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Oh, I'm sure. ~_^

But Sith are known for their prowess in that... ahem... field. Plus they're hyper-masculine and not afraid to have a throw down in a public place. That's my kinda man. XP lol

Yeah.

For some reason super smooth reminds me of mashed potatoes. Man, i want some really good mashed potatoes now. The ones we get here kinda suck. Not buttery enough for my tastes. And they're chunky. Have you ever eaten chunky mashed potatoes?! It doesn't work! o_O

Cool. 
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The emergency lights flicker on, the dark red lights doing little more to light the hallway than the darkness itself. An eerie chuckle echoes down the hallway followed by a harsh, cold breath on the nack of Yi'shar's neck. Yi'shar turns to face the threat but it has vanished; as if it were nothing more than a ghost.

Yi'shar turns back around, his gaze immediately locking with a woman who stands ten feet away from him. Yi'shar had never seen her before in his life and yet she felt vaguely familiar as if he had always known her. Her name... her name... Moyori? Yes. Jedi Master Moyori.

She is dazzlingly beautiful. And she looks much younger; younger than she looks in the mental image Yi'shar suddenly finds in his mind. She smiles at him, a mesmerizing smile which would have melted the heart of the most battle-hardened soldier. She almost makes Yi'shar forget where he was.

"Yi'shar," she says sweetly. "It's been so long..."

...Destiny's Pawn; lower decks...

The elevator doors slide open and Malak steps into the hallway. He looks down both corridors, checking for movements, signs of battle, anything. But there is nothing. He searches through the Force. The Jedi... it was either gone or masking its presence. Whatever else was down here, however, was broadcasting its presence loud and clear.

Like it wanted someone to notice.

...Coruscant; Jedi Temple...

The Sergeant uses his foot to roll the body of the trooper over. The head briefly rolls away like a runaway coin, thudding to the ground as it bumps into another dead soldier. Damn Sith. Always making a mess of things. the Sergeant inhales deeply, the faint scent of scorched flesh singeing his nostrils.

Just about every damn patrol in the district had been whipped out in the little escapade which had taken place last night. The ones who had survived were just lucky bastards. Finally not in the wrong spot at the wrong time. He turns and whistles at the medvac team picking up bodies.

"More over here!" he shouts.

The medics nod. The Sergeant takes one last look at the group of bodies at his feet and walks towards the Temple, taking the last few sips of his coffee. Yup. Mondays...

That's right you tell him LSM!    (stands behind LSM, yelling over his shoulder) Beat him down. 

4 years to start me off. I'm signing up come around again. I love this. It's like an bigger/better extention of my family that's also more kick ass... but I can date these people without feeling creeped out. lol

lol I was talking to one of these perverted mens over here today about "how long they could last". And reading "no matter how long that takes" made me remember that. It's simple stuff like that that makes me smile.   

lol OMG! I love it Cratus! I so want to write that now!

Who's up for a short story? 

Yeah.... super smooth LSM... 

I'd say page 11 or so Konah. That will give you a good understanding of the characters and how they feel towards one another.
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Rane watches Vector's face, searches his mind through the Force. He looks for anything. Anything that would give him a reason to leave the Jedi behind and take Sara for himself; far, far away... But he couldn't find anything. He growls loudly, frustrated. Right now, Vector was more than likely Sara's best chance at survival. Why couldn't he let the Jedi help?

Was it how she would feel in the end? Rane glances down at Sara for a brief moment. She had loved him... once. When she had been the damsel in distress and he her knight in shining armor coming to her rescue. Things were different now though. He had brought this upon her. All this pain and suffering. In fact, all he ever did was hurt her. If only he could control himself!

The sudden trimmer in the Force causes Rane's heart to skip a beat. The drop of sweat trickling down his neck turns ice cold and his body shivers. Yi'shar leaves in a burst of speed.

No... he thinks to himself.

Sara suddenly pushes against Rane in an attempt to get away from him. She had felt it... Rane looks down at her in disbelief, anger and pain swirling in his eyes. He shakes his head desperately.

"No, Sara," Vector barely hears him whisper as he falls to his knees again. "No... I... I killed him! I killed him!" he repeats as she twists from his grasp onto the cold hanger floor.

He reaches for her hand. "For you cyare..."

Sara pulls away from Rane, tears pouring down her face again, her breathing ever more ragged. She clutches the gapping hole in her stomach. She wouldn't survive much longer. She was fighting for her life but Rane had been keeping her alive with his sheer willpower, something Vector had never witnessed. But he was slowly losing his concentration... which meant Sara was dying even faster.

Rane grips his lightsaber in his hand, the pressure almost crushing the barrel. "For... for all the things... he did to you..." he adds, slowly.

Sara shakes her head slowly. The word forms on her lips but no sound emerges. Lies.

Rane turns to Vector, a single tear forming a bright red war stripe down his face. He stands to his feet and leaves, following Yi'shar without another word. Sara lays on the ground, watching him leave, clutching the stone floor as if it would help her hold onto her life.

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Cyare - Mando'a for 'beloved'