(Warning, the following story(s) includes no real elements of humour, and instead focuses on the more difficult task of shoring up the Jedi reputation and bringing more activity from Force-users to the galaxy. There will be violence, occasional strong language, but no nudity, so viewer discretion is still advised.)

Dolash lifted the weight in silence, his stance and demeanour revealing nothing of the strain it was causing on his arms. Deep beneath the city of Theed, in long-forgotten tunnels, he watched the moon rise between the grate bars, as his routine of physical fitness wound down.

He had not felt the same lately. Many long months of training had gone by, totalling years even, if he cared to think about it. Time had become hazey as his training had gone on, and he had immersed himself in lore. Wisdom was something which eluded him, but his instincts - no, the Force - told him that he was learning.

He had met Sith, he had travelled, he had listened to the words of his masters, but more and more, he had focused on the real questions. In old tomes, old scholar's musings on who they were and what existance was did not plague him, he swept them away, for these were distracting questions that would not and could not be answered or provide anything of worth. The real questions were simpler, direct, questions such as what should he do, and why?

An old text near the far end of the library, near-rotten and forgotten, still held a little of the wisdom of the forgotten philosopher Kristopher, who had failed his Jedi training when he fell into madness questioning what exactly made the lightside good and the darkside evil, and how could they even be defined. His quest for understanding led him on such a convoluted path that the last few chapters became more and more erratic, until the last page, where it breaks down into scribbles and desperate words of fear and confusion. Apparently, he crushed himself to death with his own power over the force.

Dolash had heard the masters warn against questioning the Lightside and the Darkside, saying that doubting their purpose only weakened them. But Dolash, with the insight of one who's mind was not fast enough to skip over the little details a quicker thinker would gloss over, soon understood that this was because they did not know. It was instinct, a long, built-up version of instinct, that seemed to hold up the Jedi and Sith philosophy. The Force enforced this instinct, and kept both sides along the same lines, but besides that it seemed all so... hollow.

These questions bothered Dolash deeply. They did not drive him to any conclusion, all he could be sure of was that the Jedi philosophy still felt right to him on instinct, and that was all he had right now.

Dolash adjusted his Jedi robe, and pushed up the grate, entering the city. The masters had encouraged initiative, and although they did what they could to keep the city safe, Dolash knew it was not enough. They just weren't active any more in the day-to-day lives of the galaxy. Dolash would go so far as to say that they were pretty much inactive on a fairly large scale, and this was why fewer people believed the Force even existed.

And now he was in the street, deathly quiet on such a night. He followed the force, which emanated from the city's nooks and crannies like a scent. The world became one of grays upon which the colourful hues of the force were painted.

He followed the trails until contented, then in silence climbed the wall of a nearby spire-like temple, and sat perched above, looking down. There he remained, a shadow in the sky, musing.

His two minds, the two extremes of thought, bounced probing thoughts between them, trying to understand, until the silence of the night was broken. Or rather, it wasn't. With his senses heightened by the Force, Dolash could instead hear what wasn't said, and he quickly made his way along the rooftops.

In the darkness below, he could just feel something, a patch of silence that was not quite empty. He dropped down into an alley, and there found nothing. He remained utterly still. The shadows around him did not move, or flicker. In the dark, his eyes scanned every corner, only to find it empty. Finally, he stepped forward, and nothing happened. He did so again, and nothing happened. He gave up, and walked to the end of the alley. It was empty.

But the feeling the force gave him did not go away, it only intensified. It grew until finally Dolash felt the urge to turn -

The muzzle of the gun remained steady, pointing straight towards him. Dolash was a giant compared to the tiny human, who was coming to regret more and more choosing this night to rob a local convenience store.

There was silence, then in one clean mouvment, Dolash's claws whipped out and sliced the gun in half. The man didn't have time to realize what was going on before the other hand picked him up. He didn't scream, he remained completely frozen in fear, until he was - quite literally - handed over to local police forces.

Dolash knew some of his colleagues would find his occupation odd. Jedi should apparently concern themselves about big things, like fighting Sith. But Dolash reasoned if you didn't go out of your way to do the little, important things, like helping people, then what really made you that much different then the Sith? Besides, it gave him time to think.

He made several more stops at the station that night, the police had become used to his presence. Theed wasn't exactly a city of crime, but it had gone downhill lately with the diminishing of the Jedi, and so Dolash did what he could. Most of the crimes were committed by the poor or the desperate, and they would be treated fairly - the last thing the police wanted was to give out harsh punishments and turn someone into a hardened criminal. But every now and then, Dolash would find something... more.

This would happen late at night, on this particular encounter. The sun would soon rise, and the sky showed it. The slightest signs of a stirring world became visible, and Dolash had found no new relief in his thoughts. He slipped once again through an open grate - not too hard a fit, as although he was tall he was slim of build - and headed back through the tunnels to the Order.

But the tunnels had changed since last he had entered. They seemed darker, the walls seemed warped, and the path was marked black. Dolash recognized it, as he had seen before, and sighed. This was never a good sign. He set off on the trail, as the dark of night began to fade above him. The winding path lead closer and closer to the Jedi Order. Finally, he broke into a run, determined to catch this thing before it reached the ladder out.

He rounded a corner, and saw a hunched figure, in camoflauge hues, look at him fearfully as it climbed the ladder that led to the outer edge of the Order's home. It climbed faster, but Dolash reached out and yanked it free with the Force, exerting himself to send it falling to the ground.

He rushed it, but his target was surprisingly agile. It leapt to one side, but Dolash managed to get a better look at it. A hunched man, his body collapsed inwards, clung to a book that was torn and old, but even from here carried the trace of force power that just could be felt at the edge of Dolash's senses. It once again escaped him down a side tunnel. Dolash picked himself up, and recollected his thoughts.

He was not sure who that was, but he had seen him around Theed before. The artefact he carried had been stolen years before from a secured room of the Order's home, laid bare one day by disaster. Dolash once again knew not what he thought of it, what it was, or what it meant, but he trusted for now in his instincts, for they told him whatever it was, it was dangerous. The man who held it had been lurking in the darkest alleys of Theed for some time, and Dolash wondered what it was he was doing with the book.

For now, Dolash didn't know, and so he asceneded the ladder, and fixed it shut behind him, pushing a large rock he had found once over the trap-door to discourage anyone to follow him.

The sun rose, and Dolash went about his buisness.

Dolash had friends in the Jedi Order. There was an entire generation of Jedi, all reaching completion in their training, that seemed ready to take on the challenges that had seen the Jedi decline. Dolash had heard of plans to start new academies elsewhere, plans to fight various intergalactic villans, even plans to journey into the heart of the galactic Empire.

But Dolash harboured doubts. Although outwardly he joined in on their planning and their training, he knew on the inside the truth. The Jedi were at risk. This new generation did not have enough leadership or direction, and it was quite possible they would be picked off by their enemies long before any cohesion formed.

Dolash put this out of his mind, and spent the day training, working, studying. All but his most pressing questions he managed to quell, and the day passed like so many did.

As the sun began to lower in the sky, and he was freed from all duties for the day, he departed to the Library, where he was seeked information on the mystery man with the book. As usual, the library was occupied by a half-dozen Padawans that Dolash had become accustomed to. He nodded to them as they passed, and they tried to engage him in conversation, but he continued past to the books.

"You know, I would imagine taking a break would refresh you to seek what you wish later." said a voice nearby as Dolash sifted through the refference tomes. He paused, and looked down to see the small, hunched frame of the Jedi Yuri, a wizened man who ran the library. Dolash bowed respectfully.

"I apologize, sir, but I am occupied with something of great personal importance."

Yuri sighed "Well all right, but if you want to take a break, I was just going to fetch some tea for the other young Jedi here."

Dolash politely turned him down, and returned to the books. He was, throughout the day, like a creature in a dream. He scanned books with only the slightest interest, and his face betrayed no emotion.

It was only when the sun went down, and his fellow Jedi were asleep, did he truly awake.

Once again, he slipped out of the Order's dormitories, shifted the boulder that marked the entrance to the sewers, and entered the tunnels below. It was not long, however, before he came across the trail of the man with the book.

This time, his pace had been more erratic. He left splashes on the walls where he had passed, and his footprints were visible on dry areas. Dolash picked up the pace, intent to catch him this time.

It was then that two feet crashed into his back, taking him completely by surprise. The man landed hard on Dolash's neck, but Dolash managed to deflect him with a bolt of force energy. He struggled to his feet, only to be knocked off of them by a swift kick.

Dolash remained calm, and with total control and delicate poise, stuck his claws through his enemy's leg. He shriek, and fled, but Dolash wasn't about to lose him. He grabbed for the book, and a brief tug-of-war took place until his enemy pulled a rusty pin from somewhere on his body and the world exploded into white.

Several seconds later, as vision returned, Dolash saw that he had escaped, and cursed again. But in his hand was a single page, torn from the book during its' hasty escape. Dolash, still half-blinded from the grenade, stumbled forwards and tried to understand everything he saw. This particular tunnel ended up ahead, and the room it opened up to, was covered quite eerily with scribbles.

Dolash's vision returned to him, and he looked horrified at the words on every wall. The insane ramblings made no sense to him, and neither did the sigils that adorned the floor. It was then that Dolash remembered the sheet he had torn.

Most was smudged beyond recognition, but just barely visible was a much-worn part at the end, highlighted in ink.

"I have studied the rites and beliefs herin to a point that their spirits will not cease to haunt me. I beg any who find this book to destroy it, for if not it will surely destroy you, as it has destroyed me! Burn it, burn it or they will just use-"

That was all that Dolash could understand of it. He looked down on a table, and gently picked up half of an old, corroded lightsabre.

Exar, ran around the corner and killed Dolash

Dolash flipped through book after book, scanning pages for information on lightsabers. Amongst the near-infinite tomes that filled the library, however, the answer could be lost forever. It was as the sun beat down from high in the sky, that Dolash found himself looking at a mug of tea, politely proffed by the Jedi Librarian Yuri. Dolash found himself surprised, and managed a polite nod of thanks.

"You know" said Yuri "there are other Jedi here, all of which would be glad to help. There's no way a single person like yourself could be expected to sift through all of these books. by himself."

Dolash spoke, unsure of himself "Well... all right then. I guess you're right, there are a lot of books here." He made his way to the table in the middle of the library, where the other Jedi congregated. Seeing them as individuals rather then a mass caused Dolash to notice some interesting traits. There were only two humans, odd considering humans were perhaps the most common Jedi. A devorian was present, as was a Frozian, a Rodian, and a Twi'lek. Dolash had difficulty, even now, determining their genders, as aliens were not a speciality of his. Even amongst Jedi, they appeared to be an oddball group. Dolash bowed, only to have his nose flicked light-heartedly by the Devorian.

Dolash frowned "I believe the correct protocol is to bow."

The devorian chuckled "Sure. I think it's probably protocol somewhere to respect your fellow Jedi. We all noticed how you ducked us the other day. What's got you coming back now?"

Dolash decided to ge right to the point. He slapped down the broken lightsaber into the middle of the table. His colleagues looked at it with surprise. "This lightsaber was found in the city sewers in a room adorned with symbols and glyphs of a dark nature. Perhaps property of a corrupted individual in possession of a dangerous artefact in the form of a book. I am trying to locate information pertaining to this lightsaber before nightfall, when he is sure to appear again."

There was only a second of surprise before the table split up to cover the library. Dolash was gladened, and found his usually restless mind calmed as he worked alongside these fellows whom he had seen but rarely ever spoken with.

But as the sun fell in the sky, they had yet to find anything. "It's as if every book on such lore has been removed." remarked the Rodian. Yuri continued to provide them with tea, and the search seemed hopeless. Finally, when it seemed their time was up, and Yuri had brought them their last serving of tea, one of the humans - Dolash was still unused to their names - hurried over with a book clutched gleefully "It was on the floor, near the back. Someone must have dropped it, and I wouldn't be surprised to learn that it was the mysterious man."

They crowded in silence around the book, entitled Lightsaber Lore throughout the millenia. Eyes scanned pictures of lightsabers, until finally an image of a clean, new lightsaber were found to resemble the corroded, breaking example they had before them.

"It says" said the second human, called... something, Dolash couldn't recall "That these lightsabers were produced in large numbers during an old war against the Sith millenia ago. The style was dropped, however, when their empire collapsed."

Everyone looked at the lightsaber. "It is a relic" said Dolash "and one of it's value could only be found here, in the Order. This is perhaps why he is trying to break in. We have, as it were, a clue."

It was then they noticed that the sun was about to vanish over the horizon. "I must go" said Dolash "as my suspect still eludes me."

"We're coming with you" said the Twi'lek firmly "Isn't that right?" The other Jedi rose firmly. Dolash was surprised, but quickly he recovered, and gave them a brief smile of aknowledgment.

It was a more difficult task maneauvering a half-dozen or so people out of the Order, but they managed it in silence and were soon past the rock and into the tunnels.

The tunnels were darker then usual. There was almost no light filtering in from above, leaving the Jedi shifting through long shadows. Dolash began to wish he had constructed his own lightsaber, but felt confidence in his claws and other natural weapons in the darkness.

"Keep tight" muttered someone behind Dolash, but as they went deeper all of Dolash's senses dulled so he could not tell who. He felt only through the force, past the glowing presences of his comrades and into the invisible places before them. That was why he ducked.

A smoke grenade hurtled over his head and exploded in their midst. Dolash dived out of the smoke, finding himself in another dead-end, similar to the one he had last encountered his enemy. As the Jedi behind him ignited their lightsabers and stumbled in the cloud, Dolash saw before him his foe.

The man was floating, his face contorted in agony, speaking each word from the open book as if the sound was tearing his mind apart. Before Dolash could act, the book burs into black flames, and out of the man's screaming mouth flew terrible shades.

Dolash then went blank.

As an Azguard, he had two brains. But like a sudden, awful maiming, his active brain, the survival one, became totally cut off. His second brain struggled for control of the body, only to find that a new presence had taken over. A dark presence.

Seeing through the eyes, but not controlling them, Dolash watched as shades struck the other Jedi, and immeadietly assumed control. Darkside energy was pouring through the tunnel.

It was then that Dolash realized what was going on. The dark presences in the book, the Sith inside, had taken control.

His mind blistered with rage. The Sith presence inhabiting his other mind, taken by surprise by the Azguard anatomy, was driven out. Retaking control of his body, Dolash concentrated all his mastery of the force in shielding himself. Left in the open air, with no mind to inhabit, the apparation dissipated in a puff of smoke.

It was then Dolash remembered the other Jedi. They no longer looked friendly. With lightsabers poised and malicious grins, their bodies now the tools of long-trapped spirits, Dolash found himself surrounded. His claws slid into place.

But... no. Dolash did not have time to think, to weigh and measure his options. And yet, his instincts stopped him from doing what would be natural to a cornered fighter.

Instead, he waited. As the other Jedi approached, he focused all his energy on his fists. In all the universe, for those moments, all that existed were his fists. Finally, one broke away to strike him.

He grabbed the swinging hand with all the might he could muster. The other Jedi descended on him, and at his size Dolash could hardly dodge. Instead, he used the grabbed Jedi as a club, and in a sweep sent them all sprawling. As, one by one, they rose, he struck with terribe force, knocking them off their feet and out of their senses. The shades were driven from their bodies, and Dolash's concentration - although painful to maintain - kept him steadily fighting until his colleagues lay stunned around him.

It was about this point that the lightsaber went straight through his chest.

Dolash, in a fit of rage, turned and rammed his claws through the chest of his attacker, pinning him to the wall. It was his long-hunted quarry, and as the shadows faded from his face, Dolash saw the frozen features of the old Jedi Yuri, the librarian. Dolash fell to his knees, his body weakening from his wound. As his eyes darkened, his thoughts were a haze of noise drowning out all other voices.

Dolash awoke, his vision hazy, in a hospital section of the Order. He groaned, and rubbed his face, which sent little shots of pain through his body. It was another minute before he could lift himself up, and appraise his surroundings.

In the little room was the various medical equipment common to such a place. Someone had left him some food, in case he awoke, although it had long ago gone cold. If the clock on the bedside table was accurate, then it was still very early in the morning, and Dolash found himself slipping back off to sleep.

His mind was in pain for a brief second, only to return to normal. He realized that he was dreaming, although this was no ordinary dream. Before him was the insubstantial figure of Yuri, the slain librarian. His shape shifted between the Jedi and the hunched figure clutching the book, he was somehow both at the same time. Dolash reached out, but despite how close he seemed an infinity of space lay between them.

"Dolash." Yuri said, his voice faint. "You have killed me. I am undone."

"No..." said Dolash "You... you were already destroyed. The tome you found in the library was what destroyed you. You even concealed books you knew would help us find you, that was why it was so hard to find a book about lightsabers."

Yuri seemed as if he was trying to remember something, but was failing. "Did... I? Was that... me? Was there any of me left? My mind was lost to the Sith, I had no power left. But who I was... that was still alive, until you destroyed me."

Dolash, however, remained staunch. "You failed, Yuri. You gave in to the power in the book, and that is what destroyed you. You could not be saved, there was no choice."

Yuri suddenly became furious, and his spirit seemed to multiply as if he filled the whole of space. "It was you who failed me!" He shrieked. "You who failed the weak and the helpless, you who failed your Jedi Oath! You are the one responsible for my death! You!"

Dolash felt his very mind being weighed down by Yuri's anger and guilt, but as if from some deeper source he felt the strength build to hurl them away. The apparations of Yuri vanished as Dolash roared in response "No!"

In a flash, Dolash awoke, and awoke again, only to find himself in the sewers, where he had fallen down a second ago. Searing with inner strength, he expulsed the last Sith-being that had burrowed into his mind and reduced it to a wiff of smoke. Panting, and clinging his injury, Dolash appraised the situation.

The other Jedi were stirring, although painfully. Once again, Dolash felt his entire body become heavy as his wound began to pulse more pain through his system. As he staggered, the other Jedi caught him before he fell.

His body still bleeding and an alarming rate, Dolash was carried out of the sewers in complete silence. None dared so much as whisper about what just happened.

The sky was still dark when they rushed into the Order Temple, and Dolash was laid out in the hospital section. His eyes were dark to the rapid operation, the force-energy that was implemented, and finally the mending of the wound. The pain was dull and distant, for instead he was drawn to an apparation it appeared only he could see.

Smiling, at the far end of sight, appeared to be the image of Yuri. But unlike in the dream, he was truly himself. Dolash kept his sight pinned to the old Jedi, until he fell unconcious.

Eventually, he rose again. His wound no longer bothered him, and he felt his strength renewed. His companions - for now, that was how he viewed them - had left him to rest in peace.

Dolash let out a long sigh of relief, and a feeling of ease washed over him. With the events that had played out, he almost felt as if some chapter had been closed, some wrong righted. As he lifted himself out of the cot, a fellow Jedi arrived at the door.

"Your presence has been requested in the Main Hall." He said, with a hint of respect evident in his voice for the towering alien. Dolash bowed in response.

He dressed quickly in his robe, and observed the sun rise over the City. It was a beautiful thing to see, and lifted his spirit for the meeting to come.

Leia sat alone in the Main Hall, her only company a mug of strong tea. It was fairly early in the morning, and very few of the many Jedi who called the Academy their home were up and about yet. As a result, the usually clamorous common area she was seated in was blissfully quiet.


It had been some time since the broken and bleeding (but still alive and strong) Dolash had been brought back to the Academy's meager medical ward by his Jedi friends. While the Azguardian Jedi had been laying unconscious in a hospital bed, Leia had spent a substantial amount of time looking over the injured Padawan, often deep in thought.


Dolash had literally been working his training solo after the disappearance of Jedi Master Cole. Leia had been around, but had usually been too busy handling the younger Padawans to actively give him much attention, and Dolash had seemed content to go off on his own for a while. Leia hadn't seen or heard from him at all... until he had been carried in the other day in quite a sorry state. Now she wondered if she should have made more of an effort to reach out to him...


She knew there was little she could do about the past now. But there was plenty to be done with the future, and the first order of business had been summoning Dolash to meet with her as soon as he was well enough again to get around comfortably on his own. That time had finally come, and so Leia sat alone in the Main Hall sipping her tea, and waiting for her summoned Azguard to join her.

Dolash walked in an ever-expanding sphere of silence through the hallowed halls of the Jedi Order. Each footfall was like a mighty clash, alone in the quiet dawn. He followed his guide, but his attention was drawn to long windows resting on the outside wall of the hall. There, the daylight that had just began to flow glinted off of the city, and the shadows melted in their path.

It was instinct, Dolash recognized. All people were born with instinct, an instinct of right and wrong that only after that moment became open to redefinition and reinterpertation. The Force, however, never lost this instinct - it was instinct, primordial thoughts from the dawn of time that could not be broken or remade. And like the most base thoughts, it possessed many facets, some of anger and desire, and some of selflessness, some of that urge to protect.

Now that he knew the how, he found he did not need the why. The Force was instinct, and he served it because on his lowest levels of thought, those uncorrupted by any outside influence, he knew it to be right, to feel right. And as instinct was shared by the masses, it was only a matter of getting around the barriers and influences of the outside world and suddenly you were connected with everyone.

With mounting confidence that overruled his horrendous wound, he followed his guide into the presence of Leia, and bowed.

Leia stood to greet Dolash as he joined her, and the courier whom had led the Azguardian to her took his leave. Leia smiled up at Dolash; even though he was stooping slightly as he bowed, his tall Azguardian frame still towered over her.


"Dolash... I am glad to see you're finally up and about again. You had everyone worried there for a little while..."


Leia gestured for Dolash to have a seat in a nearby chair, and as he located one that would suit him Leia reclaimed her own seat.


"After hearing a few rumors about your recent adventures, I thought it might be good for us to sit down and catch up on things. I know you haven't really had anyone to go to if you needed since Cole dissapeared...."


Leia smiled again, softly.


"I have been keeping tabs on you though. Seems like you've come a long way since you first joined us... I'm proud of you. Not many Padawans make it in their training as far as you have.


What have you been up to recently? You've certainly had some excitement, judging from the condition you came back to the Academy in... how do you feel about what you've been accomplishing, about how far you've come? Has the Academy been an atmosphere which accomodated your needs...?"