No format specified, so using GDoc link.

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1ZHyN9G39D540fnJB4W9VwiR6BRjGbXhn2FYXYK95Thg/edit?usp=sharing

Sorry to be boring, but it works well. :P

https://docs.google.com/document/d/11ZRGnOjUBjyuk998kbPm8tVL1rUSiFYMOFbXhdK2WIc/edit?usp=sharing

The Vision

On the ice planet of Hoth, Hunter Joe Durham stops his tauntaun and waited for the others to catch up with him. “It’s over here, I can feel it. Like a deep dark and eery voice calling out to me.” Joe said.
"Damn kid, you sure work fast. You truly are my student." His master, Savant Kromtal Bloodfyre Stormfyld replied as he caught up with Joe.
Rian Taldrya, the Consul of Clan Taldryan, nodded in agreement as Master Sith Bloodfire Tarentae appeared by Joe’s side.
"Well, there isn't much here, though there is a strange darkness up ahead." Sith Bloodfire said.
"The temperature is dropping. We better return to the ship." Kromtal replied as he checked the temperature. They all nodded and turn around back to the base.
"Hear me…"
Joe stops and turns around. He could have sworn he heard someone.
"I have waited for you… for such a long time… help me…"
Now Joe heard it… he couldn't help but feel chilled to the bone. He didn't know what was going on.
"Joe what's wrong?" Rian asked, sensing Joe’s uneasiness.
"Kid, you ok?" Kromtal asked.
"Seek me out… find my voice…" This time, it wasn't in his head, it came from the wind. Rian and Kromtal reached for their lightsabers. Sith Bloodfire simply closed his eyes and reached out with the Force.
"Who are you?" Joe called out to the wind.
"It's probably the Force kid." Kromtal said. However, everyone knew it wasn't. It was something more human. More sinister.
"I have waited to be found… for so long… I remain trapped, unable to break free… unless by a Force user…" The voice stated.
"Where can we find you?" Sith Bloodfire called out.
"Trust your feelings… they will lead you too me… help you in the young one’s quest I can… to become a Knight … I can… to gain power" The voice faded out before it went silent.
"Ok… I don't know what's going, but I say we get the hell out of here." Kromtal stated.
"Agreed, I don't know what that was, but we cannot trust it." Rian replied.
"He did call me out, stating he needs help from a Force user… I'm going to find him. Sith told me to feel the Force flowing through me through my feelings. My feelings are telling me to go to him." Joe said.
"And your insight serves you well Young one." A voice from behind them stated.
The four of them turn to see former Grand Master Chi Long standing before them.
"This is impossible." Sith Bloodfire gasped. replied. Chi Long stood there looking less solid than ever.
“Who or what are you?” Joe asked.
"I'm a ghost, child. I am connected to the Force and will continue to be tied to this world until my goal is complete." Chi Long stated before Sith Bloodfire could ask what was going on.
"The person who is trying to make contact with you is very powerful. Never before have I felt such power in my life. No Grand Master in the entire history of the Brotherhood was ever this powerful. Not even Palestine was this powerful. I don't know who he is… however; I feel he can be trusted as he will be a powerful ally. The only problem I seem to have, is I can't figure out who he is. He is shutting himself off from being detected through the Force. Even contacting you seemed to have created a disturbance in the Force." Chi Long stated.
"Can he truly aid us?" Joe asked. For a moment Chi Long remained silent. He spoke again and all of them listened intently.
"There once was a legend amongst the ancient Jedi… of a very powerful Dark Jedi who had a huge dark side army behind him. All of them were individuals with both powerful and unique skills in the dark side. Along with some of the greatest Jedi and Sith of the Jedi order and Sith Orders. They came from the Unknown Regions and they reigned death and destruction for centuries, the likes of which the Galaxy had nor has seen since. The Army was called the Hordes of Drakuul, it’s leader was known as the Demon of Drakuul. The Sith and Jedi joined forces but were ultimately defeated. They succeeded in wiping out almost the entire Galaxy. Then suddenly one day they just vanished. And the Galaxy returned to the way it was. When it was all over none of the survivors remembered anything about the Hordes or Drakuul. The legend states, one day… this person will return to the known Galaxy and regather his Hordes to destroy the one who will come to be known as the Prophet of Drakuul. When that day comes skies will turn black, entire star systems will be destroyed, oceans will run red with blood, the Force will scream out and backlash against this apocalypse but to no avail. Nothing can stop the Demon and his Hordes except the Prophet of Drakuul. Beware dark days lay ahead that may spell the end of the very Force itself. Pity the living, envy the dead. "
"Are you saying, an army of death is here on Hoth?" Rian replied shocked to hear what he refused to believe but knew was true.
"Yes. I’m sure you all have felt a grave coldness deep in your hearts since the moment you landed on this planet.” Chi Long said, becoming more transparent by the second.
"Tell us what to do Master...PLEASE!” Sith Bloodfire as the skies became deathly gray and the wind began to pickup. Joe noticed that if Sith was this scared then they should all be pissing their pants by now. He had a bad feeling about this.
"Trust your feelings." Chi Long replied as he vanished.
All they could do was stare in disbelief at the spot where Chi Long had been. As the sky was now terrifyingly black, Joe turned around and headed towards the ice mountain and everyone followed.
It only took them five minutes as to find a hidden cave entrance. Joe went inside and looked around. Though he wasn't entirely sure, he swore he could feel the Force flowing through the cave.
"This place is well hidden." Sith replied as he entered the cave.
They looked around to see it was a beautiful place to be in. Joe was studying a strange crimson crystal when Sith suddenly shouted.
"What is it!?" Rian asked as the three of them immediately ran over.
They found him unconscious on the ground.
"Look." Joe said, pointing towards the crystal wall in front of them. They looked and saw a shadow in the crystal. However, when they looked more closely, they realized they were staring at a person who was wearing dark robes with armor and a strange mask. It had sharp, jagged fangs protruding from its mouth and two long horns protruding from its forehead.
"You have found me." The voice replied.
"Who are you?" Luke asked.
"I...am...DEATH!” The voice boomed throughout the whole cave and suddenly there was this huge wave of red light blinding everything and everyone.
“Uhh ahh!” Joe awoke with a red flash of light leaving his eye. He shot up quickly from his bed inside his room in the Clan Taldryan headquarters. “It’s coming.” Was the only thing that left his lips.

The Jedi pressed pursed lips to a clenched fist while he gazed into the distance, the faint scratch of his untrimmed beard, a momentary sensation, recalled him to the present. The memory of Nar Shaddaa clawed within his mind, the innocents in the street caught in the blast of the Plagueian's grenade. The concourse had emptied which left Wolfe alone to sulk, something he preferred at this point. Wolfe stood with the weight of his heel upon his well-worn cloak which caught, held fast, and he stumbled to catch his balance afterward.

"Introspection never was your strong suit, was it, child?" The calloused voice rasped, a shiver to match traversed the Jedi's spine.

"You've wallowed in doubt quite long enough, child, much longer and the Jedi will begin to wonder. Aren't attachments forbidden, after all? Ever still, sentimental as you are, you couldn't pick a path to follow attack and throw yourself before your enemy to protect those you never knew he would dare to target, like a fool. Or accept risks and mitigate." The specter made a visible gesture of defeat and moved across the concourse, its face contorted in the devilish sneer he had always given the Acolyte when he had been his Master.

The air between them was filled with the silence that came before storms, Wolfe had grown used to this over the last several years, but now it only punctuated the severity of the moment. The projection of his Master crossed the concourse and the pallor of the Sith was clear now to his student. Still, in this moment Wolfe grasped for words but could find none, and his Master's ghost continued to overshadow him. The poltergeist spoke his innermost doubts aloud and shook him to his core.

"I wonder, how efficient was that grenade? What was the casualty rate? Two or three, perhaps a dozen civilians? How many did he wound because of your inaction, my pet?"

Wolfe looked into the ephemeral eyes of his long-dead master, rage boiled over and his hands shook with an unmitigated source. But he was given something he had an answer to at this point, a question with a solid, definitive answer.

"Eleven dead, thirty wounded from the detonator. Degrees of injury vary. Collapsed lungs, burns, falling injuries from the detonation. Multiple injuries stem from the panic we caused in our fight. Largely those are attributed to trampling and crushing injuries from people trying to escape the source of the blast and gunfire." The Jedi spoke with an almost obscene clarity to his voice, eyes locked with his Master, old habits died hard.

"It speaks."

"I wasn't finished," Wolfe cut his master off, eyes forward as he looked through him and to the city beyond, "I wanted to say you were right, but I was so intent back then on getting away from you I never could admit it. Nothing in this world is the way we see it, and everything can be altered to suit our purposes. We can even be broken down to suit the needs of others. At the same time, there are aspects of this world that do not change. We do have to choose a path and walk it, what we face on that path can be altered, but we choose how we get there, and we cannot change how got where we are. I'm forever stuck with what you did to me, but I get to choose now what I do with this gift."

The sound of the imploder played once more in the Jedi's mind and he sighed.

"People will die, it is an immutable fact of our world. I had to kill you to get to where I am, I cannot be so naive as to think people will not die where your ilk or mine are involved."

Actinic blue lightning flashed throughout the throne room, heralded by a manic roar of unrestrained rage fuelled by mania and the pain of betrayal. Like a font spewing forth apostate bile, Mejas Doto, di Primus Tenebrous Arconae shouted an inarticulate challenge, one hand holding bloodfang, his signature double-bladed lightsaber dormant, whilst his other directed the lethal coruscating currents.
There were five equites arrayed before him, their resolve unwavering despite the onslaught. Malidir Erinos, a tank of a man and a warrior of unparalleled fury wouldn’t leave the throne room the same. He’d sustain an injury which took months of recovery, and never again would he wield a weapon with the same artless finesse. Still, Sashar, his brother, had brought him into this fight, this coup. For the result, he’d gladly have paid the price again, had he known. A bargain, Malidir would later remark.
Strategos and Timeros had readily agreed to depose Mejas in such a fashion. It was one of the few times the Erinos and the Entars had seen eye to eye. The insane Zabrak was Consul, yes, and had made each of the five Arconae, but he was leading the clan down a path it wouldn’t survive. His obsession over the arcane spelled ruin, and it was their sworn duty to protect the clan from any threat - from outside or within.
Finally, there was Zandro Erinos and Sashar himself. Sashar had endured the Zabrak’s mentorship, and endure was the closest he could come to referring to it. Mejas Doto was infatuated with control and destruction. He’d only ever taken one apprentice, his Proconsul Sashar, and he demanded a high price. Sashar had forsook his family, pledging himself fully to the blue-skinned maniac, gritting his teeth as the Dark Jedi Master literally tore through his mind, telepathically twisting, unravelling his sanity to the absolute brink.
It was unending. Mejas would delve into his memories, humiliating him with his failures, shaming him with his most intimate thoughts for days on end, always scratching away at his protege’s resolve, stripping away his dignity and humanity until his very soul felt exposed, like a live wire.
Sashar had suffered.... Indignities for months for just this moment. Later, on reflection, he’d barely be able to recall the details of the battle, as Mejas had thrown more than lightning and screams their way. His true power came in the whispers and scrying of their most base, animal fears, then assaulting them with unending visions of those very fears. He was a personified nightmare, a mausoleum of hatred and vindictive spite, grasping and clawing at their minds. It distorted perception in the moment, and after the fact, it was hard to tell what parts were real.
Afterwards, there were only four of them left standing. Two Entars, Two Erinos. Between them, Mejas knelt, pinned to the floor, bellowing commands even as they slid the beskar collar around his neck, wrought just for him. Abruptly, there was silence. A silence that would last two blissful years until Mejas broke free and once again tore through Arcona, only this time vengeance was to be his only goal. The abrupt disconnection from the Force scarred Mejas Doto far more than any physical wound could. It was like surgically removing his legs. He was rendered speechless in shock and bereavement, and with his shock came an end to his crawling through Sashar’s mind.
Peace.

-=[]=-

Sashar was awake almost instantly. That nightmare was a familiar one, and after so long, it was reassuring just to remember that the darkest days of his life had long since passed. Only, something was different.
He swatted for the lightswitch on his nightstand, taking note of the cold sweat adhering him to his sheets. The mandalorian paused halfway through the gesture, sitting bolt upright. Something was probing his mental defences, testing for a weakness. Years of allowing a foreign mind to touch his had built his psychic walls high and thick with a will like a bar of beskar. But like a river carving through a mountain over millenia, everything wears down eventually. A trickle could become a torrent.
“No, no no…” Sashar muttered as he threw back the sheets and got up, running from the bedchamber to the central room of his small quarters. He threw open the balcony doors, the thin curtains billowing about him, his bare feet slapping on the cold stone and looked up with mounting dread.
It was a clear night, stars shining down like pinpricks in the raiment of heaven. Dancing amidst them was a shuttle, coming in for a landing.
“He’s back,” Sashar whispered more in disbelief than anything.
Emanating from the shuttle like a pulsar was the presence of a man Sashar had personally given a carbonite bath. There was no way he could blast his way out of that.
Still, despite all evidence to the contrary, there was no refuting it: Mejas Doto had returned.