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.
“Gladly.”
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,
“Thank you.”
Now, Revan a life to live
again, one to keep him sane amidst the unrelenting cycle of war...
