This thread is for the epic lightsaber duel/story telling game Mown and i are playing. This thread is for storytelling purposes only, while the actual playing of the game will happen in the OOC thread.

The Sunday evening was as cold as any other day, basking in a soothing atmosphere as the snowflakes scattered the ambient lighting about. A fragile looking lady laid stretched out on the veranda, covered in a soft white blanket slowly sapping out the red color that stained her cheeks. Beneath her was a carpet worth of a royal, funnelling out from the cavity of her abdomen. The elaborate writings on a folded letter provided some contrast to the spectacle, placed neatly in her hand.


Home.
Is that what you think of when you see these walls; protection from the uncertain beyond?
I wish this wooden cage would give me the same feeling of comfort.

Is it wrong of me to want it engulfed in flames? I am already breathing smoke in my suffocating life. With this, I could at least feel warmth for real. Maybe a beautiful phoenix will rise from the whydah ashes, burning with passion once more as it surfaces the hardships, for this broken bird can not even bear to look at the sky.

Are you scared of the future? Don't be, I will help you write a splendid fairy tale.
— Athesia


On that day, the meticulously grafted family tree became irreparably gnarled. For her to snap so suddenly; maybe our inosculation never succeeded in the first place. How could we not have noticed—or was that our wish in the first place?

The two foes locked eyes. For a moment, Tress was glad that his eyes did could not blink, because the stare the Sith gave him was far more intense than he had anticipated. After all these years, he knew they would end it here. He considered it a bit strange that there didn't seem to be anything to say. After the dishonor she had brought on her family and on the order, and after the many battles they had fought in the past, he really thought he would have something to say. Instead, he just activated his lightsaber.

Their first strikes were quick, merely testing each other's speed and focus. They broke away quickly, neither of them hurt. However, Tress found himself on better footing, and was the one to make the next move.

As he moved in, Tress thought back to the moment he first heard that his friend Athesia had joined the Dark Side. Neelo, the master who had trained them both, had showed him the letter she had left behind.

"You know her well, Tress. Better than I do. I'm afraid I could never reach her, not like I did you. As she was my student, the council have made apprehending her my responsibility. But I know I still cannot reach her. That's why I have asked them to assign you the task instead.

Tress' had been shocked. "Me? But how could I get to her if you can't?"

The master smiled "Because I am the order she rebelled against. You can still be her friend. She gladly left me, but I don't think she wanted to leave you. Perhaps you could bring her to her senses and get her to come back.

As he moved in to strike, Tress once again wished that Neelo had been right.

"What's with that serious look? Can't you give me your usual hollow smile? I've missed it, you know."

Malus probably let her excitement take overhold as Tress continued to pressure her harder and harder, unwilling to lose his hold. The moves carried with them a sense of nostalgia, but were demonstrably stronger than she could remember. No surprise; Tress had always been more proficient in swordmanship, she knew that very well. In spite of that, her confidence did not waver. Deftly parrying an attack, she rebound her lightsaber and sent it grazing against the floor. A swift kick fluidly followed the shower of sparks, sending Tress off balance.

"Think you have the luxury of spacing out? Haven't you dwelled enough on the past by now, Tress?"

Tress couldn't deny her words, this wasn't the time to reflect on the past. Likewise, he could not waste his focus on banter, and elected to remain silent. Malus wasn't about to let him regain his composure, however, and fully utilized the opening she had created with a ruthless barrage of blows. It almost felt like being pounded on by a wild animal, instinctive and brutal. The exhausting exchanges slowly started to ease into a rhythm as her movements became more predictable by the seconds. With renewed vigor, the weight started shifting in his favor, until he abruptly found himself lying on the ground. While moving in to deflect a blow, Malus retracted her weapon. Tress found an unexpected lack of rebound to his swing as the opponent ducked down and toppled him with a leg sweep. With half-hearted elegance, Tress rolled away just in time to avoid a fatal strike, feeling the intense heat sway by his shoulder.

"Guard all you want, you won't get anywhere if you don't hit me. Surely you too have excluded any option that involves both of us coming out of this alive. Then again, I suppose we wouldn't be here in the first place were it not for that naivety of yours."

Her yellow eyes give Tress a look of pity as she winces in glee. "I mean, do you even have any blood on your hands? Or maybe I am to blame for taking care of them, since we can't you have you tug on any loose threads."

Soon after the encounter at the anonymous grave, Tress was called in to a meeting with the Council. He feared that he would be reprimanded for his failure to apprehend Darth Malus, but what happened was a complete surprise.

"After reviewing your report, we have concluded that you have shown wisdom beyond what we had expected. Your sensitivity and care have impressed us, even though we could not agree if your decisions were truly the right ones." As the councilmember fell silent for a moment, someone else coughed in a somewhat pointed manner. "We have, however, managed to agree that you have grown as a Jedi, to the point where we believe you to be ready to take a padawan." As he spoke, the door behind Tress opened, and a young woman walked in. "This is Alora Rel. Teach her well.

His confidence was slowly faltering as the situation continued to crumble around him, almost as if he was being played with. How could this have happened, after all the meticulous planning? Yet Malus hadn't seemed the least bit surprised when lashed out at from above. Then again, he has never truly managed to read her very well. Not then, not now. A sense of unease continued creeping upwards. Surely, she couldn't have known about the plan beforehand?
Malus' unsightly smile provided no answers, only questions. He felt like an open book, with each jab tearing out a new page. Nothing was going as planned; the script was being ripped apart. The situation was looking worse by the second, and more worryingly, his trump card for securing victory didn't show herself. Tress exhausted himself to create some distance from the brawl and glimpse the surroundings, but in the split second he did, an elbow pushed out what little air remained in his lungs.

"Didn't I tell you to focus? Don't take your eyes off me now. This is our dance, and nobody else is invited."
"How-" He catched himself a second too late. Somehow, responding to her felt like more of a loss than anything else. She certainly looked overjoyed.
"Don't think about it too much."

Roughly four years after the disappearance.

Tress found himself racing through the corridors. He was not entirely sure why, despite his mind racing with developing increasingly wild theories. Neelo had told him to stay put, which only urged him on further. A certain sense of doubt stifled his movements, as the building seemed calm but busy as usual. However, his tension spiked up again after reaching his master's door, which now sported a hole instead of a door-handle. The sound of shattering glass could be heard moments before he bursted through, revealing a room riddled in chaos. Amongst rubble of furniture and hardware stood an man whom Tress held innumerable questions for. Through an exhausted breath, he gave a single unpleasant answer to all of them.

"Forget anything I said."
"She is beyond redemption."