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Saul knew that he had to get off Korriban. While many sith wouldn't have arched an eyebrow at the killing of a pair of their fellows, or the theft of a valuable artifact, Darth Ennustus was quite capable of manipulating events into marking him as a target for the entire population of the planet.

Only two words would be needed for that, defector and jedi, and with those two words spoken all those sith that were eager to prove themselves would hurl themselves at him in the hope of being able to bring the head of a jedi spy back to the academy in triumph. It would take time for the word to spread, and that time would be what he'd need in order to escape.

He ran up the stairwell and emerged on the academy's primary hanger deck. With a smile he ran a hand along the wall of lockers and picked out the one he'd long ago chosen for his escape stash. He pulled it open and drew out the small safe within it, pulled open the locking mechanism and withdrew it's contents: a million credits as well as a false I.D. he'd procured at great expense from some smuggler's courageous enough to deal directly with the sith. He quickly pocketed them and turned to the line of ships waiting in the hanger bay.

His mind raced as he looked at the motley collection of vessels, and assessed his need. The ship needed speed and at least some firepower, but it needed an ascetic sensibility that wouldn't make every sensor operator scream Sith! when it appeared on their displays.

Only the two Punisher-class Corvettes fit the bill, and neither of them appeared to be guarded as he walked up beside them. Without a second thought he stepped aboard the nearest one with his belongings and the shield, sealed the hatch, and began the ship's power up procedures.

A cursory glance at the ship's displays gave him all the information he needed to know, his master had insisted he learn how to use any starship, and that knowledge was paying off. As he kicked in the repulsorlifts and began powering the main drive, he glanced at the aft display and realized his escape hadn't been unnoticed as he hoped. A small squad of sith acolytes were advancing on his ship, lightsabers ignited, and behind them he thought he saw the cloaked figure of the Academy's Headmaster standing beside Darth Ennustus.

A cold smile slid over Saul's mouth as he rotated the ship on it's repulsor and keyed the weapon system. He scrolled through a couple different shells for the railguns before settling on the ship's magazine of proton shells. Still smiling coldly he settled the crosshairs on the advancing band of sith acolytes and pulled the trigger.

Two brilliant blue white streaks shot from the cannons and exploded to the left and right of the advancing sith, killing all of them in the storm of metal shrapnel and energetic protons. Darth Ennustus and the Headmaster were only spared by distance and physics, and they immediately began to retreat to the safety of another floor. As they fled Saul swept the hanger bay with all the weapons of his ship's arsenal. Walking blaster fire across parked Buzzard fighters and sith interceptors. Anything that could chase him within the bay was turned to cinders from blaster fire or partly atomized by proton shells, including the Punisher's twin. With that done Saul pulled the nose up, kicked in the primary drive, and rocketed toward space.

As he fled he checked the ship's ammunition supply and noted the expenditure of twelve proton shells as well as several pounds of tibanna gas. Still, he had more then enough munitions to blast any intercept force the sith could muster, at least he hoped that was the case, but the sudden rattle of slugthrower rounds against the ship's armored hull changed his mind.

A squadron of Buzzard fighters had pounced, and he'd have to fend them off all the way to hyperspace, or die trying.

Siren had one advantage over her supposed peers. Her Force powers were far more developed than the trainees and acolytes who barely knew more than basic lightsaber skills. The only reason she wasn't regarded as one of the Sith Lords was because her own combat abilities were almost non-existent, putting her far below the rest in ranking. Many of the Sith Lords would refuse to acknowledge her slaying of her own master, passing it off as a fluke and her becoming a master being only because she was the only surviving apprentice he had.

Still, none of it mattered. Let the Sith kill each other for power while ignoring her since she apparently had nothing worth taking. She'd simply seduce the one that conquered the rest, and he'd give in to her willingly. That was her long-term plan. For now however, a certain punk needed to be humiliated.

After a short while of fixing her top wher it had been cut open, she headed out. It wasn't long before she spotted the Sith 'assassin' who had his way with her just a short while ago. She walked up to him and embraced him and they soon began to kiss passionately. Using the Force, she entered his mind and he suddenly had the irresistable urge to be more aggressive, as if he were wanting to take her right there in the open. At the same time, the onlookers who she sensed were even the slightest bit jealous suddenly became angry that he had a hot girlfriend and they didn't.

Siren was guided down on the floor by her supposed lover, eager to conquer her a 2nd time already. The moment her form was no longer blocking his from view, another Sith trainee ran up and dived into him, causing a brawl to break out among the few of them nearby. Fighting over a woman they only knew a little about, they were so focused on beating up the others that they were unaware the girl of interest had gotten up and walked away.

She kept nearby, hiding around a corner in the hall. She wanted to watch the chaos she had just caused. Several blows to the groin, a few bloody noses, and almost all of them had a broken bone or 2 at least. 1 very unlucky participant was impaled by a stray slash of a bladed weapon, though it wasn't fatal as he stumbled off to get medical attention. The target of her little scheme was covered in blood from all manner of hits and cuts, though he would live through it. Siren didn't feel it was worth the extra effort to cause him to die. Afterall, their not-so-consentual intimacy wasn't entirely unpleasant...

Cene had loaded the Zombie up like a bantha with items, something which the Zombie seemed to dislike imensly.
Still holding it off with her pistol, Cene made her way over to the door and began checking herself for another IED.
Suddenly the door slid open.

The Mando lept away from the door and drew her second pistol as a cackling Sith acolyte entered the room, his cloak billowing before him and his lightsaber active and in hand.

"You foolish Mandalorian. You trespass on Sith ground. Now surrender your life and treasures to me or face the wrath of the Dark Side!"

Before Cene could manage a witty rebutal, she felt a weight lifted from her shoulders. The Acolyte's eyes suddenly went wide and he gripped his head and screamed, dropping his saber as he howled in pain.

Cene was briefly puzzled as to what was going on, though the sight did seem familiar. almost a deija vu feeling The pieces then came together as she realized she had gone under the same sort of attack. The Difference was, however, Thatu Razg's latest target was sensitive to the Force.

The Acolyte fell silent and began chuckling with a familiar laughter. He stood and glared sinisterly at Cene.
In an instant the sith had a pair of holes in his chest and was blown out the open door by the impact of the heavy blaster pistol bolts.

Suddenly feeling inexplicably burdened again, Cene sensed a rather large amount of anger and irritation.
"You're predictable, Thatu." She stated. "Too predictable. Or maybe Ive seen to many Holos. Either way, if you want taxi service, I'm going to expect fare." she motioned to the valuables in the Zombie Massai's hands. "This will do."
She sensed indignation and more anger but ignored it, focusing on concrete dangers.

The dead Sithling rose to his feet and snarled, getting it's jaw blasted off for it's trouble.

"Unlike your fellow zombie over there, I'm sure you understand basic." Cene told the newly risen undead. "Understand this: Do what I tell you, or I'll make sure you dont get up again."

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Cene was relieved to see the Terentateks didnt reanimate when dead and assumed the zombie thing was strictly a property of the lower tomb. With her Zombie porters loaded to capacity with Mandible and treasure, she marched them to the surface where another swoop wait in addition to her own.

"You Sith have lousy taste. But it should be good enough for what I need it for." She told the Acolyte Zombie. "Ok, drop the goods right here."
The Acolyte Zombie did so, followed by the Zombie warrior who seemed to be following the cues of the Acolyte.

"Thanks for your help, boys."
She fired at both Zombies, blowing their heads off.
"Have a nice rest."

She heard Thatu Razg's aproving chuckle in the back of her mind and tried to ignore the pleasant sensation betrayal gave her, busing herself with the securing and tarping down of her treasures. She made sure to reload her carbine as well. Using her whip chord, she tethered the two bikes and towed the other across the rocky desert of Korriban.

It was the end of a long, weird day. And the sooner she got off this rock the better. Now she only needed to make it to Dreshdae.

The training remotes hovered on the soft hums of their repulsor lift generators as Aurora shut down her glowing yellow blade. Pushing the tip of her helmet up with a gloved thumb she checked the time piece on the adjacent wall. Sighing to herself she un-did the clip on the chin-strap and returned the helmet to its place on the wall. After pushing buttons on the control board to shut off the holographic fighter and order the remotes back to there recharge sockets she gathered her belongings into a bundle that she held in her arms as she left the training room, the door hissing shut behind her. Aurora headed to her room to clean herself up before looking for her master.

Wrapping a towel around herself Aurora stepped out of the shower, her bare feet padded silently on the carpeted floor. She made her way over to her dresser to finish drying off and comb out her wet hair. Pulling out a fresh change of padawan robes her mind wandered as she dressed. She wondered what Master Gohgei had wanted to talk to Lord Stryder about, was it the war that preoccupied so many people thoughts these days? Or was it for some other purpose, maybe he had a mission off at the fringe of known space and she would get to go? But what if it was off to war, she would have to fallow her Master there as well. Aurora stared at her reflection in the mirror as she buckled up her belt and fastened the hilt of her lightsaber to it.

She felt the weight of the hilt in her hand before letting it go to swing gently on her belt, its familiar presence tapping lightly against her thigh as she left her room. Aurora rounded the corner her thought turned as well, had the counsel agreed to her being his padawan so that she may learn from him not only how to wield the Force, but the confidence and self-reliance she would need to face and over come what ever challenges lay ahead? But had the counsel also meant for him to re-learn patience from her? She shook her head as if to clear that silly thought from her mind. These were thing that she would have to ask Master Gohgei when she found him. She thought to herself as she looked up to find where her feet had taken her to.

Cool mist filled the air from one of the many waterfalls as Aurora entered the Room of a Thousand Fountains. Taking one of the stone walkway she continued to fallow her feet and soon found Master Gohgei meditating in a grove of Hylaian marsh bamboo a few meters off the path. Not wanting to disturbed her master Aurora sat down at the edge of the grove of flora and waited patiently.

They came in flights of four, shooting down from the sky like ancient torpedoes spitting tracers. Saul immediately threw the throttle to the full forward position and dove for the deck, gritting against the strain as G-forces built on the airframe. There was no way he'd be able to outmaneuver them on the way out of the gravity well.

Saul snarled to himself as the ships shot toward him, maybe he shouldn't have taken the time to blast the hanger bay to smithereens. His hands full with piloting the ship he switched the weapons off of manual control and yelled, "Computer!"

"Yes?" The computer answered.

"Target the threatening vessels!" Saul ordered as the ship bucket from an exploding high-explosive cannon shell.

"Targeting ships, estimating a ninety-percent certainty of a desirable outcome..." The Computer answered as the turrets whined to track the incoming ships.

Confused Saul starred at the cliffs and canyons as they rushed passed still intent on his flying, "Define desirable outcome."

"They all die," The computer answered simply.

Saul smiled coldly, the computer was as bloodthirsty as some of the sith he'd known. Through the transparisteel of the canopy the black holes that marked the entrances to countless tombs rushed by. He dipped low bringing the ship's ventral surfaces within just a meter or two of the rocky floor.

A red speck flashed by against the slate gray landscape. It was a person standing standing beside two swoop bikes. Below the Mandalorian caught sight of the swift corvette and its cloud of pursuers. The ship shot brilliant green blaster shots in all directions, engaging the buzzards as they lined up for a shot. Suddenly one of the fighters detonated from the impact of a proton shell launched from one of the corvette's railguns, sending a shock wave echoing through the valley. It was followed immediately by a second explosion as a buzzard pilot flew straight into a second shell.

The buzzard cloud had been reduced by two, but ten remained to pepper the corvette as it pulled into a loop and made a second low altitude pass over the valley, dodging boulders and statues as much as dodging sith slugs.

In orbit above Coruscant, the Ashla was docking with the skyhook to pick up its master. While most of the eyes would be on the massive ship that seemed to be no more than guns and armor plating, with a couple extra guns thrown on for safety measure, amongst the few escort ships floated a rather unobtrusive Hammerhead-class cruiser. It would look identical to every single other one there, save for a small crest on the port stern engine. It was blazen white and gold, a sword with a pair of wings for a hilt.

The Bathurst was rather plainly of a cruiser, yet it held one of the deadliest squadrons in the galaxy. On more than plenty occassions, it had run solo with no more than its guns and a squadron of fighters, beating up everything from planetary defenses to stealthily infiltrating enemy hangars. And on a few occasions, the burn marks from enemy blaster fire had been way too close.

It was not because it had survived more than its fair share of battles, nor was it from being long overdue for a new overhaul. Despite the four external cranes which protruded from its hangar bays, one could almost say the ship was jerry-rigged together, a finickey yet extremely tough old b*****d. Much like the one-eyed, scarred, prosthetic-legged ruffian you would see in a cantina, the ship had more choobies than most in the fleet... Knowing the crew which she carried, one would say too much.

If the Ashla was he sword of the fleet, the Bathurst was the shotgun. Vulnerable on its own for the most part, the deadly 510th squadron, still unnamed by its squad commander (who outranked the wing commander, and not by coincidence), perhaps one of the most daring and well-trained fighter squadrons in this sector of the galaxy for the jedi forces. Cocky? More than a fair share would assume so, but the group led by Ritt Aareo could hold their own in any dogfight, even when outnumbered 3:1. For sure, this was greatly augmented by Ritt himself, a Miraluka Jedi Ace, known by the callsign "Daredevil".

The callsign was not by accident. Known to show no fear, he also showed an extreme resilience to getting hit at all, even with the extra addons. One would almost call him overeager while watching him fly, he had an addiction to adrenaline, blatently exposing himself in space with the bright red craft and breaking formation first. It wouldn't be so bad if he didn't act the same while using his lightsaber on the ground. A well known practicioner of Ataru, Ritt seemed at home when neither foot touched ground. The order would often point out that his enthusiasm lacked patience, lacked self-discipline, but Ritt rarely found a need to be cautious. His strength was in the air and with the saber, speeding his way around the battlefield, wherever it took place.

"I hate traveling to the core. The sith are on the front, not safely tucked deep into here," A human pilot muttered to Ritt. "No action, no thrills. Worse part is we're here mostly to pick up Stryder. Why weren't we left to guard the front in its place?"

"It isn't that easy. Stryder's a wise commander, competant and with the fires of passion in his eyes. Don't undermine his importance to holding the territory which we defend right now. But the Bathurst has always hugged the Ashla since we joined up, like a baby whaladon to its mother. It wouldn't be a true reunion without us," Ritt retorted, giving a sigh as he placed his arms behind his head, crossing his legs. His gaze (for a miraluka at least) turned to the viewport, and stared into the nothingness that was space. He could see Coruscant, brimming with force energy from the life. Each ship held its crew. Each person stood as a bright blip on his radar like vision.

"I don't know. It just seems useless to have a squadron like us protecting something that'd never get attacked. But at least we get free missle refills at the skyhook. I'm just bored, that's all..."

A smile crossed the miraluka's face. "Last one there buys rounds for the squadron."

"You're on, pops!" The human and his commander sprinted down the hall. It would always wind up the same, as the miraluka would lose. First, he would never take a sip of alcohol (which also made the effort of buying a round useless if he refused), and if he won, he'd simply would have won because of his use of the force. In the end, Ritt would buy a round for the squadron, be chastized about his age, and then it wouldn't matter. Within sixteen minutes, a pair of fighters blasted out of the hangar, full speed.

"Keep it close, keep it tight," Ritt warned. "Let's dance on the Ashla to give Stryder a welcome home gift." This naturally meant a race along the giant craft, something which however infuriating it would be to the older admirals, never seemed to get old. Afterall, the weaving of a pair of fighters through the massive guns on a dreadnaught isn't an everyday occurance... at least for the natives of Coruscant.

The city was in near complete control of the Sith, the day was theirs. The west, east, and south had been taken care of, and the people living there were in their homes hiding in fear. Thoguh the North side was still having some problems, the city was as it was, filled with Sith, and fear floating from door to door like a rapidly spreading disease. At this point, all they needed to do was search every building of importance, and find this assassin. Whoever he or she is, they have officially bought themselves a number on the Siths most wanted criminals, and that of a few bounty hunters hit lists. But even though the Sith wanted to kill this assassin, Darth Sistren couldn’t help but be impressed with this shadow of a person. To successfully kill a powerful Sith Lord such as Darth Aloth would take skill and a lot of training in stealth. For a Sith Lord of his level not being able to sense an enemy in the crowd or coming at him is quite hard to believe, he knew that this assassin must be a person of many calibers. It seemed like a risky task, but Darth Sistren knew it was his responsibility to find out all he can about this assasin, and once he does, he must have this man killed.

The Sith Marauder continued to walk down the street with his guards walking steadilt by him. He couldn't help but keep on thinking of what may have happened to the Sith Lord. All of the factors running through his head, where he was hit, how he was killed, when was he killed, and what was he doing at the time. These all needed to be solved to better understand his enemy, to know what he has, how he kills, and what will be needed to kill him. He contiued to ponder on the subject but to have his train of thought interrupted. He stopped when he noticed a dead Sith trooper on the ground with what appeared to be a knife in his visor, and a dead man next to him whose skull was broken, and through a slow process, bleed to death. A sudden burst of thought came to the Marauders mind, and he quickly turned to his men and shouted commands. “You, I want the body of Lord Aloth,” he said then turning to the other troop, “And you, I want you to search for survivors, and question them till they tell what happend earlier today!”. The soldiers both went into attention, saluted, and then went their separate ways. Darth Sistren turned his attention back to the situation, examining the knife for a few more moments, and then looked up at the cantina; it was time to find out who this assassin was.

Darth Sistren entered the cantina, making sure to keep his guard up. He searched the first floor intently the first floor, finding nothing but dead bodies all around. He looked further in depth to find steps leading to the top of the building, he could sense that a battle had taken place up there….and a shrill strain of life reamined. He rushed to the top of the building to find no more then 10 bodies lying there. He examined them, there were a few with lightsabers, who had all appeared to have been shot down, and one in particular had burns all over him. The Sith Commander had also noticied that there were upper bodies separate from the lower; this was obviously the work of a lightsaber wielder. As he furthered his examination, he heard the feint noise of what was a dying Duros . The Sith Marauder walked his way over to the dying Sith Acolyte, wanting to see if he can get some information. Sistren knew the Duros was in great pain and turned him over to take a good look at him. His eyes were barley open, and he was slowly drifting from the mortal world to unity with the force. The commander concentrated his dark side energies into the Duros, giving him enough energy to sustain himself, but would only last a moments times.

The Sith Commander questioned him, “What happened? Who did this, what did he use, and who did he do it for?”.
“The….assassin…w-we came to t-turn him…b-but he was s-something e-else, using n-nothing b-but a s-slugthrower and a li-lightsaber ,” the Duros said, beginning to drift off, coming closer and closer to death. The Sith Commander could not afford to let this assasin get away, so he continued to pour energy into the alien, until he got all that he needed from him. The Duros found the energy to speak again saying, “He-he….was a-a J-Jedi, h-he disguised himself…a-a as one of u-us. H-he bli-blinded m-me, a-and then t-tricked them to a-attacking m….”. The Duros sentence was interrupted as the Sith Commander stopped fuelin g the Duroses fire of life. All he wanted to know was now answered, and he let the Duros die; there was much work to be done. Arising from where he knelt, he put on his communicator and came into connection with the Sith ships which had been ordered to receivie the drop ships. “All Sith soldiers returning are to be checked and identified, for an assassin may be coming onboard!” he said, ending his message, and jumping down to the streets below.

((Sorry for the original crappy post. This should sound better, and also make a lot more sense. mrgreen ))

Saria was now in her room in the temple, which was littered with multiple datapads and what looked similar to an alchemical station. Being a healer wasn't all medical treatment and Force healing. Part of her studies included researching many plants that had medicinal properties. Luckily, the Order had allowed her to have a small garden where she grew such things.

However, she was not working on fixing up extra medkits or pain relievers at this time. While it wasn't exactly alchemy, the little station with beakers and flasks did serve as a means to create various mixtures. Saria was preparing a mixture, heating it and cooling it with the aid of the Force, as she lacked the technological equipment to do so.

After a few moments, a sweet aroma filled the air, and she knew it was ready. She poured it into an empty bottle and capped it, then placed the bottle beside several identical ones in a small container. The new addition to the container made it full, and she closed it up. Picking it up with a little help from the Force, as the container plus it's contents were rather heavy, she carried it off to put it elsewhere, so whoever wanted one could grab a bottle and pour themselves some of her homemade beverages.

This is where being a healer paid off during quieter times. Her studies and hobbies allowed her to create the occassional drink or snackfood that was both good tasting and good for you. While most anything from a local cantina would be preferable, it was a welcome change from more of the very simple and bland meals most of the people she was around would have.