Styx: A Sour Surprise

"That Twi'lek... she can use the Force too." Styx did not need to see Lucinda's move. He felt the Force flowing from the palm of her hand and pushing that missile back as if she had blown it away with a breath. No wonder she could wield such a volatile, lethal weapon as the Lightwhip.

There was nothing but dread in the enemies' eyes when they beheld the former Darth's frightening appearance: the Echani was covered in their comrades' blood from hair to toes. His white straight hair was sprinkled with that crimson fluid; his mask dripped blood as if Styx was crying it; his rusty armor and his sackcloth lower robe gained a scarlet tone, and his pale arms and feet looked like they had been pressing wine all day long.

"Zealot!" The shout came from Styx's comlink. "This is Scout Chief Karawn! Our village is under attack! The enemy is advancing fast! Save us-arrgh!"

"Scout Chief? Karawn, reply!" Styx shouted to the comlink, to no avail. The Zealot deflected a dozen blasts and pushed four troopers standing between him and one of the surrounding enemy shuttles. He then leaped onto the stunned foes and sliced them in pieces.

"What are you doing, Sith!? The Jedi Temple is falling and you're gonna run away?"

"I must repel the enemies at Kalikori, presumptuous Organa." The Echani walked up to the shuttle's entrance. "Arkosh, your brothers and sisters require your assistance. Will you defend them?"

"Of course!" Lucinda readily called Riverah and Ruby. The female Twi'lek seemed full of energy, thirsting for an epic adventure such as this particular invasion - an adventure that does not often occur, even in this Galaxy! "Ruby won't fit in that shuttle, though!"

"Follow the path to the Village," Styx pointed at a course ascending to the Tythos Ridge, "and strike our foes through their rearguard! I shall land in Kalikori and stall their advancement!"

Nomar seemed very upset. "What about me, Sith-aaaggh!" The Zealot stretched forth his hand and clenched it, using the Force to choke the arrogant Jedi.

"Do not - call me - a Sith!" Styx released his grip on Organa, who fell to his knees, gasping for oxygen. The Zealot then entered the shuttle and flew away from that gruesome battlefield, where man and machine lie mangled before a war-torn Jedi Temple. He managed to avoid enemy fire as he flew over their thin lines, pressing the Twi'lek militia beyond their barricades.

Styx grabbed his comlink. "Kalikori, this is Darth Styx, your Zealot. I am approaching the landing pad in a stolen enemy shuttle. I request permission to land."

"Zealot, this is Kalikori - permission to land granted."

Styx landed smoothly on the platform. While he walked towards the shuttle's exit, he felt that he had heard that voice before. "Strange," thought the Zealot, "I could swear it sounded like-"

The exit door opened. From there, Styx gazed at approximately fifteen Twi'lek, with blaster rifles pointing at his brawny frame. A young male carrying a rifle on his back stood out from the group. He could be easily recognized by the prosthetics on his left eye and his cerulean blue skin... and his voice.

"Our venerable Zealot," said Karawn, "you are under arrest. Surrender... or die!"

The End

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