The Black Canvas

[Jsc]

​

The Black City
Karthus

She was a red desert world of twin suns and countless moons. Stepped in history and in dark traditions. The Breeclay built their black cities into the high walls of the native rocks. Tunneling deep into the dark places that lingered so brilliantly in the morning sky. Towering rock formations of red dust and innumerable windows. Deeper inside. The passageways echoed the same. Dust and death, and the breaking sounds of war.

A crimson bolt smashed against the red wall and shattered the earth like glass. Spreading dust and debris across the floor and littering Karen's foot with refuse. She clenched her jaw at her would-be attacker and spun the corner with rapid speed. Releasing two crisp bolts from her disruptor's capacitor and watching the corridor explode in reply. Her purple bolts tore through the hallway and blew out wall and man. One bolt to tear the cover away and the second to rend the man. Tall and hearty the Breeclay warriors were. Nordlings so tall and heavy they could crush a man with ease. But when struck with the terror of rending plasma across the body, nothing could stop the destruction that happened next. The giant smoked and fell. Tumbling to the ground with a spray of red clay. Leaving Karen to smirk at the respite. One down. A hundred more to go.

"Le'Say. I've got new contacts near the arena. Pushing up and towards the wall."

~ / "Roger that Blue. We're far and away up here. Take a peep and call it a day, yeah?"

"Roger that Commander. Just going in for a recon. Blue out."

Karen was separated from her team and working solo on this one. Le'Say and the Rangers were dealing with the proper mess up in the High Towers and the Skylofts. That was were the party was thickest. Down here in the midsections. Nearer the pits and arena. Roberts was acting alone. Spitting down the tunnels in search of something for more nefarious than mere viking warriors. She was lurking around these dark corners for the Calnner Witches themselves. Aiming to find the head of the snake, and kill it, once and for all.

~ / "I hear you. Recon the view and then get out of there nice and clean. No need to play cowboy out here Blue. We called you, remember?"

She smiled and let that one play out in silence. She wasn't the kind of operator who just sat back in command and let the boys play. No. Roberts wanted in the dirt and the muck. Head in the fight and nose to the ground. That was how she'd lived for the past thirty years and it sure wasn't going to change today. Not even after Crina. Not even after Helios.

Well. Maybe after Crina. That had been too close.

"I hear you Chip. Just going for a peek. I'll be in and out before they even see the signs."

She stood up and checked her rifle. Okay. Two more cinematic hallways and see'd have eyes on the arena. No problem. Just a little more footwork to go. Give it about five more minutes and she'd finally be able to tell what these monsters were up to. Weaving dark magics made for darker times. Indeed, the blue-haired woman tapped her armored chest and ran about the corner with a glance. Leaving what little red matter remained of her last opponent far, far behind.

___


The Arena was centered out across the grand balcony and visible from space. Hundreds of stories up and thrust out across the expanse. The jutting structure commanded the sides and the flanks of the tall city walls. Shaped and molded with the giant bones of dead monsters that the galaxy had never even seen. It left a pit in Robert's stomach that failed to reside. Oh yes. This was the place alright. Even with the altars of clay and the burning incense all around. You couldn't mask the stench of the Darkside from this place. It was, ugh. Palpable.

Multi-tiered for spectators and blood sport alike, Karen jumped down from the ramparts and ventured out further into the burning afternoon. The heat of the twin suns baking everything that wasn't tied down to the shade or the shadow. Out here, torn between the sky and the earth below, the desert still held a taskmaster's sway. She swallowed a dry gulp and leveled her rifle out towards the jutting edge. Slowly advancing from the jagged pathways and venturing out deeper into the mix.

There. Just there. Pass the pillars and the ragged banners. Between the arches and the ribbon flags. Lay the center of the abyss. A small circular arena. Sunken into the red clay and littered with the bones of her long dead prey. Without walls and without cables. Without spikes and without remorse. It lay at the foot of the Old Gods alter and was quiet forever still. No. Out here between the land and sky. Not even the wind dared to move a feather now.

"What?.."

Roberts gasped at the sight that greeted her eyes. Was this really the dark nexus that she had sensed only moments before? There was... There was nothing here??

"They're already dead?"

She let her rifle sway as her eyes drifted from corpse to corpse. Seven cold witches. Lying all in a row. Their black robes torn and smoldering. Cut and cleaved. Torn and rent. These women had been dead for hours now. Their ritual already complete. Or better yet... Already destroyed. But, ...how?

Birds took flight and fluttered on the wind.

Roberts snatched her weapon back to the fore and spun about. Senses heightened. Heartbeat spiked. Her spine tingling at the smallest sensation to linger across the quiet abyss. Eyes dancing about for the ambush to come. Where was he? Who had spooked the birds?

She looked about through the barrel of her gun. Stepping back towards the city with a slow and somber step. Somebody was still out here. Whoever had killed these witches, was lingering. Even inside her head the voices began to whisper,

"Come out, come out. Where ever you are..."

___

[member="Eralam"]

 

[Eralam]

It wasn't often Eralam got to take to the field these days.

The old Iron Knight was not the Network's first choice in operative. He was cranky, bad tempered, and about as subtle as a brick to the face. There was no doubt he was capable; the trail of bodies he left scattered in his wake was proof of that. But phrases like "trails of bodies" and "front page news" didn't bode well for a covert agent. So the Network only called upon Eralam when the need was great, or when there wasn't much of a chance of a reporter stumbling on the scene.

That Eralam was actually the leader of the Network was worth a chuckle at night among the two or three people that actually knew.

The ritual here had been one of those occasions where his particular skillset would come in handy. The witches had been trying to summon something they didn't understand and couldn't possibly control, something that even the most powerful Empires and Republics would have been hard pressed to put down if it had been allowed to come through. And since they were all at each other's throats, the Network had decided to step in.

There had been no time to try to reason with them, and frankly, Eralam wouldn't have been inclined to anyway. You play stupid games, you win stupid prizes. They had well and truly earned theirs.

It had been a near thing. A few more minutes and the gateway would have been opened. As it was, the walls between realms was still thin, would be for a few days. The Shard wasn't about to risk someone coming along to finish what they started, so he stuck around. It had been a few hours since the slaughter. The Shard was lounging against a pillar, cleaning his revolver and smoking his pipe. The sweet scent of the tobacco covered up the rank stench of burnt flesh and voided bowels.

The sound of footsteps echoed through the arena. That wasn't good. Eralam slotted a few rounds in his ancient Colt, dashed the tobacco out of his pipe with a flick of his wrist, and stood up. He had been hoping to catch the newcomer by surprise, but those damned birds had ruined that.

Oh well.

The Iron Knight stepped out from behind the pillar, his lightsaber in his right hand, the Colt in his left, both pointed towards the ground. His skeletal chassis must have cut an imposing figure against the backdrop of the arena, not to mention the bodies.

"Hello," he said, his voice a basso rumble. "A little late to the party, aren't we?"

[member="Karen Roberts"]

 

[Jsc]

Sense, aim, fire.

The purple bolt left the capacitor even before the sentence could mark it's first period. Streaking over the sudden Shard and vaporizing the near pillar to ash and splattering coin. Then the second and the third and the vaults and the pitch. Sound and sudden gleaming.

Frap Frap Frap Frap.

"...Oh no Frodo my boy. A Wizard is never late..."

Stone turned to mud and littered with splashed shards. Sound became rampant upon the wind and brisk lights flickered about like shimmering fire. Fire and awe and a slip of the tongue.

"...For he arrives precisely when he means to."

Pillars exploded and bricks blasted back into fluttering bits of broken straw. Braking battlements and cracking crisp crescents. Cascading the air and the senses with sudden wonder and amazement. For no sooner had the stranger introduced himself to the blue-haired Jedi then did the fighting immediately begin with gusto. Stupid games. Stupid prizes. Pull the trigger and you may yet survive. A twitch of the barrel to mark the swift silver shift. A wince of the eye to see through the haze. Sense. Aim. Fire. Say it with her under her breath,

Sense. Aim. Fire.

And live.

___

[member="Eralam"]

 

[Eralam]

Eralam noticed two things first off.

One: whoever this was, it probably wasn't a witch. The witches had these wicked little obsidian knives, not freaking disruptors.

Two: that didn't matter, because they were throwing lethal bolts of energy through the air like beads at a springtime celebration on Zeltros. There were as many ways to say "die" as there were languages, but trying to rip someone apart on the molecular level was fairly universal.

The Shard dived to the right, calling upon the Force to add distance to the leap. His hands were full, but he managed to tuck his shoulder down and hit the ground in a roll about fifteen feet away. He came up in a crouch and, pivoting on the balls of his feet, turned to face the shooter in one smooth moment. He kept his saber off, but the old revolver came up. He snapped a shot off towards the mystery gunman before jumping again, this time towards another pillar straight in front.

Whether or not the bullet hit didn't matter. The goal was to keep them off balance, maybe get them to dive behind cover themselves. It would be great if it hit. Though he had deliberately aimed off center mass, a .45 Long Colt bullet was a conclusive end to any firefight. Trying to kill the shooter wasn't the objective, not yet. They were here for a reason, and he was determined to find out.

[member="Karen Roberts"]

 

[Jsc]

The woman remained absolute in her conquest. For there were few opponents who could evade a Jedi's aim so smoothly. Her eyes squinted with disdain as she moved to reload. The air about her swirling with thought. Pricked with a minor curiosity. What kind of creature could evade her onslaught.

Click. Dropping the magazine into the air with a flick of the switch and reaching for the next one like clockwork. She didn't even feel the bullet as it passed through her ethereal Warshield and clipped the new magazine right out from between her fingers. Causing the air to crackle with unseen energy and letting the clipped ammo smack to the ground from the impact. She was pushed back from the surprise impact and threw a mean grimace with sudden fiery eyes. Her loader? How dare he!

She pitched the gun with a reckless abandonment and threw a hand to her side. Recalling one of her twin sabres to her hand and flashing a sharp focus across the scattered debris.

bzztt

The blue blade sprung into day like an roaring of new life. An announcement of self to the strong. I am Jedi. Her sword calling low. This is my rifle. This is my gun. No.

This is were the fun begins.

[member="Eralam"] 's opponent remained absolute in her conquest. For there were few opponents who could evade her wrath so smoothly. Her eyes squinted with a burning disdain as she moved to posture with her blade. The stone stance about her crackling with power.

What kind of creature could evade her onslaught? Well. She was determined to find out.

 

[Eralam]

The distinctive snap-hiss of a lightsaber igniting cut through the air like, well, a lightsaber. Funny how that works.

Eralam was definitely curious now. Lightsaber meant Force user. Disruptors were not exactly the average Forcie's first choice. He'd seen a couple Sith with the things over the centuries, but this person didn't feel Dark. If anything, they felt more like a Jedi. That didn't change the fact that they were trying to kill him, of course. But hell, Light or Dark didn't much matter to the Shard anyway. All delusions of the organic mind as far he was concerned.

The Iron Knight opened himself up fully to the Force, letting it flow through him. His presence blossomed outwards, as ancient and implacable as a glacier. It was utterly devoid of the usual trappings of the aforementioned delusion. Neither light nor dark, neither serene nor passionate. It simply was.

Many beings found contact with it to be disorienting, as it was so far outside their frame of reference that they simply couldn't comprehend it at first. Eralam wasn't counting on that now. Whoever his foe was, they didn't get to where they were by collecting bottlecaps. It was hard to tell, but he'd have guessed his opponent was either a Master or on the path towards that most exalted of ranks. They wouldn't let something like that throw them off their game.

Still, he couldn't stay hidden forever.

The Shard stepped out from behind the pillar and faced his opponent for the first time. Humanoid, female. Interesting.

He lit his own saber, adding its argent glow to the arena. It was held over his head in a high guard, blade at a 45 degree angle, point towards the sky. From this position, he could easily cover any strikes towards his upper body, and if the woman went low, he could deliver a crushing overhand strike that would make attempting to land a hit a dangerous proposition.

The Colt, its barrel still leaking smoke, was held at hip level, aimed straight ahead. Four of its five rounds remained. The Shard had his finger on the trigger and thumb on the hammer, ready to rip them out much more quickly than one would think an old single action revolver capable.

"That," he said calmly, "was rude."

[member="Karen Roberts"]

 

[Jsc]

[member="Eralam"] . A blank canvas in the Force. A black canvas in her mind. This was the third Shard she had felt before. Living and beating in the currents of the Force. The first being the Champion of Abergado Rae and the second a mere gunshop owner. They were a species of sentient crystals that could often touch the Force very easily. The weakness was always the same however. A very loose grip on the material world around them. Like Golems before them, Shards did not perceive the world in light and emotion. Not from the eyes or the heart. They were something else entirely. Like a splintered matrix of vibration. Barely holding onto the world and onto time itself.

Yes. This must surely be the construct the witches had hoped to summon. The veil was thin here, the darkness nearly complete. Even this creature's aura was unknown to her. His power and connection, intense. It made her grimace at the challenge. Did the Darkside have no talent for fighting it's own battles. Now she was forced to scrap it's machines as well. Her eyes flickered again as she saw the gun. That strange old contraption. Noah Corek had taught her about guns like that. He'd told her how their Master's perceived their strength. Fine. If it was to be machines today? So be it. She always had an answer to machines.

The time for her musings was at an end. The blue-haired woman stretched forth a hand and ran two fingers across her humming blue blade. She spoke no words to the blade. Sang no song nor whispered no enchantment upon the forge. Yet as her fingers moved across the fountain, the blade began to change colors. From blue to violet to an eerie ethereal black void. The Old Masters called this technique, Force Weapon. Securing her sword in the Netherworld of the Force. Removing the constraints of plasma and emitter, and emboldening her weapon into the raw magics of her art. ...Yes. This would do nicely against Corek's meager metals and custom weapon applications. Let customized meet customized. She was bringing a knife to a gunfight with gusto.

The air about her dissipated it's strength as she relinquished her invisible Warshield and took up her Weapon. She couldn't maintain two enchantments at once. Even at her level. It was either offense or defense now. And she had enjoyed to chose the later. So with a swish of her black blade the strange woman smiled a deviant smile. Letting the magicks of this repulsed ground flow through her once again.

"Now, fell creature of warm witch's work. Engine of their will. I shall banish you back into the loathing wellspring from whence you came! Hurahh!"

With a zealot's cry she dashed across the dismembered expanse. Thrown forward by more than her legs alone. Her Weapon rising and falling like the hymns of Hell and the burning choirs. No stance. Just power. Slash upon slash upon vaulted slash. A flick of the wrist and a Master's violent touch. Faster than lightning and more terrible than the storm. One switch to cut the bullets down and another cut the bone. With her blade of raw void she came forth like an onslaught of pure ribboned rain.

Aiming every other stroke right for the Silver Machine's heart.

 

[Eralam]

"The kark are you on about?"

Eralam didn't get it. Was he supposed to be the thing that the witches were trying to summon? That had to be what she meant. The Shard had been convinced for ages that organics were all nucking futs, but this one was a special type of high strung. The...thing on the other side of the almost-rift sent out the mental equivalent of a fist bump.

Humans, amirite?

Kark off, you. You've caused enough trouble.

The creature withdrew the contact, clearly sulking.

Eralam, meanwhile, focused on not getting his ass killed to death.

The Jedi-woman-person-thing was attacking with all the ferocity and finesse of an enraged bantha, raining down powerful slash after slash. Rather than meeting aggression in kind, however, the Iron Knight fell back into Form II, the traditional lightsaber form he was most comfortable and familiar with.

Rather than stopping the strikes cold, Eralam simply let the not inconsiderable strength behind them do the work for him. As often as not, he would simply dodge the strikes, bobbing and weaving and relying on footwork and body placement to carry him out of the way of the blades. Though the blades themselves were technically weightless, the wielder still had to cope with the inertia of their own body. When one put all of their weight into a strike, that inertia was not inconsiderable. Simply by offering no resistance, the Shard hoped to wear down his opponent's stamina to the point where she would either sit down or take a bullet.

When dodging wasn't possible, the Shard met his opponent's blades with the efficient grace characteristic of the dueling form. Makashi had fallen out of favor over the centuries; it was almost pure fencing. It didn't offer much in the way of defense against ranged weapons. It lacked the flash of the more acrobatic forms, and it wasn't terribly aggressive either. Most duelists would rather jump around like spiced up flitnats, or come charging in like a gundark in heat. While that might look good in a holodrama, in the real world it tended to put them at a disadvantage against a more technical duelist.

The eralam crystal in his saber, from which he took his name, produced a clear, focused blade that more resembled a rapier than a saber. Reckless abandon was met with mechanical precision. Eralam knew where best to interpose his blade, nudging aside potentially lethal strikes with little effort.

He could keep this up all day. [member="Karen Roberts"] was a human, or human-ish. She probably could not. Would she give in to her frustration, and brush against the imaginary Dark Side that all Jedi seemed to fear? Would she come to her senses and realize that trying to best a droid in a battle of attrition was a losing prospect? Or would she make a mistake that would allow the Shard to shoot her lightly. You know, nothing fatal, just enough to put her on her ass and make her rethink her life's choices as she sat in a bacta tank for a few days or during the subsequent few months of physical therapy that would follow.

 

[Jsc]

There was Master good. And then there was Master good. Alas, this fell machine was the later.

The Jedi female leaped away from her opponent and came skidding to a halt. Not outgunned but almost certainly outmatched. For some reason she couldn't see the finesse in his strokes. The precision in his build. There was something missing about this opponent that she just couldn't see. Something she couldn't sense rationally. Something. Something burning in her mind.

"No! Nevermind!"

She shouted aloud. Almost arguing with herself. No. She almost certainly was. She was yelling now. Demanding that her brain be quiet. Pushing it back into the careful closet that every soldier kept well stocked for them self and well hidden. Years and years of battles dared to draw forth from that abyss. Voices that she just couldn't hear anymore. The critic and the worrier. The perfectionist and guesser. Every single inner voice in her mind was screaming at her to finish it. To destroy this creature that dared to raise it's hand against her. To be man. To be a real man. Do it! Finish It! Now!?

It was then that the Darkside held it's subtle sway. Not overtly or with metallic force, but by consequence and the years of lingering doubts. Karen had hidden away all her fears and all her troubles. Sealed away all her hurt and all her pain. Compartmentalized every battle and rationalized every bloody, messy kill. And after Crina... No. After today. Yes. After today, it was all somehow coming back to her now. Right here. Right now. The dam of repression was breaking.

"I will not allow it! I will not... Fail!"

She drew forth her hand and the boiling began behind her blue eyes. Summoning into herself the greatest strength she knew how. She reached down inside her gut and threw the Force into her aura. Ripped it from it's gentle flow. Gathering and gathering and summoning it still. If this dam was going to break? If her mind was tempt to fracture? Ha. Then it was going to break right now. Erupt out across this field of battle and annihilate her mystified opponent. For there was no Sithspawn that could stand against her final attack. The culmination of career. The ultimate power in the universe! Force Light!

...

Then it all snapped. Backfiring like raw lightning. Streaking right through her fingertips and up her arm. Lashing out at her legs and searing through her thighs. Visible now. Blue streaks of power that crept up from the arena's floor. Tendrils of lighting that scarred about her head and hair. Crackling and tearing at the woman. Burning and searing her still. Causing the blue vixen to scream out in pain and with wild wailing. This was not her vaulted finisher of legend. This was a reversal of the technique. A blow back of the grenade. Her own attack was baking her body. Shearing away at her mind. Carving out the hurt and the pain. Ripping forth all the memories she had so longingly tried to suppress. No. This was not a grappling magic at all. This was the Force striking back at her. Head on.

"Awaghhh!"

~ / "Karen!" her com screamed.

The darkside awash in the arena began to stir and tremble again. Sensing it's moment to strike and to smile. The veil tore thin and the ground began to rumble low and steady. Causing the pillars and the archways to shake with fell tremor. You could feel the glee now. Almost see the dead spirits smiling. A poor, poor Jedi had just unleashed and backfired their most powerful attack. Purging herself, and not her opponent, with heaven's most sacred flame. What more twisted smile could the events have offered to them now. She was going to destroy herself. For them.

There was one last flash of lightning and then the woman took a knee. The arena falling silent once more. The smell clung to the air and drifted like white smoke. Parts of her skin were burnt black and her eyes all aglow. Her hair still crackled and tingling. Sword glowing blue. And fading.

"What... What did you do to me??"

She barked low and weak. Her breath heaving and heavy. Her vision too blurred to see and her senses to worn to grasp at the light. She stood back up and let the blood trickle down her lips. Red spots below her ears. Knees buckling. Yet still all too eager to fight on.

"If you think you've won. ...You haven't." she spat low. Turning the bricks a darker wet red, "...I've seen far worse than this. Endured. More."

The Jedi raised her flickering blade level to the ground and pointed to the droid. Swaying in the wind but barely standing. Lingering like autumn's turning leaves in the cold. Breathing hard with shoulders falling. Waiting for [member="Eralam"] to make the next move.

"Come on then Witch. ...Let's finish this."

In the blink of an eye everything and nothing had changed. An attack came and an attack faltered. Leaving the flesh and the woman that remained, too resilient and too fearful to change.

 

[Eralam]

"Lady, I don't know who you are, but you need help."

The Shard recognized Force Light for what it was. He had seen it several times, and had even been on the receiving end once or twice. Unfortunately, it did kark all to folks who weren't card carrying members of the Angsty Side of the Force. Both times, Eralam had calmly waited for the caster to realize their mistake before shooting them between the eyes.

He was not Dark. That didn't mean he was nice.

In this case, however, something seemed to have gone wrong in a big way. Apparently, his plan had paid off; the Jedi had brushed up against Darkness. Whether out of fear or desperation or frustration, he couldn't say. All he knew was that the taint had been enough to cause the attack to backfire. Judging by the look of things, she was in rough shape.

"I didn't do squat. You attacked me without provocation. You acted out of fear and anger, rather than relying on your religion's Code."

As he spoke, the Shard began to gather the Force around him. If [member="Karen Roberts"] wasn't willing to listen to reason, if she refused to back down in spite of her injuries, he would have no choice but to smack her down hard. If she acted out of anger or aggression, she would simply feed more power into the framework of the spell. The thing on the other side had nearly made it through a moment ago. He would not allow it into this world, even if it meant sacrificing one of the self proclaimed good guys.

"Think, woman. Would you have just fried the holy hell out of yerself if I had been the Darksider here?"

Unlike most beings, Eralam only had two Force powers: telekinesis, and Absorb. He couldn't read minds, he couldn't cast illusions, he couldn't heal. He could detect auras of Force users if they were powerful enough, but that was about it. However, that didn't make him a weakling. He had had centuries to hone his mastery of those two powers. He was hoping the Jedi would back down. If not, the power he was gathering was shaped into an almost solid pillar of will and intent. If he unleashed it, it would hopefully come crashing down on the wretched woman in front of him with enough Force (pardon the pun) to put her down, maybe even kill her.

"Put your weapons down, sit down, and we'll get you some help. I'm sure there's a doctor somewhere nearby, and maybe a good therapist. Don't make me do anything you'll regret."

The operative word here was if. If he unleashed it. If she forced his hand.

If.

A lot was riding on an if here. Maybe the fate of the planet.

Well, it wouldn't be the first time the Iron Knight had gambled with the fate of millions. Wouldn't be the last time either.

 

[Jsc]

If only.

A shimmering disruptor bolt landed with a hard smack right between the pair. A sharp heralding blast that was accompanied by the presence of twelve new arrivals to the jutting local. Equipment clad Rangers from Le'says PMC Denon. All Neutral Force Knights who fought together using a telepathic Mindmeld. Sharing their senses and their determination. Bloodied sharpshooters who all at one time apprenticed under the vision of the broken woman that lay before them. All now wondering why in the hell she had abandoned all sense and form against something so calm and collected as [member="Eralam"] .

Their leader, the large man in center, came clamoring forward. His gun at the ready. Even if his heart wasn't in it.

"Karen! Stop!"

...

The shambling form of Roberts came to a sudden halt. Though her frown did not abate and her grimace only worsened,

"Leave us Commander. I can..."

"You're not gonna do anything Blue. It's over. Look at him? Do you even see what you're fighting? Do you see what's going on?"

All eyes turned to the Iron Knight. The center of the arena. Though Karen didn't seem to share their care. She turned around and slowly lifted her broken sword at her old friends.

"Don't Chip."

Small words. Even as she spoke them she had to take a knee. Spitting something dark against the ground. Spotting the dust with the passion and strength that she could no more conjure up to battle. Body broken. Spirit exhausted. No. No matter what she said, it was already crystal clear. She was done. She wouldn't even have the ability to talk for the rest of the engagement. Noting that while her words were a mess, her lack of intent was almost non-existent anymore. She couldn't have fought a broom closet right now. Even if she'd wanted to. So the PMC Commander lifted his rifle to the sky and shook his head. Turning his dark helm to the metallic form nearby,

"All right. All right. ...Look. I don't know who you are stranger. But thanks for not finishing this one. ...We can take it from here."

In complete unison the Rangers lifted their weapons as well. Noting that the hard part, the ugly part, was already over. Chip Le'say took the time to step forward and move to Karen's side. Kicking the sword out from her grip and taking no pity on his once admired teacher. His next shallow words were for [member="Eralam"] as well,

"You need something Shard. Or are we done here?"

It was painful to witness the fall of a Jedi. Even one's own mentor. His words contained that emotion well. Standing next to a broken human woman, hair strained and body boiled. He could only sigh. Just what had happened to her in these past many years? She'd always been fringe. Taught him to out think the Jedi Orders of old. But broken? Panicking? Attacking sky and Shard alike? This was wrong. This was sickening.

Chip knew something had been wrong for months before her retirement from the company. She had been feeling off for days. Her thoughts always skidding. Improvising solo on missions. Reckless. Heady. Even the meld hadn't been the same. He thought that the retirement would have been good for her. Given her some space from the war. Let thirty years of fighting, and struggling, and grappling just; maybe rest awhile. ...Well. Heh. I guess her war just wasn't that easy to let go of. Maybe she couldn't let go. Maybe. Maybe she didn't even try. Mmm. If only she'd tried. If only they'd tried. If only they'd listened. They might have seen this coming. Mm. Yeah. Those magic insufferable words.

If only.

 

[Eralam]

"We're done, Commander."

The Shard deactivated his saber and clipped it back on his belt. The revolver went back in the holster. He had no reason to fight these folks. If anything, he should be thanking him. He liked a good fight, but he tried not to kill when it could be helped.

"If it helps, I think she tried to use Force Light, and it, uh, backfired. Probably should get her into some bacta, ASAP."

Eralam sat down on a chunk of shattered pillar and pulled out his pipe once more. He packed it carefully, then lit it with a spark that raced between two fingertips. It didn't take long for the sweet smelling smoke, reminiscent of apricots and rich, earthy wine to fill the arena. The rift was more unstable than ever, and he was determined to keep up the lonely vigil until the threat had passed.

[member="Karen Roberts"]

 

[Jsc]

Chip gave a nod of the helm to [member="Eralam"] but said nothing. Through the meld the other Rangers already knew the task ahead. So three of the soldiers stepped forward and reclaimed their lost team member. Hoisting her up and carting her towards the city inside the stones. Le'Say watched them go for a moment before turning an eye towards the arena center. Taking what little time remained to actually survey his surroundings. Mark the battlefield for what it was and then maybe go a little deeper still.

He noted the rift, the bodies, and the debris. Counted the carbon scoring and built up a whole scenario in his mind. How she entered, how it started, and how these other creatures had finally died. Completing his mission with a grunt of his head. Yeah. Okay. We're done here. This place reeks of it. Damn.

The only thing left to deal with was the Iron Knight himself I suppose. Well... That wasn't so hard. He exactly wasn't part of the mission and interlopers were somewhere commonplace during an RnR outing. Seemed you couldn't adventure anywhere in this galaxy with some type of new character showing up to save the day. Hell. That pretty much described every single venture the Ranger Commander had ever been a part of. Weird. Heh. Go figure. ...Nahh. He'd just leave the silver fellow right where he'd found him. At the wrong place at the wrong time.

"So. I'll have my boys bomb this place nice and loud once we're starside. Clear up all this lingering debris and send these statues back to their Old Gods. Probably bring down half the city with it. Not a big loss, if you can call it that. Still? ...If you're sticking around? I'd want to make myself scarce when the bricks start falling. Or? Ya know. Suit yourself."

The Ranger gave a tip of his helm to the Iron Knight before showing him his back. The mission had been to destroy the cultist's and their Dark Gods with them. Purge the xenos and wipe the slate clean. Easy money if you could find it. Still. Even with so many bodies already stacked up and counted in the city above, a little scorched earth policy and broken temples never hurt anybody neither. They'd bomb this place back into the stone age. Just like the old saying goes: We're gonna nuke it from orbit. It's the only way to be sure.

"Right then. Happy trails stranger." Chip gave with his back turned and hand waving.

Yep. Parties over. So the old Commander was taking his team and checking out. Ding.