The Rebel Faction

Ky-Vin had been exchanging blows with one of the Sith when the newcomers arrived.
He breathed a mental sigh of relief. While they were distracted, Ky-Vin acted fast.

Ky-Vin moved immediately to the injured Logray, lifted him up, and dashed back into the Academy.
Ky-Vin could see he had a nasty-looking wound in his stomach. But he could still be saved, Ky-Vin thought. No more innocents would die today.
"Hang in there, hang in there..." Ky-Vin told the unconscious Ewok. He thought for a second about using the Force in an attempt to heal the Ewok, but he couldn't concentrate on that as he ran down the halls; his speed amplified by the Force. And there were people who were more skilled in such things than he was.

Once Logray was safe in the hospital wing, under the care of the medics and the few Jedi trained in healing, Ky-Vin ran back through the Academy toward the battle that continued just outside, so that he could retrieve another of his injured comrades.

The Jedi Master's blade hummed within his grip. His style much different than almost any other had ever seen. His blade hung point down in his hand. Opposite of how most would grip any blade. He moved like a wraith in the night.

The green blade of hard light energy cut the air and left the smell of burnt ozone behind it. Twisting himself into a contortion which would have snapped limbs on most men, his blade came around just as he did towards the Lupercus Darksword's right leg.

The Sith had busied himself with an attack upon his Jedi brother. His mind unfocused and set only upon the destruction of Gash Jiren. There could be no propper response to the Jedi's sudden movement.

As Gash Jiren was struck to the chest, the blade of Slavatio Isolder, former Prince of Hapes, struck home on the Sith's leg cleaving it at the knee. The smell of burnt flesh filled the area as the wound corterized itself.

Slavatio spoke to Jiren through the Force.

~ Master Jiren, there is another coming.. I can fell it. ~

His blade never left his defensive position as he took to a crouch. His right leg outstretched in an odd display of melee prowess. He had been trained for years without number to be the best. It was his calling.. the calling of a warrior.

Now, he would need to prove it against worthy foes.

Now he would need to win, or die.

Lupercus grimaced, stumbling back from the two Jedi who were surprisingly uninterested in him for the moment. His remaining sabre was held loosely in his palm, sweat visable on his brow. But then he heard something else, from the mouths and minds of the jedi. A moment of worry, frustration at the least.

Another Sith was coming. One who would give these two little wretches a solid clocking. And Lupercus would be here to watch!

He quickly called the sabre back to his hand, his body crumpled from his wounds. Focusing his anger over the damage to his form, he could sense everything around him on the molecular level. He could feel the snapped tendons in right leg, the burn of the wound on his arm, the cracked rip on him, and the damage he had done to Jiren. He felt the blood from the internal wound he had caused surging out of the vein, desperate to escape its sinuey confines. A bloody smile crossed his face as the darkside eminated from his semi broken form, crackling with the air, pervading his mind.

"That other Sith isn't your only problem my little playthings..." he mumbled to himself, a strange desire cackling through his rotton mind.

"Bubble bubble, toil and trouble..." he said cryptically, blood spilling from his mouth as he spoke.

His conciousness, focused on the molecular level, had allowed him to 'roll with the punch' of the attack, causing messy, but in effect not long term damage to the Hapan Princes form. He smiled thiny, blood visable between his teeth, his eyes dropping in and out of focus as his concentration momentarily lapsed.

The bubbles, bring back the bubbles...

The smile turned into a sneer as he began to move his hands wavily, his sabre returned to his side. He could sense once again the particles around him moving, faster and faster as the Darkside was conjured forth, his pain driving him on, his insanity sustaining him.

"Look at all the pretty colours..."

Starbursts flashed before his eyes as he sat, bloody drool falling onto his shirt leaving splotchy stains. His smile grew wider, releasing more blood as he felt the atoms and molecules vibrating with an energy not of his, but of their own. To someone with his level of concentration and focus in this area it would seem as if the air itself was dancing.

"But what do the Jedi do once natures itself turns against them?"

His vision floated up to a bird that sat in the tree upon which he had landed. Its feathers ruffled, the bird squawking dishearting as it suddenly, and very violently burst into flames. His eyes dropped back to the two jedi.

"And this, this gift you give to me, i am thanking you now..."

His voice was delusional with pain, anger, hate and insanity as he spoke, barely coherant. But the pain itself had focused his mind in a way he had not yet felt, but would harnass many times in the future. His head nodding to the side, his eyes dancing, he seemed to smile warmly at the Rogue Jedi Master, the focus in his eyes matching that of Jiren.

"That fire in your eyes, in your heart... It was a gift beyond reckoning."

Now!

The air exploded with flames as the particles reached the point of no return. With nothing on which burn, they simply disappaited in a startling lightshow but some, some had found a fuel source. A twig caught alight between the wounded hapan and his adversaries, then a branch, then another. With darkness in his soul Lupercus pushed the still vibrating particles out, focusing on Jiren and his cloak. As soon as they had reached him, Lupercus' outstreched hands clenched.

"This gift, i return to you know!"

Sparks started flying around the Jedi, Lupercus draining himself fully to allow success in his endeavors. Quickly a spark caught, then another and, like the forest around Lupercus, Jirens cloak went up in flames.

The Sith's hate had reached a climax; his mind was consumed with anger and rage. As the air around Gash exploded in flames, his cloak catching in painful inferno, the Rogue Jedi Master remained calm, reaching down inside for the strength the technique he sought would require. Lupercus dodged Ky-Vin's attack; now, he was vulnerable, unattentive and wounded.

It was the ultimate technique of the Rogue Jedi Masters; a gift to each who reached the pinnacle of the power, resolve, and insight available to the Rogue Jedi. A technique skirting the dark side of the Force, one using the powerful darkness in every Sith's soul.

Cold of Darkness.

The resolve came, flooding to him instantly in a wave of powerful calm. He reached deep into the power of the Force around him, drawing it into him, and then reaching out towards his enraged opponent. Into the core of Lupercus' consciousness, into the core of his being; a core of pure darkness, hate, and rage. The more the Sith hated his opponent, the more effective this power was, and Lupercus was consumed with his hate.

The inside of the Sith's soul, the inside of his power, was a pure dark. Cold, devoid of compassion, devoid of caring.

It was a place wrought with the dark side, with hate, with the energy of life forever twisted towards destruction.

Gash drew on the hate within that dark soul, drawing on that spark of dark spite, concentrating within himself. He pulled it into him, while not making it a part of himself; this was the part which required the most discipline, and risked the most danger.

He peered into the darkness he'd drawn on, seeing the seething rage within it. It was filled with memories of dark deeds, twisted good made evil by hate.

It tempted him, tempted him with the power he remembered within himself. He could draw parellels between the experiences in this little ball of misery and those in his own life. It was mezmerizing; it drew him deeper into it... deeper and deeper... what had he to lose? The dark side beckoned...

No... he drew himself out of it. There was a difference; this was the dark side energy of another, not his own. He had turned away from that.

Gash opened his eyes mere seconds later, channeling that dark energy into his hands, his lightsabers dropped by his sides. He placed his palms open in front of him, pointing them at the bleeding, wounded Sith. The dark energy was itching to return to its owner; it wanted to reunited with a soul which would accept and use it.

Not forcing it, Gash let it go, let it return.

And from his palms burst a massive beam of pure ice; superfrozen air, colder than all of space, as cold as the heart of the devil himself. It fled towards Lupercus with all speed, rushing on, freezing the air around it; the ice cold from it cooled the air around Gash enough to snuff the flames which had engulphed him.

The beam of ice struck Lupercus, his cells bursting under the torment of the icy temperatures, his bones breaking under the force of the torrent, his arteries turning to ice. The beam would kill any normal person on impact; it was only the dark side, though, which kept Lupercus alive. He flew back, the beam continuing and propelling him, once again striking the same tree. This time, it could no longer handle the force of Luperus' impact; as the beam terminated, and the bloodied and brutalized Sith fell to the ground, the cracked tree began falling backwards.

With a flick of his finger, Gash tipped it forward ever so slightly, and it crashed down upon the fallen Lupercus. He nodded to a slightly bewildered Ky-Vin in thanks for the distraction.

Gash was winded. He doubled over, Slavatio staring at him concernedly, but calmly. "I'm fine. I just need a moment."

Lupercus, on the other hand, would need quite some time.

"Slavatio, Ky-Vin. Put out the flames on those trees. Use the Force." Some, particularly those around Gash and Lupercus, had been extinguished by the Cold of Darkness technique's beam; others still flamed.