I come here to mourn Dron Cah, not to praise him.
It seems that, our heroes, found themselves on a desperate mission, used as pawns by the Jedi Temple to reduce Koreel's secret cloning facility to ash and cinders.
The Jedi-way is less complex than many think, after all. They assign the quality "evil" to their enemies. They hunt them down. They slay them. It is a battle of definitions as old as time itself, and the obvious one-sidedness cannot be disputed. The Jedi, by the tenuous thread of a definition, keep themselves high in the galactic saddle, ensuring that there is always a place for them in the lands of opulance and power.
The supposed secret cloning facility was located in the far reaches of space, beyond the Maw, and Hutt Space; in an unnamed and unmentioned planet, barely managing it's own existence in a tidal war with itself and its two suns. Four of every five days spent bathed in radiation that would destroy a lesser planet. The Republic wanted no part of this place, so I took it upon myself to utilize it.
Now, of course, they send their goons to destroy me. Jedi Dron Cah, who I know well by now, and presumably his friends, Zklang Tselim, Knight, The Pale Horse, and a wookie that I have not been introduced to properly. There may be more; they have an annoying habit of picking up friends.
From Coruscant, they slithered, quietly on the heels of my resupply ships. I knew someone was here that didn't belong not long into the day, but the contact was…fleeting. I dismissed it for a time, but only so many rats can sneak through your air vents.
Today, however, is a new day. Dron's friends are trapped in my basement, and Dron himself. Well. He lies unconscious in front of me, and the curiosity to discovery how he works with a laser scapel is nearly unbearable. We shall see soon. Rest in peace, dear Dron. Your masters have failed you, but as a Jedi you cannot blame them.
—-excerpt from the journal of Koreel IV.