"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.

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.