt his hold breaking and fought to redouble it, but by then it was too late. Revan was ascendant and it would take more than parlor tricks to stop him. Free of the Emperor’s grasp, Revan cleared the distance between them by propelling himself forth with the Force. He descended upon the Emperor hastily and related to him a succession of slashes that did well to put the other on the defensive. While he knew that he could never hope to keep up with the Emperor for long, he employed the element of surprise with such temerity that his lightsaber passed across the Emperor’s left cheek and left charred flesh in its wake. “You don’t seem quite as smug anymore,” Revan joked as he drew his lightsaber back. “Maybe you should take this more seriously?” A cacophonic roar exploded from the Emperor in response. To even imagine pain had become difficult for him; to actually feel it intolerable. He was upon Revan as never before then, exchanging strikes that seemed unending from both edges of his weapon. Revan, to his credit, met those strikes with rising ability in the beginning, but true to his expectations as they continued he found himself incapable of keeping pace. There was more at play than simply the battle of lightsaber against blade. While the Emperor may have been focused upon overcoming him physically, Revan could also feel that the man was attempting to defeat him spiritually. The Dark Side continued to breach his mind, yet he refused it with each successive slash that was attempted by the Emperor. Every feint that he made in reality had to be repeated in his mind. He had felt these emotions before; the call to give into his fear and anger and answer the Emperor’s strikes with equally passionate ones. His understanding of the Force was stronger than it had been before, but so too was the enemy that he faced. His lightsaber would never again land upon the man’s face; his power was not great enough to overcome his adversary. With each passing second all he did was ensure that he brought himself closer to falling once more. The Sith Emperor was a man that had dedicated centuries to breaking his opponents. What chance did Revan have to truly overcome him? The answer, he knew, was none. What followed took more courage for him to do than anything else he had achieved in his life: more courage than his defeat of the Mandalorians, his battles against the Sith, or even his contest with Malak. It required more courage than his initial decision to disobey the Jedi Council, or when he expressed his feelings to Bastila. As he thought of her then, though, he knew that he was doing what was necessary. Revan deactivated his lightsaber. The Sith Emperor skewered him through the midsection. A wet slurp filled the air as flesh was parted; a sound that the Emperor had desired more than anything else. He let off a dark chuckle as he shoved inward more, the corrosive metal of his blade opening within Revan still more levels of pain. “This is it?” The Sith Emperor asked. “This is what you had in store? A noble death? A death that no one will ever hear of? You fool; this cannot be the end you were fighting for!” Life was already fading from Revan as he felt his lightsaber drop from his hands. He looked toward the Emperor and smiled, blood coating his lips as he spoke. “The End?” He asked, an almost snide grin framing his lips as he coughed. “This was never about ending anything.” It was a statement so outlandish that the Emperor did not know what to take from it. Luckily for him, Revan decided to finish his statement. “This is about the beginning,” he whispered. Without further ceremony or delay, Revan, the Savior of the Republic, left his body and joined with the Force. The Emperor dropped the Jedi from his staff and snorted derisively. To see Revan crumble upon the ground then was to see a man lost and defeated. To think that he had invested the time and energy into him only to find him wanting was perhaps his greatest blunder to date. The Empire would recover from the minor setback the Jedi had presented in their shenanigans; there was no doubt about that. Filled with irritation, the Emperor returned to his throne once more. But the powerful Sith had claimed his seat for only a second when the silence of the room was interrupted. He lowered his hand from his scarred cheek and looked toward the doors, where a small utility droid emerged, bobbling along as it rolled forth. He could not help but chuckle as he lowered his eyes to it and leaned forth. “Then you must be the final combatant. Think you can fare better than your foolish friends?” T3-M4 did not know what to do at that point. His part in the plan had been completed. _______________________ A gasp escaped her mouth as the Exile’s eyes fluttered open. Her mind was filled with unbearable pain as the mortal wound that she has suffered reminded her of what had occurred. Through her ability to decipher Force techniques she had called upon that which Sion showed her to do what was necessary. In him, it had been hatred that allowed him to return from the living. With the Exile, it was her unquestionable love for those that she fought to protect. The pain from her wound only intensified and she could only feel sympathy for Darth Sion, who had lived centuries with innumerable wounds much more severe than her own. She pushed the feeling of pain from her mind as best she could and attempted to focus on her surroundings. Still positioned within the hallway, she could hear the Sith about discussing how best to move the debris that prevented them from assisting to the Emperor. She had not met directly with the Force, but rather existed in a cold synapses between it and the living. That cold lingered upon her as her nerves began to revitalize, presenting her with the feeling that she had just emerged from some dense miasma. It was a harrowing thing to return from the dead and a notion that she was not bold enough to linger on for long. The Exile knew that she could have arisen and challenged the Sith about her to combat again and again, just as Darth Sion had done so with her. But the beast that he became informed her of what happened at the end of that path; it warded her away from that potential power. No, she could not simply fight for the sake of fighting, no matter how much her pride burned for her to do so. She had to remain focused and remember that this technique, while employed for good, could easily become something garrulous and disturbing. Her ability to nullify her presence to those that could detect the Force was not at all wasted then, as she looked about. It had been the feeling of Revan's presence brushing against her that alerted her of what was to occur. She swallowed the seedlings of rage that her wounded heart wished to sprout within her. The pain called to her, tempting her to give into the acrimony, but she would not. It was time for the final stage in their plan. She lowered her eyes toward her remaining hand but found that it was not responsive. Like waking from deep sleep too soon, her body tingled but would not react to her commands. She narrowed her gaze then, aware that each second that passed meant that she might fail to accomplish what was necessary. Calling upon everything that was left inside of herself, she lifted her hand and placed it against her robe. The appendage felt heavy and unnatural and she knew that the Force moved her far more than she did. Nevertheless, she felt upon her abdomen for but a moment before a switch was found within the confines of the robe. She flicked her thumb against its trigger and compressed the button. There was nothing more to do. She closed her eyes once more and relinquished her hold upon her body. The way of relief that met her not to do with her escape from the pains of the physical self, but rather an entitlement that only her spirit could comprehend. No longer was she to be an Exile; Rem'ii was finally going home. _______________________ The Sith Emperor loomed over T3-M4 as the utility droid looked up at him. HK-47 had been terminated. The Exile had been terminated. Revan was terminated. Only he remained. He knew that the Sith Emperor would attempt to gut him and take from him information that might harm the Republic, but for some reason he knew that would not occur. Logically, his memory core simply relayed the sensation of calm and patience. He had served his master dutifully up until that point, there was no reason to change it now. The compression of a button in the distance caused two actions to occur. The first was the transference of a small packet of data that had been stored within his backlogs. The second? Stored within T3-M4 had been more than enough explosives to see the citadel destroyed and everyone within it. While the Sith Emperor may have been a powerful entity, there was little doubt that he would be hard pressed to recover from what was in store. The interest that flashed in the Sith’s eyes drew suddenly larger when T3-M4 chirped for his final time and exploded into an incomprehensible wave of heat. Through the apex of the citadel a beam of light was projected into the sky, which tore still further into the heavens and presented what seemed a second moon. Shortly thereafter, the entire structure imploded. _______________________ The relayed data bounced from datapad to datapad, emblazoning a path along the small communication links that Revan left in his wake. Those bright lights told the few Light-Side Sith followers that the time had come to spread their word; the Sith Emperor was incapacitated and a steady expansion of their ideals could begin. This transferring of data continued in a series of leaping calls until finally the message reached Republic frequency, where it projected itself directly to the personal communication device of Jedi Master Bastila Shan. A faint pinging sound roused Bastila and more importantly, her son from slumber. She looked with confusion toward the source of the sound and witnessed the screen on her datapad light up. With the Force she groggily drew the pad over and shushed the crying toddler. “Come now. There’s no need for any of that,” she muttered as she compressed a button on the datapad. It instantly activated the holo-projector to her left. “Bastila,” the projection began. Although she had not seen the person’s face directly in quite some time, she had seen references of it in her son. Seeing Revan again was something that she had hardly expected, yet his handsome visage was not at all wasted upon her eyes. “If you are receiving this message then it means that I have at long last joined with the Force.” The image flickered then, but Bastila’s eyes had by then filled with tears. “I simply wanted you to know that if not for you, I would never have been capable of accomplishing that which I did,” the image of Revan went on to say. “There are still many threats in the galaxy and I am certain you and the Order will have much to prepare for, but know that while I have momentarily stopped the Sith Emperor, I cannot say that he is defeated. You must be ever vigilant – ever prepared for the emergence of the Sith.” It was then that softness was attributed to not only Revan’s face, but also his voice. “Thank you, Bastila, for all that you have done. Your name will forever be a part of me, as I hope mine will forever be with you. Know that I do not wish for you to shut yourself off to the world with my passing; instead, I would prefer you use this knowledge I have given you to find a new life for yourself, as well. I had believed that after Alek I would never know what it meant to feel love again, but you revealed to me an emotion so pure and true that it has seen me through darkness and returned to me the Light.” “I ask only one thing and I pray that you follow this directive, my dear. Do not tell the others of my fate – of Rem'ii's fate. We present to them a hope that the danger upon the horizon is being actively prevented from finding you. That sense of security is what the Republic needs now.” “I love you, Bastila. I will be waiting patiently for you when it is your time to join with the Force. I hope that is a long wait.” And then the datapad was silent. Bastila sat stunned as she tried to grapple with all that she had heard. As a Jedi she knew that she should not have felt as much as she did, yet the very thought that Revan had sacrificed himself for the Republic brought no lack of pain to her heart. She replayed the message again and yet again, each time trying to find a glimmer of hope that perhaps Revan had accidentally sent it. She found nothing but the truth. With silent resignation she lifted a hand and wiped at her cheeks. “Come now,” she uttered softly. “There’s no need for that.” The Republic had been granted a reprieve. She would have to see it prepared for what was to come.