Upon returning to the Zoiji Confederacy in earnest, Orono and his family set about ending the Inheritor-Old Republic Revolt for good. Authorizing the use of ‘Silencers’, fleet-destroying superweapons salvaged from the days of the Sith Empire, single battleships were able to obliterate armadas ten times their number in a single shot. Through the Force technique known as battle meditation, the Zoiji were able to bolster the morale of their troops on a galactic scale. The lead to a line of heated, but successive routs on several worlds: Corellia, Coruscant and Dras Edoc’sil, to name a few. Obi-Wan and General Grevious were placed in the more entrenched fields of battle, and so were unreachable until the fighting ended, despite many attempts to establish a communications link. Knowing this, Masters Atris, Vrook Lamar, Kavar, Vash and Zez Kai-Ell sought to draw out Revan, the Confederacy’s Supreme Commander, and defeat him in single combat. However, this plan quickly went astray...
Dantooine, near the ruins of the old Jedi Temple, daybreak...
Five hooded figures approached the jagged collection of rubble and steel framework that had once been their temple. Magnificent in its glory days, it was now akin to carrion, a corpse that had not quite finished decaying. But that no longer mattered. Once Revan fell, all would be as it should. They stopped at a steep staircase that once led to the main hall and beheld a dark robed figure. Igniting their lightsabers one after the other, they prepared to do battle with the once-Prodigal Knight. Or so it seemed...
“So predictable.” the figure said to them. “Even after several thousand years, this place draws you like moths to a flame.”
“Turn and fight, Revan.” Atris said in a defiant voice, her blue lightsaber raised high in an Ataru fighting stance. “Or are you nothing but a coward?”
The figure turned to face the Jedi, and their hearts immediately sank. The armor and robes of their target were copied down to the minutest detail, but the mask was itself unique. Narrow eye slits were placed within its black-red metal, with curved lines and ridges adorned with nearly floral Aurabesh writing.
“I hate to disappoint you, but it is not Revan you fight today, but Orono Zoiji!” their opponent said in a proud, mocking tone.
“Ah, yes. We’ve heard of you,” Master Ell said calmly. “Strange to find you in our target’s place.”
“He is beneath this duel. His place is on the battlefield, crushing your army underfoot and preserving the glorious Confederacy.” Orono shot back, his hand slowly raised in a fist to the sky, like a master orator before his audience.
Vrook Lamar let out a short laugh,
“Heh, what is your Zoiji Confederacy, but a nation dedicated to the dark side?”
“How convenient of you, Lamar.” “Anything that deviates from your teachings is inherently born of the dark side. But you are wrong. The Confederacy has been reared on the words and teachings of Revan. The Force is in balance here; light and dark working in concert to keep the peace and destroy those who would disrupt it. Including you.” Orono answered calmly, but with a trace of venom in his voice.
“So it’s true, then. The Throne-Breaker, Revan’s greatest follower is one created from a syringe.” Atris retorted in a hiss.
“Once, but no more, Through Revan’s teachings, I have overcome all boundaries. Factions, fate, physical form, even the Force itself mean nothing to me. I am the master of my destiny and unlimited power.” Orono shot back, his rage becoming prominent in his snarling lips.
“So if you are truly immortal, then why leave your mentor and inspiration as a man?” Vash asked, crouched to the ground, ready to leap.
“Ha, the ignorance of the Jedi is endless. No, I gave Revan the first of many rewards. He earned the right to become ageless when he saved you contemplative windbags. Twice.” Orono countered with a short laugh.
“Enough!” Master Kavar yelled. “Let us finish this.”
Orono’s double-bladed lightsaber flew to his hand, and its blue-violet blade flashed to life.
As one, the former Jedi Council attacked the Throne-Breaker. However, instead of meeting their charge head on, Orono stood his ground, waiting for each Council member to act. Using the Force, he pulled Lonna Vash forward faster than her leap intended, smashing her against a jutted pillar of metal and breaking several bones. He then turned his attention to Master Kavar, matching him blow for blow. Then he increased the speed of his hands to such a rate that his lightsaber quickly became a blur of flashing color. Kavar fought valiantly, but soon fell back on one knee under the strain, giving Orono enough time to strike him on the head with the hilt of his blade, knocking him unconscious. Next he leapt to the side, avoiding Zez-Kai-Ell’s blade and extended his free hand. Within seconds, intense bolts of neon blue lightning were barreling down on the Jedi Master as he fought. The spasms of pain proved too much, and he fell sprawled onto the ground after exchanging a few blows. Now only Vrook Lamar and Atris were left. In spite of their skill as combatants, the solution was simple. With a thought, Orono willed a duplicate copy of himself into existence. Ignoring their shocked expressions, he directed it against Lamar, allowing him to focus on Atris. With the push of a button, the hilt of his lightsaber split from a staff into two separate ones and after a hasty fight on Atris’s part, she too was subdued along with Vrook Lamar.
The Masters could only watch as Orono stood triumphantly over them, with fourteen spectral forms materializing beside him. Their light dimmed and their identities were revealed: Bastilla Shan, Canderous Ordo, Carth Onasi, Mission Vao, Zaalbar, Juhani, Jolee Bindo, T3-M4, HK-47, Mira, Visas Marr, Meetra Surik, Brianna, Bao-Dur and Atton Rand.
“Why beat us, Throne-Breaker? Simply to demonstrate your power?” Atris asked through a bloody mouth.
“No. I mean to give Revan the one thing he sorely lacks: happiness. Because of your bigotry, he could never express the love he felt for his wife beyond closed doors. Because of your inaction and the Sith’s hedonistic need for war, he never saw his child grow up, let alone become a man. Because of your indifference, he remained in purgatory, unable to fight alongside his allies one last time. Now, I mean to correct that.” Orono said firmly.
“This cannot be.” Vrook Lamar managed in weak whispers. “No one can resurrect the dead.”
“I’ve lived ten thousand years on this earth and I know for a fact that isn’t true.” Orono countered.
His eyes flashed bright light and suddenly the five Jedi slumped to the ground, dead.
One year later...
Revan sat against the bar of the Dealer’s Den cantina on Coruscant, where his last, ill-fated adventure had begun many years ago. The conflict had ended, but Revan had now lost the sense of purpose that came with each war. There was nothing to stop, no immediate threat, and to his knowledge, no one from his past life was still alive.
Suddenly, his commlink buzzed.
“Yes?” he asked, not even bothering to mask the boredom in his voice.
“Revan? It’s Orono. Come to the landing pad. There’s a reward for you.”
Since he had no immediate plans, Revan did as instructed. A short walk later, he came upon the temperamental, but unbelievably fast starship that traveled from the galaxy and back: the Ebon Hawk. Orono stood in front, a proud grin on his face. Sighing Revan said,
“Orono, I appreciate the gesture, but she’s only a ship.”
“Not quite. She came bearing cargo.” Orono said with a touch of mystery in his voice.
On queue, the landing ramp slid down, and Revan saw a figure he never thought he would again. Bastilla. Not only her, but also all his old companions, along with new faces. Turning to Orono, he grabbed him by the shoulders, tears welling up in his eyes and leaned in close to whisper,
Now, Revan a life to live again, one to keep him sane amidst the unrelenting cycle of war...