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Wizard nods focusing on evading over attacking. "I will likely not, but time does her duty well. Even the sharpest minds become dull over time. The strongest words fall lifeless on deaf ears. Change is the ally of the Sith, not the Jedi. Consistency and tradition are your backbone and your moral support. What happens when you learn that your master has slaughtered innocents because of the Sith?"

Preying on the distraction of the Jedi, Wizard quickly sticks the spear back into it's harness, and his steps become firmer. Switching to a two handed grip on his lightsaber, he slowly he gives ground. Turning in a circle, he lets Hamartano hit as hard as he wants. Wizard's weapon always flows into place before the Jedi manages to strike. Sometimes just barely, but Wizard guides the duel by letting Hamartano think he's in charge. Though as the Jedi begins to wise up to his trick, Wizard removes one hand from the lightsaber and thrusting a blast of force at the ground, kicks up a storm of dust. Retreating into the dust, he powers down his lightsaber. Quickly he binds his side, stopping the flow of blood. Thrusting out both his palms, Wizard sends a few blasts of lightning into the dust. Quickly he pulls his lightsaber back out and listens, his massive haillu sticking up like radar dishes. Trying to listen for the sound of another humming blade.

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2 hours ago, Madagascar said:

*preens* Truly, I am

Gizka, they had to go. What else going to eat while watching those two at it go?

delicious, toasted over a charcoal fire, they are. Lip smacking good, they taste!

*Moff pulls up an elaborate hologram*

Situation. Here *a hologram of wizard and fifth swordfighting* one Jedi and one reborn (?) is. Only one can live…

Here *a blue hologram of a Jawa pops up* our loathsome little scavenger buddy is. Why him they let through Jedi Academy and Moff, I know not. The force in mysterious ways works.

If Reborn the Wizard is, kill Fifth in the duel he may, leaving Alvron as the last *sigh* “Jedi”. If killed Alvron is tonight, lose the party, the Settlers may. If Desann I was, hoping to kill Fifth in a duel and Alvron at night, my plan would be.

Any Apprentices their efforts to protect Alv should use. But Probably up to the Force it is, at this point.

Also suggest I will to kill JNV, for funsies

anyway, roast Gizka, anyone?

I have barbecued wookkie and Mandalorian spice flavors

"What else would you eat? Well, death sticks of course! You appear to have an astoundingly high tolerance."

"No more gizka, I exhort you! Gizka are more bones and gristle than meat, anyway. Death sticks, on the other hand, are full of all kinds of crazy nutrients, if the psychedelic effects don't drive you to distraction. Or at least, that sounds like it could plausibly be true. Nay, I recommend a strict death-stick-only diet from now on. Doctor's orders."

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This latest flimsi pinned to the board blows in the wind.

Quote

TIMECHECK!

1. Remember that the cycle ends at 0100hrs SGT (GMT+8) tomorrow! That's fifteen hours and sixteen minutes from now! Get those votes and actions in!

2. I have talked to Elan and secured a mid-cycle alteration in the dueling rules. This doesn't really affect anyone in this thread but I'm loath to clog up the dueling thread. Both players have been informed. The hour prior to rollover will be declared a protected time in which no attacks made will count. This is for everyone's peace of mind so they may reply to any posts they feel have not yet been addressed.

3. I have been asked to clarify if a dueling player can challenge another player to a duel. If you have a charge, the answer is yes - this is a free action so it is not impacted by the lack of a viable action slot.

 

Edited by Kasimir
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As the choking cloud of dust rolled up from the landscape, Hamartano allowed a wry grin to escape him as Wizard was blocked from his view, his humour breaking the wave of anger which had surged upon the Sith’s slander against his master. Years of riding a swoop bike through this cursed landscape would not be put to waste. His opponent would soon regret throwing up an obstruction which benefitted him more. He squinted into the cloud, his eyes trained for the telltale movements which identified living creatures, even with the hum of his opponent’s lightsaber having faded away. 

Despite his concentration, he felt, rather than saw, the first bolt to emerge from the cloud. He ducked, and the purple stream arced over his head. The next two were harder to avoid; he blocked with his saber instinctively, but he could not get his guard high enough in time; the second bolt caught his dueling hand, and he doubled over in pain, his good arm writhing in agony even as all feeling vanished from it. The fourth bolt was coming, headed straight for his chest, and Hamartano knew it would be fatal if it connected. Gritting his teeth, he reached deeper within himself, to the wellsprings of frustration and anger and guilt which lay at his core and beat against the peace he sought. He had done this only once before, in solitude, and the resultant mess he had made had caused him to buy a new bike. But here, in the thick of combat, it seemed appropriate. He lifted that cluster of emotions, contemplated it for a moment, and as if throwing it up in a fit of sickness, with an earsplitting yell, hurled it with his mind from his chest, through his mouth, to his free hand, shaking and held up by the arm which still bled freely. The lightning crashed into the hand, but instead of connecting, it went up—magnified tenfold in power, a blazing purple beacon which flickered for an instant and died, its afterimage seared into his retinas. 

The swirling sandstorm cleared instantly, the dust fleeing from the power of the blast. Hamartano gasped as if he had sprinted the Kessel Run on foot, but wasted no time. Pins and needles sprang up in the arm that had been struck, and as he felt feeling return, he marched steadily towards his opponent, who stood revealed, a crimson bar of death already held at the ready. He said nothing—there were no more words to be said. It was life or death. His blue saber flickered on again, and he resumed the Fourth Form. At one with the whirling winds of the planet, he twisted towards his enemy in a blaze of light, slicing out towards the Sith Lord.

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As the blast of lightning grins into the sky, Wizard also grins. "The knowledge and power of the sith will not die with me."

Falling into Form Seven, he charges at the Jedi. The crimson red clashing against the deepest blue. Wizard moves and Hamartano moves with him. Each strike that he tries to make is blocked by the steady blue blade. A rage begins to build, burning a fire in his veins. A cooling blast of fear flashes through his mind, but he quickly pushes it way.

I am a sith, master of hate and anger. It is my key to power, if I lose it, then I am lost. 

Reaching deep inside he grasps at the knots of hate and he tugs one loose. Power burns through his veins and his strikes strengthen, begining to hammer against the light of the Jedi. Jolts of red lightning climb up the length of the blade minorly burning both Wizard and Hamartano. Wizard hammers on, focusing on the rage and power of Form Seven. Bringing out his rage in the unpredictable way that would confuse even the most observant opponents. His blade flicks up, blocking the blue arc that would have taken off his head. By keeping his blade in place Wizard forces Hamartano into another contest of strength. Preparing for Hamartano to pull the same stunt as last time, he ensures that if the other lightsaber goes off, Hamartano loses his head.

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Never get caught in a bind. The words of one of his first instructors in lightsaber combat. And if you do get caught in a bind, be the first to leave it

Wise words, indeed, Hamartano thought wryly, as he pushed with all his might back against the lightning-coated blade of his foe. His fingers were red and blistering from the proximity to the lightning, and Wizard’s looked to be faring little better, but the Sith still pressed against him, intent on shoving him down. Sometimes, despite the advice of mentors, you got situations you couldn’t avoid. Hamartano would have to work out of this gradually. Locking his jaw, he sidestepped, letting his blade begin to slide down Wizard’s even as less direct force stopped its forward movement. Then, he threw himself to the side and released his blade from the lock completely, sidling it down towards his enemy’s fingers. The doubly-red blade shaved by his right ear as he completed the disengagement, and Hamartano regrouped, flowing into the neutral Form Six. Balanced, hopeful, the choice of the diplomats—almost nothing that Hamartano actually was. Yet sometimes the unnatural choices worked the best. It conformed you to them, rather than the other way around.  When facing something as unpredictable as Juyo, the balanced forms held their merit. He seemed to flow for a while more than fight, attack to defence, defence to attack, parry and riposte. 

Though the fight was still chaos, Hamartano felt the peace which had eluded him before begin to seep into him. It was never something Niman had given him; in training, he had always found it the driest and most boring of the forms. Yet there was something to the way it made you hold yourself, made you be open to the Force, made you use the Force in your own way rather than falling into circumscribed attacks, which appealed to the marksman in Hamartano. Any man could train to hit a still target at amazing range. What set you apart as a shooter was hitting the bodies that moved in combat, nailing the small elusive beings who seemed to flit between ground rather than cover it. The Force flowed into him—perhaps he flowed into the Force?—and he maintained his newfound rhythm. Tired though his muscles were, they moved like fingers flying to the right notes on an instrument, a harmony in line with the testimony of the sand beneath his feet and the clear blue sky, which seemed to uphold the promise of Light more than anything else. He wheeled his blade in a circle, catching the crackling red of Wubum and flicking it in a spiral with his wrist, hoping to disarm. 

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I am taking medication and going to lie down for an hour or two before getting back to work.

In an ideal world, this won't knock me out for that long. But we don't live in an ideal world.

If I do not make it back in time and am knocked out, I might miss rollover by an hour or two. Fingers crossed this won't happen. I ask patience of you, and ask that you please respect rollover being at 0100hrs SGT (GMT+8) - I will ignore all votes, actions, and game-relevant posts in both threads past rollover.

Thank you for your cooperation.

P.S. I'd normally ask Wyrm to close for me but frankly I feel bad consistently asking him for help.

Edited to add: If anyone wants to get in on the dueling action, feel free to submit your seven style choices to me in your PM and which of <Wiz, Fifth> you'd like to fight. It won't formally count for anything, but I will PM you after rollover and let you know if you would have murdered them or been murdered by them :eyes: I mostly mention this as the dead doc has had a go.

Edited by Kasimir
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Immediately after his lightsaber misses the Jedi's ear, the deadly red beam swings in a diagonal cut towards Hamartano's chest. The cobalt beam blocks the strike and Wizard swings again, more aggressively at the Jedi's right side. Again the Jedi's lightsaber blocks his strike. Soon he is forced onto the defensive as the balance of the Jedi switches. Sweat begins to bead ferociously down his brow and soon the advantage swung back in his favor. Strike after strike, sparks flying, the Jedi blocks his every hit. Screaming internally Wizard keeps a cool front, the only sign of his weakening the sweat beading down his brow. 

The Jedi switches tactics and flick's Wizard's lightsaber up, quickly he turns it off, unbalancing the Jedi. He presses his advantage, his rage building back up, screaming mentally he releases a powerful force shove. Pushing Hamartano away and giving him time to reach his lightsaber and yanked on it with the force. The red beam shoots back our, right as Hamartano regains his feet. Having reset the circumstances, Wizard dives back at Hamartano, merging the acrobatic combat of Form IV with the emotion and power of Juyo form. The cobalt blue on crimson red flashes return and Wizard watches for Hamartano to try the tactics he has before, while preparing his own tactics and tricks.

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The Sith was flying towards him, the acrobatic, aggressive stance he was assuming threatening to overwhelm his last defences. Hamartano felt his weariness in his bones. The Force sustained concentration, attunement for the fight, but the physical strength to sustain himself was still being drawn from his body, which tired like any other man’s despite his relative fitness. The blood still seeping from his elbow didn’t help either. He went on the defensive, emphasising the arcing forms of Niman and warding away the red blade which flew in from all directions, trying to maintain distance in the open plain. Nonetheless, he knew it was the final act for both of them. The Sith warrior was weakening as well—anger and rage animated him, but his strikes were less precise than they had been, and Ataru, as Hamartano knew from his own experience, was the most physically demanding of the forms. One of them would drop soon. It was time for a last trick. He assumed, as he had done only once before, the First Form—Shii-Cho, a rudimentary art which most masters did not even bother to teach. 

Wizard’s blend of Ataru and Juyo flew at him. The boxlike style of Form I’s fighting sustained him for a space of time, but it lacked the refinement of VI. The scarlet saber flashed inside his guard, being only barely turned away. A powerful overhand blow bounced off a block thrown up only just in time, and a chunk of Hamartano’s flowing locks were singed instantly as the blade skimmed past his head. A third blow crushed him to his knees, and even as Hamartano set down his saber and pushed himself up, he could see the triumph in his enemy’s eyes as his blade reared back to strike again. 

It came forward, and Hamartano moved with the last of his energy. Throwing up his right hand, he Pushed with all his might, holding it inches from the incoming saber. With his less dominant left, he swept up his weapon from the sand and slashed it in an arc, directly at the side he had struck before. 

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The blue saber freezes, both lightsabers stopped by the power of the force. Forcing the duel into a stalemate gave Wizard time to think and to talk. "You can hold mine, but I can hold your's far longer than you can hold mine. The darkness grows and the sun begins to sink, you can feel the darkness beginning to seep from the ground. Soon the Tuk'ata will come for you. Perhaps I'll let you live and feed you to my pack. Without your lightsaber of course, I can have you hurting them, now can I? Or perhaps I could throw you into the pit with our Terentatek. They've been growing hungry and it's been long since they've consumed a Jedi. Or I can drain you myself, you can choose."

How am I going to beat him. My muscles are lagging and my breath grows short. I can feel my spirit dissipating. I have a tactic I can try but it's going to be dangerous. Almost as dangerous as the last time.

Digging deep inside and draining the force from the ground. He blasts lightning at Hamartano's lightsaber while holding it with the force. Trying to get the lightning to rebound of the lightsaber into his own blade and then into Hamartano.

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Cycle has ended! Stay tuned for the next cycle! No more votes and actions will count past this point! Please also stop dueling! I was going to post a prequel meme but unfortunately we had a malfunction so you're just gonna have to wait :P 

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Aftermath: No Death, But The Force

“The choices of one shape the futures of all.” —Jedi proverb, adapted from the Song of Salaban.


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A clear day.

Cloudless skies. A blade the colour of the same sky, blazing in his hands.

Hamartano stood on the clear patch of dirt and breathed in. It was often…difficult to find the peace that his Master talked about. He was too impatient. Too brash. Too reckless. Too used to doing, too used to being, too used to action rather than contemplation.

He was not a man meant for peace.

But Hamartano had made his own peace with that.

Korriban was a world steeped in Darkness, a world that needed someone to fight, to confront the long shadow the Sith had left after them. So it was when Master Skywalker was seeking to appoint a Jedi Watchman for Korriban, Hamartano had not hesitated to step forward.

First, said Kyle, remember that the Jedi is only as strong as your connection to the Force. A Jedi must be disciplined. You cannot expect to open yourself to the Force with your thoughts and emotions to be in disarray.

He bent and scooped a cloud of dust into the waters of the fountain.

You are the fountain, Kyle said. When the dust settles, the fountain runs clear. When the dust is in motion, the fountain water is murky. The Force runs strongly through you, Mart. But you have to open yourself to the Force with a clear mind and a clear heart.

Hamartano reached out to the Force, and let the Force reach into him.

On Korriban, the Force was always more clouded, darker. He didn’t think it was him: Korriban was a Sith world, and the Darkness ran deep here, deep into the history of the planet, deep into the bones of the world.

But there was the Force, and there was beauty here, in the desperate crags, in the scrubby plants that bloomed. The Living Force flourished when the wetgrass did, and bound him to the flocks of wild shyrack, the tuk’ata hordes that roamed the craggy, arid surface of Korriban.

It bound him to the settlers of Dreshdae, to the brightest stars, to the smallest motes of dust.All was.

Hamartano breathed in and felt the Force fill him. It was life, it was joy, and he wanted to laugh and shout, spin and sprint. Streen had once said the Force was like ten kilos of life in a five kilo box, and all that life flooded into him, washing away his doubts, washing away that hardened core of impatience and anger and uncertainty at the heart of his being.

The Force was, and in that moment, Hamartano’s lightsaber blade came up, reversed, and he felt himself move, felt himself shift his balance so slightly to adopt the single-handed challenge opening of Soresu.

He beckoned.

Blue-white lightning crackling along his arms, Lib Wubum leaped.

 

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“Hamartano, a Jedi,” Tantyck mused. He fanned out the sabacc cards on one of the tables that had survived Moff’s and Smart’s rampage through the Drunk Side. “Who would have thought?”

“No one,” answered Jev. “And that’s the point, isn’t it?”

The point was to stay hidden. They wanted to watch the duel. The idea of a Sith Lord on their tail was terrifying and they forced themselves to breathe, to think about quokkas. A spacer had taught Jev the trick of counting quokkas over a game of pazaak, and they did it instinctively because it was calming, thinking of quokkas instead of possible escape routes, instead of the very, very many ways things could go so badly wrong.

They needed to make sure there were no incriminating holos left. Almost there. Almost free.

Perhaps they’d try Nar Shaddaa next, when the freighter came. A good place to disappear, and a hotbed of vice. There were plenty of opportunities on Nar Shaddaa, if you were enterprising enough, if you knew who to impersonate, and who to talk to. If they got the bounty hunters off their back. Krisbaan was dead, and good riddance. Jev wasn’t certain if they could believe that the Jedi would take care of the Gungan for them.

Perhaps. But when was the world this kind?

“You seem nervous,” Tantyck observed. “Looking for someone?”

“No, of course not,” Jev said, and then realised they’d made a mistake. They very consciously avoided clenching their fists. So close to escape. They couldn’t fail, not here. Not now. “Merely…what hope do we have, if the Jedi dies here?”

“What hope indeed,” Tantyck mused. He flicked a card at Jev.

It lay flat on the table. The Knave of Sabers.

Tantyck smiled.

 

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The entire world of Korriban burned with the Dark Side of the Force.

Lib Wubum gathered it in, felt it empower him as he leaped, lightsaber blade spearing forth from the simple electro-spear he had been carrying in his bounty hunter disguise. His rage cracked along his arms, electrifying the very scarlet blade of his lightsaber.

He slammed down, stabbing for the Jedi’s feet.

Lightning and raw Force power exploded, blasting forth, creating a shockwave and a large cloud of dust. But Lib Wubum did not need eyes to see.

He felt the Jedi dodge, and lashed out, using the superior reach of his saber-spear to attack. Juyo was about primal ferocity. The Jedi called the Form incomplete, but of course it was incomplete: Juyo was a Form that required Darkness, that required raw emotion.

Juyo required you to tap into the thrill of the fight, to love it.

Wubum laughed as he spun the saber-spear about in his hand, blade-over-haft-over-blade, and felt the shock of contact as the Jedi barely blocked in time.

The time for hiding was over.

The Jedi would die, and Wubum intended to enjoy every last second of the fight.

 

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Nees Bac scurried through the streets of Dreshdae.

Most of the settlers were attempting to repair the damage done to the cantina, or were wrangling the weaponised gizka, or were in hiding.

Nees felt a lot like hiding, himself.

But the Jedi had called him for a reason. He did not understand what it was, but knew that they must have felt it was important. So he lied. He lied, even though he knew it would bring about his death, because this world he’d been stranded on, so far from Ayefa, was death to Jar’bo’ba.

Nees did not particularly want to die.

A very small part of him, an unworthy part of him, hated Hamartano for doing this to him, for drawing the cultists to him as the krek beetles during the Bright Land seasons. Nees wasn’t ready. He wasn’t prepared.

And still he had to do this.

Still, someone had to.

And that was the rub, wasn’t it? Hunya complained. Nees was Ayefa, even now. Even alone, even separated. He had to do what had to be done, because there was nobody else.

And that was all that mattered.

He sensed the attack coming almost at the same time as he heard the snap-hiss of a lightsaber switching on, and whirled about, pressing down the activator button on the compact lightsaber hilt concealed up the sleeve of his robe.

The Force screamed a warning as deep Hurrikaine amethyst tangled with deep ruby, the Sith bloodshine of the blade and the electric-violet of the Jedi’s blade lending an edge to the shadows.

In the mingled purple-red light, he saw Kalabel, her eyes blank, gripping the lightsaber. A droid chirped worriedly, but Kalabel ignored it.

Perched on top of the droid, a single pyramid glowed a deep, murderous red, and the Force swirled about it, Dark and tainted.

Nees had an overwhelmingly bad feeling about this.

 

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So…strong…

Hamartano thought, in dismay, as he stumbled backwards from another lightning-charged strike from Wubum’s saber-spear. The shock of the exchange tore the lightsaber from his grasp, and he skidded backwards, half-stunned.

Is this the power of the Dark Side?

Master Skywalker had never talked about what it was like to fight Darth Vader.

Hamartano could only imagine. 

He reached out and shoved with the Force, and felt as Wubum battered aside his push mercilessly with a shove that caused Hamartano to stagger further backwards, if he hadn’t at least tried to blunt the force of the blow.

Wubum laughed triumphantly as the whirling saber-spear spun about, the humming lightsaber blade, crackling lethally with Force lightning ready to cleave Hamartano in half.

 

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Touching the holo in their pocket, Jev said, “Never was much for sabacc.”

“Of course,” said Tantyck. He steepled his fingers together. “You’re skittish, Jev. I wonder why. Could it be that your friend is outside right now, fighting for his life against the Jedi?”

Jev swallowed. They glanced behind, looking for a way to exit this conversation.

Behind them, Dacken Humtumb loomed. For once, the jovial doctor’s eyes were steely. “I suggest you stay right where you are…cultist.”

Jev bolted.

There was a sharp, burning pain. The scent of ozone, the stench of charred flesh. The strength seemed to bleed out from their legs.

They looked down.

A bright green lightsaber blade protruded out of their abdomen. The bright green of fresh wetgrass, the green of life and growing things, a green so rich that a whimsical part of Jev wanted to grab it and eat it like candy.

“No…cultist…” Jev protested.

To be mistaken for a cultist, so close to the end…Would the Jedi have sheltered them, if they had known? Surely the Jedi did not particularly care about the fate of a smuggler.

With a sharp hiss, the blade of the lightsaber retracted. Jev toppled forward.

“Another Jedi?” Tantyck asked, sharply.

“Mmhmm,” said Dacken Humtumb. “We thought it best, you see. Safer that way.”

 

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Hamartano went deeper, and deeper. Past the barriers he had usually erected, past the stern sense of Jedi discipline that Kyle had sought to instill in him.

He had never been a good Jedi anyway.

He had tried so hard. Fighting his natural impulses. Fighting who he was. Beating at the disarray in his mind.

But now, the Force flooded into Hamartano, and Hamartano flooded into the Force.

All of him: everything that he was—impatience, impetuosity, generosity, kindness, compassion, laughter, love—everything washed out into the Force and the Force filled him up, like light in clear glass.

Time like cool honey.

Hamartano dodged, flipped to the side, and caught the twin balls of Force lightning slamming towards him. A dispassionate part of his mind noted he hadn’t known he could do this.

Anger poured out of him, given freely to the Force. Anger, fear, anxiety: all of it.

Washed away.

The lightning flared in the palms of his open hands, and he studied it.

Anger washed out of him. You accepted it: you let it rise, and then let it go. Freely, as most gifts were given.

The anger: his and Wubum’s washed over him and out of him again, and the lightning caught in his palms and blasted back at the Sith. 

Snarling, Wubum caught his own lightning: one-handed, then two-handed as it coruscated through Hamartano with greater ferocity, taking on a faint viridian glow.

Lightning crackled between the two of them, burning bright and brighter, so brightly Hamartano had to shield his eyes with the crook of his arm. If Wubum had similar difficulties, Hamartano knew nothing of them.

Something had to give. 

Something did give.

With a loud WHOOMP!, the circling arc of lightning exploded, flinging both of them away in the shockwave. 

The Force caught him, and set him down gently, as though it was his father, at the end of a long day’s work.

Another twitch of the Force sent his lightsaber hilt flying to his hand, and Hamartano squeezed it, watched as the pale blue blade flared to life again. He had felt so proud of himself, the day he’d built it. The day he’d been deemed worthy of it.

He sprang to the attack now in a streak of bright blue, the Force guiding him in a whirling, two-handed slash that was classic Ataru, lending speed and strength to his movements.

 

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Nees Bac retreated before Kalabel’s attack.

She was not particularly skilled, but all things considered, neither was he. And she had his advantage in reach and weight. There was the trick he’d used, that day, when he fought the cultist off of Turtle, but he’d had the advantage of surprise then.

Their blades met again, and again with a cascading shower of golden sparks, and once again, Nees found himself forced back.

Kalabel’s movements weren’t natural, though. They were jerky, and her eyes were blank, and Nees once again found his gaze drawn to the glowing scarlet pyramid that sat on the droid. If he focused on it, he thought he could hear it whispering.

Hunya, he thought, fiercely, as he turned aside a driving slash with a two-handed block, and lashed out with the Force. She ignored his push as though it was nothing.

He was only a student. He was out of his depth, and Nees was feeling his inexperience profoundly, without the mantle of illusion with which he’d scared the previous cultist away.

Their blades crossed again and again. He missed a parry and she burned a long stab along his rib cage. He hissed and fell back yet again.

Realisation, stark and crisp: he was going to die here.

With resignation came the anger. With anger came the hatred and the fear.

Hate fueling his blade, Nees drove forward again, and his world became a whirling blaze of amethyst and crimson fire.

 

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Both of them were tiring in the heat.

Even with the Force to lend them speed and strength, they trembled. 

Hamartano lashed out in a series of rapid strikes, meant to lure Wubum into bringing the saber-spear just so, just lateral—

And then his next slash fell and cleaved Wubum’s saber-spear in half.

 

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He just didn’t have it.

Just wasn’t good enough.

Despair crashed down on Nees as Kalabel’s next blow burned his left arm, and it went limp. The lightsaber hilt tumbled from his grasp, hitting the ground, skittering away.

Kalabel raised her lightsaber blade above her head, two-handed. The droid beeped in concern. Nees watched with trepidation as the lightsaber blade came down.

And met a golden blade in a shower of sparks.

A strange reversal, watching someone else in the position he had been.

Sajhe stood there, his face impassive, the bright golden lightsaber blade held steadily before him in a stance Kalabel did not recognise.

He flexed his knees and the blade moved, and the Force surged about him, and Kalabel was staggering back, the few precious steps it took for Sajhe to gain the space he needed.

“You do not want to do this,” Sajhe said, gently.

The pyramid hissed. 

For a moment, Nees thought he saw terror or confusion in Kalabel’s eyes. But then she lunged forward, and Sajhe swayed out of the way of her blade.

“Nothing good ever came out of mastery, girl,” Sajhe said. Still in that same voice, as though he was trying to calm a terrified gizka. “Nothing’s worth it, no matter what that Sith artefact is telling you.”

Sith artefact. Nees stared at the pyramid with renewed interest. If only…

 

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Wubum laughed, as his saber-spear split apart.

“Really?” he hissed, eyes gleaming a feral molten gold-orange. He strode forwards, and belatedly, Hamartano realised he may have made a mistake.

May?

Lightning crackled along the bronze spearhead, and the scarlet bloodshine of the Sith blade. Now, Wubum had twice the weapons, and he fell on Hamartano in a whirling fury of Force and plasma.

The lightsaber burned a stripe across Hamartano’s ribs, and when he backpedalled, a bold lunge with the spear scored a graze on Hamartano’s cheek, barely missing his eye.

He was going to die, Hamartano thought, realisation bubbling up.

Wubum was so strong…

 

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The Dark is always stronger, Sajhe had said. Even stars burn out.

Yet for all her strength, for all the power the pyramid, the whispering voices had promised her, for all it burned inside her like the sun itself, Kalabel could not seem to cut him down.

He fought the way a mynock flew, or an eltor ran, with a simple elegance that spoke to the fact this was what he was born to do.

His golden lightsaber blade wove an impenetrable wall of defence that Kalabel was unable to get past, picking off attack after attack with ease, or nudging them just that little out of position so her swings and stabs hissed harmlessly past him.

And yet, he only defended. 

And yet, he never retaliated.

Through passion, you gain power, the Sith whispered. Harness it, use it, strike him down!

“You said the Dark was stronger,” Kalabel whispered. She could not seem to batter her way past him at all. “Why?”

He tells the truth! Give in to it!

Once again, Sajhe deflected her attack just so, guiding it past him, and then returning to the defensive stance he had assumed. “Because it is, girl,” he said, simply. “It’s the easier path to power. So much power that you can barely hold it in. So much power you can drown in it.”

She was drowning, feeling the Darkness burn inside her.

Her impatience. Her frustration. Her sense she was meant for better things, that she deserved better.

“Because that’s a Sith lie, girl,” Sajhe said, as he parried a slash aimed at his midsection. “Because mastery never brought anything but sorrow. Oh, it is more powerful, for certain. But once you’ve tasted that power, even if the Jedi way can’t stand up to it, it brings only ever sorrow. And that’s not a path you want to be walking down.”

“How do you know what I want?” she screamed, charging at him.

Kill him, kill him now!

“You aren’t a killer, girl,” Sajhe said. He stopped her with a two-handed block, grabbing for her wrist with an iron grip. “You have to choose.”

Unnoticed, Nees crept over to the pyramid. The droid warbled a query.

NOOOO! TREACHERY! JEDI TREACHERY!

Kalabel turned, just as a humming blade of amethyst swept up, ignited, drawn into Nees’s hand by the Force.

Nees struck.

The holocron exploded.

A large wave of crackling power burst out, and Sajhe staggered back. So did Kalabel.

But Nees had no way of dodging.

 

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Hamartano was tiring.

He struck, but Wubum held out a hand and his lightsaber stopped dead, as though the very air had become solid. Hamartano strained, before realising Wubum was holding him fast with the power of the Force.

With his free hand, he was keeping Wubum’s lightsaber from reaching him. His hand trembled. It was taking all his focus to do just that.

Stalemate.

"You can hold mine, but I can hold yours far longer than you can hold mine,” Wubum’s smile was knife-edged, a death’s head grin. “The Darkness grows and the sun begins to sink. You can feel the Darkness beginning to seep from the ground. Soon the tuk'ata will come for you. Perhaps I'll let you live and feed you to my pack. Without your lightsaber of course, I can’t have you hurting them, now can I? Or perhaps I could throw you into the pit with our terentatek. They've been growing hungry and it's been long since they've consumed a Jedi. Or I can drain you myself, you can choose."

Choose.

His hand trembled. Was it his imagination, or did the scarlet Sith blade creep forward by an inch?

Hamartano struggled to push against Wubum, to bring his lightsaber down. He failed.

Let go, he thought he heard Kyle saying. Trust the Force, Mart. You’re always too eager to order the Force about, to direct it.

He was falling back into that pattern again, falling back into thinking of the Force as a tool, just as his lightsaber was. He always did that, always thought of the Force as a tool for order, something to be mastered and commanded.

The Force is your partner. It guides you.

He breathed in.

Breathed out that last shred of ego, that last shred of desire.

Breathed out the fear, the instinctive terror of death.

He accepted.

And with the last, final surrender, the Force was Hamartano, and Hamartano was the Force.

In the Force, he sensed it the second Wubum made the decision, because Wubum, too, was part of the Force, for all he poisoned it with his hatred, his pride, his anger.

Electricity fountained forth from Wubum’s hand, up the grip of his lightsaber, and improbably, crackled towards Hamartano.

He accepted it, let it wash over him and through him.

In the Force, they were one.

And because they were all of the Force, all part of it, the part of the Force that was Hamartano felt the lightning arc away from him, felt it return to Wubum.

Felt it disrupt Wubum’s concentration, just slightly.

The blue lightsaber descended, in a final blaze of light.

And in a tiny part of an ancient Sith-stained world, the Darkness lifted.

 

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Kalabel staggered backwards. “What?” she choked out. The lightsaber tumbled from her grasp, clattered to the ground, and deactivated.

Sajhe only had eyes for Nees Bac, in this moment. The Jawa lay on the ground, and it didn’t take a field medic to know the Jawa was dying. His presence in the Force flickered.

“Did good?” Nees Bac whispered, in halting Basic.

For a moment, Sajhe wasn’t kneeling by the side of an apprentice, abandoned to death, fighting an enemy more powerful than he had the right to be confronting.

He was on Dxun, in the jungle, watching, hands clasped behind his back, as Delta Squad made contact with the enemy. The screams of Republic soldiers dropping to Mandalorian blaster fire, to mines buried in the dry grass.

He was kneeling by Talvon Esan’s side. “Will Vrook…do you think?” Talvon croaked, blood spilling from his mouth.

“Of course he will,” said Sajhe. A comforting lie. Master Vrook Lamar had cut off all ties with his former apprentice when Talvon had defected to join the ranks of the Jedi that Revan and Alek were gathering to them.

“Liar. Always…harsh Master…” whispered Talvon, with that crooked smile that, with his rumpled golden hair, had made him the charmer of their entire batch of Padawans. 

“Stay with me,” Sajhe insisted, gripping Talvon’s shoulder. Not another one. Cariaga Sin had died to Mandalorian orbital bombardment; vaporised, glass her coffin, as it was those of so many others who had fought to defend the Verasilian capital. Xaset Terep had fallen in the Battle of Bohman Rees, holding the single bridge that had cost at least a battalion’s worth of lives. 

Sajhe had felt every death. Every single one of them.

“Think…we made a difference?”

Beyond the ridge, brave men and women of the Republic and Mandalorian worlds died. They died screaming, or silent, in churned mud, or face down in cold water. They died in numbers wasteful beyond belief, because a warlord demanded conquest and because they could not be Jedi and turn their backs on suffering. Because someone had to act.

Because all reasons dissolved in the face of the carnage. Sajhe wiped a streak of mud away from Talvon’s face. His hand came away bloody.

“Of course we did,” he said, easily. “Of course we did.”

“Good…” Talvon wheezed. His hand went slack.

Sajhe felt the tremor in the Force as he died, the pain of the loss reverberating through every fibre of his being. Another bond severed. Another death.

And still Sajhe lived. 

Still Sajhe lived.

He forced himself to smile down at the dying apprentice. “Yes,” Sajhe said, solemnly. “Yes, you did good.”

“Good…” whispered Nees, in that accented Basic. “Good…”

With an effort, he asked, “You…Ja’bo’ba?”

Sajhe shook his head. “No. Taken from me a long time ago.” When he’d turned away from war. When he’d walked a solitary path into exile, darkness, and loneliness. “Two hundred and thirty seven Jedi went to war with Revan and Alek…” he murmured. “Every single one of them fell. In battle, to Darkness…Only one came back to face the Council’s judgement. They never understood why.”

Because he had enough of death, of Darkness. Because he had not fallen, only lost his way. Only suffered. Only tasted enough of human suffering for lives.

“Ja’bo’ba find…” said Nees. “Taught…said you be Ja’bo’ba too…Only learned a bit. Not very good Ja’bo’ba. But I tried.”

Sajhe shook his head. “No. Ja’bo’ba do not try. Only act. Only are. On this day, the day it was impossible to get right, you were a Jedi, more than anyone else. You did what you had to do. The rest…is up to the Force.”

“Good…” managed Nees. “Good…”

For a long moment, he was silent; his presence in the Force ragged with pain and thready. Sajhe knelt by his side, willing whatever strength he could into the dying Jedi.

There was that moment, then.

Grace unexpected, a sudden ripple of surprise in Nees’s Force presence. 

“Utini…” the Jawa breathed.

And then faded out, merging into the Force, a tiny trickle of a stream joining the thundering cataract that was Life itself, sublimated into it, drowning for the last time, in a joyous surrender to glory that was the Force.

Nees breathed in.

Tattered Jawa robes fluttered to the ground as the Force exhaled.

We are luminous beings, thought Sajhe, wearily. He scrubbed at his eyes with his free hand. Old memories. Old sorrows. Not this crude matter.

“Is he…dead?”

“Yeah,” Sajhe said, roughly. “But there is no death, there is the Force.”

“What…” Kalabel hesitated. “What do I do now?”

He looked at her, consideringly. “Go back to your life, I suppose. Or find a way off-world—ask for a berth with a Republic freighter. Skills like yours, any ship would take you. Whole galaxy’s open before you, now.”

“I don’t feel it anymore.”

“Better off that way, believe me.”

“But…” she was struggling for the words. “How do you go back, after it all?”

“It’s harder than you would expect,” Sajhe said, after a long pause. “Losing the Force, after a lifetime…it was like an artist gone blind. A musician deafened.” He looked down at his hands. “But then you learn that there is life, beyond the Jedi. An entire galaxy to see. Things to do.” He looked over at her, and he shrugged. “And you learn that if you are strong enough to turn away from war and Darkness, you are strong enough to decide what you want to do with your life and take it.”

He nudged at the Jawa robes with the toe of his boot.

“You’ve got more years ahead of you now than Nees does. You got the gift of time, girl. Don’t stand over his grave and talk about it. Now, shoo.”

Kalabel shooed.

 

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The game is over! The Village has won! Congratulations to the Village team, and to Fifth's dueling skills!

Wiz / Lib Wubum was killed! He was a Desann Reborn!

Alv / Nees Bac was killed! He was an Apprentice, acknowledged by Sajhe as a Jedi Knight of the Old Republic!

JNV / Jev was executed! They were an unlucky Settler who got a bit screwed over by the fact the exe couldn't be skipped today!

Thank you all for playing, and especial thanks/kudos to Fifth and Wiz for that very engaging final duel! Doc links in next post - please wait for me to reserve it, along with final player list.

Edited by Kasimir
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Sajhe's Datapad:

Player List:

Spoiler

1. JNV - Jev, a low end smuggler with multiple secret identities - Settler
2. @Ashbringer - Kalabel, a young droid technician who found an absolutely innocent red triangle thingy - Cultist
3. The Unknown Novel - Krisbaan, a bounty hunter with a capital P Past - Settler
4. Mat - Smarts the droid technician, who is protecting you from his real name - Cultist
5. Devotary - Tania! the Terentatek, awoken from dormancy and ready to feast on Force-sensitives - Settler
6. Xino - Nodice the unlucky spacer, who absolutely never cheats and has no gambling problem, you are the problem - Settler
7. @DrakeMarshall - Dr. Dacken Humtumb, the gizka preservationist - Jedi Knight
8. Haelbarde - HK-47, your friendly neighbourhood non-organic gizka exterminator - Desann Reborn
9. Wiz- Lib Wubum, Gungan bounty hunter, trailing Jede Ratrit - Desann Reborn
10. The Bookwyrm - Myhar Impay, ecologist who would like to leave to study a more exotic planet, but feels indebted 
- Settler
11. @Fifth Scholar - Martano Hamartano, an aspiring marksman and swoop ganger - Jedi Knight
12. Ventyl - Ibonek Naw-ibo, a dude in the wrong place, who totally does not have a Shardblade 
- Settler
13. Silho - Shil-Ou-Te - Settler
14. Szeth_Pancakes - Seth - Settler
15. @Madagascar - Moff, deadbeat Jedi dropout - Settler
16. @Channelknight Fadran - K.D. Tantyck, defected Imperial officer Settler
17. Turtle - Turtle the spaceport mechanic Settler
18. Alvron - Nees Bac, Jawa scavenger stranded on Korriban by Imperial forcesApprentice

 

Edited by Kasimir
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I knew Fifth would be lying about Alv being the other Jedi, I knew it and did nothing about it… and I would have guessed it was Mads anyway so maybe that’s for the best.

Good game everyone, that came down to the wire fast but it was really fun! Holocrons and all :P

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We all know the real winner of the duel was Wiz, in that he won the day in rep yesterday :eyes:

In all seriousness, though, well done Fifth! Both of your RPing was masterful. And Kas, thank you for the awesome finish writeup. And for running this and letting me be evil!

#evilbestalignment

More game thoughts to come later, maybe, but suffice it to say we definitely thought Alv was Jedi :P. Whoops. I gotta give Ash credit for smelling a Jedi gambit but of course I was too down-to-earth while I was alive to seriously consider the possibility >> Of course, we would have gone for Mads over Drake and Wiz lost the duel anyway, so :P

Losing Hael to the redirect sucked, but I don't think the mechanic was too bad since it only happened once. Kas, I think instead of changing the cooldown period, it'd also be fine to just let the regular Cultists submit kills. Just thought of that. Dunno the other repercussions of that though.

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By the way-- Fifth, I did miss the thing about Cultists inheriting and I did accidentally lowball the Cultist numbers. To Drake too, anything that you accused me of that was memory related I didn't even have to fabricate a defense for xD I just don't retain those small details.

Edit: Just got to this part in the Jedi doc--

Quote

I feel like Mat is going to be reading this after the game and be like “but half of your points were totally wrong” well be that as it may

>>

Jedi have futuresight ig

Edited by Ookla the Tall
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Audaciously triple-posting (someone will probably save me from this by the time I've finished) to bring you the GM's After-Action Report.

After-Action Report:

The Distro:

I am, strangely, very fine with this distro. We ran with the same numbers as MR2 so I felt fine replicating the roles distro from that game: two Reborn, and two Cultists. I didn't want to overdo their numbers due to potential exe control on their parts.

I got a bit trickier in terms of team composition. I think it's an open secret that the past couple of Elim teams that I've fielded have featured one of <Fifth, Drake, Araris, Devo>, sometimes multiple of them. My immediate priority when looking at rands this time was to hardlock Fifth, Drake, and Devo as Village. I think it's bad when GMs have any sort of tendency that can be gamed or exploited by players, and refusing to play into this is good.

When the Fifth/Drake Jedi rand came up, I hesitated. Both of them are gambiters and players with a decent risk appetite. They're also fairly noisy, meaning there was a decent chance they could find themselves MLed out of the gate. Ultimately, I was fine with this: I felt it made the game more fun, and given that MR2 was powerfully Village-skewed, a more volatile Jedi team was fine by me, to give the Elims just that bit more of an edge.

In terms of the Elim rand, I had an E!Alv and E!Mads rand that I didn't want to go with. Again, it felt just a bit too typical. I liked the <Mat, Ash, Hael, Wiz> rand best: a relatively quiet, deep-lying Elim team to contrast with the noisy Jedi, and I liked that Hael-Ash-Wiz would synergise well to give the team a lot of strategic options. I also felt the team badly needed Mat to be their threadworker. It seemed like a workable team to me. 

In general, I have no regrets with either team. I think it was more or less fine.

The Design:

On a design level, I'm not sure how I feel.

I agree with Fifth and Drake that there's a beautiful openness that allows the Jedi to decide how they want to play this game. I do want to preserve that. At the same time, the fact is that the redirect felt a little oppressive. Certainly, there were PoE issues involved, but the Jedi choosing to Pushmax started to cause the Elim team quite a bit of grief in this game, and I'm not sure all of it was under their control.

My model more or less assumed the Jedi would apprentice more freely, but I was working with projections from MR2, so that is on me for making a bad set of assumptions. As a matter of fact, the Jedi only apprenticed Alv, and preferred to Pushmax. It is possible they could have been punished for this, as they were often unprotected. But this did not happen. Force Lightning also saw very little use. I'm not sure why, as it was a fairly potent power on the Elim side. Just as the Jedi can't redirect unless they hit the right target, the roleblock also helps shut down potential shenanigans.

That being said, I think there's a clear asymmetry between abilities: the Jedi pushmaxing got off more softclears than I'd like them to have reached, and had little incentive to apprentice. My take would be the following set of suggestions:

  • Add a cooldown lock to every ability: This shares it out, so protection, redirection, and vote manip all have a one Turn cooldown, rather than just protection. This immediately reduces how many pushes the Jedi can use, and encourages them to apprentice in order to get more uses out. It also forces both teams to be more strategic about their abilities.
     
  • Remove the cooldown lock from the Disciples of Ragnos: I think this is a potential buff for them. It's harsh to have Force Lightning so restricted, especially if they are one Reborn down. Functionally, the Dark Side team is meant to be stronger: this once again feeds into the incentive to apprentice, in order to 'gang up' on them.
     
  • Remove the kill lock: As Mat suggested, it might be better to just remove the kill lock and share it out across the team. I am okay with this, though I do wonder if the alternative is to go back to MR2 - allow both Reborn to kill at once. This would make refusing to apprentice a much more risky play for the Jedi. On the whole, I'm not convinced this is the best solution. Removing the kill lock might be better.

Dueling:

I am...okay about this mechanic, though it had some teething problems across the game. I thank @Fifth Scholar for his suggestion of the protected hour, as I think it made things a lot less stressful for him and Wiz. As such, I was happy to implement it in the game, despite disliking mid-game rule changes.

I feel it was great to have two responsive players RPing in the thread. I generally like the duel mechanic, and for the purposes of this game, it feels fine. In this game, it wasn't meant to be major, and I don't think a winning team would really have an incentive to call for one. That being said, I think that the main issue for me always comes back to what to do as a tie-breaker. My main reason for initially stipulating seven combat phases was really in the hopes a tie would be avoided. While it's glorified scissors-paper-stone, I like the idea of giving players some agency over who dies instead of leaving it to a coinflip. That being said, it's difficult to figure out a tiebreaker that won't revert to a coinflip. But maybe by that point, a coinflip is fair. Not sure.

My main thoughts:

  • I'd possibly recommend reducing to five. I think seven was very stressful in terms of RP demands, not sure. That being said, they had a full forty-eight hours. You can also see from a lot of duel orders that five would simply have resulted in a tie. 
     
  • Protected time might be expanded to maybe eight hours or so, to account for timezones. Hael would've been in big trouble if he'd had to duel. 
     
  • I sort of feel regret the duel wasn't democratised, but at the same time, I worry about the fact duels have the potential to slow a game down. Maybe they can be more free in a QF format, I'm not sure. It might also be interesting to make one twenty four hours, and allow the winner to return to the thread? Very much not sure.

Thoughts:

  • Alv basically submitted an insanely clutch series of orders across the game. The C2 protect on Turtle, the C4 protect on Fifth (which worked well with Fifth protecting Drake), and then the final C6 protect order on Ash which he quickly retracted as he didn't want to accidentally have protected a Cultist. 
     
  • I am disturbed by the strength of the Jedi tunnel on Alv. I say this with all due affection: I do not think anything short of a Seeker scan would have gotten you guys to accept he was Village :P 
     
  • To my great relief, Drake got Turtle killed by a deflect. I had Illwei and Aman on tap as pinch-hitters, but it's rough for a pinch-hitter to be told "Hi, yes, er, you're pinch-hitting for this duel, and as you're subbing for a Village player, the Village thing is to lose, but also, have fun?"
     
  • @Elandera is an amazing IM. Thank you for listening to me babble or panic because I seem to have forgotten how to GM >>
     
  • I believe no exe should be a viable option for this game. It only occurred to me near the end, but there are fair reasons to want to hold off, especially on a cycle like this.
     
  • Thank you all for playing! :) I hope you all had fun.
Edited by Kasimir
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I think the main reason we stayed off the Lightning is because there would come a point where we’d need it off Cooldown if we wanted any chance of stopping a redirect/protect that could end us. It would have been much more useful to us C5 than it would have been pretty much any other cycle. Especially since Sith can’t see where Jedi actions are going (save vote manip), while every Sith action is pretty clearly shown happening to the Jedi.

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1 minute ago, Ashbringer said:

I think the main reason we stayed off the Lightning is because there would come a point where we’d need it off Cooldown if we wanted any chance of stopping a redirect/protect that could end us. It would have been much more useful to us C5 than it would have been pretty much any other cycle. Especially since Sith can’t see where Jedi actions are going (save vote manip), while every Sith action is pretty clearly shown happening to the Jedi.

Yeah, that's fair and it's a reason why I favour removing the cooldown from you guys. My sense of the basic dynamic is that the Dark Side team should have more raw power - the Village's strength is in coming together. I'd rather encourage more tactical flexibility from the Jedi team and possibly more apprenticing (which IMO also gives Villagers more to do - I think not being apprenticed can leave them feeling very left out!) and buffing your team seems part of it.

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24 minutes ago, Ashbringer said:

I think the main reason we stayed off the Lightning is because there would come a point where we’d need it off Cooldown if we wanted any chance of stopping a redirect/protect that could end us. It would have been much more useful to us C5 than it would have been pretty much any other cycle. Especially since Sith can’t see where Jedi actions are going (save vote manip), while every Sith action is pretty clearly shown happening to the Jedi.

Course, that time came after Wiz had done a 'whatever' use on Bookwyrm's exe, as you alluded to :P. Which wouldn't have changed anything since the only way our kill was working that turn was if Wiz submitted it, as Drake was off our radar and wouldn't have been targeted with the RB.

(Also, I felt left out of apprenticing :( /jk)

Edited by Ookla the Tall
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