"This? This here is a .48-caliber Enforcer pistol, packs enough punch to blow your head clear off. The Jedi are so used to deflecting blaster fire that this little baby often takes them by surprise. Can't bounce back a bullet, y'know. Pravus? Can this thing kill Pravus? Well sure. Pravus' no god, even if he thinks he's one. But nah. I'm not getting paid enough to take down the big boss. I'll leave Pravus for the Jedi to deal with. No, this baby's for taking down whatever target the Inquisitorius- or Arcona- point me toward. If it came down to picking which side I'll have to stick with, I'll probably stick with Pravus. Boss' nuts, but pays well. And if he's taken down, easy enough to slip away in all the inevitable chaos. The Jedi and Resistance got bigger game to go after than some grubby merc. No matter where I go, though, this gun’s staying with me. "

This weapon is Oathbreaker, Ironbane, Hopestriker. Its white light stands against the coming darkness by casting deeper shadows. In the wake of its hue things are cast in harsh relief; a world - neither saintly or demonic - revealed. It tapers into a decidedly lethal point driven home by its wielder: the Grand Master must go.

Nath sat hunched over, her hands clenching and relaxing slowly.

She had decided.

There was a certain satisfaction in killing things with your bare hands, watching slowly as the life drained away. The emotions and stages could be observed, in those moments you saw who you were really killing.

She wanted to see whom she loathed and whom wanted so passionately to see her family’s extinction.

"I'll draw you, my Ryyk Blade, and you'll slam Pravus in the face, right before piercing his darkened heart. You've served me well when facing my enemies, now we'll face an enemy of us all. Let his poisened blood flow! Let his screams echo for years to come! You, my Ryyk Blade will end his reign."

I first picked up my DC-17 during my time as a slave. It was the first thing I ever owned once I escaped. It doesn't complain when I kill, it doesn't scream when I escape, it doesn't question my motives or examine my methods. What would be more fitting, then, than to kill a man who isn't reliable; to kill a man that questions all, trusts nothing, and hoards power at the expense of others? This weapon is my life, and my life will end his.

Assembled on the flight deck of the Nighthawk, Mateus stared around at the motley crew of assembled warriors. Galeres’finest killers, these were his brothers in arms now. All of them had one purpose, no matter where they came from: to slay the enemies of the Shadow Clan.
“A lightsaber is the best killing weapon in the Galaxy, as far as I care. I’ve used blasters for years. I’ve used beskad blades for years too. But nothing cuts like a saber, stops blood flow like a saber. No mess other than body parts,”the Mandalorian said as he tossed his saber hilt through the air.

Catching it, the Mandalorian warrior snarled quietly. “Pravus might see us all coming, even when we surround him, but he won’t feel anything after that last moment when I put a sun through his heart.”

My vibroswords will be his undoing. They are my weapons. Without me, they are useless. Nothing can stand between me and my goal. My blades will leave a trail of blood to his end.

My blade, Abadeer thought, turning his saber over in his hand, it burns and cauterizes. An almost effortless kill, no resistance. Only death. Plunging this weapon through the heart of my enemies is almost too easy, watching the life drain from their eyes, or the lifeless corpse crumple to the ground. Abadeer turned blade on, letting the violet light bathe his skin, the gentle hum beguiling it’s true deadly purpose. Pravus has made his final mistake, and he shall feel my wrath. Abadeer struck out with a flick of his wrist, cutting a nearby ornament he’d collected, the clean stroke taking off the head of the humanoid figurine. The Togruta quickly deactivated, twirled, then stored his saber hilt in it’s proper place on his hip. The confident Sith strode quickly down the halls, towards his destiny, whatever that may hold.

After making sure no one was watching, Arden turned and glared at his rifle.

"Allright you Blastech piece of bantha turd, listen up. I've been tuning your optics, realigning your barrel, and calibrating your focusing crystal for ten hours now and you're still pulling a millimeter and a half to the right. I can't have you pulling that crap when I line up my shot on Pravus as that much pull could kriff the whole thing right. By the time we get to Antei you better be shooting perfectly straight or you're going to be a puddle of slag. You get me?"

This DL-44 has been with me since the Emperor's Hammer, and it will be what finally rids us of Pravus. His insane inquisition has decimated us and set the entire Brotherhood against itself when there are bigger foes to be fought. I was the only one on the Dark Council to defy him. To prove me right, he stole the Sith King's throne from me and gave it to the traitor, Raiju Kang. He considers our Consul, Proconsul and many others of our most respected members "undesirable". We will not follow in his mad attempt at ethnic cleansing, and so he must die. My Clan, my House, our allies, and this blaster will be Death's agents.

"I have a weapon for the attempt. This one HAS to be the one. In old times, it was used so well and killed so many that it must be the only way. Pravus has all his skills; he will expect powerful attempts on his life, not this simple, effective one. The poisoned dagger must be used carefully, by one who knows how to mask their force signature and I know you can.Make the attempt from behind when he is alone. Take it and do us all proud. End this tyranny once and for all."

I must do it. He has power though... you should be able do the deed but I have to catch him off- guard. What about his abilities? He may sense me. I can't hesitate. You can do it. Go directly through the heart; that should finish anyone. You're my only hope, don't fail me now, my friend... *flourishes lightsaber*

He sat in his quarters staring at nothing, slowly turning the bottle in his hands. He felt the rises in the glass that gave various information about volume and alcoholic ratio. Ridges ran around the base ostensibly to give the bottle style and make it more difficult to slide across flat surfaces in an effort to avoid tragedies. To say Bleu had destroyed bottles much like this many times in the past was an understatement, he'd both started and ended fights with them. "Kill tha Grandmaster, sure," he muttered as he popped the top of it off and proceeded to drink. Only person he was likely to hurt in a fight like this was himself.

Today everyone forgets how useful a dagger is. Easy to use, easy to hide. It doesn't make noise like a light saber and can make an unexpected move.