Satele’s lightsaber split through the air in a haze of azure, the saber staff swivelling in an agile twirl of artistry in Satele’s dexterous hands. The alloy was cool beneath her fingertips, gliding effortlessly along her leather covered palms. Blaster bullets streaked past her in a blur of rose reds, splintering the bark of the columnar trees that shook above the conflict.

Satele roamed her sharp blue-grey eyes over the battlefield, the delicate braids either side of her face tapping on her jaw as the wind migrated over the massacre before her. The desperate battle for triumph. For supremacy. One Satele was not so inclined to submit. She was searching for one person: Darth Malgus.

Upon her arrival on Alderaan, the lush valleys were devastated, dust and specks of crimson garnishing the herbage. The once tranquil planet, now the source of a fierce, bitter battle. It was ironic that such a pacifist planet that shunned even the sight of a blaster or the whispers of a battle now housed one in their forests.

Satele knew she should have been here earlier. Queen Silara Panteer, along with the rest of the royal family, were now interned, countless Jedi heavily impaired from the Siths heinous assault. Most had already accepted the reality that Alderaan was now in the clutches of the Sith. Satele wouldn’t allow the planet to be captured so easily.

Heat rushed past her head, scarcely bypassing her cheek in a dash of scarlet. Not from a blaster; it lacked the screech. But instead there was the distinctive thrum of a lightsaber—hastening by before circling back to its owner: You.

Another Sith under Darth Malgus' control. Another Force sensitive lost to the darkness that ravaged the Galaxy. Satele's austere features were marred by a frown, and she strengthened her hold on her lightsaber's cool hilt as she turned to face you.

“If you surrender, the Council will note your yield in your trial.” Satele mused, her voice level as she regarded you. “You may be granted mercy.”

One less Sith could turn the tides of a battle.