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As one's obidient pet would return when issued upon, in the same manner Yaston attempted to guide his own saber back into his hands without any damage down. It chaotically span downwards just within reach of Yaston, slipping his knee, leaving nothing but a sharp, painful abrasion that made Yaston wince. He croaked in agony, and whilst still holding his saber, threw a punch above his own knee, giving a jolting feeling all up and down his leg, before he felt his knee completely go numb. No matter. He felt the final verdict of the match was drawing near anyway.

He walked ackwardly closer towards the twilek, swaying from side to side in a tuanting, but yet serious manner, ready to pounce. He ignited his other blade. Of a color not far off from that of Tamarai's, a duel between the two Force users would seem like nothing but multiple dancing beams of light to one who was dazed.

He crept closer. He let time pass, as to give her a feeling of uncertainty. Randomly, he pounced toward, using his wrist to keep the saber hilt parrelel to his arm as he jabbed forward with one blade, the other one emitting light and heat onto his back.

And so the two continued the duel, trading off attack-defend in a gentlemen's form. The four blades all danced in unison, parrying off one another and sometimes coming to a half altogether, as both blades would clash, and a show of strength would be at hand. More and more, the lose of feeling in his left knee kept Yaston worried, as Tamari seemed to have been focusing more powerful blows on that side. It continued in this fashion for what seemed to be an eternity, but in all reality, was just a few minutes. The previous conquests he had before earlier on had but Yaston into a hyperactive state now, as he thought back. His moves became more blocky, twitchy, with less grace and accuracy, as if he were wasting away.

"Blast, dual phase."

He muttered under his breath, as if to confirm that his thoughts were, indeed, true. Yaston himself had two switches on his saber, one for each respective blade, for the exact same purpose. He always had this dual-phase on, though. For years, he forgot he actually had such a function on his saber. Luckily, the saber was so efficient and regenerative (most likely the strongest saber of its time) that the duel phase had not rendered an energy drain whatsoever.

His eyes widened. She meant to step it up a notch. To get it over with. Even though she did seem misguided and timid, it was quite obvious she had a better attunement of the Force around her, as opposed to him; or so he thought of it this way. Yaston saw it to be a shame that her skill was not complimented with discipline, or so he thought. The winner of the sparr was not evident at all to him. And so, he decided to let the battle play out without any thoughts of what lay ahead of him. Already, the couple of shiims Yaston had left on Tamarai gave way to the fact that he was, indeed, losing his edge in the battle.

The sith in him attempted to find loose, weight objects to throw at the twilek. But alas, there were none to be found on superstructure. Proficient in the ways of Form Zero, Darth Zorn attempted to use ancient Sith malipulation tricks to taunt her, get inside her mind, perhaps throw off her concentration. Still in a neutral, but ready stance, he began.

"It seems as though you have much potential? What went wrong? Why am I feeling as though this is possibly an achievable victory for me, though it is quite evident I lack the grace you seem to possess? Look inside you, girl... you have let the Jedi philosophy taint you mind in a subtle fashion, you have let them block out the truth. I sense you are not happy. I know of this, and I know why. You feel as though you have disobeyed a natural law that does not exist. It is fruitless to feel this way. Only with a full, broad, unbiased understanding of the Force can you ever prosper. And if you feel otherwise, so be it. I have already won, then."

He stifled a cackle, the very edge of his voice like sandpaper.

Aama was in the lead, the force leading her to Tamarai. Tarence was following behind her like a lost child, Aeodia trailing after them, the force around her feeling almost caustrophic.

Her eyes were half closed, and more focused on Tarence and Aama's backs then what was on the ground. Taking a few more steps, her foot caught on something, and Aeodia tripped, went sprawling to the ground.

She managed to land on her knees and the palms of her purple hands. Out of her vest pocket, one of her sabbac cards falling out. It fluttered to the ground and landed face up. Aeodia's eyes widened and she took in a sharp gasp, as the sign for death ended face up to her, staring her in the face.

A omen indeed.

"s**t.."Tarence's voice was a little more then a loud moan, and Aeodia looked up to the two. They had stopped and were staring up at the sky. Aeodia lifted her head up and her heart nearly stopped. Coming to them was a ship - well, a large part one- hurtling with a blazing fire trail behind them. Judging from it's angle - it would hit them smack on.

Aeodia looked frantically at Aama and Tarence. The twilek was looking at it camly, no fear in her eyes. Tarence on the other hand was trembling, but paraylzed to the spot with fear.

Aeodia struggled to her feet, her body not responding very well to her mind. She could hear the wind screaming as the hunk of ship approched them. Once on her feet, she turned blindly and ran. It didn't matter.

It hit them.

Tarence and Aama were crushed and killed instantly. Had Aeodia taken a few more steps, she probably would have been spared. But as the ship crashed, it caught her and slammed her to the ground.

Aeodia hit the ground hard, nearly knocked unconcious, her lower body crushed under hunking metal. Blood trickled out from underneath her silverly blond hair, dribbling down her dark purple skin.

Burned ashes floated down like glowing snow around her. It was most of her sabbac cards that had escaped the vest pocket from the blast. A slightly charred but readable sabbac card came to land right in front of Aeodia who took in shallow breaths, her eyes closed as she rested her head against the ground. A few more struggles for breath...and Aeodia was gone.

Upturned to face whoever would look at it, was the sabbac card for Hope and Renewal.

The accounts of what had happened go as such. When Aama and her padawans had died, it released a wave in the Force, proportionate to their combined Force essence surrounding them. This wave, a commonly-occuring thing, reaches all ends of the galaxy. Those sensitive to the Force pick it up as it travels to them in a manner of minutes; a marvelous thing, the Force is. In the case of death, this would be a negative vibe. Not negative as in corrupt. Negative as in of sorrow, of a good spirit no longer existing in material form. Thought it be said in the Jedi code that one is not to love, in ways, it could be said that sympathy is the foundation of the Force. After all, it is sympathy, from proclaimed good and evil, that moves the Force around, though it is always surrounding us.

The vibe both effected Tamarai, and Yaston, to some pounding extent. It was here that, whilst both were put into some sort of trance, Tamarai fell back onto Yaston's saber. She had her back turned to him. In this process, Tamarai also sliced a large portion of Yaston's face mask off, enough to make his facial expressions visible, and the mask inoperational. It needn't be said, that both were unintentionally responsible for each other's death, on that day.

Yaston had deactivated his saber aside in disbelief. The saber clamered and rattled along the floor, and fell off the lift and to the depths below. It was where it landed that it would be covered up from the events of the battle; the lift would be hit by a large chunk of ship debris, and literally make it implode upon itself, covering the weapon. However, this would not have happened until some time after both had died. Both of their respective sabers, the finest crafted of their day, would be buried under wreckage, until, perhaps, one day, two might be as so lucky as to ensnare them both.

Yaston watched as she came-to, looked about, and then also threw her saber aside. Yaston, who had caught her from her fall, gently and yet firmly lowered her onto the ground, as she stared wide-eyed at him. He knew his mask had been dismantled. The air already was burning his lungs, and scorching his eyes. He didn't care. It would soon be over. He propped her up so she could support herself.

Destiny, as they said, had played out. The fight was over, the victor was decided upon; no one. Yaston himself did not understand exactly how it could end like this. But he knew without a doubt that it was hopeless for both to try and save themselves.

He looked down at the gaping hole he had pierced. Another, killed by his hands. Only now, it made him nauseated. Sick to his stomach, amongst other things. He did not understand how the Force wave had effected him into putting him into a trance. His spirit felt lost; perhaps it had finally found itself, and sided against the Sith. Perhaps the name of Darth Zorn was no more. He came up with a theory as to why seeing Tamarai, in the shape that she was, made him feel this way; the others he had murdered, had not a name to him. Had not a face, had no feelings to him. Tamarai was the first he had slain that he actually felt that he knew, somewhat. He felt as if both were alike, in some ways. As if they both were metaphors for the forces of good and evil, both had many things alike, besides the ultimate path they had chosen that had once made them split and go completely opposite ways. At this moment, he had felt just as sick as the time in which he looked upon the face of his student, Nadea, for the last time.

He attempted to repress tears, as if he could have them with his eyes feeling so scorched. With a worried face, he sarcastically remarked...

"I honestly can say, I never... saw this coming."

He wanted right then and there to express sorrow for what he had done, misguided all these years. He kept it hushed inside him. It made him slightly shake.

With each passing moment she seemed to have been slipping away. With each passing moment, Yaston's sight weakened, as it burned to open his eyes to the atmospheric air, though thin it was. It would only guarentee that his death would be slow and painful, as he started to cough, short of breathe. Then, he started to hack. Uncontrollably, soon thereafter. Through all of this he attempted the best he could to listen in. For the most part, her concepts hit him. Like one would hit into a brick wall.

There was an awkward silence afterwards, interupted by his hacking and spitting, every so often. He himself now lay on the metal grating, looking up at the faint stars.

"If we ever did have fate and the Force guide us, the path itself was maleable. I always... had doubts in my mind, if what I was doing was right. I repressed the feelings though. I never full addressed them. This is why I am here right now. Perhaps, this is, in ways, salvation. I myself will admit to my faults. Your heart lies in the same direction. Perhaps this was the Force's way of preventing further turmoil that really did not have to be sought. Hell... I don't even know what I'm saying. I honestly give up. Have the Force absorb me, I am of no use anymore. Perhaps in another lifetime, maybe. But now... Please... T... Tamarai... if it really comes down to it, will you finish the job? So I may rest in peace, without experiencing any more suffering?"

((aduienc stands up and start cheering and clapping))