An Offer He Can't Refuse

[sparrow]

She looked down at the young boy. "We'll be fine, Reskle," she said. "I'm taking you out of here to somewhere safe. Then I'll come back for your master."

Take a right, then the second left, first right after that... The place was like a maze, and as they walked, Elsie hoped that she had remembered the way correctly. They moved at a slow place, and she needed to stop every once in a while to adjust her arms to keep the limp Rein from slipping off. Her senses were on full alert, doing her best to feel through the Force for anything that might have been ahead of them. She didn't want to think about what would happen if they ran into any more guards. Reskle was certainly in no condition for a fight; he could barely walk. And without her arms and only limited mobility, she wasn't either.

She breathed a sigh of relief as she turned the last corner to come face to face with a closed door. Behind this door would be elevator that would take them to street level, and from the street they could make their way back to the ship, containing food, medical supplies, clothing.

"Could you get the door controls for me, Reskle," she asked. "I don't have a free arm to reach it myself."

[Val - Warning:Contains Sarcasm]

OOC - Posted, but my internet lost the post -.-

Another bolt flew down away from her, and she sighed in what would have been a happy way if she had been in a relaxed situation. This was hardly a happy situation, as she felt the forms of even more shots coming across at her from the barrels of her oppressors. She hadn't moved far during this entire battle, she realised, and most of the moving she had done had been side to side as she adjusted her body to block and deflect the attacks coming at her. Moving left, moving right, her green saber coming across her body in wicken arcs to stop the bolts from blowing holes in her torso. No one was making ground here, but there wasn't going to be enough time for them to wait here much longer or they'd probably end up dying, and she didn't want to die here.

A distracted glance led her over to her side where she had once felt the darkness in the corner of her mind, but this had been replaced with what she believed may have been Elsie. If that were the case, then hopefully she had found Rein and they were getting out or something. At least, she thought that was Elsie. There was no way for her to be certain, as there was not enough time for her to focus on that enough to be sure with all the shots going around her. Her vision remained ahead, but without the exclusive dedication to the shots coming in around her she let one strike the outside of her thigh, and another sear through her hair, escaping through the back into the walls beyond. The pain in her thigh was immediate, but not disabling, and she tensed the muscle in her defiance of the pain.

Her attention was focused here, but there was still an element of surprise when she heard one of them men shout 'Go', and when she found several empty swings of her saber were occurring she made that her intention - to go, and she lurched forward only into the path of even more shots that were closer than before, and there was less time to react. She gritted her teeth, gripping her hilt tighter and not even glancing over to Xierra in her hope that the Falleen was having more luck than she was. Her feet remained in a shaky forward position, and her hands spun around her body swiftly, coming close to searing off several of her own bodily parts were it not for her sense of comfort with her blade. She didn't breathe, however, and could already feel her breath getting stale. Fatigue was setting in.

She knew this, too, as her arms grew more and more tired, as the tensed muscles started to burn, and as the pulse of her heart in her head began to throb loudly. The adrenaline helped, slowing down time around her almost, but there was no time for her to breath, and oxygen only came to her as one of the shots fried across the back of her left hand. She screamed, or whimpered, or did something, but it gave her a breath, and somehow it managed to actually not result in her stopping the blocks, though the left hand fell away from the hilt in its own balled fist of charred green glove surrounding angry blackened skin. She could feel the pain around the extremity, and it reminded her all too well of other pains nearby there. She could feel the pain that were held within the tears in her eyes.

When the next call to 'Go' was yelled, she certainly obeyed that order, and with the Force she moved forward at a devilishly aggressive pace, speeding towards the advancing ground. She was not going to die here just because the Jedi Order preferred a non-aggressive attitude, and she was not going to die because of a bunch of paid-off guns who were like pathetic sheep. Launching through the air, she locked eyes with the man ahead, and her saber flew out to the side, gripped tightly with her right hand. She growled, probably loud enough to sound like an angry animal, but she didn't care - she was incredibly annoyed right now, and she had no intention of playing defensive. She was not going to die here, and as her saber came across her front she knew she was not going to let Forge get away.

[Anackis]

Rein sat limp on Elsies back, his warm life blood still oozing from the large slashes in his arms. he cuts on his face had stopped bleeding, but the hard coat of dried blood rubbed off on the jedis back bringing fresh blood to the surface. His breaths came as short raspy hisses and every now and again his all to familiar hacking would ensue. Between coughs he would mutter a word or two, "...left...die...useless...why?"

[Mara]

(((Sorry for the wait, guys.)))



Her green blade continued to spin in front of her as she waited for an answer from Val, the blasterfire coming too fast for her to be entirely accurate; most of the deflected shots went too wide of her targets. But a few hit their marks. Even fewer actually did any damage to the mercenaries in front of her. The smoke from the grenade Val had shot into the room holding the dead rancor still swirled around them from behind, making the men in front harder to see. But lucky for Xierra she didn't need her eyes to see. She had the Force.

Xierra was just feeling a change in the minds of the men in front of her with her slight hold on them through the Force, when she heard the familiar shouting in front of them and braced herself for whatever the stupid soldiers were planning next. They stopped firing, and Xierra slowed her weapon, wondering if they were retreating. A grin stopped mid-smile on her face when she then realized they had ran ahead! Setting her jaw, she brought her lightaber back around to block bolts again, now able to see her enemies with both sets of eyes through the dissipating haze.

She could feel through the Force as Val seemed to be struggling beside her, but she wasn't sure if she was severely injured or just tired. Xierra was tired herself but drew on strength from the Force, also using it to focus on the battle, a focus she couldn't divide enough to divine the real status of her fellow Jedi. She just had to hope that Val would last a bit longer.

Hoping to give them a little more time, she switched her lightsaber from a two-handed to one-handed grip, still deflecting bolts with her right hand. Her left one stayed out in front of her however, and she grasped ahold of a soldier in front of her and squeezed her hand into a fist. The soldier's blaster crunched in on itself, rendered ineffective. She did this twice more before she had to return the hand to her blade, needing it to shield the blasterfire in front of her. Her right hand was strong, but it wasn't strong enough to endure those lightning quick moves against the shots for an extended period of time. With two soldiers dead and another three without weapons, Xierra hoped she had given them both enough of an advantage that Val would be able to recover.

Feeling Val's scream more than she heard it made Xierra wonder if she was still late. But there was no time for her to look beside her or extend her awareness with the Force. There were still over a half dozen men in front of her, firing at the two Jedi. Her suspicions were washed away, though, when she saw Val suddenly in her vision, off to the side and in the air, her blade slicing through one of the soldiers.

She smiled; make that an even half dozen, she thought. Xierra held her ground, allowing Val to take them apart from up close, as she continued to draw their fire from a distance of a few meters. The mercenaries were now fighting on two fronts against two Jedi. Six against two, better odds. Xierra smiled again, this time showing her Falleen sharpened teeth.

[Casual]

Web was stunned. Whatever leadership he thought he had acquired over these men was now lost. True to their name, the mercenaries began to go awol, breaking ranks and firing at whatever their blasters could hit. Four remained together, standing up and trying to escape the flying blue blade while keeping the Falleen Jedi at bay, abandoning all accuracy for sheer weight of attack. They, after all, now had to fire enough to make up for those being lost to the Jedi. One man stood turned and ran, his gun having been crushed just moments before. What could have caused this madness? The Jedi of the blue blade had charged them while they had charged, countering their entire strategy.

Web had his attention on the immediate danger, the beam of death and decapitation that loomed over them. Another thought struck him, however, as clever as the other had come. If they all surrendered, what options did the Jedi have? Would they have to take them all in, leaving the building of Forge, or would they simply leave the five mercenaries still breathing, weaponless, behind, and therefore free to fight another day? Would they bring them with them on their march toward Forge? If this was the case, they could easily betray them at a critical time. No matter what, it seemed to be a win-win situation to Web. With that he shouted, as loud as he could muster to those who could still breath, as he watched the Jedi down one of his fellow Mercs:

I surrender, and I hope ya’ll do the same, we ain’t getting outta this one safely, boys, lets wrap this up. Take us in Jedi scum.

He was certain he had surprised everyone in the hall, but most certain the mercs, who’s looks of shock and agreement were quite bittersweet. He watched as they all obeyed, he was quite curious as to how the Jedi would take this, the questions he had asked himself spinning in his head, he dropped his gun and put his hands up. No matter what happened, he was ready to look after number one.

~~~~~~

At this point, Forge didn’t care who heard him screaming, and what colorful words he chose to use in so doing. His mercenaries were cowards, his Rancors were no more threatening than a gizka, and worst of all, the Jedi were now a room away from him. His last threat stood between him and them. Well… second to last. He glanced towards the corner, then back again to the screen that showed his “warriors” surrendering. That Web was a clever character, however. Maybe, just maybe he would pull something out of his sleeve and take the Jedi by surprise. Of course, he thought, they were Jedi, though, and Jedi had a sense for these things. It seemed they had a sense for everything, but a sense for trickery and such they had a very keen sense for indeed. They could probably get through this up and coming threat, thought Templar Forge, but to do so would prove very difficult. Top that off with the mercenaries they may or may not be lugging around, and Forge just might live to see another free day yet. If not, all hell was sure to break loose.

---------

[Val - Warning:Contains Sarcasm]

Her emerald blade flung wildly across the next mercenary, and as he fell to the ground in an agonized yell, she felt the burning settle back across her hand again. Was he the one that had shot her? Was his body feeling the searing pain of retribution across it as she felt? The green eyes of the Jedi fell to the mercenary's allies, and the orbs were cut across by a narrow glare as she swirled her saber back into a strong grip. Scum and cowards. Her breathing was coming in short bursts, her body refusing her the opportunity for a long breath and instead matching the beating of her heart in the tense situation. Her hand, and body, and head all pounded furiously at the suffering she was going through. Exhaustion was significant as even the Force seemed to drain from her and prevent her stamina, and whether the escaping Force strength was due to the lengthy battle or the number of atrocious deaths that had just been committed by her hand, she wasn't sure. She didn't even consider it properly, to be honest, though the thundering in her mind as she persisted to battle may have been its own indicator regarding how much dissonance her Jedi upbringing was suffering.

She could rationalize, certainly, and rebalance her emotional center. She was slaying these men, against many principles of the Jedi Order, and their deaths left wounds in the Force, and in herself. Small cuts that rapidly accumulated as she struck them down forcefully with her blade. However, they were the enemies at the moment, and not only had they fired repetitively upon the two Jedi, but tactics had been employed and an unfair participant advantage had been exploited. If they weren't willing to die, they shouldn't be working for Forge, right? If they didn't want to die, they'd have not been there, and the fact that Metellos probably offered little in the way of alternative opportunities for work and lifestyle choices didn't occur within the confines of her mind. Her mind was set on those before her. The ones that caused her pain as they lived, and suffering as they died, and it was an incredible burden on her already tired mind that reeled from the fatigue of the day and the battle. Monsters and mercenaries and whatever else before they'd reach Forge, and there was no respite for her in this forsaken urban wasteland.

Another shot drove through the air, burning in a scorching line towards her and meeting her blade once more as she smote it down the corridor. A body full on adrenaline and survival chemicals, her eyes pieced time and the haze of physical drowsiness to see the slowed bolt before blowing it from her body as though it were some rather insignificant and uninteresting insect to her. A foot brought her forward, and the second hand came across the second half of her handle. The green blade threw itself into the air, glinting enviously at all the lives before it that dared to share the world. In the overhead stance she stared down with equally cruel eyes, angling the blade for her strike, as the man called for his men to lay down their arms. Her blade faltered for a moment, dipping slightly but remaining aloft with one of the man's body within immediate striking distance. Surely it would be irresponsible for her to let them live in the current situation? Her breath escaped in an angry growl as the weapons of the men touched the ground, and they appeared before her vulnerable and defenceless, her blade still willing her to strike them down and rid the galaxy of their ilk.

But something held her back, and her mind could not locate the source of her hesitation as it struggled to even remain aware of the situation at hand. What had caused her stay of hand was a force that eluded her consciousness, and even if she had looked around for the mysterious arm that prevented her own downward motion, somewhere she knew that her attempts at locating the invisible binding wire would be in vain. Seconds had passed, and she knew somewhere that her chance at wiping away the filth before her was gone. Gone, that is, if she deemed her life that of the Jedi, and as that was the case she found that she would serve best by holding onto her blade and restraining her savage lusts for a righteous path void of obstacles and obstructions. She would not slay the weaponless and weak, as the Jedi Order guidelines instructed, and instead it was her duty to protect and defend and provide relief against the oppressive storm of unfair monsters and tyrants within the world. She was supposed to be the hand of justice and the bringer of peace, and the tool of the Light that would illuminate the faithful, enlighten with knowledge and disperse the shadow.

A hand fell away from the hilt, and with the other the lightsaber came down to her side, hovering near-horizontal as her free hand balled tightly into a fist. Justice. How was this justice, she wondered, as the tightened fist heightened her perception of the charred scar across the back of her hand. The green eyes slipped closed, her brain fighting her for deep breathing which came at a price of a heavy sound. This was hardly how things were supposed to go on this mission, and the longer she stood the more she realized there was hardly much of positive outcome to be observed. Everyone had pretty much been wounded, Elsie and Rein were elsewhere, and they'd not seen or heard anything about their objective of Tas Bey or his Padawan. It infuriated her that she'd been so unprepared for the possibilities as they were, and through shaking hands she wondered whether justice even existed. Was justice ever possible to the perfect degree, or was it something that would need to be carried out under her own terms? The fisted hand released briefly, but only for an instant as it flung forwards to grasp the collar of the man she nearly cut down seconds ago. Her saber angled itself towards him, ready to pierce him wholly.

What am I doing?

The malicious and malevolent glint in her eyes had caused her a twinge of pain, and the posture had appeared so wrong to her that it felt as though she were directing the saber at herself rather than someone else. It was all wrong, all against what she had been taught to uphold and defend, and it wounded her soul just to think of how close she had been to delivering that attack. How had she came to being in this situation, she had no idea. She was an upstanding Jedi once, and a proud follower of their rules and regulations. Long ago before any of this happened, and her mind wished for that sense of security and consistency to return to her embrace and never escape her again. How likely that was, she didn't know, but with what little sense she had warding away her insanity, she flung the hilt off to the side. The venomous blade slithered into the casing once more and it bounced from the floor, landing once more with a clatter and rolling a little more down the corridor. Her hand released from the man's collar, no longer lording a threatening presence over him, but her strength seemed drawn from his own as her legs crumpled as she released him. She came to her knees, and then leant forwards with her hands striking the ground.

This was all wrong.

[sparrow]

"Blast it, Rein. Don't bleed to death on me here." After Reskle opened the door to the ship, Elsie set the young Miralukan padawan down on one of the seat. Clutching her side to slow down the blood flow, she made her way to the cargo hold of the ship, looking for the medical supplies. There wasn't much but it would have to do.

She slipped a painkilling pill into Rein's mouth, fed him some water to help him swallow. A kolto patch would help with his physical wounds. The boy kept muttering throughout it all, about death and abandonment. He's going to be needing some serious therapy when we get back, she thought to herself. And I was supposed to take care of him. I was supposed to keep him safe.

Elsie felt a burning pressure in her chest. Anger. She was angry at Forge for all the crimes he had committed. She was angry at Hage for the tortures he had inflicted on the padawans. And most of all, she was angry with herself for being unable to stop it. No! She needed to pull herself back together. Two years ago, she had watched her best friend die from the corruption from the dark side because she had been too weak to save him. There was no time to show any weakness now, not while there were still lives on the line. Never again.

Gritting her teeth, she ripped open another kolto patch, pressing it against the wound on her torso, tying in place with the last strips of cloth ripped from what remained of her dress. The cuts were already beginning to cloth. She put on her armor, and her snowy white robes went on on top of that. Her sword was propped against the wall, resting in its sheath. A long, thin double edged blade, it was a traditional weapon of the Echani warrior. Suddenly, the sword seemed to jump up from where it rested, flying into her waiting hand. "Reskle," she said, turning towards the young padawan. "I'm going to get your master out of there. Take care of Rein until I get back. You should be safe here." I will complete my mission and set things right. You deserve a hundred deaths for your crimes, Forge. Maybe more. And I'll make sure you get at least the one.

[Mara]

She was busy battling off blaster bolts from the soldiers in front of her, trying mainly to disable her opponents, not kill, unlike Val nearby who was slashing with her blade in a more violent matter. Right now the differing techniques didn't bother Xierra; they had to get to Forge and rescue the others, and this was the quickest way to do it. Once they were through these mercenaries, they would be one step closer to fulfilling their mission. She just hoped that where Elsie, Rein, Tas Bey and his padawan were being kept was closer to where they now fought. The Falleen Knight didn't know how much more fighting she and Val could take. Both of them were tiring, she could feel through the Force. And Xierra knew her leg wound from earlier at the restaurant was being to bother her as well.

And so it was with a brief thankfulness and relief that came over her when the men in front of her did a most surprising thing: they surrendered. The derogatory statement with which the leader referred to them never fully caught her ears as her mind raced, thinking of what to do next. She watched as the five of them dropped their weapons and raised their hands in the air, waiting for her and Val to do something about them. Xierra's first thought was to just tie them up and leave them there. Any other choice would just delay them further. Plus, she decided, they probably wouldn't have any idea where the captive Jedi were hidden. Yes, better to just leave them here restrained and come back for them later.

Xierra had just come to this conclusion, lowering her still glowing weapon, wanting to see what Val thought, when she felt and saw something that disturbed her to the core. The other Knight was staring at the soldiers, her blade still in an offensive position. But what she felt through the Force was even more overwhelming to Xierra. Val's aura was filling with anger, and it scared her a little bit. Surely she wasn't thinking of killing them all? The Falleen Knight knew they probably deserved less, but she also knew, as a Jedi and protector of the peace, that it was not their decision to pass judgment. She could do nothing but stare at Val, her mind now racing for something to say to the other woman.

As Val lowered her weapon, she almost breathed a sigh of relief, as most certainly the mercenaries would, too, but she didn't like the feeling she was getting from the woman's presence in the Force. She was obviously struggling with something, and Xierra knew that she must let Val work it out for herself, no matter how much she wanted to step in and tell her what the Jedi stood for, and what their real purpose was. She was a Jedi like Xierra herself and knew the Code as well as she. She also knew they were there to rescue Tas Bey and his padawan, now along with her own padawan and fellow Knight Elsie. Xierra shoved down any thoughts of yelling out to Val to snap her out of her and resolved herself to the idea that if her fellow Jedi were to strike out again at the now defenseless soldiers, she would have to defend them against Val, and fight against her friend.

"Val!" The voice came out of her unbidden, as all her resolve dissolved along with Val's actions. The mercenary she held looked scared as the Jedi woman held him by his collar, her weapon leveled at him. Xierra hoped that her voice would get through to Val, but she also fed peaceful thoughts to her through the Force, forcing her to remember what they were doing there, why they were there.

All her thoughts jumbled in that instant, thinking back to her childhood, to her time as a youngling. She had once been angry and vengeful, not extremely so, but still she had shown signs of it. And Master Revisc had taken a chance with her, had wanted to train her when no else had shown an interest. Xierra knew that if he hadn't stepped in, she would have gone to the corps for sure. Even though by then she had grown out of her childishness, there was still a bit of an unbalanced streak in her. A streak her master had managed to tame with years of training.

A similar streak she was now feeling in Val, someone she thought earlier to be the very essence of light, a beautiful example of what they were supposed to be as Jedi. But now Val's beacon seemed to be failing, and Xierra willed it to spark again. Things would get a lot more complicated if she had to fight past her friend before she rescued the others. Her first mission as a full Knight might turn out a lot worse than she had ever imagined. How could things have turned around so much? With herself being the one to hold the voice of reason, and Val the one who wanted to kill all those before her? It was... strange.

Whether it was because she yelled out to her, or she felt her goodwill through the Force, or Val had just slain some personal demons within her, Xierra didn't know, but her friend tossed away her weapon and let go of the soldier. She fell down herself, to her knees, as her former captive scrambled away to the others. Xierra knew they were probably just staring at them, wondering how simple words of surrender had caused so much turmoil. She extinguished her own blade and went to Val, kneeling by her, a hand resting on her back.

After determining she would be okay for the moment, she gathered up some rope from a pocket in her utility pants and began wordlessly tying up the mercenaries, tightly, between hands and feet, tying them to each other as well. She kept a hard glare at them, making them remember what they had done and that what they were receiving could be much worse. Once she had them all restrained to her satisfaction, she picked her weapon and went back to Val, hoping that she would be ready to continue on.

[Casual]

Forge sat in his chair, unbelief coursing through his veins. His mercenaries had failed him, he had underestimated their greed. No matter, there will be blood regardless. They may have killed his Rancor, they may have apprehended his mercenaries, they may have escaped his prisons and killed his right hand man, but they would go no further.

There was still one room that lay between them and his office. One room with a threat that they were sure to have trouble with. Perhaps even the mercenaries could deceive them and cause trouble of their own. A Kath Hound is still a danger with a muzzle, and so true with the cunning and despicable scum of mercenaries.

Regardless, he still had his trump card, his ace in the hole. He would continue to give it this title, since its value would never diminish. These Jedi were his yet.

And so it begins

~~~~~~~~~

We know when we've been beat, ladies.

Web said as the two proceeded to wrangle up their captives. They all stood, submissive and pissed at their circumstances, but clearly glad to be alive for what they committed. They seemed to be ready to leave them as they were, until one of the Jedi grabbed a man by the alias (and that was all they knew his name) of Speck. He was clearly worried that his head would be bashed in by the strong female.

This was answered by the other Jedi before the mercs could respond.

"Val!"

Web's heart started beating again. That was close. The agitated Jedi dropped her lightsaber and stood, clearly battling thoughts in her mind.

Web, not being the brightest of people, attempted to speak with the Jedi who had almost slain his comrade.

Now... Val? Was it? Thank you for sparring the life of my companion, again, we apologize for our actions, we were simply doing as we were told, madam Jedi...

He knew that deep within himself, if given the opportunity, he would turn on the Jedi and collect his bounty, but on as much of the surface as he could, he kept the appearance of an honest mercenary, he knew enough of the Jedi that they could see the thoughts of the weaker minded, or something like that.

As he spoke the last word though, the door behind them opened, a large mechanical door, it made a large clanking sound and within was something even the mercs did not expect.

Within those doors was a very much empty, tiled room. The white, pearlescent tiles covered the entirety of the room. What sat in the middle of the room was what would come to be known in the future as a Droideka. It was a beast of a machine, more turret than droid. The guns it had mounted on its arms were four simple blasters inlaid with one another, eight guns in total. The construction of the droid was very simple and clearly only stable enough to maintain the kick and weight of the guns it carried. What made the device so menacing, however, was the fact that there was a spherical blue personal shield protruding from its very being. This in and of itself may not have been menacing, when one considered the power it would take to maintain such a beast must be nearby, and potentially even visible. This was not so. The few cables that were visible to the monstrosity were covered in its all encompassing personal shield.

In all visible ways, the droid-turret-beast was invincible and very much lethal. The only flaw was the generator that ran underneath the creature, inaccessible to the Jedi seeing as how the door to the hallway behind them was now locked.

Web's jaw dropped and hoped by the Force that he wasn't going to be labeled as "target" by the gun-toting demon. This seemed to hold up as the creature jerked and spun, sights clearly set on the 'saber-less Jedi. Every merc in the hall held his breath for a what seemed like eternity, tension thick in the air.

Then - it fired.

[Val - Warning:Contains Sarcasm]

For a time she just sat there, waiting for whatever it was to happen. The calm before the storm, or the other way around, it was a confusing situation to her, and she didn't know where she stood. Was it over, or was it to come? Was she on the edge of the beginning or the end, and was there going to be a return? Would it be a consistent feeling in the back of her throat that made her mouth burn like hot coals, and her skin feel tight as though trying to strangle her. A shiver in her hands that did not cause them to tremble, but rather she could feel the bones wanting to break free. A terrible, dark presence that loomed over her hauntingly and menacingly. She could almost feel the choking feeling around her neck, even as she drew her own hand up there and brushed her fingers against the fair skin.

Xierra was busy taking care of the mercenaries, who seemed unharmed from her post-battle fit. Shaky, but at least they were alive. Bodies were on the ground, around her as she sat perched in her little isolated spot in the hallway. Her legs drew in a little more, forehead coming down to rest upon the knees in her inward and self-protecting position that would stop the world getting into her soul. The dark, cruel world and it's unrelenting battle lust, and desire for carnage and despair. Not a new feeling, but not a favoured one, and it have been many times in her life up to that point where she had felt herself drawn away from the darkness only to come back down to it with a shock to her system. The reality that she could not escape the shadows that maintained residence within her.

Her saber was still off to her side on the floor, undamaged and probably even unscratched. It annoyed her that it remained over there as though taunting her with how she had failed to act upon the blade correctly, but then she was more frustrated with herself. The lightsaber didn't fight by itself - it was a tool to be used, and she had drawn those arcs that were meant to disable and protect, but had taken lives from the guards here. How many had she killed? 2? 3? Couldn't she even remember that? Their faces, or how they'd died, or what they were doing. What about the alternatives? So many ways of dealing with an opponent that did not consist of an outright slaying. Her head rhythmically hit against her knees, fighting the desire to just give up and end it, or even to acknowledge the sting in her left hand.

Xierra's return to her side was a welcome one, of sorts, where at least Val was aware that she wouldn't be tempted to strike down a fellow Jedi. Not in this frameset at least, but then how much would it take before she'd draw her blade on her comrades just as she had done with these unarmed men? She remained silent for a moment, not wanting to have to interrupt the empty space that offered no inlet for conversation. Finally, her hand brushed out a little and drew the lightsaber towards her slowly with the Force. It floated tentatively into her grasp, and as soon as her skin touched the hilt she had the temptation to throw it once more. Instead her grip tightened, deciding now that she wanted it to be asphyxiated to never hiss it's venomous green blade again, but she could not kill the weapon.

"You should have killed me." She whispered the words to Xierra, not looking up or engaging with any body language where possible. Xierra's duty as a Jedi was to purge the dark side from others, and Val knew for certain that she was not exactly a shining example of Jedi philosophy a few minutes ago. She never was, despite how much she tried, and she expected that she never would be. With a despairing exhale, she pulled herself wearily to her feet. She felt exhausted, and fatigued, almost as though the Force had decided to just abandon her. Rather that she didn't trust herself to use it straight away, but it certainly occurred to her that she'd likely fractured something inside herself. What concerned her was that whatever it was didn't feel newly broken.

With her fingertips supporting her as she walked towards the end of the corridor, she moved slowly. Forge still awaited, though she felt her patience with him drawing decidedly thin. The men behind her were submissive now, and unarmed, and would pose her no trouble as long as they didn't suddenly discover how to undo ropework whilst bound. Ahead she could see the door opening, and a small part of here wished that she could see Forge walking out with his arms up, but that wasn't the case. Unless Forge was actually a massive robotical behemoth that fired the second she saw it. They were in a corridor, meaning no cover, and her saber engaged as the shots came screaming towards her viciously. True, she could give up and let herself be shot, and have this episode over and done with, but seeing this thing reminded her just how much she was going to enjoy taking Forge in.

[Mara]

Xierra poured goodwill through the Force as she kneeled by her fellow Jedi. She could tell that Val was having some sort of meditative moment, trying to deal with just a couple moments before when she almost killed that mercenary in cold blood. It would make any Jedi stop and think, and in some part of her soul, the Falleen Knight understood Val's position. She herself had been a wild card, a bit off-balanced when she was younger. If it hadn't been for her master, Xierra felt that she would have been tossed from the Temple and destined for hard labor or passage to the dark side. All she could do was be there for Val. Despite the urgency of their mission, if Val wasn't up to 100%, neither of them would be able to complete anything.

She was quiet as Val drew her weapon back to her hand, stating her feelings out loud. Xierra wanted to tell her that she would never have slain another Jedi. Even if she threw out everything pertaining to the Code that she lived by, she considered Val a friend now, and she would always give a friend the benefit of a doubt. The chance of redemption. Besides, this was minor, only compared to the limitless possibilities of what could have happened. No, she would let Val to herself and just support her. They had to be one force to defeat Forge and rescue their own.

When Val started moving ahead, Xierra hoped that the other Jedi had come to terms with herself over recent events. If not... well, then worse came to worse, she would have to continue on the mission herself, alone. But she did wish that Val had all her faculties back. It would go much easier for her and the rest of them if she had an ally. She stood up and followed her down the hallway, without a second glance to the tied-up mercenaries. Xierra was content that they would not get out of their restraints. And if they did... they wouldn't move, considering the next move from Forge.

The door they were walking towards, hoping that it would lead to Forge's inner chambers and where Tas Bey and the other Jedi were being kept, opened. They both stopped as they saw the machine enter the hallway. Some kind of droid, Xierra thought. A droid bristling with weapons and seeming to glow on the outside from some kind of shield. But there was no time to dwell on what the thing looked like as it immediately starting firing at her and Val. Just as quickly her weapon was up in a defensive posture and lit, its pale green blade spinning around in front of her, deflecting bolts away from her and harmlessly into the droid's shield.

They had to find another way to defeat this machine or else they would be standing here forever...