LadySilverVash908

"C'mere, Mori!  Come to Aunt Anna!" "Eee!" "You're too good with him, Anna," said Revan as she sank down onto the couch beside her friend.  The auburn-haired Jedi Knight looked up from making faces at the four-year-old boy she held on her lap and smiled sadly. Kalanna reached up to smooth back the boy's wayward bangs – which popped immediately back into place – and said, "I just hope I can have one of my own someday.  Maybe more.  At least now the Council won't be too against it." The former Dark Lord laughed at that and smiled brightly, her teeth flashing white in her tanned face. "Oh, no, they won't!  Not after the talking I gave them

   Blood ran down the young woman's face, mingling with sweat. Her fist shook dangerously around the hilt of her weapon. Eyes grim with concentration, she took in a deep breath and rushed forward. Her feet dug into the soil below her with the thrust of her flying leap, and her form leapt gracefully in the air. In the split moment in which she was flying, she positioned her weapon in front of her. It was a deadly pose, resembling a diving falcon. Unfortunately, it was an attack she had become very accustomed to.   It wasn't that she enjoyed it. Everything in her aura detested bloodshed, but an aura alone could not stop her blade. The blade e

Manaan. Three days after the fall of Malachor and the death of Kreia. Pain. The Exile groaned as her muscles flared in protest.  She slowly opened her eyes, focusing on a clean, alabaster ceiling.  It was round and she sensed an open balcony to one side.  She could hear the sound of waves and scented salt in the air.  “Where…am I?” she rasped. “You are awake,” replied a kindly voice, “You are on Manaan, human and you are being cared for by the finest medical personnel in the universe.  My name is Shaelas, I am your personal caretaker and friend to Admiral Onas

The Exile turned gently, stretching like a maalraas and sighing blissfully.  She slid her hand across the cool, empty sheets and opened her eyes a crack.  Bao had gone but the pale silver crystal remained on the pillow next to her cheek.  Smiling, she pulled it into her palm and listened as its song resonated within her.  It was quite round, no larger than her own eye.  Holding it up to the light, she peered through the glistening, milky swirls that lay within and wondered what properties it would add to the beams of her double-blade. She pushed back the tangle of sheets and robes, placing her feet firmly on the floor and returning the cryst

Screaming. The Exile could hear the agonized sound of soldiers both Mandalorian and Marauder alike as ordinance rounds tore them apart.  She raced through the smoke, lightsaber aloft, carving a path through to Mandalore’s former headquarters.  She had not expected to encounter a Sith Battalion; she had assumed that with the deaths of Nihilus, Sion and Kreia that their ranks would have been thrown into disarray. She was wrong. Her weapon was a beacon, drawing the dark soldiers to her position.  Somehow they recognized her, swarming her by the dozens.  Her limbs had protested at first during the b