No Sunshine

[Sarge Potteiger]

Corellia​

Farmland Outside Coronet​

0230 Local Time​

"Even Angels of Death descend from on high."​

[member="Coryth Elaris"]​

​

Outside Coronet, suburbs and condominiums gave rise to gently swaying fields of wheat, and further still, to the other assorted goods that were able to feed the planet so effectively. These massive farms, generally required machine harvesting and care. Each of the fields, alone, necessitated far more than one family to harvest, even if they'd been given a weeks time to do so.

This had the added affect, however, of sometimes letting criminals slip through the cracks out among the weeds. It was this reality that had brought Sarge and his men out to this planet oh so tantalizingly close to Sith space. Ripe for corruption, it was, simply by virtue of location.

Sometimes these things had a peculiar feel to them, as if a confluence of events brought everyone together in this place at this exact time for a very specific reason. It had been a small cult of the Sith, all told. 'Hobbyists' was a fair assessment, simply because they had not the Force potential to become what they wanted, but also because they were, generally speaking, entirely unprepared.

Pretenders was also not being unfair.

But their leader... their leader on the other hand, well. He'd been a threat. There was potential there, and he seemed the driven type; at least based on his oratory skill, which hadn't been too shabby.

A shame his mouth had been sewn shut and his body hung from the porch of his home which, conveniently, stood at the edge of this very field. As for his disciples, well, some had tried to defend their glorious leader. That left a couple of corpses, some critical, and all injured. Injured how?

The brand of a hydra on their back. A mark of their treason. What the law wished to do with them was none of his concern, but they'd likely be put in jail for life for trying to contact an enemy state. That was none of his concern.

What was his concern as he sat, legs tucked under his body as he sat in meditation, halberd laid flat before him, was who they would be sending to clean up the mess. Almost universally, they simply put in an anonymous message that medical attention would be needed at a location and they were gone.

This time, Sarge wouldn't be. Whenever the medical help arrived, they'd find a two and a half meter tall warrior in thick durasteel-titanium armor, glowing blue optics staring straight ahead like the thousand yard stare of a dying man.

Perhaps he was dying. Day by day. Life by life. What he was taking from others was being taken from him, as was the galaxy's way of things.

 

[Coryth Elaris]

The call had come in quite simply, one Coryth could never say no to. Any call for aid regardless of who, or when, or where, she was there. With a sigh she'd gathered a small pack of supplies from her boat, and headed to the site listed in the communication she'd received.

Nearly the location, barefoot as always and dressed simply in a dark tank top, and a pair of light grey trousers that had clearly seen better days, she could already sense the pain and turmoil that had no doubt occurred. One had to wonder what exactly had caused the ruckus to begin with. But alas, she wasn't close enough to see just what was on the porch hanging in the breeze, or the soldier who remained with the bodies.

As soon as she came within visual of the area, a wave of pain lashed out at her, forcing her to draw on the delicate strands of the force, to build a fortress to protect her mind from the agony and death before her.

Her eyes came to rest upon the hanging body, stopping her in her tracks. All she could do was blink for a moment or two. With a deep breath, she glanced to the warrior, those glowing blue eyes, This is going to suck, isn't it?... Yup. She thought to herself. With lives on the line... So you're going to do it anyway?... Yup.

Crossing the field, she came to a stop before him. Her brow furrowed as she looked him over, something about this being was familiar to her, and she couldn't quite place why. "Mind telling me what happened?" She asked, "And pointing me to where the injured are? Cause uh, I believe that one is just a little too far gone for even my skills." The situation was not one that made her any bit comfortable, with her hand resting upon her hip, just a hair's breath from where her lightsaber sat, just in case things got messy. Well, not like they weren't already messy, perhaps bloody is the better term.

[member="Sarge Potteiger"]

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

[member="Coryth Elaris"]

"Tolerance, like bones, is easily broken with the right applied pressure."​

​

The figure seemed to let out a breath, if the faint motion of its oversized shoulders were any indications. A massive hand reached down to wrap around the haft of the solid black halberd, faintly present within the Force as it was. Hefting it, base firmly planted in the dirt, he took a knee and then used the haft to stabilize his movement to a standing position.

Towering over her by nearly three feet, the warriors squat helmet regarded her coldly for several long moments. There was a click as he activated his external speakers. A booming mechanical voice came out, deep and distorted. "The wounded are within the living room of the home. Most are bound. The bodies have been laid out on the porch and covered."

He pivoted on one foot, allowing her to pass him quite easily. "I'm glad it is you they sent, Coryth, even if you will not be glad about what you witness."

There was no answer to the question of the situation, but presumably that would come in time.

 

[Coryth Elaris]

She only watched, craning her neck to look up at the rather imposing figure. Everything about him screamed that he was not someone to be messed with and truly Coryth had no desires for such. People needed help, and regardless of what happened or who they were, she at the end of the day had an oath to fulfill and a duty to all life.

Exhaling sharply, she glanced once more between the dead man hanging, and the soldier before her as he spoke, the job laid out. She'd have men to pronounce dead, and wounds to tend to. One thing was certain, today was going to be a long day. "Right." She spoke softly, glancing beyond him as he stood out of her way.

Stepping past him, she then caught his words and froze. Glancing back over her shoulder, a bit baffled, "You know my name?" It seemed so strange. While his presence was familiar to her, she still couldn't place him.

"I fear you have me at a disadvantage, for while your aura is familiar, I cannot say without a doubt who you are." Figuring he'd follow her, she shifted her pack on her shoulders and stepped into the house.

Steele grey eyes flitted about the scene as she came into the living room. It certainly wasn't what she'd expected in the least, far too much blood had been spilled. Letting out a slow breath, Cory pulled upon the tangled strands that made up the Force, letting it guide her to the most critical of patients. Striding over quickly she knelt along side the man, and set down her pack. Already in the mindset of saving lives, and not so concerned over who had been standing guard when she came in, Coryth set to work pulling bandages from the bag, bacta, other supplies, and lastly a tiny blue crystal. Working quickly, and without hesitation as she leaned forward, once more drawing upon the force as she pushed the man in front of her into a healing trance. From there, the redhead was swift to patch the most pressing of wounds.

[member="Sarge Potteiger"]

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

"Fear the judgement of the righteous."​

The man quirked his lips some beneath that helmet, watching as the tiny bare footed woman made her way past him and towards the home. No reason to stop at the man swinging slowly as if from a light breeze, because there was only one pronouncement for him.

An old fashioned way of handling someone, but effective. Mostly for the fear. His brow furrowed - what had he become?

Each of the wounded had one striking similarity, one that would need to be dealt with; the brand on their backs. Otherwise, they were your usual assortment of injuries. Bruises, a few broken bones. Several had been shot by the high powered blasters his men favored, but they were crippling shots, not fatal.

As they'd figured out in their stake outs, many of these men were... looking for the next best thing, so to speak. A way of improving the perceived unfairness of their lives. Some hadn't, of course, but some had. That afforded him the smallest ounce of mercy in the handling of this undertaking.

"It's easy to forget those who should be dead." His voice booms, echoing mechanically within the home and startling just about every one of the sinners still conscious. Some began muttering what sounded like prayers, but others simply shied away as if not noticing the figure in grey meant he didn't notice you.

It was hard to say the reaction wasn't warranted, based on what had no doubt gone down. "To a man, each of these traitors conspired to work with Sith. Each formed a new head to the beast we hope to slay, and so we must cauterize the stumps of those whom we remove."

A large hand motioned to the assembled. "Their leader was a Force Sensitive, mostly untrained. His life had been hard, and the kernel of hatred festered in his mind until the Sith reawoke. Their resurgence caused a blossom of corruption to spring anew, and he had hoped that, with some help, he may become Sith himself."

Those cold blue eyes tracked the room. "And for the treacherous, there is only one fate."

[member="Coryth Elaris"]

 

[Coryth Elaris]

Coryth froze, and blinked once. It was all she could do as her mind seemed to come to the conclusion much before her body could process it and respond. Her mouth, slightly agape, as she drew in a sharp breath, while still mostly frozen in disbelief.

A hand reached up, touching at the simple locket around her neck. One she'd given him so long ago, and he'd returned while she lay on the verge of death. With her first patient out of the way, she finally seemed to snap back to reality as she rose and spun on her heels to face him.

"Sarge?" She asked, nearly breathless and ever so soft. As if speaking his name too loudly would make him disappear into oblivion. "Surely not..." How he could be here now, that he'd played some part in the death of the man outside.... It made so little sense in the redhead's mind. "You ... you've ..." Words, still clearly weren't finding their way to any logical path, at least not yet.

A most heavy sigh followed, pained as the first trace of tears began to well up in the corner of her eyes. For all her strength, this seemed like a moment that might be too much for her little shoulders to carry.

"While I carry little sympathy for the Sith, as much harm as they have caused me in my lifetime.... Hardship draws them to that life. Drags them under," Another sigh, "And eventually will destroy their spirit, and ultimately steal their lives from them."

With a shake of her head, she wiped away the smallest of tears, and turned back to the wounded. She had a job to do after all, and that came first. Moving a bit quicker, she walked to the next man, kneeling at his side as she started to examine his wounds. "Even traitors deserve life." She said softly, almost mumbled to herself, as she pulled several bacta patches from her bag, as well as a splint for a broken leg.

"Even they, deserve a second chance." Whispered even more quietly to herself. It wasn't so long ago, that she was given such a chance, one she never believed she deserved. If not for that opportunity, she was unlikely to still be alive this day.

Her eyes moved up to the frightened man before her, "This will hurt." Speaking to the injured being, before quickly snapping his leg back into place without any further warning. From there, it was a simple matter to wrap his leg in a most careful and kind manner.

[member="Sarge Potteiger"]

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

"Faith is purest when it is unquestioning."​

"I've changed." He says, finishing the sentence she'd started. That great chest rose and fell, but the armor moved nary an inch as it did so. Perhaps he was as dead as the people whose lives he'd taken, or maybe he was imagining it. A frown creased his scarred face under that inscrutable helmet.

As he'd often done while around her... he had made her cry. While it wasn't a break down and she was staying strong, he'd blindsided her with more than just her presence. Sighing, he turned and marched from the living room, reaching up to snap the rope keeping the ringleader suspended.

Laying the man down on the porch, he grabbed a nearby tarp and drug it up and over the body, covering it with a gentleness at odds with his massive frame. As he did so, however, he had an overwhelming urge to pump two bolter rounds into the body.

A rage had built within him at the very thought of treating a Sith with respect. Acceptance was not something he'd ever feel for their kind... tapping the fingertips of his right hand to his forehead, stomach, left then right shoulder he pushed himself back up to a standing position.

Those cold blue optics lay on the bodies for several moments before he turned and made his way back inside, great weight giving him away long before he appeared. It was a far cry from the silent man she'd come to know, the one who could move without a discernible sound.

"I would like to say you're wrong. Traitors do deserve life. But you choose to be Sith. You don't always choose to fall, but to be Sith... that is a choice. It is a choice I cannot abide. The rest of the traitors will likely serve life in prison, but they are not my concern. Sith are."

[member="Coryth Elaris"]

 

[Coryth Elaris]

"Yes, I can see that." She managed as she finished wrapping the man's wounds before her. Rising once more she set off to the next, only glancing back over her shoulder as she heard him enter the room again, a little shocked to hear him at all.

She let out a puff of air, and a shake of her head. "We all make mistakes Sarge. Even I have not been excluded from this simple fact of life." A shrug followed as she turned back to the next man, applying bacta to the traitor's mark he'd been branded with. "There was a time I made the wrong choice. Followed the wrong path, down a road so dark that I don't even want to revisit it in memory, but it is burned in my mind, forever."

Coryth sighed as she pulled away from the wounded man, and stood, wiping tears from her eyes. "By all rights, I should be him, and if those events had taken place inside Known space, I probably would be him." She said sadly, pointing to the window where the man had been hanging. "I deserve that, Sarge, but someone saw fit to give me a second chance. One I didn't, and still believe I do not deserve. To this day I have spent every minute of my life making up for those dark deeds I once committed. No matter how many lives I save, it will never be enough. It will never make up for the things I've done." Her eyes drifted down to the floor, swallowing hard, "You might think me a saint, but I'm not. Like everyone else I'll always be a sinner. With more regrets than I can count."

Idly she ran a hand through her hair, still finding her bare feet more interesting than anything else in the room, "If the galaxy was painted in only black and white, life would be so much simpler. Unfortunately it never will be that way, just shades of grey."

Another sigh came as more tears fell away, ones she didn't bother to push aside, "Of all the people in the galaxy, I should be one of the biggest fans of let's be rid of the Sith, kill every last one of them. I can't though." She shrugged, "Most, are victims of circumstances beyond their control. Ones who, like me, so many years ago, should be given to the opportunity to change, a second chance. However, if they at that point, try to cut off the hand that presented it to them, then by all means, they aren't redeemable, and perhaps death is the only answer." Even that felt far too cold to the little redhead, the idea of killing still was not one that settled well with her, but it was becoming clear that there were just some cases where it was unavoidable.

She paused realizing there might be something that happened, that had gone unsaid. "What happened to you Sarge? You are so different from before, which makes me think there is something you haven't told me yet."

[member="Sarge Potteiger"]

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

"Hope is but the first step on the road to disappointment."​

​

"What is it you wish for me to confess to, Coryth." He says, lifting his left gauntlet to snap the seal of his helmet and lift it from his head. Attaching it to a small hook on his belt, there came a heavy sigh. When last she'd seen him, he'd been as normal as normal could be. Deep brown eyes, shaggy beard and hair.

But since he'd been gone, something had changed. Black veins slithered their way up his neck, no longer covered by his beard as they had been. In fact, his beard was almost entirely gone, replaced by greyish brown stubble from a few days of not being able to shave.

Even his once unkempt hair had been taken down to the scalp within the past two weeks, the pale skin standing out starkly in contrast with his now pitch black eyes. The white were gone now, although the outlines of his pupils were still barely there beneath the glistening void that had replaced the brown. "Do you want me to confess that I tried to have myself killed on Dagobah, and failed? That I failed to die to an army of undead because I was simply too stubborn to die?

That in doing so, I was unable to save any of HK's men on their ill guided attempt at forming a beachhead?" There was so much going wrong in his mind, it wasn't even funny. How did one admit to having conversations with hallucinations?

"Or do you want me to admit that once I didn't die, I was so ashamed that I couldn't bear to return anywhere I was known, and so I took my new latent Force potential to the Republic, where perhaps the Jedi could put me to use?

Further still, do you want me to admit that I hated my Master, and hated the Senate? Or that I broke the heart of a naive young woman when Cira came back because for some reason she's always had a place in my heart? They're all things you aren't aware of." There was steel to his eyes, a firmness to his voice.

He was angry, somewhere, and yet it was a bottled rage, one that hadn't even truly begun to boil over. "Or maybe I should tell you about three hundred years of bribery, intimidation, kidnappings, extortion and assassinations. I've spent so long killing it's my only marketable skill.

I've never killed with a saber, and never will, but a blaster? A bolter? It's so easy to put a round into someone and watch as their chest cavity collapses. It's so impersonal, so quick." He shook his head, gauntlet tightening around the phrik haft of his halberd, which even now was glowing with Force Light as his rage rose within his breast.

It burned, and reminded him that calm was what he should be. Taking a long breath, he closed his eyes and slowed his pulse, fighting away the red encroaching upon the periphery of his thoughts. No sooner had the blade begun to glow, then the Light began to fade, its job presumed to be done. "But the answer you're looking for, Coryth, is that I'm a failure. I've lived too long. Done too much. We all have our demons, Coryth, and we've all done wicked, wicked things.

But for some that burden becomes too much to bear. You eventually reach a point where you simply cannot shoulder that weight any longer, and that moment for me came on Coruscant. I distracted the woman I loved more than any other, and in trying to protect her long enough to get her healed, I failed and allowed her to be taken.

And yet, despite my best efforts and the best efforts of the men with me... I failed. Again. She was taken from me not only in life, but in death, and I won't forgive the Sith for forcing me to stomach another deficiency.

Someone is going to stop them. That someone will be me. I'll likely die in the process, but if it stops their disgusting brand of cancer from spreading then so be it. We've danced around the issue too long, allowed them to storm through the galaxy unabated. Why? Because people are afraid of working together. Of standing up for themselves.

It's pathetic.

Like you.

Like me.

I'm done, Coryth, with everything. That's what happened."

[member="Coryth Elaris"]