“And will returning to the Jedi will prove any better? If memory serves me right Anakin Skywalker was never a member of the Rogues.” Irtar said bitterly. He remembered how Vodo loved to try and push people and throw them off balance, so he decided to push back a bit on his own. “I just don’t have the spirit to be a Jedi like the Order will like. I cannot be without passion, nor emotion, or all that other stuff in the code.”

“I care for my family. For my friends. And I can’t just let that all go.” Irtar said, sitting up and looking down at the old master. A stern look in his eye. Irtar was determined to set the score straight on his intentions. “I would rather go to an order that would teach me how to not let these emotions throw me to shadow through their own experience, then to be told to merely sweep them aside. Because they’re what I am and what make me what I am. And if I were to throw them away, I’d be no better than a stormtrooper.”

“I’m sorry that you thought what you taught was a waste of time.” Irtar said incredibly seriously. He seriously was sorry that his Master thought their time together had resulted in nothing. That neither gained anything. “But at least I’m out here doing something with my life which is more than I can say for most of the members of the Order any more.”

“Luke, Leia, Gash… great names that are simply fading. Luke and Leia are both gone without a single trace and Gash is nothing more than another one of those tragic stories.” Irtar said with a sigh. “A legacy isn’t worth anything if no one tries to follow. Someone has to try and do something… take up the fight if no one else will…. I may end up dead because of it, but someone has to try….”

Irtar sat back in his chair with not even a noise. His case on the table for the Master. And if he couldn’t accept it, then that was his problem. A choice was made, despite how foolish or desperate it was. Despite how he knew he was doomed to failure and ridicule for it. For his mother, and every other innocent life the Sith snuffed out for their own sick desire for self-satisfaction… he would use what strength he had to stand even though most other lights in this long night in the Force had faded.

Vodo stared at Irtar for a long time. Many, many thoughts swirled through his old and aged mind. He thought for just a second, maybe it was a half-second, that he had misjudged Irtar. Maybe he hadn't seen certain things in this young Apprentice.

But that thought was gone in an instant. Replaced with nothing but icy steel resolve. He was getting old...

And he was sick and tired of this garbage.

He stood up, his stick in hand, "Very well. You believe that you should allow yourself to hold tightly to those emotions, to those attachments. Instead of releasing them, and trusting the Force to guide you, you think you can keep those emotions in check?"

He walked away from the window and back towards the door to the office, "You speak of Skywalker, Mal'Gro. But you know nothing of it. I was there! I saw what he did! I saw what happens when you allow yourself to hold onto those emotions! I saw the fear!"

He lowered his hood back over his face. And all Irtar could see were those strange yellow eyes...

...eyes that seem to slowly change shade. Until the only thing that was visible were two dark yellow orbs.

"Very well..." He said,"If your way is so right, so good. Then i think I would want it too. You know, I have no family either. They abandoned me..."

You couldn't see it, but he was smiling.

"I think I'll do things your way. I'll allow those emotions to stay with me..."

The room seemed to get darker. A distant rumbling was heard.

"Yes... can't you feel it? My feelings of betrayal? My parents threw me to the wolves, long ago... It hurt, it hurts even now. Should I allow those feelings to haunt me? Or should I let them go, like a true Jedi!?"

And with barely a gesture, Irtar's desk was lifted into the air and went directly through the wall, as if a gigantic hand had swept it aside. The desk fell the distance to the distant street below, and it could be heard crashing down from the big hole in the wall.

"There are levels to patience for even a Jedi Master, apprentice. I see my Order crumbling around me, but I like doing things your way. How about we take thousands of years worth of knowledge and experience and just throw it away! Yes!"

Vodo raised his walking stick up a few centimeters and slammed it to the floor, sending powerful Force-driven tremors through the building.

Vodo looked out from underneath his cowl, "I think you made a mistake, Irtar. You truly have learned nothing."

Irtar cast a cold gaze at Vodo watching his little display. He'd done similar to Irtar and the other apprentices under him, though never to this extent. Vodo had always been a pusher. He pushed people to excel. He pushed people to do what he wanted. And he pushed people away.

And now Vodo stood here. Trying to push him again. And now Irtar had his entire days work thrown out the window and was being called pathetic again. He had enough of this.

Irtar stood up cautiously from his chair and stepped towards the source of the rumbling in the building. Towards the hunched and staring Vodo. Irtar's footing the whole time seemed a bit tricky but after a bit he stood before the old master.

"You think these tricks of you are supposed to frieghten me? Do you think that I would be out here, doing all this, and would just be imposed by the same tricks you use at the Academy?” Irtar put coldly, looking into those yellow orbs with a determined gaze. “That my will would just snap that easily?

“I never said my path was the right way. I said it was my way.” Irtar said mater-of-factly. “And want to know why? Those old Jedi were separated from their families and had their binds cut. I’m doing the best that I can with what I’ve got. I’m not about to go around and pretend something isn’t there that I know always will be.”

Irtar clenched his fist looking down upon it. A symbol of rage to most. But to him, a symbol of his defiance. He refused to cow down. He refused to stop caring about his father. His brothers. His sister. His mother. He refused to not give a damn about his friends, and of all that he’s done. He refused to simply become another apathetic Jedi.

“I tried to… I did… But I’m doing the next best thing I can....” Irtar muttered, his voice beginning to waver. Not out of fear, just to try and gear himself to solidly throw out the next words. “And I’m going to remember it all… that’s what’ll keep me true. Remember what my father always raised me for… remember to be a good man…. And I’ll remember what those people blinded by the darkness did to my mother. And will keep doing to other people until someone stands up.”

Irtar rasied his fist defiantly, standing firm before Vodo in both body, mind, and spirit. “I will remember my roots and what I am! THAT is my path to the light and I will use that as my strength. For no matter how many the Sith kill or how hard the Jedi would strive to sever those base things, they will never change my roots and who I am! Irtar Mal’Gro, son of Argas and Tiana Mal’Gro!”

“Now get the Hell out of my Office and tell my secretary to call the decorators!” The son of Dantooine yelled as he pointed to the door.

"Perhaps I underestimated you." Vodo said quietly, still standing directly opposite Irtar.

But there was something odd about the diminuitive Jedi's manner. Something did not feel right in the Force about him. Something was... off.

With another small guesture, Vodo sent two chairs hurtling toward Irtar, who deflected them away easily.

"But then again, perhaps not."

Then the Jedi Master leapt, directly at his old apprentice. He landed to his right, and his walking stick swept up in a vicious arc towards his ex-apprentice's head.

Irtar couldn’t help but be taken aback by the sudden change. Of how quickly it turned from a trick into an attack. Suddenly, from the side of the room two chairs came flying at him. Irtar instinctively ducked as the two chairs slammed above his head, sending a spray of splinters, padding, and wood around him. Irtar quickly began to try and get to his feet as Vodo’s staff suddenly came flying at his head.

Irtar quickly began to roll back away from the swing. The wooden weapon catching the air but a short bit away from his face. Irtar quickly feel back unto his hands and he came out of the roll on his feet. A bit unsteady at first, as Irtar scolded himself mentally. He needed to train more. He was becoming rusty and he hadn’t even been clean yet.

“What the Hell!?!” Irtar shouted. “What are we? Sith?”

Irtar instinctively threw open his suit jacket and reaching in the pocket sewn into the side where he kept his lightsaber. From underneath he promptly drew his masterpiece for the first time to be seen by others. The hilt stood at an extra half of length when compared to most. It was obviously designed to be two handed instead of the other sabers where it could be used either one-handed or two-handed. The tip had an extra set of modulators that came out as three triangular panels as if guiding the blade.

With a powerful woosh, the Azure blade sparked into light. The sword stood at a length with an extra quarter on the tip of the blade. It was heavy, yes. But Irtar wasn’t skilled enough in it’s used to be twirling his lightsaber around effortless anyways. So his hope now was to make up with his lack of skill with extra length. The light that it emitted was powerful and deep. And a strong resonance was heard. Irtar brought the blade into a defensive position as he looked at Vodo.

“It’s like I said back at the Temple, I may not be the best Jedi to have ever used the Force, but I am a damn fine engineer when compared to most of them.” Irtar said as he held the sword at the ready for Vodo’s next attack. “I’ve added a set of extra mirrors and modulators to further refine and increase the power of the blade. It makes the blade capable of putting out more energy.”

“Now don’t make me use it….”

Something had definately changed about the Jedi Master. He was hunched up, looking especially frail, and especially dark at the moment.

His yellow eyes stared right into those of Irtar's. He said nothing, for there was nothing to say. He leaned heavily on his walking stick, a stick that seemed less and less like a walking aid by every minute.

"Do you think you even could?" Vodo asked quietly, "Do you have the ability to bear arms against a fellow Jedi?"

He slowly took a step toward his ex-apprentice, "Because when I attack you, I certainly hope you are ready for it. Because at some point or other, your new beliefs will put you at odds with me. You must be ready to accept the consequences for your actions.


"What actions, you might ask? Well I'll tell you."

Another step.

"You abandoned the Jedi. I sent you to deal with your problems, and instead of doing that, you ran from them. As soon as things went wrong on Dantooine you ran, you came here, and now look at you. You aren't even a Jedi, so how could your using that overgrown lightsaber even make me..."

He was right in front of Irtar and his glowing blade, "...flinch?"


He seemed all darkness now. Those yellow eyes had taken on an evil light.

"So prepare yourself. Because I am now here to make you face your consequences."

And with that, he gave himself to the lightsaber form of Ataru.

And struck at Irtar.

He knew it was all still a trick. It had to be. But still, the sight of Vodo like this chilled Irtar to the bone. The closer he got, the more Irtar felt that shadow that felt all too real rolling off of the mysterious Jedi Master. Each step brought another pulse of shivers up his spine.

And then that staff that was used so often in his training sessions on the academy was brought upon his again. Except this time, without the same sense of restriction as before. Vodo was bringing himself full force upon his former apprentice. And on instinct, Irtar defended himself.

If not for the extra length he added to his lightsaber and the extra length of his arm reach over the smaller Jedi Master, it’d be impossible to hold back any of the fast attacks. Irtar was quickly pushed fully on the defensive. That staff seeming to fly around him. Irtar hadn’t been fully instructed on the lightsaber styles but he was sure this was the style of Ataru. The one that was all about being quick and flashy.

Irtar slowly stepped backwards as the Jedi pushed against him. A couple of minor hits began to get through. One on his off arm, another on his leg. If Vodo was using a lightsaber, his flesh would be bearing the marks of his minor slip ups. Though they would definitely bear bruises. Irtar’s face began to grow desperate from the move backwards. Soon he’d be reaching the wall and he’d be doomed.

But Irtar saw it, a moment to press the advantage. He held the ability to press more strength, and so when the two blades gave a mighty clash, Irtar pushed his blade as to deny Vodo the ability to reciprocate without leaving himself clearly open for an attack even from the padawan. It was a lucky mistake (or so Irtar thought) and he pressed his blade, trying to overcome the staff. Using his weight and height against that of the Master as best he could.

“Vodo… this is madness… all we’re going to do is end up hurting each other….” Irtar pleaded as he pressed the lightsaber against the Master. The smell of singed wood began to reach Irtar’s nose. “If you’re such a big Jedi, walk away. Show that you’re the bigger advocate… for peace and justice and all that…. Besides, wouldn’t want to hurt your staff anymore... Ithor’s been vong formed.”

To Vodo, lightsaber combat was an art form. It combined skill, with finesse and it almost had a life of it's own. It could trick you, lead you in new directions, and it could always surprise you.

He had gone through this many times in his life. He believed that in order to fight effectively, your weapon must be more like a part of your own body. You needed to know it, inside out, be able to recognize it's intricacies without a moment's hesitation. His walking staff was like that. he had been using it for almost thirty years, well before his time as a Jedi. He knew every crevice in the finely crafted baffor wood.

Which made it so effective.

The stick was much lighter than a lightsaber, allowing the Master to strike with incredible speed unseen with other weapons. With aid from the Force, a simple piece of a tree was supremely deadly.

Vodo spun, striking several horizontal blows at his opponent, then he spun, struck again before he was even set on both feet. Another reversal, three blows, a back flip, three more...

It went on and on and on...

The only thing missing was an orchestra to score the fight.

Irtar had definitely been learning. Although Vodo wasn't fighting at the peak of his skill, he was still trying to challenge the young Jedi, and Irtar seemed to be handling himself wall. When Vodo sidestepped to parry, Irtar was already reversing to strike from a different angle.

Let's change things up a little bit...

Vodo struck slower this time, and purposely put himself off balance a little, and Irtar jumped at the chance, instantly leveling a hard strike at him, trying to grind the wooden stick down. The scent of burning wood was ripe in the air, but Vodo poured more power into the stick, strengthening it to withstand the blade.

“If you’re such a big Jedi, walk away. Show that you’re the bigger advocate… for peace and justice and all that…. Besides, wouldn’t want to hurt your staff anymore... Ithor’s been vong formed.”...

Vodo ignored Irtar's words at first. Irtar still didn't get it. He believed Vodo was attacking out of some sort of malice.

Had he learned anything at all?

Without a word, Vodo twisted, and lashed out with his foot. The sudden shift in his weight caused Irtar to stumble forward a step. It wasn't much, but it was all Vodo needed. His foot caught the younger Jedi to trip, sending him to the floor.

Vodo raised his hand, and a small bookshelf rose from it's position, the droid specs on it falling to the floor with the sudden movement.

Vodo levitated the shelf directly over the fallen padawan.

Vodo smiled and glared at Irtar, who looked up at him right as the shelf dropped onto him.

He thought he had a steady hold on the situaiton. That he stood any chance at all in the fight.

But he should have known better.

Vodo was known for his skill at dueling around the temple.

As he pushed onward, Vodo's sudden change of wait caught him entirely off guard and in a moment, he was falling toward the floor. The way he snapped caused it to take not even a fraction of a second.

Irtar was stunned for a moment as he lay there, the wind knocked out of him from the sudden impact. His back throbbing slightly. He coughed a bit as he stared up into the lights above him, until all of a sudden an eclipse came over him. All of a sudden Irtar gave a quick eep as he rolled to a side in time to avoid the briefcase that fell on the floor right next to him. Irtar quickly rolled unto his feet and held himself into an unsteady defensive position.

Irtar tried to bring his lightsaber back into a vane attempt at a defensive position, preparing for Vodo's next assault.

"Just get whatever twisted lesson this is supposed to be over with...." Irtar muttered under his breath in contempt.

Why did Vodo care so much about him? He wasn't an overly skilled Jedi. He was nothing compared to some of those that ran away from the Temple. There were so many he had met there that had left. Why was he so special compared to them?

Irtar gritted his teeth, trying to force doubt from him and focus solely on the fight. Solely on at least lasting as long as he can against the old Jedi Master. Despite whatever shadowy tricks he would use, or any fanciful tricks. He would persevere. If nothing more, he would try to last longer than any other being like him had lasted before him.

"Just get whatever twisted lesson this is supposed to be over with...."

Vodo had watched as Irtar had avoided the bookshelf. He had watched as he rolled to his feet and brought his weapon again in defense. He watched as Irtar breathed heavily, although he tried not to show it.

Vodo leaned on his stick, looking absurdly small and insignificant. Irtar so far had deflected Vodo's somewhat passive attempts to beat him. Irtar knew Vodo wasn't fighting to his full ability, and he knew it was the only reason he was still standing.

But this was no mere twisted lesson, as Irtar described it. If the younger Jedi had thought about it more in depth, he would have realized that every thing Vodo did, he had a reason.

Always a point.

The diminutive Jedi Master smiled up at his foe, who was backed almost into a corner in a defensive posture.

"As I said, I am trying things the way you do them. You Rogue Jedi care only for yourselves, in my opinion. The Jedi Order was founded on certain principles that are the cornerstone of our philosophy, and you have forsaken them in favor of your own ideals. In fact, not even that. The Rogue Jedi have no ideals. They are a twisted version of the real Jedi. And I will be damned before I allow another Jedi to be swayed under my watch.

"You betrayed my trust, and now you are facing the consequences of your actions. Is that such a twisted lesson?"

Vodo raised his stick in a salute.

"You think your way is better than mine. I am here to test that. You accuse the Jedi of inaction. Today that changes. I hope you are ready."


Without another word Vodo leaped. And while he was doing so, a small silver object appeared from his left sleeve, sliding gracefully into the Jedi Master's three-fingered hand.


A brilliant green blade appeared from the silver hilt.


And then blade and stick rained down upon Irtar Mal'Gro with such a force that had not been since the days of the Jedi Council...