"You have dishonored our name!" The father cries, advancing on the son, blue blade held high above his head, in a Form V style atypical for the Makashi duelist; anger ruled here.

Several yards to the side, the body of a young woman lies broken and mangled. The girl is dead. And so is something in the boy.

Green clashes against blue again, high and to the boy's left, he turns his wrist, snapping his blade along the length of his father's, trying to take wrists, score a fight ending blow.

Tearfully. "I LOVED HER!"

"SHE WAS A WHORE."

"NOOOOOOOOOO" Bereaved rage takes the boy, already a tall and muscled 6'1'', taller than his father by several inches, the green blade is cocked back and smashed against the blue wall of defense his father weaves with his blade, smashing down again and again and again, seeking to overpower the more skilled fighter with sheer rage amplified by grief.

Present day.
Ruby sitting back down at his table shook the man from his revery. His dark eyes looked back up at her from where they had been staring morosely at a now mostly empty plate of food, he hadn't realized just how hungry he actually had been. It'd been a long time since he'd allowed himself that memory, however much one might find that his past defined his present occupation. He looked at his left wrist, there was a bracelet made of roots braided together. Old, cherished; he'd had it since he was eight years old. A gift.

"You alright kid?" She asks him, watching him he sat there silently. She didn't know a whole lot about the boy that hadn't come from his father, the times that they'd stopped in. But something about the kid was different. Something mad. But it was the quiet, hidden kind of mad that made good people do great things. Righteous mad.

"Yeah I'm fine Ruby." He said, shaking his head and slipping credits out of his pocket, leaving them on table.

"Thanks." As he got up, and moved to the bar, sliding on the stool next to Garik.

"So I don't belong here...And from the way you canvassed the room when you came in... You don't either."

From first impressions and a feeling deep in his gut, Tarodal felt that the man beside him at the bar was one of the former.

He has a smile that goes with a lighthearted shake of his head.

"If I told you that I am the heir to a bloodline that at has protected the galaxy for a millenia, and that tonight the Force has brought you to assist me in making a diiference in a way yet unknown to our feeble perceptions, you'd probably tell me that I've had a bit too much." He pauses, glancing down at the bar for a moment."

"Or perhaps you'll follow me." He said, and being wealthy by appearances and reality, having overheard Ruby's comment about a tab, he dropped a credit chip of more than enough value to cover a bar tab as he slid smoothly off the stool and headed to the exit.

After all, what is money to a man trained from birth to alter the galaxy on a cosmic scale?

But the soul of one good, if jaded man? Perhaps everything.

He makes a show of looking around them, gesturing to the litter about the street they stood on the side of. This was his element in a way, the beginning of the tale, the mystery of it all. The uncertain certainty that the Force was to him.

"Some men are like the trash laying around us. A problem only because no one will do what is nescessary to pick it up."

He takes a deep breath, his eyes closed for a moment.

"You, I believe, delve here by choice. Call it intuition, if you will. I don't sense the Force in you, but it has led me to you, and soon it will lead us to men who are as trash before us, men that require only eradication, or..." He pause for a moment, making a mildly dramatic bow in the direction of Garik,

"If the mood strikes you, incarceration in what I can only imagine to be an inadequate judicial system. You will of course decide what is best when the time arrives. Shall we?"

The Force is with Tarodal this night, as he reaches out with his perceptions, 'listening' for the ripples that emanate from strong actions, and even more so from strong emotions - fear, excitement, even anger. These things ride the night air like the dancing lights from a fading street light that are within Garik's perception of reality. It is these ebbs that will guide Tarodal through the streets, with Garik in tow if he so decides, towards the location of Cobra and Crade, they are several minutes walk away, but Tarodal is now moving that way, certain of what lay before him, if uncertain of its particulars.

He came upon the scene that was Crade and Cobra's tete tete and in that tailored, perfectly fit black suit he watched the pair for a few moments with those dark, hawkish eyes not yet speaking. The Force flowed freely and without hesitation from, for such was the demand of his skills, such was the demand of the simple fact of who and what he was. It came to him, that the man he had 'recruited' at Ruby's was near, and that was as it needed to be. Tarodal didn't nescessarily deal in what one might describe as reason and logic, but rather on an enhanced set of emotions - logic given to him in a certain manner, by the Force itself.

Those that would master Makashi, the Form of Contention, must first truly master themselves. They must silence fear, they must bridle rage and they must even do away with the most serene of contentments and instead dwell somewhere in between control and chaos, somewhere in between many minds and 'one mind'. The most skilled lightsaber duelists will tell that regardless of how many factors there are in a battle, the blades, the people the environment - all these things, but they are all connected in one mind. Indeed, the Force.

And so it was here that the first action Tarodal takes is simple enough. The retrofit old school blaster pistol is drawn and fired in the same fluid moment, fired several times in succession, blue bolts of energy cascading forth from it, but they are not aimed at anyone being present in this locale, but rather at the various street lamps that once served as the scant illumination for this stretch of Coruscant underbelly. After the flash of bolts had ended, those present are left in darkness.

This too is calculated. Intent on challenging other force sensitives for galactic supremacy, Dun Moch is a necessary accessory to Tarodal's complement of skills, but so to is Form 0. Perhaps odd to some that a master of personal combat would have also pursued a discipline that sought to avoid combat at all costs, but to the most wise of force sensitives, the logic is perfectly clear.

"As of this moment, both of your lives are forfeit. Gone into nothingness as the light has fled from this street." His voice is low and smooth, flowing like the most tranquil of rivers, amplified and carried by the Force, so that he seems to be all around the pair talkers, and carried only dimly to Garik. This wasn't about turning Garik into something more useful, more malleable. This was about changing the path, even controlling the path of two lesser beings.

Some burn trash. Some toss it in a landfill. To Tarodal..one man's trash is another man's...tool, if not treasure.

"But if you are wise, and heed my voice and yield to me....Then you may still salvage your existance."

There is several moments pause, as he allows the two men present to consider his already spoken words, before he continues.

A green light bursts onto the scene with the tell tale snap hiss of a lightsaber blade. It is held in Tarodal's right hand, the tip pointed down and to his right, in the most traditional of Makashi opening stances. It is an indication of the alternative.

"You will yield to me all allegiances you may hold, you will swear to be my faithful servants in all things, and to become my students and to obey my words at the cost of fates worse than death..and then death. You will call me your Lord Tarodal, you will kneel to me in these moments, or you will have decided your ill fate..."

"For I would give you life." And then he waited.

like father like son.

this made little difference to Cobra however, "you just gave me the advantage my friend." was all he said as he began to hear the snap hiss of the lightsaber take hold. "you Nintra's never change do you always thinking everyone should be underneath you and that every species is lower than you are. Well my dear Tordal, welcome to the land of the unforgiven." he would then begin to draw upon his own blade and ignite it. allowing the crimson glow to illuminate what darkness there was around him. "as for kneeling before you? no,I don't think so. look around you Tordal and remember where you are do you really think that for one second or even a nano second that what goes on within this area won't go noticed? or do you wish to take everyone else out in the process. for I am not just one but one of many. Ironicaly I have nothing against you yet you automaticaly have something against me because you "sense my presence?"

"you have a lot to learn young one"

his blade was pointed upwards not in an attack mode but more or less to see what his reaction would be. for Cobra's intention was not to attack first but rather to wait for the strike to come to him and then strike back. "come now, do show me what is so Glorious about you so that your presence can illuminate the world.