Kaeth, Braecen – With a brief moment of silence, we honor the fallen Dark Side Adept, Braecen Kaeth, born on Corellia in the first year after the Battle of Yavin. His journey took him from a playful youth Oceanside to a purposeful scholar of the Dark Arts of the Brotherhood. He is survived by his Apprentince, Alaris Jinn, and a cadre of dutiful lieutenants within House Galeres. Braecen worked with great enthusiasm on opening upstart Journeymen and Equites to their full potential in the Force. This work would start and stop within several Clans of the Brotherhood before he retired to focus on his work in Clan Arcona. His work served a great purpose, but was soon nullified in the conflict against the Grand Master as all were slain by the Grand Master and his Iron Legion. He enjoyed golf, bowling and his worship of the Lord, Wedge Antilles. A memorial service will be held in a fortnight aboard the Darkest Night, a flagship Braecen previously served aboard.

Abadeer dived behind a fallen pillar as a stream of lighting cut through the air above him. This Iktotchi was far too much for him. She’d been flipping and dancing all around him, and he couldn’t keep up. The Togruta poked his head over the top of the pillar, before immediately ducking back down as another bolt of Force powered lighting shot for his face.
Abadeer didn’t recognize the woman at all, but in the face of a battle such as this, he expected to be hunted. He was a commander within Plagueis’ forces after all, and assassination attempts were to be expected. If the commanders of the combined forces fell, then the assault against the Grand Master would fail. Taasii took a deep breath steeling himself for the fight to come. He rose tall from behind the pillar activating his twin sabers. Makashi had proven ineffective against the aerial assaults of the woman, but perhaps Jarkai could give the edge he needed.
Another bolt of lighting shot towards the Togruta’s body, which he used both sabers to absorb. Abadeer didn’t waste a moment before racing towards his opponent. One saber was kept at his front to defend any more incoming blows, the other held low and back getting ready to strike. The Iktotchi woman stood firm, her saber held low with one hand. Taasii focused on the Force, pulling the mystical power into his body, reinforcing his own strength. The Togruta leapt forward, and at the last second added a spin, both blades turning in a violet blur. The attack wasn’t nearly enough though, as the assassin stepped in, extended her blade and easily stopped the attack. She then crouched down, and flipped over Abadeer’s considerable height, then lashed out backwards as she landed. Taasii sensed the attack only moments before it landed, barely allowing time to for a block. Taasii jumped forward trying to gain some distance between himself and the assassin.
Taasii knew he was in trouble though, as he sensed the woman easily keeping up with his movements. He spun around to face his pursuer, but when he turned she wasn’t there. The tiniest shimmer to his left was the only warning he got before the Iktotchi rematerialized swinging right for his head. Abadeer again brought his blades to block the strike, but then the woman ripped around him attempting to land a series of continuous strikes.
Abadeer was not slow but he was having a hard time even staying faced towards the woman who was overwhelming him. What was he supposed to do?

Word count: 428

Ranarr stood on the stairs of the Dark Hall, a grin and a pair of bright orange eyes were all he could see underneath the cloak of the woman approaching him. His boots were dirty, his coat was ripped, his left knee was even bruised from tripping over some rubble. The Cathar had tried to keep this individual at a distance while making his way through the ruins on the, once glorious, surface of Antei. There was nowhere left to run now, it was time to face the one who was hunting him.

Lost in his opponent’s eyes, Ranarr heard her soft but threatening voice echo through his head: “You’re plotting against the Grand Master himself, therefor your life must be brought to an end!” The dark figure revealed herself as she threw of her cloak gracefully. “It is time for Pravus’ reign to come to an end!” roared Ranarr, without revealing his true emotions. Her eyes, her horns and teeth, accompanied by the Sith runic tattoos all over her well-toned body, surely left an impression on the Major.

With one hand on his neuronic whip and the other on one of his pistols, Ranarr found the courage to take a step forward. “There have been more attempts on Pravus’ life, and as long as he is in power there will be more. If I’m not one of those, able to bring him down, others will rise to face him.” Ranarr inhaled deeply. “Do what you’re tasked with to do, I’m not afraid to die. But know one thing, I’m not going down without a fight!”

It was a quiet day, when Tarentum was dragged to war. A single death had awakened a sleeping horror that dare not be woke, and inside it churned a fire fanned by the anger and lust for vengeance held by the men and women who were the heart and soul of the beast.
But those same men and women refused to let this anger blind them. Were they to allow themselves to lose sight of the truth, of how vastly unprepared they were, they would surely rush head first into the fray and promptly be decimated by the will of a stronger monster. But that was a fate worse than failure. The Tarenti and Tarentae would rage against the dying of their light, fight tooth and nail till they reached the conclusion to the precipice that was their struggle, and they will have done so knowing full well that any spare moment of theirs before the coming days had been spent in preparation. Samael Ozriel was no different.
When he gazed upon the creature known as Darth Necren, he knew that his death stared back. His arms were sore, chest burning from exertion, and mind ached from the furnace of rage that billowed off of his enemy, but he would not go down easily. Necren was no fool, having heard of the Umbaran and his tricks. She knew of his penchant for hiding, and mockingly gave him ample opportunity to do so. It would only entice her rage further. Samael, however, had made it the remainder of his life’s mission to annoy the Iktochi as much as he possibly could.

*Son of a Bantha*, Atra thought as he glanced across the main hall. A copper taste filled his mouth... blood. His blood. The Combat Master turned his head and spat a crimson ribbon to the side before wiping his lip.

Across the shattered hall, Darth Necren was already rebounding from their initial clash. "You live," she observed with a voice that matched her harsh exterior. "That will soon be rectified."

"Fun fact, I'm not with these guys," the Seer called out. He rose to his full height before twisting his neck, sending an audible *crack* echoing through the ruins of the Dark Hall. If there was anything he had learned during the Council Assassin's initial attack, it was that she was fast and skilled. Couldn't exactly throw a punch like he could, but enough of them in the right spots still took down even the largest of targets.

Atra Ventus just happened to be a large one... and Necren was still on the move. The Seer wondered if she ever bothered to stand still.

"You stand with them," Necren stated flatly.

The Combat Master's pale fingers wrapped around the hilt of his saber, turning his knuckles white as they tightened. "Sure looks that way don't it?" he asked rhetorically.

Clearly finished with the admittedly brief conversation, the Assassin rushed forward as a blur of motion. Atra had to actively tap into the Force to accelerate his own movements just to keep up. His silvery, surging blade hissed to life in time to intercept the humming crimson edge of Necren's long-handle lightsaber. "Huh, compensating?" Atra couldn't keep the remark on the inside, prompting not so much as a response from the Darth. She merely countered with a kick aimed at buckling his knee and a cart wheel to the side as he stepped back.

Atra followed her movements with a horizontal slash, aimed at catching Necren as she landed. Instead, a surge of lightning forced him to stand in place, grounding the shock with his saber. The Darth landed with nary a sound and quickly spun backwards. Her hand flung out mid-step, lashing onto a nearby segment of a toppled pillar with the Force. The telekinetic grasp fired the heavy stone at the Combat Master. Emphasis on 'heavy'.

He recognized the pending threat and pushed out with both hands, sending his own concussive strike through the ethereal landscape of the Force. The debris faltered, trapped between their opposing wills, and veered away just in time, leaving Atra safe — aside from an ashen coating from the dirt trailing the projectile.

"You know... Starting to think convincing you of my loyalties is secondary to killing you," he growled.

Tra'an Reith limped out of the hallway, making his way towards the surface of the Dark Hall. Easing around a collapsed pillar, he slowly made his way for the dimly lit glow of the surface. His right arm cradled to his chest, barely able to hold itself in place from the damage he had sustained fighting the assassin, the ghost, that was Darth Necren.

The sadistic bitch was still out there, hunting him. He had gotten lucky in her last rush to finish him, and scored a strike across her right knee with his lightsaber. He only had one arm, but she was having trouble moving. It seemed fair to him since she had almost killed him from behind the first time.

He emerged into the dusty light of the surface of Antei, and blinked. There before him, perched on a pillar, was the she beast herself, Having discarded her robe at the start of the fight, she stood tall and regal, the cut on her leg from his sapphire blade having been healed enough to restore her mobility,

Against the background of a dusty, setting sun, it was an imposing sight that caused him to laugh.

"Really? Now, after all this, you try and intimidate me? Come finish the fight you bitch!" He barked at her. The return look she gave him was impassive, almost introspective, before she leaped at him, lightsaber swung behind her to ensure maximum power on the strike, Tra'an drew his disruptor and waited, knowing that timing would be crucial.

He partially depressed the trigger as she closed the distance, landing only a few meters in front of him. As she charged, he lifted the pistol just enough to fire into the ground she was advancing on, the blast forcing her to dodge aside to avoid it. He did it again, and again, forcing her into a pattern. The fourth time he feinted, and when she jumped, he did too,

Closing within her striking distance surprised her, and even as she pivoted to bring her lightsaber to bear, he slammed into her. As they tumbled down, he placed the disruptor between them, barrel nestled into their stomachs and pulled the trigger.