Fine, here's the next, last part.
It's rather a good deal more graphic and intense than the first part. Be fore warned.

Jazz's mouth gaped and tremored, as if it attempted to form words but was in such dissaray it could not. Finally, some degree of order took over.
"No...no! Kill them! Kill th--"
"Grandfather, relax, relax...it's a diplomatic vessel. They aren't attacking."
"Wha-what? Why'd they bring a diplomatic vessel here?"
"Prehaps they wish to make...a deal." Jermac proposed, knowing Jazz would reply with venom.
"You're fools if you think you can make deals with Turtles. Come on, boy!" Jazz attempted to set a brisk pace torward the throne room, but fell over, and was helped there slowly by Jermac.
He had just barely been seated in the old, shiny golden throne, when the grand wooden doors opened, brilliant light shining in.
Flooding in with it was a low, soothing song, in some derelict language Jazz had never heard tell of before,
"Dona nobis requim..." This verse repeated, and Jazz finally saw, vaguely, who gave the words voice. Several large, cloaked figures, walking single file on either side of the royal rug.
When they had all arrived, there were evenly spaced between the door and Jazz throne, facing inward, clasping both hands together in a prayerful pose.
Jazz heart throbbed in his chest. He was insanely afraid of thease, dispite the horde of guards that had fled into the throne room, watching the figures every move.
After a short while, they pulled the cloaks from there heads, revealing themselves to be, as Jazz suspected, turtles.
Then, in far less glory, something else came into the room.
"Devan..." Jazz hissed under his breath. It was Devan, certaintly, but not any we know.
Devan lay a limp form in a wheel chair, which was creakly pushed in by a young turtle, which was Devan's grandson, Verkaus.
Time was not kind to Devan. He was nearly blind in both eyes, which where clouded and grey. He could speak only with the aid of a artificial larynx, draw breath only with artificial lungs. The heart that beat in his chest was a machine, his veins ran with a blood substitute. His organs were riddled with cancer. His skin rotten and black, sluffing off, bone showing in places. His shell was full of holes and algae and diseases of all sort. A small monitor blipped with the movement of his false heart, a pump pushing oxygen through a fragile esphophogous into made, not born lungs.
Devan was dying, on the verge of death. Doctors expected that he'd be dead within the week. He took his last moments to travel to Carrotous. Verkaus wheeled him up to Jazz's throne.
"Lord Jackrabbit of the Rodents, I present Lord Shell of the Turtles." Verkaus said, staring at the aged Jazz with defiance.
"What do you mean by comming here!" Jazz shouted, his chest heaving under the effort. They waited for a long while for him to respond, as ancient brain cells worked in Devan's cancer ridden skull.
Finally, slowly, his mouth moved, his voice that of a machine.
"Peace...I come for peace..." Devan's voice waned, replaced by a cold, alone rasping. Jazz stood up abruptly, and nearly fell over due to it, groping for his cane. Then, he plodded up to Devan.
"Peace! What peace could you propose, you murderer!' Jazz shouted into Devan's face. Again, they waited nearly a minute for him to respond.
"A draw...rodent territory...returned. Borders drawn, where they were....before....the war." The rasping continued.
"It's some trick! Some trap! I know it, you have no need to surrender, the war is your's already!" Jazz shouted as loudly as he could. Another minute passed.
"No...trick, no...trap...no, surrender. Peace...to much blood has already...spilt...for both of us. Let it...end." Jermac could sense the sincereity in the last wish of the dying turtle, and spoke up.
"Grandfather, prehaps we could--"
"Shut up!" Jazz returned quickly.
"My Lord--"
"Shut up!" Jermac retreated. During this dialouge, Devan had prepared his next bit of speech.
"Why do you want, war? If...this continues...you die...if...peace...all live."
"And you'd get of scot free? You must pay for you're sins! You must pay for what you did!" Tears welled in Jazz's eyes. A minute.
"Please...forgive. I am prepared...to pay...but my time here, in this existance....is short."
"Why now? Why surrender now?!"
"I saw the error of my ways...please....help....me....forgive...me."
Then, Jazz's better judgement almost shone through.
But at the last minute, Jazz beat it down again.
"It's all a trick! It's a trap!" Jazz used his free arm and fished into his pocket, where he kept a secret.
"No..." Devan returned in immediate plea, as Jazz held a gun to his head.
"You must die! YOU MUST DIIIIIIIEEE!"
"Grand father!" Verkaus motioned to stop Jazz, but Devan gave him a look in his ancient eyes, a look which said he knew what was happening, he was at peace, this must come to pass.
Verkaus saw all of this and backed down.
Then Devan reached to a cross shaped, silver object which hung about his neck, and began reciting some prayer,
"Our...father...who..."
Jazz gave it one passing thought, further justified in the act he was about to commit. He was always told, all who did not worship the Gods of Jackrabbit deserved to die.
"Art...in...heaven...hallowed..." Jazz pulled the trigger.

And again.

And again.

And again.

And again.
Jazz collapsed to the floor, hot tears flowing down his cheeks, his smoking gun felled to the floor. Then, he felt another liquid. Devan's blood. He looked up to see the grotesque image of Devan's skull riddled with holes.
It was not enough.
"DIE! DIE!!" Jazz pummeled the corpse with his fists, which still grasped the silver object.
Jermac ran up behind him and pulled him away.
"He's dead Granfather...he's dead..." Jermac allowed the old king to cry into his shoulder, all the while the heir flinching at the image of the mutilated turtle.
"Why aren't they attacking?" Jermac wondered, after Jazz had detached himself from him.
"We're following his final orders." Verkaus said, fighting back a flood of tears.
"What?" Jermac was puzzled.
"Peace...we will not attack. All weapons are being destroyed on every Turtle installation in the galaxy. All troops are withdrawing, all ships returning to starbases. We will not attack, with anything. Peace." Verkaus retrieved a rather lengthy piece of parchment and shoved it at Jazz, who took it and began to read.
"This was the treaty he spoke of, it dictates that all rodent territory be returned, and that we will withdraw to Shellion and the colonies we controlled before the war broke out 500 years ago."
"Grandfather! Listen! This is it! Finally! No more war!" Jermac began to burst with happiness. They weren't doomed after all.
Not even the telepaths could've predicted this.
"You'll see, it already had my grandfather and my signatures, all it requires is your's to be finalized." Verkaus stated, feeling the burden of command which now hung on his shoulders for the first time.
Even the guards posted in the throne room, which had served Jazz for years, began to mill about and cheer.
The war was over!
Jazz then turned, and faced them all, with a sort of half smile.
"You're all idiots! You're all blind! We will never end this until they are all dead."
"Grandfather!" Jermac ran to Jazz, trying to stop him.
"You heard me, kill them all!" It was too late.
The guards, with unwavering loyalty, opened fire on the defenseless cloaked turtles and Verkaus, all dying instantly.

Epilouge

The turtles would not resist, per Devan's final order. None would disobey, for so deep rooted was there loyalty.
And they too, hungered for peace.
Jazz's troops tore through them easily. Slaughtering all, soldiers, men, women children. Everything. Within a month, the deed was done. No turtle still drew breath, no scorched stone still stood as testemant to once was.
The night word got out that all the turtles were dead, King Jazz died.
His final words and his epitath were, "Now that it is finished, I can finally rest."