These are the first two posts of a duel between the literary characters Stridal Braeden, written by my good friend, AJ Reed and the former Sith Emperor, Omega, who I have not written in almost a year now. Please, comment freely.


*The blackness twisted for a moment and produced a living shadow who was covered in a black on black cloak that gently swayed in the wind as the shadow reached up with both hands lowering its hood to expose the face of Stridal Braeden as he rolled his shoulders causing his cloak to slide off his arms and into a crumpled heap behind his feet. Extending his left hand and with a twist of his mind the lightsaber that rested on his belt flew off and slapped into the outstretched palm as the shadow’s fingers enclosed around it pressing a small button.

Within the fraction of a nano second a long drawn out snap hiss was heard as a bar of crimson energy came to life in a low continuous hum that illuminated the area in a crimson glow. No longer really paying attention to Omega, the shadow moved the blade in front of his body appearing to study it as one would study the face of a friend long thought dead. Power gathered around him until the Force was immersed in darkness as the shadow kept a slow methodical breathing pattern that caused vapors to rise gently into the air*

“If you only knew” *the shadow hissed, perhaps speaking to himself, or perhaps Omega or even to the crimson blade that was now lifted in a mocking salute* “How long I have been waiting for this….”



Omega merely smiled. Thin red cracks, not visible to the naked eye, began to form over the deep and haunting yellow hue of his irises. The teeth between his lips glinted like vibro-daggers in the pale light, his calm demeanor belying the maelstrom of dark side Force energy that welled up inside him.

He raised his left hand, turning it in and out, his eyes falling to gaze upon it’s flesh as he extended it slowly out to the left, holding it horizontally to his body as the light saber hilt levitated slowly, evenly, methodically from his belt, directly in to his open hand. A short click was followed eerily by a quick snap-hiss, a crimson beam of super-heated plasma extending in an instant, the thrum of the long unused weapon sending a pleasant chill down the spine of the Sith Lord.

His right hand clenched inside a glove of Krayt Dragon leather. He wondered if he should even bother activating it yet. He knew Stridal could not possibly know of the terror that weapon could unleash. Power that could render a light saber useless. Strength that could tear through flesh and bone alike with a mere flick of the wrist. He played the thought over in his mind.

{No.. that would be too easy.} He thought to himself.

The Dark Lord of the Sith brandished his light saber in a Makashi salute, flourishing the blade before extending it to his lower left side, angled down and bringing the tip to within an inch of the duracrete flooring that stood underneath them. He kept his feet spaced shoulder width apart, not bothering to angle his body at all. It was really pointless to do so anyway with a style like Makashi, at least until the first blows had been exchanged.

His voice echoed throughout the room, seeming to come not from the Sith Lord himself, but from every patch of darkness that the room held within it’s vast expanse. “If only you knew, you had only been waiting.. to die.”