The Kel Dor Jedi had been marvelling at the spectacle of the Jedi Temple as he moved, now fully clothed and focused intently on locating his Padawan, his black eyes - obscured as they were by his goggles, rendering him no longer blind - sweeping over millennia old architecture and the lifeforms contained within it with a sense of righteous pride and belonging swelling in his chest; for thousands of years the Jedi had protected and enforced the law of the Republic and the Senate, surely such a thing could not be taken away easily?
Yet...
He was not certain, and from what he could sense from those around him, others were as one with his feelings toward something unknown, something sweeping in from a horizon too far off for any Jedi to see. It was a niggling, an itch in the back of his skull even, an unexpected sense of something to come that inwardly infuriated the usually stoic Knight.
Long strides carried him onward through the temple, curt nods given to those he knew in passing, a wave of the hand - a human gesture he had picked up from his years on Coruscant - from his three-fingered hand to those he knew in a more intimate fashion, his mind racing as he tried to focus on where his Twi'lek companion might be at this time of the day; for a moment he stood still within the halls, tapping a finger against the hilt at his belt and taking deep breaths through the mask concealing his almost beak-like mouth. It occurred to him that she could be in the training chamber, as he had been trying to hone her skills, but it was far more likely that she would be meeting with her friend...what was his name again?
Xai'qui.
Where did she usually meet with him?
The Archives!
Even before the thought had reached his own mind he was moving, his Force-enchanced synapses moving his body with a purpose, but then all the order, all the justice, everything he had ever known since leaving his homeworld all those decades ago, was shattered in an explosion that lifted him from his feet and threw his form back against the wall of the corridor - had it not been for the assistance provided by that 'supernatural' sense of all Jedi, he knew for certain that he would have been dead.
In a flick of his wrist he felt the cool metal of his saber hilt once more in his hand, the hem and sleeves of his coarse brown robes slightly scorched, but no life-threatening damage done to himself, slight pressure seeing the hissing beam of pure energy ignite before his eyes. With only this motion he felt better, safer and more secure, as if just wielding the lightsaber in his hand would make him unstoppable. Clearly, he was not foolish enough to believe such nonsense, even if it did come from himself.
Jasma...
An amplified grunt left his lips as he raised himself from the cold floor, flecks of masonry falling from his broad shoulders, larger chunks scattered all about, and at least two of his fellow Jedi laying dead - one not even whole, a sight that never failed to sicken even a hardened warrior.
When the first figure emerged from the smoke, followed quickly by another, he did not bother to ask who they were or why they were here, he simply did. In a flurry of movement, stark white armour illuminated in the smog of brick-dust by the blue glow of his saber, he cut down the pair of Clone Troopers - the markings of the veteran 501st legion on their cooling and now limbless corpses - his thoughts not even registering that he had just struck down two of the former allies of he and his ilk.
Odd as it might seem, he did not feel anything for them, whispering only a short blessing for his own dead comrades, moving off without another word through the gloom - both psychical and metaphorical - that had now descended upon the temple.
Keeping his senses open, and his saber ready, he moved as silently as he could toward a tunnel he knew to be located somewhere close by. There were warrens of them running through and beneath the Jedi Temple, shown to him due to his office as a Peacekeeper, one that he now slid into - making sure the entrance sealed shut behind him - before making his way at a sprint toward the Archives; the Clones, now his enemies, came for a purpose, and he would see it fail...whatever it was.
Minutes that seemed as eons passed, each footfall like a heartbeat, before he eventually found the concealed entrance to the Archives and, Force willing, his Padawan within them!
Stepping cautiously into the interior of the Archives, an area that so far seemed to be undisturbed by the conflict raging in the more outward sections of the temple, he lifted a hand and sought out Jasma through the strands of the Force.
Many others he found before eventually reaching her, his mind seeing their own fear and panic, a great effort put into locating her and her alone. She was indeed within the Archives still, heading toward an exit, but was she close enough to hear him?
"Jasma...Jasma can you hear me?" He shouted, his amplified voice echoing so that those close enough would hear, "I am in the Archives, where are you?! Follow my voice and you will find me. Everyone is in danger, we must all get out, now. By our wits we may still survive this."
Candy Cane Elf
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