Answering the Call

[Marcus Faust]

Sabarene was an interesting place, home to an incredibly small population which had never settled any major population center, spare one. It was serene, peaceful in a way, yet savage in others. A balance he supposed. The force had called him here, he did not know why, nor did he question it. All was as the force willed it, the old man had reminded him of that day after day as they traveled the deserts of Jedha.

Walking slowly through the sands of one of the world's deserts, Faust drew a hood up over his head and with the aid of his walking stick moved away from the vessel of the trader who'd kindly provided him transport. Trekking out into the wastes he followed the call of the force, and nothing else, it would be his one and only guide.

How weak you've grown

Marcus didn't so much as shudder when the voice echoed in head, snarling at him in futile defiance as he starved it of the darkness it craved. When anger had burnt out, fear had been the nourishment the dark side took from him, and now he wasn't afraid, so the last of his darkness desperately fought to stay alive. It would lose.

He was done being a slave to the dark.

[member="Manu Xextos"]

 

[Manu Xextos]

Sabarene.

The home planet of the displaced. Refugees from Chandaar, the Tion Cluster, Nelvaan and war zones from throughout the Galaxy fled to Sabarene at the call of its’ most prolific ancestor.

Manu Xextos. Once-Jedi Master of the Force, Echani Admiral and the ancestral father of the Echani Royal Family, the empathic Echani was tied into the entire planet’s worth of peoples the way argon particles tied into all the world’s air.

By Manu’s meditation in Aberash Temple, the planet’s more civilized areas swelled with the erratic, yet peaceful balm of the Light. Manu would have no other source, as he could be no other man.

The desert opened to a wide and fruitless sea, first in the sound of waves on sand, then to the smell of salts and precipitates which once were beautiful. Sabarene suffered as the Echani suffered. Shaken, spilled over, patted down and ladled over. Yet, beyond the Republic’s orbital bombardment on false intelligence, and the Epicanthix presence which subsided after that day, growth once again began to turn the tide.

To all who were Force Sensitive, Sabarene became more of the Echani Master the closer they got to him, Manu’s emotional context and reprieve comforting the geographical and spiritual place.

A man walked in the desert. Manu knew where [member="Marcus Faust"] was through the telepathic bonds he kept with his honour guard and the Echani population who owed their faces, height and carriage to him. As with all true blooded Echani, all males of a line looked identical to their fathers, who looked identical to their fathers, who on Sabarene, were nearly all identical in basic appearance to the man dressed in white, who came to stand in front of Marcus.

Manu drew Marcus forward with a singular purpose: the call of the Dark touched upon the fabric of Manu’s new home, and he would not have it. The Light was perilous and bold. The Light was might and creation and unrelenting in its’ mercy.

Mercy, upon mercy, upon mercy.

Cocking his head to the side as he looked upon Marcus’ scars, the Echani’s eyes crinkled with crow’s feet as he smiled.

“It is good to see you. Come on! I put the kettle on… well, I didn’t put the kettle on, my great-tenth-great-grand-daughter put the kettle on… this age thing is… Thank you for coming.” A rich baritone voice emanated from the man’s throat, resting upon the sand and the wind as if it were to soak in and become part of the planet itself.

 

[Marcus Faust]

If Marcus could smile he would've, but all that formed on his face was a small smirk, tugging at the scarred flesh. At least the wounds no longer cracked and bled, instead the expression simply looked a bit off. Such was the case when one was as scarred as he was. The price of loyalty in the Sith he supposed.

"I will always answer gladly where the force calls." He responded to the man is as kind a voice his raspy vocal chords could manage, discreetly a bit amused by the quirkiness of the Echani's age based issue. Then man's aura in the force told a story of one out of place, yet right where they needed to be. If Marcus to were hazard a guess, he'd suspect some sort of cryogenic fiasco.

The notion of tea alone was appealing to Faust, the old man had made his own daily and shared with his pupil great knowledge over every cup. Though Marcus gait and scarred appearance marked him as battered man incapable of action, the Guardian was anything but, and he sensed the force had destined for him to be here because of that. Manu needed not say anything for Marcus to begin to understand why he was here.

"There is a darkness looming here, it sends ripples through force as disrupts peace. What is it?" He inquired curiously, slowly beginning to walk towards the kettle, prodding the sand with his walking stick to find spots finely packed enough to support him putting his weight on it. Marcus knew darkness, he had drowned himself in it once, let it fill every pore and choke out every speck of light in him, and it was because of that deep, visceral understanding of it he was here to smite it. That he was sure of. He needed only know what it was.


[member="Manu Xextos"]

 

[Manu Xextos]

“Good to know. Tea and cakes calls pretty freakin’ loud, too… another thing to be glad about.” Manu covered his hair and face with his white cloak hood against an upturn of desert wind. First the Force caused his mother to go awol, marry a Mando and clone his wife [member="Erryn Xextos"] and daughter [member="Chiara Viren"], and now a man whose presence bursts of conflict in the Force comes out in the desert.

Manu’s feet skidded across the sand like a surfer on a wave. He bit the corner of his cheek as he walked.

The Force sent him a guy in need of plastic surgery. It wasn’t the first time a fellow force user came to his bower for help, but most of the time the injuries were either way more life threatening, or not nearly as gnarly.

‘Gee, bet Mrs. Whosamawhatsits kisses him in the dark…’

While Manu appeared the epitome of an Echani male, upon closer inspection, the man in front of Marcus was as frail as chersilk to a tailor’s shears. His mind, his presence in the Force were keen and mighty, yet as they crossed the ridge in front of them, a younger man of identical appearance but for the clothing and hair came and wove his arm under Manu’s shoulder to steady him. Before them, a Temple built into the bedrock was surrounded by a moat of crystal blue water. Inside the Temple, pure unadulterated healing Light. Yet, in the centre of the Temple, a spark of darkness ignited into the ripples [member="Marcus Faust"] felt on his way.

Near breathless, Manu held onto his great-something-grandson’s arm and eased down to the Temple and into an alcove to the right of the gigantic stone doors. Two humble, but cushioned chairs and a low table waited for Marcus and Manu, who with aide, eased into the nearest chair. “The refugees here come from Chandaar, Tythe, Nelvaan, what was once the Fringe and Cron. All of them, one or the other have fled the Sith. This deserted ball of sand was to be our oasis.”

A warm smile and tilt of his eyebrows was Lochan Xextos’ reward for helping Manu from the desert. Tea awaited them both, laid out on a tea service made from the clay of the desert they recently deserted.

“Sabarene is our new home, Marcus… may I call you Marcus? It’s a.. thing, your name’s all over your face… we’re refugees, all of us, but not all of the population were peaceful refugees looking for a new home. There is a darkness here… something I have, for many years kept at bay.” Stopping to breathe, Manu grinned and sipped some tea, taking the time to pause and enjoy his tea.

It may be his last cup. “A man lives in keen awareness of the simplest joys when every breath may be his last… I have been the singular pillar of Light on Sabarene for years, yet my body is failing. Happens, you know, when you’re into your eighth century. Although my lifespan is far from natural, my family wants me to stay. To live those years I missed when they were small… My body is done. Can hear it… rattle in my chest.” Manu shook the fingers of one hand in front of his chest and let his perpetual smile dim only slightly.

“To cleanse the planet of its’ slaver past, and that of Darth Carnifex, who for a time had an Epicanthix settlement here, I collected the entirety of the Darkness into the core of this temple’s subterranean tunnels. My mother’s old lightsaber crystal served as a crux point, a binding point for the energies, which I was containing… until my health… it is the dead, Marcus. The horrors of slavery, the overbearing pressure of the Dark. Shadows both corporeal and intangible…”

Manu’s face aged a little more, his countenance dimming and illumination in the room also dimmed. “My regret is being incapable of both binding and banishing the evil of this place. Help me, Marcus. Help me and you can find a new home, a place where you’re both respected, known and valued.”

 

[Marcus Faust]

Perhaps Marcus did exude conflict, even now for all his effort the taint of the darkness still swirled in his soul, slowly ebbing away. He wondered if that scared any of them here, the Echani were a strong people, but pure, undiluted darkness made the bravest being shudder, and it was exactly that which still clung to his soul. For now.

Taking in the oasis that was the temple, Faust wondered if the force had called him here, or if he himself had desired to come to a place of such peace. Then as he took a seat and a cup, he sensed the darkness. Sipping the calming liquid, Marcus listened intently to Manu, giving his descendant a nod of appreciation as the man walked away. The moment the Echani mentioned refugees, his heart sank.

Still listening intently to Xextos, Marcus felt guilt come and try to drown his soul, to suck him back into the abyss.

Your fault. All of it.

Giving a curt nod to affirm using his name was perfectly fine, the Guardian leaned forward, absorbing every word. He saw now why he had been brought here, he owed these people a debt, one greater than any material thing. He'd robbed them of a home, of loved ones, of a life the force had intended for them. For a moment he was plagued with flashes from his past, rounding up innocents from their homes and executing them for their defiance of the empire. He remembered the countless homes he smashed to bits over the course of one chaotic duel after another.

He wondered if he'd orphaned any of the children here?

Widowed any of the spouses?

The man spoke of an body failing him, a concept Marcus understood better than most, of a darkness contained within the crystal of an old lightsaber, and Carnifex. It all went back to Kaine didn't it? Almost every instance of pain and suffering the galaxy was traceable back to the Dark Lord. He threw the force into chaos, wrought death and sorrow wherever he stepped. To think how fervently Marcus had once protected him, standing beside him to the last as the Republic took them in. How blind he'd been.

"I will gladly help you Manu, if I may call you that." He spoke softly. "But I can make no home here, I must go where the force calls me, and it would be wrong to make my home among those I have robbed of theirs. To help them be free of any darkness is all I desire, and what the force wills." The Guardian was honest about his past, the old man had taught him that hiding it from others would breed more distrust than the truth if it were ever discovered, and that only by facing it could he ever have a chance at making it right. Calmly, scarred lips sipped the tea.

"Where should we start?"