Rampant ox
Combatants: Darth Tyranus versus General Greivous and Jedi Master Kenobi. All RotS incarnations.
Setting: The Invisible Hand
"Impossible," Dooku whispered. He quickened his pace. How could his loyal Droid General be a traitor? The very notion was almost laughable, yet the Dark Lord had lost his sense of humour. He approached the large metallic door seperating his corridor from the docking bay. Placing his hand on the sensor lock, he was met with an unexpected response:
"Access Denied."
The computerised voice sent chills down the Count's back. His hunch was correct. General Grievous had re-configured all the ship's code settings, ensuring his master had no way of escaping. Without missing a beat, Dooku turned and headed back down the corridor towards the bridge. He knew he must get off the flag ship. For Grievous was out for blood. Serenno blood.
And the Dark Lord knew there was another on board. A Jedi.
Master Kenobi.
Treachery is the way of the Sith. Dooku knew this. Yet he expected no such treachery from his own subordinates. This arrogance had blinded him. While he was away negotiating with the capitalist corporations of the crumbling Republic, he had become blissfully unaware of the rising tension within his own ranks. Grievous was done with taking orders.
"You won't get away this time, Count."
Dooku stopped in his tracks. He recognised the voice instantly. There was a certain calmness about it - not unlike Dooku's own. The Count brushed his hand through his silver hair; slicking it back. He slowly turned around, plastering an arrogant smile on his already arrogant face.
"Master Kenobi, what a pleasant surpise! I do apologise for not greeting you upon your arrival. I'm afraid the ship is experiencing some, ahh - technical difficulties."
"Oh, really?" The Jedi Master smirked. "Well that's just too bad now, isn't it?"
"Enough with the pleasantries," rasped an all too familiar voice. Dooku looked over Kenobi's shoulder to see a metallic mass storming down the corridor. "We finish this now, Dooku."
The political idealist grinned. With a wave of his hand, the curved hilt of his lightsaber erupted - sending forth a crimson blade which cast an ominous shadow over its wielders face.
"So be it," the Dark Lord of the Sith drawled.
Setting: The Invisible Hand
"Impossible," Dooku whispered. He quickened his pace. How could his loyal Droid General be a traitor? The very notion was almost laughable, yet the Dark Lord had lost his sense of humour. He approached the large metallic door seperating his corridor from the docking bay. Placing his hand on the sensor lock, he was met with an unexpected response:
"Access Denied."
The computerised voice sent chills down the Count's back. His hunch was correct. General Grievous had re-configured all the ship's code settings, ensuring his master had no way of escaping. Without missing a beat, Dooku turned and headed back down the corridor towards the bridge. He knew he must get off the flag ship. For Grievous was out for blood. Serenno blood.
And the Dark Lord knew there was another on board. A Jedi.
Master Kenobi.
Treachery is the way of the Sith. Dooku knew this. Yet he expected no such treachery from his own subordinates. This arrogance had blinded him. While he was away negotiating with the capitalist corporations of the crumbling Republic, he had become blissfully unaware of the rising tension within his own ranks. Grievous was done with taking orders.
"You won't get away this time, Count."
Dooku stopped in his tracks. He recognised the voice instantly. There was a certain calmness about it - not unlike Dooku's own. The Count brushed his hand through his silver hair; slicking it back. He slowly turned around, plastering an arrogant smile on his already arrogant face.
"Master Kenobi, what a pleasant surpise! I do apologise for not greeting you upon your arrival. I'm afraid the ship is experiencing some, ahh - technical difficulties."
"Oh, really?" The Jedi Master smirked. "Well that's just too bad now, isn't it?"
"Enough with the pleasantries," rasped an all too familiar voice. Dooku looked over Kenobi's shoulder to see a metallic mass storming down the corridor. "We finish this now, Dooku."
The political idealist grinned. With a wave of his hand, the curved hilt of his lightsaber erupted - sending forth a crimson blade which cast an ominous shadow over its wielders face.
"So be it," the Dark Lord of the Sith drawled.