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The Warden had sent the Jedi off with a case of stun grenades, for the non-lethal suppression of prisoners. He knew, though the Jedi were trained heavily in the art of killing people, they could be relied upon to bring people in alive . If you asked a Jedi to do something that would reduce loss of life, more often than not they would do it. They were skilled enough for that.
He had asked the Jedi, a taller Mirialan with short, choppy white hair and a sour expression seemingly etched permanently into his heavily tattooed face, to leave as many prisoners alive as he could. The stun grenades could handily take out a group of them with no issue. They were safe, they were effective, and most importantly they left the charges alive.
The Jedi had returned, blood dripping from the edge of a pauldron and trailing red in his footsteps. He had returned, wiped a splatter of something horrible off of his cheek and set down the case of stun grenades with a too-heavy thunk . The mirialan reeked of burnt flesh and blood, may as well have bathed in it for the smell that came wafting off of him.
His expression was darker, something not quite right in the bright, glimmering golden eyes. He practically radiated satisfaction, even as his lips twisted into a snarl.
For a moment, the Warden wondered if the man standing in front of him, with impatient arms crossed, was even a Jedi at all. The lightsaber at the hip suggested as such, the Republic military gear and accent suggested it too, but the look in that man's eyes told stories of horror and fury. The golden eyes glowed faintly and the very smallest of cracks were only just visible in the skin, aside from the nasty, aggressive scar that marred the man's face.
For just a moment, the Warden considered that perhaps he had just sent a Sith to help get the prisoners of his sector of Belsavis under control. It was only a moment though, because he knew better. Despite appearances, the man was Jedi. He may have held himself like a Sith, but he was Republic blood.
He found he couldn't help himself though, curious about what the Jedi had done with the prisoners he'd been sent to subdue. The answer was less than satisfying.
"Let's just say it's been handled and leave it at that."
"All of them?" The Warden asked.
The surprise didn't seem to phase the Jedi, who replied, lower, "All of them."
There was a warning in his voice, a threat of something painful if he was questioned any further, so the Warden let the man go on his way. The Jedi left, leaving another, different trail of bloodstained footprints and smears in his wake.
Curiosity won over as the air cleared and lightened. Once the Jedi was gone, officers in the corners of the room heaved deep, relieved breaths and slumped in their chairs. The Warden let out a calming burst from his own lungs, then opened up the case of stun grenades. The devices meant to decrease the fatality of the Jedi's encounter with hordes of prisoners.
The devices that remained, all of them, exactly as they'd been handed over. Every last one untouched.