What You Leave Behind

[TheDutchman]

So Er'Lav's "contingency" is finally activated, coming into direct contact with the Master Singer.  Armed with Cha's perspective (not to mention his own shadowed history), Zearic tries to do what others have been unable to do...

...And ultimately fails.

Brandishing his Oblivion weapons and his newfound strength, protected by Jaim against Karm's potent mental assaults, Zearic's skill, tricks, and tactics can sadly only take him so far, especially when the prime capital is power...something that Karm has in abundance with his access to the Ancient One.  Wrapped in his righteous war against Artemis, Karm has pushed himself away from those that love him the most, friends, family, even Arnor...but NOT so much that she is able to stop her husband from fully crossing the moral event horizon that his killing Zearic would entail.

But what becomes of him now?  Arnor especially has been wounded, her very family torn apart.  And while Zearic's injuries can and will heal, whether or not his friendship with Karm can survive intact...

Meta-note: All credit to LSG for this incredible chapter because this was absolutely AWESOME!  Outstanding back-and-forth between two strong characters, two protagonists that find themselves completely at odds.  Props to both LSG and Karm for this amazing story and for digging deep into ALL the characters involved!

Hello LSG,

More engrossing reading here! And I saw mention of something that reminded me of a request I received WAY back in 2021. A good friend of ours asked me to 3D model a set of weapons that sound spookily like the Ancient One and Oblivion Daggers. I had a quick search of some old Holocrons (zip-drives ) and I found I still have the files for them. I won't post all of them but one looked like this...


Anyhoo back to your great talent, thanks for a fantastic read.

Point of fact, it was FT's FANTASTIC renderings that has helped me in writing Zearic and his new fighting style, first realized in "WYLB" 

This is just ONE example of For's incredible talent (not to mention how selfless and helpful he is  )

Very honored to collaborate with such brilliant artists 

[Lord_S_Gray]

Chapter 43 - Song and Shadow - Part 1

Ruusan

“Smaller than I thought…” Zearic said of the world that loomed so large in Vhal’Dan history, peering out the view screen, upright despite the tense pains rippling across his limbs, thankful at least this time they were limbs of flesh not metal..

Even with the information from the Triptych it had still been hard to pinpoint Ruusan, shifting Nebulae of the Teraab Sector in which it was located had long since cut off hyperspace lanes used in ancient time, a series of micro jumps was needed to reach it.

This was largely accomplished by Alex and Joanna on the Hope it’s ‘smuggler grade’ sensor and navigation system far better than the Wayfarer.

They had agreed to continue with them, albeit alone on the Hope, not giving a reason, perhaps it was simply curiosity.

Arnor hoped it gave them a chance to see at least a glimmer of the man her husband could be.

“Nothing on the scans, no signals, a few bits of wreckage, clone wars era…looks like an old outpost.”  Jaim explained checking the read outs

“We’ll have to let the force guide us,” Arnor concluded, feeling out the planet below.  It was musty with age, a deep iron taste in the rockier zones, verdant and lush elsewhere with a sense of fresh life undistributed by technology or the war that had once marred its surface.

She pointed to a deep gash in the topographic scan
“There…where it feels like old blood,”

<<<<>>>>

“Bigger than I thought,” Zearic grunted.

Built to honour the fallen of the last war in a thousand year darkness they stood at the entrance to the Valley of the Jedi, two vast statues mossy around the feet with age, once sharp sculpting of their hoods softened by wind and rain of a millenia.

Beyond that into the orange and red Valley were dozens more Statues, many built of minerals native to the home worlds of the Jedi they represented. 

Deeper in, their fly over had detected various structures, a meditation complex, and dozens of entrances to below ground chambers.

“This will take decades to explore and excavate.” Jaim said looking round behind them where the Valley rocks gave way to a small rocky clearing before the low height forests, still not fully recovered from the war, began.

Every few seconds Alex thought he caught a glimpse of one of the fabled ‘Bouncers’ fluffy green floating creatures of legend, but if they were real he doubted they would approach them.

“Kind of peaceful here,” Joanna noted as Zuzu tramped about on uneven ground performing post flight checks.

“It’s here…” Karmack whispered “I can hear it…” staring between the two vast guardians of the Valley.

“Do you know where?” Arnor asked

He shook his head
“Not precisely not without the…”

She knew he meant the Ancient One.

“One thing you were right about is we don’t really have time to lose, Alex…the box…” she called
“Are you sure,” the young knight asked, still keeping his distance from them.

She looked hard at her husband, scrutinizing his every emotion. He opened himself fully to the inquisition, bearing no ill feeling, he had broken her trust, everyone's trust, that would take a lot of work to repair.

“Yes,” she replied.

It took a few minutes before Alex reappeared from the Hope, hurriedly handing the box over to Jaim.
“I don’t ever want those things on our ship again,”

Zearic nodded drawing his daggers out,
“You wo….” he paused as he sheathed the Nocte, a sudden instinctual need to Submit his wretched self to the Pure Ones washing over him.

“Zearic?” Jaim asked noticing the pause
“Karm whatever you have to do…hurry…They’re here…”

Karmack nodded tentatively, taking his saber up, the Ancient One silent and empty of any lingering trace of the emotions he had poured into it.

“Stay with the ships,” he said
“It’s me they want, and only me…I need to resolve this,” he looked back at them, the drawn look on his face showed this was not an arrogant attempt to play the hero or sacrifice himself, but mere grim fact that the Master Singer himself resented.

“If I’m not back in a day - leave,”

Arnor stepped toward him, squeezing his hand, and motioning but then deciding not to kiss his cheek, a sting Kamrack felt in his heart.

“Be safe,” she said as he turned to the Valley and into the shadow of Knights he could never measure up to.

<<<<>>>>

He walked for nearly an hour before he even thought to touch the Ancient One with the Force, only when he reached a junction in the Valley, a large Plinth inscribed in Old Aurebesh listing names and battles, the Lament of Lord Hoth in italicized script beneath.

“Where to from here…” He breathed deeply afraid the moment he drew the Force through the Crystal he would become that Monster instantly. 

His injuries from the fight with Zearic were still biting, endurable but grating.  With the Ancient One he could, if not restore himself fully, at least take the sharper edges off.

With teeth set firm, eyes closed he did so.

It was the same sensation, the same expansion and sharpening of his senses, pulsing vigour in his body, rapidity of mind…he had forgotten how ‘dull’ and ‘limited’ he was without this power.

A power he had embraced too much believing he and he alone could and should bear it.  How isolated that made him now.

The Song here was deep and sorrowful, notes of grief, and sacrifice, tones of tragic loss and questionable gain.  It was all the sharper for what Karmack knew had happened in the thousand years since the War, yes there had been times of Prosperity, the glory of the High Republic…but never peace, only slow decay into the Clone Wars and now, another Sith Empire falling slowly, taking so much with it.

It seemed a cycle they could not escape from. A cycle of desire, greed, and the fear that provoked in others, the violence to take or resist…how much had he contributed to that?

“The cycle has to be broken…” he said aloud as he walked the overgrown paths, old tiles covered in accumulated dirt, weeds breaching through the gaps.

For what was this place but a monument to the folly of that cycle of war and loss, a marker left behind in stone and Song of the price to be paid for ambition, greed, self righteousness, irrational belief in one's own truths.

Why had he not heeded the warnings?

And could he ever be forgiven?

He walked with the infusing energy of the Ancient One trickling repair across his cells until the Sun vanished behind the Valley walls, past dozens of the Sentinel Jedi, the red dusts of the natural rock covering him from head to toe as he breathed gritty dry air.

At last he came to a row of half buried Mortuaries, Seals on the Doors astonishingly untampered with, on each differing Symbols carved in the native stones.  He vaguely recognized one as similar to an Old Vhal’Dan Crest, the others he didn’t know, except one.

A Simplistic symbol of a Book before crossed swords, on the book pages Mak’Tora, Runes that spelled ‘To the Maker I Commit them’.

This…this was the place.

Gingerly he approached the only seeming entrance, filled long since with dirt blown from over the Valley edge that even now appeared a mist rain in the purple dusk light. Without any digging equipment he drew on the Fore to scoop the dirt from the stairwell that led deep underground.

At the far end was a rounded sealed door with no obvious entry mechanisms, but faded by time around the edge were musical notations.  With a sad smile he traced his fingers along them, reading the Rhythms.

With a calm sigh he sat and disassembled his saber enough to remove the Ancient one, then, in perfect accord with the carving, began to Sing.

<<<<>>>>

Beautiful as it was sorrowful the Song echoed through the Valley to the small camp in the rocky clearing where the ships sat.

The Force itself seemed to still and bow in contemplation of the losses so long ago.

Arnor sat staring at the blue and red stars grieving the loss of something far nearer, a trust, a hope, a belief she feared had been lost.  She wanted to trust, to love Karmack again, but could she?  The vows she had made so many years before had never felt such a burden as these last weeks, the thought of years of such was too much to bear.

Alex contemplated his own lost Master Cunn, and what he could or should’ve done these past few days.  There were moments he certainly could’ve done more, but so used to hiding his powers for safety from the Inquisition he had instinctively held back.  Maybe it wouldn't have mattered, Karmack with his Crystal was beyond anything he had ever sensed but still, he couldn't shake the feeling he could’ve done a lot more.     

Even Joanna could feel the mournful flow of the life-giving energy field even if she couldn’t explain its origin, to her it was a dour feeling settling over the camp as she switched on the Glo-Lumen and warmed pre-packed meals for them. 

She hadn’t said anything to Alex but the more they got involved with these Jedi sects the more afraid she was becoming - her eyes were being opened to a larger galaxy, and frankly one she wished she didn’t know about.  She felt naked compared to the other Force users, unable to see what they did, stumbling blindly, their conversations about things she couldn’t comprehend.

An outsider status Zearic could empathize with as he knelt at the edge of the forest staring into the blackness, breathing in the cool evening air in deep gulps, wondering if he could, or should ever go home? 

As he gazed into the black of the forest the darkness began to stare back.

With a deep gulp he slowly stood and walked to the makeshift camp.

“Everyone, put your weapons on the ground and step away from them,” he said in slow measured tones breaking them from the spell of the Dirge Karmack sung kilometers away.

Before anyone could ask why the passing of a cloud from in front of the Third Sister Moon revealed the two vast Shadows that had followed Zearic from the darkness.

<<<<>>>>

The Song completed the Seal rolled away revealing a deep blackness.

Lighting his one small Glow stick Karmack entered tentatively, cautious with every step in direct contrast to the frantic rush of the last weeks.

There would not be many bodies, most would’ve been taken to Coruscant, those that could not probably left more due to limited resources than choice.

Compared to Coruscant there was a paucity of decoration, only the barest inscriptions on solid walls where bodies never found in the butchered aftermath of battle were honoured, the very occasional urn or rust eaten piece of armour.

The Tomb was built as a downward curve toward what Karmack deduced was a central room that joined all six of the mortuaries he had seen at ground level.

The light stick flickered and once more, he begrudgingly lit his saber, the yellow light and flow of the Ancient one sharpening the sense of direction.

But unlike the last month or more this time he felt the nascent presence of the Entities within the Crystal once more, a subtle presence but undeniable.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered to them as he stepped slowly
“I…I thought myself right, and righteous, I used what you gave me without consideration for others…I know I need to repent, to reconcile…I know I don’t deserve it, but please, trust and aid me on this final stretch.  I realise now I cannot, and should never have tried, to do this alone.”

He felt nothing in response either way as the tunnel widened into a large chamber a light shining from the center.

There beneath the carved faces of dozens of Jedi that held the vaulted ceiling on their carved backs was a vast crystal, unlikely to be the fabled Adegan at the Center of Johun Othones creation, this was a smaller conduit to the Force Nexus of the planet. 

Arranged around it,  heads resting against the base of the Crystal,  were sarcophagi with faded paintings bearing a likeness to the faces carved above.

The crystal glimmered a soft white, enough light that he could switch his saber off as he was drawn to one burial.

Brushing off the light red dust of the natural rock of the cavern was the name he had searched for - Jar’Es’Kinsler.

The son of the last to bear the Clan name, the others of the Xandir bloodline having long since married into other Clans, here was the last bearer of the Starfire.

“Jar’Es’Kinsler, son of Gel’I’Xandir-Kinsler…” He read the words in old Aurebesh rather than Mak’Tora Runes, indicating she had been interred sometime after the Mak’Tor had left, perhaps only one remaining to seal their Mortuaries entrance after.

“...Of the 100…”
The 100 who had died in the Thought Bomb…that made more sense, there was no body to bury and inscribe with the sacred Runes.  But…then the Starfire…

“Could it survive a thought bomb?,” he wondered aloud, the Ancient One had - but at extreme cost to the entities within.

Feeling assured there was no body to disturb he gently used the force to pry the Sarcophagi lid, a spray of sealed air hissing out dry and stale.

Lighting his saber he cast it over the remains. 

A few pieces of ancient armour, scraps of a Cloak and a cylindrical bundle wrapped in linen.

Gingerly he lifted it out, feeling some of the fabric flake away with age, unwrapping slowly the archaic saber, damaged and burnt out, barely had it been revealed when the crystal dropped, lifeless and black.

“Gone,” he sighed, disappointed but not surprised the Thought Bomb had destroyed it. 

The power he had once lusted for to destroy Artemis had never existed in his lifetime at all.  He could scarcely imagine the rage he would’ve felt had he found it in his mania. 

His emotions burnt out he simply stared calmly at its blankness before placing it back as carefully as he could.

Turning away he reached the tunnel exit, switching on his saber for light once more.

*****

What?

He switched the blade off…then on again ******

“It's reacting, to the Ancient One!” perhaps, perhaps it wasn’t destroyed just…Hibernating, or closed off.

Rushing back he removed the crystal once again, it flickered with small lights from within as he brought the Ancient One near it.  Removing his own crystal he sat beneath the Adegan Nexus Channel and began to Sing through the Ancient One a Song of Awakening into the Starfire.

<<<<>>>>

“Alex…I really really don’t like this…” Joanna stammered as she dropped her pistol to the ground,

“We’re safe, if we don’t attack they won’t hurt us…” Zearic insisted under their thrall.

There were three Oblivion Warriors that they could see, given how pitch black everything was around the camp, likely more remained hidden.

Alex gripped his saber tight, Zeaic fixed him with a stare

“Don’t do anything rash…If they get what they want then we all get to leave,” Zearic continued, the words barely his own. The Pure Ones did not speak to him - his tainted blood made him unworthy of such a boon - yet he knew their Will as a compressive fist wrapped around his own consciousness  leaving him a passenger in a body that moved and spoke of its own accord to their voiceless needs.

“And if they don’t?” Alex asked mentally calculating how fast he could sweep Joanna up and make for the Hope

Zearic, or rather the Compulsion that controlled him had no answer.

For the first time one of the Shadows stepped past Zearic toward Alex.  It pointed a silent finger at his saber, then the ground.

“Lipnucks…” Alex whispered in preference to a stronger expletive, finally relenting.

Barely had the saber touched the ground than a mist of black swept it from his sight along with every other weapon.

Zearic calmly lowered his hands indicating they should sit.

“Now we just wait,”

“For what?” Jaim asked this time.

“For Karm,” Arnor said, staring at the most distant of the BA’s partially concealed at the Forest's edge, the one she somehow knew was the leader.

“Maker help him,”

<<<<>>>>

[Lord_S_Gray]

Chapter 43 - Song and Shadow - Part 2

Shadow and Song

Spark by spark the Starfire awoke in his hand. The first few lights were tenuous, resentful of being pulled from its self inflicted silence, but now it was gathering pace, a Song of Energy, of Vigour and Strength, far more so than the Contemplative tones of the Ancient One.

If the Ancient One was the Crystal of Sages and Force powers, the MoonShadow of stealth and concealment, then the Starfire was a boisterous bellicose warriors crystal, implacable in its attack, indomitable in its defence. 

The Crystal drew from him and the Adegan Nexus nearby renewing its connection to the Song with joyous bluster, a weaving subtune between it and the Ancient One almost made him laugh, it had the tone of a bickering brother asking ’What took you so long!’

Moment by moment it awakened further into full glowing luminosity, as bright as the Ancient One, a complement and contrast, equal but different.

He held the Crystals up side by side, revelling in the reunion, and not at all his own part in it.
He had to remind himself he was not The Master Singer, simply A Master Singer, in a different Era Odjina or Dorian would’ve done exactly the same.

His elation paused as he looked at Jar’Es empty Coffin.

“Jar’Es…I…Thank You…May you find your rest in the Maker.” he bowed with due reverence then turned.

Straight into a wall of Oblivion.

His eyes widened as he took the sight in, a silhouette of a large armoured being blacking out the light around it such that his eyes couldn’t quite discern the edges.

There was no point wondering how they found him, how he got in unseen and unheard or how long he had even been there, the BA’s just Were.

And unlike the meeting with Andisdottir, Karmack knew this time there would be no bargaining, no discussion.

It was Submission or Death.

“You had to wait didn’t you,” Karmack said scoping out the situation
“You couldn’t reawaken the StarFire yourself or you would’ve slit my throat ages ago.  I understand now, you had to drive me here, Mendax, Morrigan, the Droids, Cha, all threats to force me to come looking for this…” he held the Starfire lightly in his fingers

“I rejected you on Commenor, so you created this elaborate sequence of threats…my…my darker moments…you didn’t plan that…you probably hoped I’d still be panicked, threatened, angry,” he shook his head
“I could barely face Zearic in that state, you’d end me in a moment…”

Irritated at the talking, the Oblivion Warrior simply stretched out his hand demanding Tribute from the lesser species.

“Andisdottir told me on Commenor, with the Ancient One, I was like a walking death star…a rhetorical stab of course, but a certain truth, these can make me incredibly powerful, and as Zearic warned I decide unilaterally how to use them…or I did…I won’t anymore,”  Karmack straightened his posture.

“I will use these Crystals to Serve the Maker, in accordance with the Book of the Way and the guidance of my Kage, I will Craft the Song to Protect the Innocent, I will pass on the Knowledge I have and will gain, and gratefully hand over these crystals to the next generation. but I Will not…”

He glared into an Abyss that stared back ravenously

“I will not submit or surrender them to any who have proven acts of evil to their credit.  I will never pretend to perfection, I have fallen harder and farther than I imagined, but I will be damned before I let these fall into the hands of those who do not reveal their faces, fears or intentions,”

Spreading his arms the Force guided the Ancient One back into his saber, a dozen crystals of his Choir spread from within his robes, the Starfire took its place first among them.

Resolved to take the Crystals at any Cost the Oblivion Warrior Struck without warning.

The Ancient One Channeled through the Starfire hit first with a power that warped reality and consciousness into a mirror of itself.

<<<<>>>>

 
A place that was not a place, a time that was not a time resolved into what once human minds could comprehend as a vast dark grey plain of infinite by nonexistent dimension in which they stood.

All of the Crystal Entities, echoes of their Living Forms stood in a line, Dorian, Slo’Ma,Ci’Lus, Vi’rys, Lan’dir, Shiv’Dir and finally Ho’Li and Ha’Ona.

Light beamed from their hands a vast formless mass of black mist above them, compressing it, forcing it to take form on Their plane.

Finally unable to resist the pull the tendrils of shadow smoke formed into a body of a man in black, his face would’ve been handsome without the grim countenance it bore like a shield.

“It can’t be…” Ha’Ona gasped

“You know him?” Dorian asked

“That is…Valens…the man who killed Odjina…”

They all knew those memories, the terror, the power this being had wielded 600 years before enough to kill a Master Singer and half a dozen knights besides, in one battle.

“Well…” Slo’Ma ‘patted’ Dorian on the back
“Got get him Master Singer Extraordinaire,”

Dorian ‘rolled’ his eyes as Valens stared at the interlopers who had dragged some of his multiple consciousnesses into their little Holocron-like prison realm.

They were eight, he was one.  But they were ghosts of humans.  He was People.  And this was far from his first time fighting such a battle.

Rising up in the nowhere realm where physics didn’t apply Valens twisted into a form of dozens of blade tipped shadow smoke tendrils and struck, the Crystal entities responded transforming into luminous balls of energy clashing in mirror blasts to counter his attack that sought to ‘pierce’ them and spill their energy across the void.

The Crystal entities sought only to contain and divert him as best as they could, for Maker knew, Karmack needed the help.

<<<<>>>>

A bastion of Light, the very Embodiment of the Song, his body a perfect conduit for the harmonies that undergird the universe, amplified in their breath in and breath out through the two Crystals of Xandir and the Choir - Karmack parried the Oblivion blade with clean precision, sliding past the follow through punch, leaping over the low sweeping kick, blocking the blade.

Channelling the Counter-Rhythm to the Oblivion material he had learned on Coruscant through the Starfire into the Ancient one and through his saber blade Karmack struck back, his blade slicing into the Oblivion Warriors helmet.

Yellow glowing ravines cracked along the Oblivion piece before exploding it outward into pebble sized fragments, the Oblivion blade coming through to push Karm off.

Karmack felt for a brief moment the elation of success, staring at the shadowed face of his opponent now exposed, a familiarity to it he couldn’t quite pick.

What he didn’t realise at that moment was that the Oblivion Warrior was fending off the initial thrust of the Crystal Entities unprecedented metaphysical strike. 

Seven seconds into the fight Valens had adapted and re-allocated his cognitive resources for maximum effect.

On the Eighth second he struck back.         

Pillars of Darkness crashed upon Karmacks Yellow blade, the rock beneath his feet cracking under the impacts that rumbled through his bones, Valens sword working with speed and sheer brutal strength beyond what Karmack thought possible even with the Force without liquefying one's own skeleton.

Releasing one hand on his grip Valens sent bolts of Kine-Lighting into the Crystals of the Choir, the Shatterpoint attuned blasts disintegrating four of the twelve Choir crystals in an instant, Karmack felt immediately the Flow of the Force through his body drop precipitously.

The Master Singer rose in a strong Riposte, blasting forward with a whirlwind of kinetic energy that was dismissively buffeted aside. Karmack did what he could to fortify the remaining Choir Crystals integrity, assured his opponent would not destroy the Crystals of Xandir at least, but it diverted precious energies from the fight.

His body twisted in furious defence, muscles and ligaments quickly straining as the Oblivion Warriors inhuman dexterity delivered resounding blows from every possible angle, tri-jointed elbows and shoulders allowed contortionist like feats of maneuverability Karmack could only keep up with by fuelling his sheer speed.

The Mak’tor felt out of control, running at 100 kmph on slippery ice, liable to fall and crack his skull open at any instant, the Force flowing through him at a rate which, without the Choir to channel it, would certainly be physically damaging.

Valens centuries of experience and training gave him vastly superior technique, the Battle Song flowing it seemed from the Maker itself guiding Karmacks body was all that stood in its way. 

The Saber slammed over and over against the Oblivion Blade, the power cell burning up, the blade began to flicker with each clash as the sheer force was too much to counteract.

Worry trickled up Karmacks twisting spine like ice, if his blade died, so did he.

On the Metaphysical Plain the Crystal entities in luminous spheres spun, connected and divided trying to trap and distract the shadow smoke fingers that sought to stab them.  Few of the Mak’Tor in life had engaged in such combat before, struggling with the mutli-dimensional nature, for in the realm of the mind space and time were an irrelevance.

Valens quickly deduced the Crystal entities greatest weakness - as shades of living beings they were, to a large degree ‘fixed’ - they could imitate the living but could not ‘learn’ or ‘adapt’ only reflect the tactics and demeanour of the humans they were once ‘copied’ from.

They were - eventually - completely predictable, unable to truly innovate, only attempting to swap and mix up existing finite skill sets, using this to his advantage he isolated and began to stab into two of the dimmer lights, scattering their coalesced consciousness once more.

Karmack fell back further and further, getting ever closer to the vast adegan crystal of the Mortuary, the Oblivion sword relentless and controlled, bashing his body down, Valens taking every short break to fire another blast of Kine-Lighting with Shatterpoint precision to blast another of the Crystal Choir apart - Karmacks fortifying of the Crystals increased their resilience - even so Valens had shattered two more leaving Karmack with half his starting tally. 

The power cell finally failed, Karack rolled to the side avoiding a sweep that surely would’ve taken his head, they as a follow through blow came down another of the Crystal choir acted as a shield, the Kyber crystal ‘blocking; the Oblivion sword, shattering in the process but saving Karmacks limbs from certain detachment.

The connection with the Ancient One and StarFire surged knowledge unknown into his mind as he scrambled to gain distance, fumbling, desperate and not even in control of his action he tore out the power cell and threw it at Valens who brushed it aside with a sneer - then Karmack without thinking rammed the Starfire where it had been.

Now Valens was taken aback.

A blazing beam of Pure Force Energy erupted into magnificent light - the Song through Karmack, Amplified in the Starfires martial facets and channelled by the precise reflection of the Ancient One turned into a new blade.

It crashed into the Oblivion sword causing it to flicker with a Red Purple luminosity - the Pure Force Weapon attacking the Traditional Aethan Enchantments directly.

Over many centuries and countless wars Valens had seen, and indeed used such weapons of pure Aether, they were rare, deadly - and utterly draining even for People - he wondered if the Mak’Tor truly appreciated what he was even doing, if Valens did not kill the Mak’Tor, using such intense power for any length of time certainly would.

The flare of energy as the Crystals of Xandir perfectly combined spread to the Metaphysical battle, three of their number scattered the remaining Entities gained a measure of reinforcement, their bright aura’s burning the tips of half a dozen Valens bladed tendrils, a break that allowed Kamrack on the Physical plain to stage a fight back.

The Song-Blade was light, almost pure air, its weight was only in the Force where it scythed off more and more of the Oblivion Weapons Eldritch powers - Valens only response was another blast at the Crystal Choir, breaking two more.

The Master singers lips and body hummed incessantly to the point of physical pain as the BattleSong animated his every action, driving the Shadow back further and further, the Song-blade extinguishing the charge of the Oblivion sword.

The Abyssal weapons eldritch energy depleted Karm cut straight through it into the chest plate behind, again crackling on a wall of Enchanted Aether Energy, the yellow sparking against the Dark purple in crimson flares.

Pushing back with kinetic waves Karmack pressed on, slicing everywhere he could, delivering shallow but numerous cuts to the fragmenting Oblivion Armour, the Singer frustrated by the disparity in dexterity, reflex speed and experience that enabled the Aethan to avoid any serious blow.

Pushed back, Valens finally had his fill of this pointless joust. 

The Song trembled as the Force rocked with a voracious, primal consumptive draw on its power, an animalistic connection that understood no limits or restraint, before the sensation had even settled into Karmack’s senses a cascade of lighting poured over his opponent.

On the metaphysical plane the Shadow smoke crackled with lighting that added a virulent threat to any of the Entities that approached, catching them in a net of crackling burning fire that shook the luminous spheres so violently their fragmented memories of who they were began to break apart within rendering all but Dorian and Slo’Ma confused inert jumbles of memories. 

Slashing forward Valens caught the Song-Blade on his Aether powered lighting shield, Karmacks eyes widened in the white hot screeching clash. 

He saw the blow coming - but his human body could not physically move fast enough to stop it.

Valens elbow slammed into Karmacks right forearm with a wet crack, the Aethans fist following through to his shoulder popping it out.  Karmacks grip gave way and the Oblivion fists crashed through the gap.

In five seconds half a dozen crippling blows struck Karmacks comparatively weak human frame, shattering bone and ruining muscle beyond the Song’s ability to resist or repair, crushing the Mak’tor’s wrists in one hand Valens pulled Karmack forward then kneed him hard in the sternum. 

Karmacks grip released as the air rushed from his body, the Saber falling, his back smashing into the vast Adegan Crystal.

The Saber clattered to the ground, the blade dying - Pain the Force had been suppressing erupted across Karmacks body in tormenting fire.

Disconnected from the Singers Living Connection to the Force the Crystal Entities last resistance faded, Valens full mind finally free as his body. 

Quickly reaching out the Aethan summoned the Saber to his hand - the faster than sound launch suddenly stopped by the Singer.

Physical pain and moral failing translated in Karmacks soul to an utter determination not to allow the Oblivion Monster to take the Crystals. He had done so much wrong in recent months, this at least he could do right.

The Saber vibrated mid air, the Songsteel already brittle from the sheer enormity of the Force energies flowing through it began to slowly tear apart.

Irritated Valens free hand flicked up, red piercing wisps flying from each finger tip, ephemeral needles that pierced Karmacks body, a Life Drain attack sucking the energy from the Mak’tor. 

Karmack pushed back with a Song of resistance of defiance, their energies swirled and coalesced round the focal point of the Crystals.
 
Invisible to both was the connection between the Ancient One and the Star Fire flared in newfound intensity as both recognised the familiar notes of a long buried tune deep within their ancestral connections to the Force.

A sudden flare of white erupted from within the saber, both combatants thinking the other had launched some kind of desperate destructive attack.

The pulsing shock wave floored them both.

<<<<<>>>>>

[Lord_S_Gray]

Chapter 43 - Song and Shadow - Part 3

Through His Eyes

His eyes opened to a verdant world of greens and blues gauzy and indistinct that slowly resolved into clearer images.

A River, Forests, fields, small wooden houses.

Karmack looked around him, taking in the view of the Rural Idyll seemingly realised from the imagination of a pastoral poet.

He was absent any physical form, seemingly just eyes and ears floating freely down the Valley,  watching, listening to the occupants go about simple lives. 

They were all so similar, their build, facial features, all as if close cousins or siblings, not quite human, their proportions too exact and symmetrical, muscles and skeletal structures streamlined into something built for fast brutal war, but here turned to ploughing, writing, sewing…

His gaze was constantly on one young man who looked so familiar, light brown hair, uncertainty and hope in his eyes.

Like a dream, the scene shifted by unconscious connections – everyone was gathered together as young men and women in a row held hands, lighting flaring across their bodies, binding the couples…amongst them was ….Valens?…

The sky darkened and the gathering dispersed.  Panic and terror spread as Trolls, Goblins and demons attacked the People from flying metal carts with lighting weapons.  Karmack recognised the species…gamorrean, twi’lek, rodian…yet also did not…they had never been here before.

Amongst the panicked crowd a few struck back, lighting and flame pouring from their fingertips…swords spinning through goblin after goblin…the flying carts downed by their fists and feet…yet one after the other the strange lighting struck them down. 

Valens was among them hammering into the carts queer panel filled with glowing bugs that didn’t move, bolts struck him from behind…Valens couldn’t understand…the weapons looked like a concentrated form of aetheric lighting…and he tried to absorb and reflect it…yet he couldn’t it wasn’t right…wasn’t natural….

‘It’s not Force Lighting!’ Karmack screamed through sealed lips trying to warn him ‘It’s a blasterbolt…its…’

Too late, the flying cart crashed as Valens fell to the unnatural blasts of energy he couldn’t adapt to fast enough.

The whole society Karmack had glimpsed was destroyed, those not killed taken away, fear and technology overcoming their natural prowess.  Valens awoke battered to a destroyed village littered with the dead.

Alone, confused, enraged…Valens struggled up as Karmack watched him, the Singer helpless to intervene once more. 

The dream shifted as Karmack was made to watch second by painful second a time in Valens life he had shared with no one. 

One by one he walked through the streets collecting his fallen People – men, women, children the slavers had killed.  One by One Valens lifted them on his shoulders and took them to the burial caverns….One by One he performed the rituals that were meant to be reserved for a Priestess to intone over them. 

Valens didn’t stop to eat, drink nor rest, for days he lifted and carried body after body after body.  With each of his kin Valens face hardened further, their deaths taken into him in a way Karmack could not comprehend.  Each time Valens trod the same path under his burdens past the corpses of the Outsiders he was reminded that they had done this, the Outsiders had attacked them for no reason, ruined their civilization for profit and greed. 

The conclusion was simple befitting a simple society – there were People, always victims, always good and innocent  - and Outsiders – always evil, always guilty and rapacious toward People.

Karmack could not disagree with the conclusion, each body Valens carried on his back, Valens refusing to even touch the Force to aid him, stood silent witness to innocence shattered, peace obliterated, there were no arguments nor alternate points of view that could ever match the visceral horror of what had occurred here.

The sky roared as another ship descended…the Outsiders returning to finish what they began?  Who could guess at their insane violent intentions?  Yet on that ship was not a slaver, but a Jedi Master.

Yoda, young…very young…It made no difference to Valens…the dichotomy was established – if this outsider tried to use words instead of weapons to attack People let him, Valens would not be fooled…he would seek others if they survived…and punish the Outsiders until none were left.

The images drained back leaving Karmack in a shadowy limbo between reality and vision he felt the horrible backwash of all he had seen.

A new light flared, hot, violent on a world of metal and machine, a face Karmack felt he knew, burning with Dark hatred…a…a Mack?

Jo’Set’Mack vicious and hate filled pursued Valens across the Galaxy to avenge the massacre on Vyth - a slaughter Valens barely even recalled, a simple mission in his larger game with the Jedi.

A final confrontation on Ord Mirit, their blades clashed, Jo fell, an order from a Female prevented Jo’s death…He saw him again under the thrall of a Witch years later, but surely Valens thought that desire for revenge was there.

The face of Jo in the midst of a battle of Rancors and feathered warriors morphed to Karmacks own, his pursuit of the Ancient One, resetting the Crystals…interpreted as…as a drive to accumulate power, to enact a Blood Feud Generations old.

‘No…It’s not…I didn’t even know!’ Kamrack tried to plead, he had no awareness of any of it until Vyth, even then it was 600 years, why would he pursue such a vendetta…

‘But you've lived those 600 years…’ Kamrack thought out loud, a being who lived centuries would certainly interpret events differently, and from a Tribal society where blood ties and intergenerational bonds and feuds were norms…

‘I Understand you…I understand…’ Karmack sighed breathless     

But there was more to see, he had witnessed the Past, the Present and now…

The Future.

Magma fire rained from the sky of world that had suffered two genoicdes in as many decades, vast chitinous constructs plied across a wretched landscape overgrown with vines and spiked urchin-like creatures. 

Battle-Mechs smoked as X wings of a make Karmack had never seen crashed to the ground, over head a strange looking Star Destroyer was torn apart by a spiral ship the colour of sea shells.

Three men in Oblivion Armour ran through the hellscape, injured, hunted, firing Hades red bolts at an unseen enemy behind them.

The Galaxy, and their Home was already lost, they were killing for the sake of killing. It was all they had left. 

The Sorcerers had been defeated - eventually - but it left the New Republic and Remnant too weak to repel what came next…. 

The Sorcerers? Who are the Sorcerers? Karm asked of a war already over by the time the eventuality he now witnessed came to pass.

An Oblivion Dagger, a vast ship, fallen to the surface in a lost battle months before was their target, within a final spiteful suicidal act detonating a bomb of incredible power.

But the Oblivion Trinity was intercepted by beings of hideous aspect, bodies covered in rotten mollusc shells, writhing maggots crawling between the gap of the loosely humanoid form in sick symbiosis, clicking crustacean like claws in the place of arms, hoofed feet and snake like chitinous creatures that served as weapons.

‘Who…What are they?’ Karm asked the Oblivion figures as they struggled against the hideous amalgams of undreamt of biotechnology

“Vong,” the yell echoed in the Mak’Tors Mind as everything turned black.

<<<<>>>>

His ‘face’ or the closest equivalent on an ephemeral plane twisted in irritation as Valens struggled against the Visions presented to him.

***

"Excellent construction, son.  Well done."  the older man extended the hilt pommel first.

The boy beamed, clipping the hilt on the right, the proper place for a Knight as his father grinned
“"Karm, you're young.  Too young for me to take you formally as my Teidowan.  But your mother and I have noticed your ... strong connection to the song.  This, as well as your demonstration of your skills, warrants special training….”

The voice drained into a matra repeated over and over through tears - Dad’s never coming home, Dad’s never coming home.

****

Loss, Valens knew loss.  The limited emotional scope of his species prevented any semblance of sympathy from emerging. For the Aethan this was mere illusion and trickery.

****

“....I do not recognize you, are you part of the new Jedi Order?"

Arnor drifted back to his side, cutting a nervous glance, but while the counter-point was fading it was not falling into opposition or chaos, just settling into a peaceful harmony.  "We are not.  Our Master, Chillum, was long the guardian of this planet and has taught us the way of the force, but we are not Jedi."

"We are Gray."

****

Another vignette, Karmack in younger years, firming his role as a Gray Jedi, a moniker with little meaning to most People, though a few had some interest.  He watched with cold indifference as Karmack Reset the Crystals of Balance on Coruscant, pursued Mendax

***

"Cha.  Release her."
tempered rage boiled in the Mak’Tor.  Valens could understand that, the need to protect and avenge his mate.
On the screen, Arnor, visibly bloody from at least one wound, was already nearly naked as the troopers stripped her of anything that might be used as a weapon.
"Even if I could, I would not….” the Other Cha had replied…to his fatal error.
Karm continued to block the rain of blows, but reached into Cha's left knee and found a nexus.  With a savage yell he pulled...

Cha cried out as his knee collapsed, spilling him onto the ground.  The Mak’Tor’s saber orbit never faltered as I dipped the cut a bit - and severed his right arm just above the elbow.  The next orbit cut his left saber in half - and severed his hand at the palm.  And the last orbit took the top of his head off, just at the level of his ears and nose.

****

Karmack Fought with the Controlled focus of one under the hormonally induced Aephordaea’s Grace, cold and precise.
A worthy warrior indeed, Valens had never realised how worthy.

****

“Ken!  No!!  NO!!!”  And after a second of silence, Karm began to Sing.
When Mendax and even Jennira had Sang, they were drawing strength from the river that was the Force.
Karm was the river.  No, he was an ocean.
As Karm Sang, the Rur crystal began to glow, becoming a radiance that began to outshine a thousand suns.   Waves of pure energy washed over all present, healing the Gray Jedi while hammering against Mellichae, propelling him against the wall, knocking him insensate.
And still Karm Sang.
Ken’s chest reformed itself to its natural state, the skin, muscle, and organs regenerating completely as if nothing had occurred.  And, slowly, his arm began to grow back, first from the shoulder…and then his bicep and tricep…and then his elbow.
 And all the while, Karm began to shine as brilliantly as the Rur crystal then - the abruptness of the silence was deafening.  Karm’s his eyes rolled up into his head.  He was in a deep coma.

****

An impressive feat for a mere human, but Valens had seen better.  Still the Aethan couldn’t help but feel some kinship in the fanatical dedication to protecting his child.

****

“Might I introduce the representative of Aertemis Industries, Mister…” The man, dressed in a red and black business jacket turned around.
“Cha…” Karm finished his hand instantly dropping to his saber in time with the surge in his heart rate.
He saw the Peoples Servant through the eyes of the Singer, felt the twitch of danger sense with every word that passed between them as the watched Silman face a Mark IV Droid.

Tension and worry rising through the Master Singer with every moment.

*****

“The weaponized potential of the Ancient One and the Starfire combined is extreme, and we both know it.  Your pursuit of the knowledge to make use them is the equivalent of designing a personal Death Star.”

Valens stared through Karmacks eyes at his own daughter on Commenor, their first attempt to engage with him, convince him to submit to the will of the People from a position of strength.

Yet he didn’t sense Karmack feeling intimidated, or submissive, if anything he was suspicious, defiant…why? Why wouldn’t the petty human simply submit.

******

“I don’t think this Karmack or Zearic will appreciate our charity toward this particular individual…” the female noted, her attenuated voice still transmitting the ghost of a smile.

Even more disorienting Valens saw via Karmack himself on Geonosis as they recovered the body of Mendax

He heard his own voice through Karmacks ears

“Mendax is a problem for you. I can make it go away.  Obviously I can’t undo what you have seen her do already, the Force would balk at such a paradox...”

When Valens had spoken those words he had considered it an extremely generous concession to the Outsider, a benevolent action undeserved by the wretched human…but now…

Having seen so much more of how Karmack Saw the events leading to this point…

It was not a bargain to the Mak’Tor but coercion. 

****
The scene twisted into one of righteous anger aimed as a glowing saber at the face of his wife…no not His, Karmacks. 

Everywhere he looked he saw Artemis trying to undermine and stop, trying to destroy what he loved most, he could only trust himself, everyone else was tainted, or blind…

This was what Karmack felt, falling into a self righteous echo chamber to the point even his friends and wife were suspect enough to raise his saber against.

The contrast to the scene moments ago where he had slain Cha in vengeance for mistreating Arnor was stark.   The cause of the shift obvious.

They had done this to him.

Every effort they had made to obtain the Crystals was premised on the belief that Karmack intended, ultimately, to use them for revenge against the People for the massacre at Vyth. 

They had fundamentally failed to appreciate how Karmack had interpreted their actions.  In trying to make themselves appear a powerful potential ally whose value exceeded the drive for ancestral revenge, they had made themselves into a looming existential threat in Karmacks mind.

Their mercy toward the attempted theft on Canto Bite, and generous donations to M’Tzigon were seen as manipulations, Droids and Oblivion Warriors intimidations, restoring Zearic Vih’Torr as a means of re-establishing a link with the Vhal’Dan was considered part of a grander scheme.

Trying to hide their motive and goals they had concealed too much, driving Karmack to become what they feared he already was.

Darkness enfolded Valens as he pondered the insanities and complexities of the Outsider mind.

<<<<>>>>

Both men returned to themselves shaking, staring at the luminous form project from the Starfire and Ancient One in between them.

The Man was serene, calm, a hand stretched toward each linking their experiences for a moment.

Neither had ever seen him, yet both knew his identity.

Klu Xandir.

Or rather the essential features of the long Dead Mak’Tor existing in fragments within the Ancient One and StarFire at last reunited enough to coalesce into a semi-sentient whole.

There was so much he wanted to say to both. So much that needed to be explained….but his energy was spent bridging their minds in the hope of building at least a moment of understanding between the two.

The first step, Klu hoped, in healing a fraternal division millenia old.

The pair fully came round as Klu’s image faded.

Karmack felt the life slowly ebbing out from him, the injuries certainly fatal without immediate treatment -  somehow the Ancient One was in his hand.

Valens felt the Starfire in his own palm, wrapping his fist tightly around it as he stared at the human he had broken an instant and a lifetime before.

Karmack released the Ancient One, rolling it best he could along the floor.

“Take it…” he wheezed
“It’s yours…I..I understand why you can’t trust me…or anyone…but I know…the Vong are coming…use it to fight them…”

The Vong? How…of course the Crystals showed him my memories as I saw his… Valens realised disgusted an Outsider had seen anything of his mind.

Yet was not this lack of understanding what had led them to a bloody confrontation neither had wanted?

Valens strode forward, sweeping up the Ancient One, balancing the two crystals one in each hand.

Looming over the Mak’tor, Karm closed his eyes expecting the superhuman strength of Valens boot to crush his skull.

Kneeling Valens pressed the crystals Karmacks chest, the Singer grunting in pain, his sternum and upper ribs broken and stabbing into his organs.     

“Heal yourself,” Valens said, standing up, “My kind cannot repair lesser species…only change them.”

Karm shook his head, he didn’t have the energy left

Realising the human had surpassed his limit Valens relented to assist as best he could, drawing on the vast Adegan crystal that had watched over the their battle, he channeled the Energy of the Force Nexus of Ruusan into the Starfire that seemed completely open to his will, as if his Aetheric aura was a key to a lock within the Crystal.

This chained into the Ancient One as Pure Force Energy - untainted by Aetheric patterns so mutating to Outsiders - for Karmack to use.

With a gasp Kamack filled his body with healing energy, lips mouthing a wordless song of revival, he felt his bones snapback, muscles bind, tissues restitch…

But it was brief, just enough to stave off the worst before he could do no more.

The last he saw was a vast hand reaching down to close his eyelids.

<<<<>>>>

[Lord_S_Gray]

Chapter 43 - Song and Shadow - Part 4

Reunions

The dawn broke with anxious fear.

All night they had been awake afraid of their Oblivion captors whilst feeling the ripples of incredible feats of power somewhere deep in the Valley, the exultant burst of triumph, the wretched cries of torment.

Suddenly the Oblivion Warriors moved, heavy footsteps approaching.

Zearic facing toward the sharp orange of the rising sun over the Valley saw them first.

He walked over arms outstretched to take the burden the Pure One had carried.

Karmack fell heavy into Zearic arms, alive, but only just so.

“See to his wounds,” Zearic’s Lord ordered as he would a thrall among any of the Demi-gods Client races, Zearic complying immediately.

Arnor, Alex, Joanna and Jaim stared at the maskless Oblivion soldier, astonished more by the normality of what lay beneath the helmet than anything else.  He was a man, handsome at first glance, but his features were unnervingly symmetrical, skin too clean, eyes too quick and sharp to be human.

Valens headed straight for Arnor.

“Your husband will live…and I…We…” he paused as if having an elaborate conversion with the others nearby in the space of three seconds.

“...We express our regret for any misunderstandings that have occurred between us…Karmack is not without qualities even I can…appreciate…if he has acted in a way you find distasteful recently, Our actions are in part responsible,”

It was the closest thing to culpability or an apology an Outsider would ever receive from him. 

But even this was used as a means to attain what the People wanted by avoiding further deterioration in their relationship.     

Walking past, the other BA’s dropped their confiscated weapons in a pile before vanishing into the forest, the Crystals of Xandir held tightly in Valens fist.

<<<<>>>>

[TheDutchman]

An incredible climax, the culture clash between Aethan&Mak'Tor not only given primacy but also revelation as the two come together for once absent their respective filters, courtesy of the shared memories that join Karm and Valens, able to bridge the immense chasm dividing them and preventing past understanding.

And concession.

But it is not just a misunderstanding predicated upon disparate social mores, but also a fundamental difference in the very make up of the various players upon their galactic stage.  It is from these differences--not only misunderstandings but indeed completely alien (literally and figuratively) processes--that contributes to the major dissensions fueling the antipathy between Karm&Co. and Artemis.

Where now does this leave everyone?  Can there be peaceful resolutions given the violence of such?  How will those at odds with one another progress in the future?  The Mak'Tor Maker preaches forgiveness...but is that the same as Zearic's Maker, to say nothing of the Aethan goddesses and their own requirements...

...For that matter, can Karm forgive himself (not to mention Arnor's own feelings concerning her husband). 

Yet, if someone like Valens can take a step forward, give concession towards an Outsider who is neither Friend or Family, perhaps there is hope that everything our Gray Jedi have been through hasn't been for naught.

Going forward, we shall have to see where this ultimately leads 

Meta-note: Outstanding resolution between Karm and Artemis.  As a rule, we within the Forumverse tend to deal with "shades of gray" instead of the "black and white" of the OT...which is what I truly believe makes for some of the best stories 

Chapter 44 can't come soon enough 

[Lord_S_Gray]

Chapter 44 - Resolutions - Part 1

Return

The trip to M’Tzigon was undergird by a mix of relief and anticipation.

Everyone wanted to know what had happened on Ruusan, yet no one wanted to disrupt Arnor caring for Karm in the small med-bay of the Wayfarer.

Zearic sat alone in the co-pilots seat simply staring into the void.  The utter capitulation to the BA’s demands was so instant, so complete…so natural that…

That there was nothing he could ever do about it.  He had only to hope their use of him was infrequent and ‘benevolent’ so far as any concept as limited as morality could be ascribed to such beings.

He had a life to live, a wife a daughter, and Order.  Whatever they thought of his new body, his new…state…he could do nothing about it.

He resolved then and there to go back and tell them as soon as he could, and bear whatever consequences he must.

“Still nothing,” Joanna would note at each break jump, trying to find any trace of how the BA’s had been following them.

“I doubt we’ll ever find anything,” Alex sighed, most likely it was whatever control they had over this Zearic fellow, Alex still intended to do a very full sweep of the ship for tracking devices.

Arnor watched as her husband slept, the gentle beep of monitors indicating everything was fine.

Physically at least.

Arnor couldn't look at him the same way, not any more.  She had stayed silent, kept being supportive right till that very moment when she was forced to throw herself in his sabers path to save Zearic.

It had stopped Karmack, made him realise his error, but it didn’t undo the fact he had gotten there in the first place.

Artemis, the Ancient One, fatigue, fear, human frailty, all these were factors, but when boiled down, Karmack had still shown a side of himself she had never seen before, and now when she looked at him she saw that difference - had it always been there, ha she never noticed? 

Regardless he was not the same and nor was she.

What that meant for her, and their marriage.

Time would tell.     

<<<<>>>>

Karmack

His days passed in the quiet of a secure convalescence room in the Mountain, a padded cell in fact - designed for patients that required ‘extra’ security. 

Chillum and Ken were the first to visit, a few hours after the Doctors had given the all clear for Karmack to receive them.

He sat quietly and listened to their debrief of the pursuit of Morrigan, farcas on Spira and the skirmish on Ossus.   

 “Then…she left…I couldn’t have stopped her and I didn't want to” Ken finished.

A month ago Karmack would’ve raged at the decision, Silman would’ve been apoplectic…
But it was a different Kage and a different Karmack that listened to Ken’s report.
Ken looked older to Karms eyes, perhaps not fully sure of himself yet, but at least confident he was on the path that was uniquely his.

Karmack held his doubts about whether Morrigan would stay ‘quiet’ and was about to say so…

No… he stopped himself assuming he was right – assuming he was Righteous
…I won’t go down that path again, Ken is a man, a Knight I will trust his judgement,

Karm smiled instead
“I’m proud of you,”

Ken smiled, but there was something held back in it.

He left shortly after leaving Chillum alone.

“What happened to the Crystal?” he asked, seated on the small visitors chair.
“I gave it to them…I finally understood that…they’re not the enemy - or at least…not today - and I need some time away from it,”

Chillum nodded
“A good idea son,” he patted him on the shoulder.
“You rest up,”

His next visitor was a complete surprise.  General Cliff.

“I suppose you’ve heard,” the General in full uniform said gruffly, cap under his arm.
“About the ‘rescue’...” he shook his head, to Karm’s eyes he had aged ten years since last he saw him
“You're wrong about a lot of things Singer, but you were right about Artemis,” he conceded
“They need to go,”

Karmack smiled at the reversal of positions 
“One day, yes,” he agreed
“But for now, with the War, better to have those Droids than not, the more credits we owe them the more interest they have in keeping the system safe.”

He held off mentioning the Vong threat in the future, Cliff already thought he was mad after all.

“Huh…use that against them,” Cliff grunted, pausing to think for a minute.

“Well…get well soon Mack, then go on a long trip somewhere else,” was his coarse goodbye.

Later that night was a visitor he had not been looking forward to seeing.

Zearic crammed through the doorway, face still ruddy from treatment and a lurch in his steps.

“You look like dren,” the barrel chested Vhal’Dan grunted
“I feel like it,” Karm replied, trying to inject some levity, but a yawning gap between former friends remained.   

“I’m leaving tomorrow,” Zearic added, offering no details about where or why, not that he needed to explain, but still.

“May the Force be with you Zearic,” Karmack extended his hand.

Zearic regarded the hand for a moment.

Then took it.

The grip was steely and cold.  He left without another word, leaving Karmack with yet another bridge he needed to mend.

The lights dimmed for the night and he had a fitful sleep as the bacta itched.

Early in the morning a shadow lengthened over him in the room.

He didn’t bother to ask how Valens got this deep into the Mak’Tor’s base of operations, most likely Valens was not physically present at all, a Force projection such as Cha had shown an affinity for using.

“All three of Xandir’s crystals are with our most knowledgeable Enchantresses, it won’t take them long to discern the crystals means of construction and abilities…” The more he spoke the more Valens seemed to struggle with the words, out of practice speaking slowly enough for humans to understand.

“...till then this should speed your recovery…” he placed a Kyber crystal that sparkled pink in Karmack hand
“It replicates the Ancient Ones restorative channels, a lesser but similar effect,”

Karmack nodded his thanks trying to work out which of his many questions to ask first.  He chose the most dread inspiring.

“The Vong, what are they?”

“Extragalactic species, absent in the Force, biotechnological base, fanatical hatred of the artificial. We encountered a scout party over five hundred years ago, when and where they will arrive we don’t know - “

Kamrack well knew it wouldn’t be for lack of trying

“ - but the time is closing in, our Seeresses have confidence sometime in the next 100 years.  And they will come in their billions,”

“What have you done to prepare?”

“Stockpiles of Biological, Nuclear and Unconventional weapons, hidden defensive redoubts and bolt holes across uninhabited systems in the Deep Core, vast stockpiles of raw materials, now Droids as you’ve seen. The time has come to seek more allies and increase our production capacity.”

Karmack looked puzzled
“You said you knew for centuries, why only now?”
“Would you believe they existed if you hadn’t seen it in my memories?”
“I suppose not,”
“That and history itself, there was no point building droids and weapons 500 years ago, that technology is obsolete today. And what good would an alliance with say, Alderaan, or the Republic have done?”

Karmack nodded understanding his points, time was an advantage, but also an unknown, allies could fall away or quarrel over such a vast period, nation states rose and fell in mere decades, Palpatine’s Empire within Karm’s own lifetime. Regimes changed, technology advanced, dedicating resources to preparation too early would be a waste.

“Above all else…our numbers, were -  and remain - too few,” Valens admitted
“Your population has never recovered from the Devastation the Hutt slavers inflicted…” Karmack deduced, he had seen the near total collapse, it was astonishing Valens kind had survived at all.

Valens didn’t confirm it, he didn’t need to

“We have credits, comparatively advanced technology, unique materials, centuries of martial experience, advanced ‘Force’ Powers. It won’t be enough.  Neither we, nor you, or the Templars and Vhal’Dan can provide the core force to fight this war or even divert it - that will be left to whoever wins - the Empire or Republic - or both.  We can use our combined skills to bleed the Vong, hit and run attacks, sabotage behind the lines, assassination, liberation,”
“Liberation?”
“The Vong will need indigenous workers and allies to succeed,”

“The Sons of Kessel…a military state primed and motivated to free slaves behind the lines -  it's all about preparing” Karmack realised ever more pieces falling into place.

“Not all,” Valens noted without further elaboration, standing and pacing toward the far wall as if he intended to walk through it.

“And Morrigan? Why ‘resurrect’ her?” Karm asked leaning forward worried the capricious Valens would simply vanish.
‘Aethan’ - as Karm now knew from Valens memories the People were called - social customs did not gel well with most human ones, and the ‘People’ were not one to offer accommodations easily. Regardless Valens was frank and detailed in his reply.

“Principally, to prove we could. Secondly the Women of my People disliked how she was being treated, and Morrigan has talents we wish to learn. She will not bother you, we have her under control,”

Karm wondered if that was true, powerful though Artemis might be, a Dark Singer was hardly someone to assume you could ‘control’ in any way. But that was a discussion for another time.

“In my vision of the Vong I felt I knew something else…” Karmack added
“I don’t know what or who it was…but we had ‘fought’ someone else before the Vong and it left the galaxy weak - and I think, it was made all the worse as we didn’t work together to stop it.  It was only fleeting but I got the impression it was some kind of cult of Mages or Sorcerers…but not Darksiders as I understand it,”

Valens expression was blank until the word ‘Sorcerers’ was uttered, the Aethans eyes narrowing, seeming to weigh Karm’s words very carefully.

“You know something?” Karm asked in the pause

“Not for certain, and a vision filtered through your lesser mind will suffer distortion -  but I will have our Seers investigate further where they can…”

A curious mix of dismissive insult and practical assistance, Karm felt he would have to get used to that to deal with the Aethans.

“For now our Droids and credits will help keep M’Tzigon secure from the Civil War.  Whatever deals are made between Artemis and the Government are mere formalities, a true alliance, a Concordant between us, the Sons, and Gray orders will need to be established,” Valens added.

Karm nodded understanding more and more, by the time he moved to speak Valens was gone.

<<<<>>>>

This had to be his first stop.  As soon as he was allowed to leave his bed, assisted by Arnor he headed straight to the Kages office.

The Crystal copy Valens had provided acted as promised, almost a perfect replication of the Ancient Ones Healing Channels, pure and untainted by Aethan meddling.

It had accelerated Karms recovery by several days  - but it had not lasted long.

Energy flows degraded the lattice quickly leaving it little more than a paperweight after a few hours.  Regardless, such healing crystals, even if single use, could be invaluable to Knights in the field and hinted at the boons co-operating could yet bring.

Arnor’s touch felt restrained as she guided him, but still warm, in that there was hope.

Do’Nal looked up from the reception desk as he arrived, one of many odd looks he had gotten since his return. Everyone could sense something had happened, but up till now he had not told the full details to anyone.

Indeed Karm could not.  Valens was right about the Vong, no one would believe him, and after Karms recent reputation for paranoid ranting - well he didn’t need more people thinking he was a Crazed Wizard than already did.
“I’ve come to brief the Kage,” Karmack said
Do’Nal remembering  his last visit looked anxious

“She’s busy at the moment…”
“We’ll wait,” Karmack said taking a seat.
After a half an hour the door opened, Er’lav unreadable.

Karm stood, then took a knee.
“Kage, I have fallen from the path, failed in my walk, broken my Oath of Obedience in spirit if not in outright action, I pledge myself once more to submit to the Maker first and your authority second.  I surrender myself, gladly, to your judgement,”
Erl’av raised an eyebrow, looking at Arnor who was just as surprised.
“Well this is a change, if I knew Black Armour’s beat humility into people I could’ve suggested a few more to educate…” the Kage said only half satirically, then blew out.

“You found the Starfire and Ruusan as asked, Ken even turned up old Ossus…But the report from Alex Krin on how you did it was damning, you’re suspended from active duty Maenowan, I’ll consider your exact penance later, first I want to hear everything that happened.”

With a deep breath Kamrack followed her in and began at last to tell everything that had occurred from his point of view, Er’lav remaining remarkably neutral throughout speaking only to ask calm clarifying questions, often prying motives Karm did not enjoy revealing.

Arnor winced at some moments she had borne the brunt of.

Finally when finished he waited silently for Er’Lav’s reply.

“I don’t know if these ‘Vong’ are real or not, either way it seems there is nothing we can do about it.  I’m more concerned with the fact Artemis intentions are, however clumsy, not completely malign in intention…” she seemed distracted by something

“And they got the crystal in the end, so I wonder what use all this was,” she added more harshly
“Next time someone asks for a relic, you refer them to the Office of the Kage, you don’t refuse them under your own dubious authority, is that clear,”

Karm nodded, chastised and repentant.

“Good, I’ll take your renewed Oath at face value Karmack, that’s the chance I’m giving you - next time you start to deviate though…” she leaned forward for the first time he saw genuine violent intent in her eyes.

It communicated more than words ever could.

<<<<>>>>

[Lord_S_Gray]

Chapter 44 - Resolutions - Part 2

Arnor

The heated pulses of the sani-steam ended only when the door chimed incessantly the third time.

Arnor had hoped they would just go away but they seemed insistent.

She’d been spending ages in the sani-steamer as if all the ugliness of the last few weeks could be pressure pulsed off.  But however much she temporarily lost herself in the steam she found her problem waiting outside as she visited her often sleeping husband.

Hair still damp and in comfortable training slacks her face scrunched at the sight of the guest through the camera.

“Who are..?”

Arnor opened the door and her visitor started talking immediately,

“One of those days huh? or decades ha!”
The woman had rich black hair and piercing blue eyes, something all too symmetrical about her face, wearing a smart Black and White business outfit, and she pushed straight past Arnor.

“Hmmm could do with some more gold or something to break up the white and greys but not bad,” the woman said, appraising their living room.

“I’m sorry, who are you and what do you want?” Arnor said annoyed.

“I really should’ve come earlier, but I was held up, and then there was the whole thing on Ruusan…men and their sabers - though I hear your husband has a crystal fetish…”

Arnor didn’t know whether to laugh, run, or call the Sword of Light.

“Do I know you?” Arnor demanded.

“No, but you tried to pinch this off my daughters at Canto Bite…” the black haired woman produced the Holocron of Soryu from her handbag, the teal glow shimmering brightly around it to the point Arnor had to squint.

The stranger adopted a more serious tone.

“You can have it now, there was nothing incriminating on there,”
Sofa Neirai gently placed the Holocron on the caf table, its light dimming in the absence of a Force user's touch.

Looking Arnor up and down she stepped closer, the Mak’Tor Knight guarded.

“Take some time for yourself,” she nodded to the Holocron, the object of so much travail just sitting on a table,

“He gives great advice…It was nice to see him again, if only a memory of him…well gotta go, I’m sure you don’t want us around any longer than we have to be,”

Arnor stared perplexed several minutes after the woman left, then slumped into the couch staring at the holocron.

“Some time for myself,” she repeated.

<<<<>>>>

Ken

“M’tzigon is nice but…” Ry sighed as she twirled her fingers through Kens hair that had grown a bit too long, he hadn’t cut it since leaving for Csilla so long ago. 

She kind of liked the roguish look, so different from his usually clean cut father.

“I just don’t feel like I belong here, or Csilla…” she went on
she shook her head, near black hair fluttering free over lighter blue skin

“It’s Weird but I feel most at home in a TIE cockpit…”

Ken looked down with a hurt expression

“When I’m not in your arms!” she quickly qualified with a smile

“I know what you mean,” he replied, holding her tightly, his hands firm on her blue skin.
“I was born here, my families here, but…I can’t be myself here, I’m always going to be Ken Son of Karmack, everything I do is in his shadow, and everything he does reflects back on me.”

The solution, the place where both could have their wish, Ken space to be his own man, and Ry the chance to fly all the fighters she wanted struck them both at once.

“You think if I called Scrubber…” Ken suggested, Ry was already moving
“I’ll race you to it!”

<<<<<>>>>>

Cliff

It looked like a technician's warzone.

Dozens of cables, panels open, consoles missing, people rummaging about, sparks from micro welders flying, incessant beeping from voltage monitors.

The Bridge of the Requiem was undergoing as many changes as the rest of the Clone Wars era Destroyer, not only bringing it up to speed with modern tech, but adding a definitive M’Tzigon character.

General Cliff strode the long elevated walkway, workers busy on every side, Men-At-Arms technicians including those recently joined from the imperial Prisoners, Nordas doing a fine job keeping everyone on task, an example of what the professionalism of the Imperial Navy should have been.

Indeed so much so Cliff had to insist he take shore leave.

It would take a lot of hard work…and a lot of credits borrowed from Artemis…he stopped at the transparisteel, a flight of Mark IV droids flying past on training runs…he had the gundark by the ear he recalled.

But he now had time, and space, and this he swore - the next time anyone tried to strike against M’Tzigon they would be singing their own Requiem.   

<<<<>>>

Talia

It felt lonely in her apartment. idly checking her datapad every few minutes and seeing no new messages.

Everyone seemed to have left Talia behind.  All her friends from Artemis had left recently, they would return but for now their ‘business was elsewhere’.

Julwyyn and Balnard had stopped by the day before, each sporting more than a few bruises from, by all accounts, an absolute animalistic creature they encountered on Ossus, that seemed so long ago.

Wandering the small rooms she had once shared with Illian she paused at the chest containing the few effects of his she still kept, her hand gliding over wondering whether to delve into that past again.

The door buzzed.

“Who could that be?” she wondered heading toward it.  checking the Holocam she didn’t recognise the figure, but opened the door.

“Yes?”

A tall dark haired man with an upright military posture bowed to her.

“My Apologies for disturbing you Ma’am, President Sophi of Artemis Industries suggested that, should I have any time I should make an effort to check in on a Miss Talia Cam, is that you,”

“It is,” Talia said intrigued
“Who are you,”

“Oh sorry, Lieutenant Nordas, 15th Imp…Ah M’Tzigon Men At-Arms,”

“Sophi sent you,” Talia repeated that wickedly clever woman she thought

“She encouraged me to check up on you, ensure you were doing well…is there anything I can do to assist you Ma’am”

“First,” Talia raised a finger “You can stop calling me Ma’am, and second…why don’t you come in for a drink?” 

<<<<>>>

Aydyn

A Woman.

He was in the thrall of a Woman.

The very thing he had sworn never to be, had been exiled from his People for insisting he would not submit to….

Aydyn could only curse his foolishness, he had thought she was a solution, an easily usable object to satiate his biological needs, the excitement of the opportunity had blinded him to Morrigan’s powers.

He was hunched in the hold of Zearics Bane staring at the inactive Mark IV Dark Troopers, just like Morrigan one of his People creations, guided by the vicious Matriarchy that considered men no more than weapons and breeding stock.

Freedom was all he had wanted, freedom from the social and religious chains, freedom from the genetic bonds that kept males of the People enslaved to the women, controlled by a cocktail of culture and pheromone.

Twenty years of exile and he had nothing but more chains.

“What are you thinking?” the sultry voice of his captor called.  Each day her power grew and grew, her Dark Crystals refined and stronger - there must be a limit to her power, but where it sat he could not yet tell.

“How to escape from your clutches bitch,” he sneered

She spiked a dagger of what should be wrenching pain in his gut. 

He cried out in faux excruciation - she still hadn’t learned his People could not feel pain as Outsiders did, an awareness of damage, but no visceral sensation.

His one edge was her power was over his body only, not his mind.

Striding over Morrigan gently stroked his face
“There, there…now why would you ever want to leave, when we could have so much fun together?”
she cradled his face as if to kiss him.
“You wanted me once, why not now?”
“Not on your terms…” he hissed “Not as a slave!”
“Typical,” Morrigan huffed amused 

He held back any response, she thought him a typical male of so many patriarchal cultures in the former Republic, how little she truly understood.

She dismissed it for the moment, reasserting her control with a Tune of Constriction.

“Tell me, where can a Force wielder have some fun in this galaxy.”

<<<<>>>>

Zearic

The message was short as it was profound.
[Father, Come Quickly - Love Jorya]

He sat in only his undersuit in the hold of Dualisms Soul as Jaim piloted them off M’tzigon.

Before him were laid his sabers, daggers, and an accumulation of other blasters, mines and knives available on M’tzigon.  Some of Cha’s other equipment recommendations would require a trip to some of the blackest markets in the Corporate sector.

A lot was not being said, by Jorya, and by D’Alyanna, he hadn’t received anything at all from her in weeks.

But nor had he been forthcoming with what had, what was happening to him.

That had to change.

Rising up he began to dress and arm himself, timing how long it took, every moment could count.

Piece by piece his full suit of gear was assembled, the last the Nocte Pugione, the inscription upon it  - She Left you behind for a Reason - seeming to take on new meaning every time he read it.

Maybe she had, maybe she hadn’t, who even was ‘she’? He thought of the mother he barely knew when he read ‘She’, or rather the one he imagined, a Saintly figure reality could never measure up to.

Perhaps the inscription was just a psychological game to tease such hidden motives and desires. 

He didn’t want, or need to think about it anymore.  His family needed him, and by the Maker he needed them.

His psyche was still raw from everything that had happened, not just with Karm, but the brutal truths Cha had forced him to admit about himself. There would be a time and place to feel those vulnerabilities, to parse out what it all meant.

He gripped the Nocte overtightly in one hand, the Tenebris in the other.

For now though - he promised - he would be Whatever his Family needed him to be - be that Protector or Aggressor, Warrior or Murderer, no self delusions of being ‘good’ or ‘knightly’ would hold him back any more. For His Wife and Daughter - anything. 

***Zearics Story continues in ‘Retreival - http://www.saberforum.com/index.php?topic=41678.0***

<<<<>>>>

Karmack

The sunset in deep shades of purple and orange far to the west of Sierra as he stood on the outlook atop the Mountain, taking in all the fresh air he could.

There was so much he had to do, so many people he needed to prove his trustworthiness to once more, not the least of which himself.

“Well isn’t this romantic,”  a spill of oil soiled his ears.

“Just the two of us, Sierra, the moon, the stars,” Cha approached in his red and black business suit, the same one he had worn the first time they met, he stood beside Karm looking over the same sunset.

“I’ve been so looking forward to catching up with you, I must say I’m impressed, you managed to convince my employers not to ‘remove’ you from the equation…” there was nothing genuine in his voice

“Or perhaps they are keeping their promise to me…” Cha’s voice went low and sinister, he turned to face Karm, the Singer remained definitely staring over the vista.

Cha leaned toward him, grinding his words through clenched teeth.

“I loved my brother Karmack, I despised how he treated me, I hated his choices, cursed his damn ambition -  but I loved him.  Remember that.”

Karm exhaled deeply but continued to refuse to meet the Inquisitor's gaze or concede the slightest recognition.

Cha stalked away, his revenge delayed.

Only delayed.

<<<<>>>>

>>>>THE END<<<<

What You Leave Behind - by Karmack, theDutchman and Lord_S_Gray

My Thanks to my Fellow Authors for their ideas, characters and encouragement and the great enjoyment of bringing together the Forumverse more completely than ever.

[TheDutchman]

And so we have the beginnings of an alliance, or rather a Concordant, between the Mak'Tor and Artemis...but ONLY a beginning.  Too many events, too many "misunderstandings," too many mistakes have taken place to readily say that both sides are ready to move forward, at least not without an amazing amount of work to do.  Even when (...if?) such an agreement is finalized there remains the enormous hurdle of culture clashes to negotiate e.g. Aethan Groupmind pragmatism (arguably cruelty at times) and Mak'Tor benevolence (again arguably, intolerance).

And that's just ONE example.

Yet, both the Aethans and Karm know that the Vong are on the horizon, along with another, clouded antagonist, one admittedly closer (yet no less alien for it).  For both party's strengths, they cannot overcome what is inevitable.  They MUST come together either regardless of differences OR better still LEARNING from their respective disparity to become stronger than either individually, something indelibly more than the sum of its parts...to say nothing of the inclusion of the Templars and the Vhal'Dan...

Also: let us not forget that Cha has not gone away; neither has Morrigan, Aydyn, or the countless other problems that have arisen e.g. Arnor and Karm have MUCH to do in order to fix the chasm between them.  Will their love be enough to save their marriage?  CAN it be saved?

Again: this is but a SINGLE example (as for Zearic and Karm...well, I happen to know that they are not anywhere near to where they need to be in their friendship...but that's a story for another time  ).

What I DO know is: their needs...must...WILL be a reckoning.  Or they will all perish separately, alone; only together can they have ANY hope standing against what's coming.

Meta-note: This was the BIG collaboration between LSG, Karm, and (to a MUCH lesser extent) myself and I've got to say...

AWESOME!!!!

To give credit where due: it was both Karm and LSG who did the majority of the writing & plotting; I only worked on Zearic's POV chapters and was lucky enough to have a plotting framework handy (courtesy of LSG  ) to consult, work, and draw inspiration from in order to (hopefully!) live up to the rest of "What You Leave Behind."

SO: special thanks to Karm for the great back-and-forth to iron out the details with the "Karmack/Zearic confrontation," to For Tyeth with providing such EXCELLENT renderings of Zearic's Oblivion daggers (which I used for inspiration for said fight), but mostly to LSG for his tireless work on seeing "WYLB" completed!  I am honored and humbled by my fellow authors and artists 

Incredible conclusion!