The planet of Crait, known mostly for its salt covered red soil and minerals, became the setting for the reborn legend of Luke Skywalker. The tale of the First Order's siege upon the remnants of the Resistance and Skywalker’s solitary last stand spread like wildfire throughout the galaxy. The scars born of the siege still remain, alongside the breached and empty carcass of what was once a rebel base. After what became known as the Battle of Crait, the planet now sits forgotten by the First Order and Resistance alike. Which makes it the perfect place for scavengers and adventurers.

The crystalline flats extend far into the horizon until the distance ceases to hold meaning. The scorched salt mingle with the red soil, forcibly fused together by the violent discharge of heavy artillery fire. Old rebel speeders lie as skeletal reminders of the toll that the Resistance had paid in staging their last stand. Most of the parts have already stripped of what parts survived.

Standing opposite the endless flats is an expansive mountain side that stands almost completely vertical. Climbing it would be a difficult, if not impossible prospect. Tall, heavily armored doors—now breached—are built into the mountainside itself and mark the entrance to the abandoned base.

The approach to the base is lined by fallen turrets and crumbled trenches. Once inside, various crates and shrapnel litter the ground and offer nothing of value, save for cover when in need. The cave system expands outward from the entrance in a winding maze of crystalline pathways. If traveled long enough, and with some luck, an unmarked exit lies to be found. The hangar itself is divided into purposeful quadrants, with a command station situated deeper inside that leads to supply rooms and barracks.

Standing on the salted ground gives even the least perceptive a sense of gravity. The weight of what transpired is undeniable, with the visible reminders there for all to see if they care to look.

The planet is also known for its native crystal critters—Vulptex—which can leave the safety of their underground tunnels to investigate new visitors to their terrain.

Magik breathed in salt and silence. He could taste it on his tongue, biting and spicy. It dried his eyes and nose.

He clutched the cloth in his hand tightly. The fabric, a ripped bodice, was stained dark, rusty brown with copious amounts of old blood, dry but tacky. Satsi Tameike, his former "Consul," was not the least bit careful about discarding her things when she was injured. Her escapades left a trail of her own blood all over Selen and anywhere she went, as if it wasn't an enormous weakness. Careless. Stupid. Convenient.

Tameike had been responsible for leading Arcona in war over Nancora. Tameike had been responsible for sounding the retreat. But not soon enough. Not in time for Tarentum. No, her agenda laid only with herself and the Jedi. Even in his thoughts, the word with filthy, spat with venom and disgust. Tameike paraded about with Sorenn and Archenksova and their ilk and left Tarentum to burn. They were no allies. They were traitors. And she was the cause. He didn't care what she was doing here or why. He would string her from the Citadel spires for all to see like a proper Imperial spectacle—

"Okay, kid, turn around slow. Drop your saber."

What?!

The Sith twisted about from his perch at the edge of a red-and-white marbled trench to see his target standing behind him with a pistol held steady at his head. Had he been so lost in thought that he hadn't noticed her approach? Now that he opened his senses, it was so obvious. With the relative desolation of Crait, he could pinpoint every living being nearby. She raised a brow at him.

"Last chance. Drop it or I drop you, Arcona or no."

Grimacing, the Warrior unclasped his lightsaber and tossed it to the salted ground. Satsi moved to kick it into the trench.

"Fan-frakking-tastic. Now, how's about you don't blame me for kark I didn't do to your dumb dead Clan and we both forget this idiocy ever happened?"

Magik blinked his dark eyes, gaping.

"How did you know my—"

"You were talking out loud, kid."

For a second, he stared. Then his fury and shame and grief flared, lending strength as the Force flooded his body. It all combined into clear, beautiful hatred, and he had only one target.

"INSOLENT WENCH!" shouted the Sith, just as he summoned his saber to his hand from where he'd seen it fall and ignited the blade, slashing expertly. The gun in her grip dropped in two smoking pieces while she reared back, clutching her hand. Blood leaked from between her fingers at an alarming rate. Excellent.

The Warrior had little time to savor his victory, though, as the former Shadow Lord snarled and spun her body about to launch a monstrous kick into his side. There was a series of tiny white snaps at the impact, and agony exploded in his chest, washing over his vision even as he felt himself falling, crashing to the ground below. Another fresh wave of pain ripped through him at the jarring landing at the bottom of the trench and for a moment he blacked out.

Then, color and sound trickled back to him and he gasped, the movement bringing more pain. Each breath was agony. He could feel the edges of his ribs grinding together, stabbing into his lungs.

Magik grit his teeth and groaned. He glanced around wildly, expecting to be set upon, but Tameike was nowhere in sight from his limited vantage point; but that didn't mean she wasn't there. Painstakingly, the Sith dragged himself upright and backwards, every minute shift of muscle enough to make his vision blacken at the edges. An hour seemed to pass in the agonizing moments it took him to put his back against one crumbling wall, salt and dust raining down over him. Looking again and stretching out his senses, he could still feel his enemy, but not close. Perhaps she had run from him.

He wouldn't let her escape.

Focusing his omnipotence inwards, he took hold of the Force and wove it around him, closing tears in flesh and mending bone at broken seams. It wasn't perfect; he'd have to have medics rebreak his ribs and set them properly, since his healing left them at odd angles or in different positions, but at least this way they would not move about freely and wreak more havoc. It took a long few minutes, more than he expected to have, but Tameike really seemed to have left him.

Her mistake.

When he could breathe more easily, the Sith regained his feet. Staring up at the edge of the trench, he concentrated for several seconds, letting power suffuse his legs, before leaping up and scabbling at the ledge. With a grunt of effort he pulled himself out, feeling fatigue burn in his limbs, but he was free and on the other side. A smile returned to his face as attuned his senses to the world around him. She was still near, in the destroyed bunker. She couldn't hide from him.

The Warrior approached carefully, confident but diligent. He followed the thread of her life-force like a beacon, creeping into the base while the salted wind blew around him. His senses lead him towards a stack of crates, and he reached out with the Force, then pulled.

Tameike came jerking out into the open with a crash of toppling boxes. She cursed as she was dragged across the ground by an invisible hand, thrown into another pile of wreckage. Groans issued from the woman as she clutched her head, hand still bleeding.

"You will die," Magik promised her, hand dropping to his saber.

Satsi sneered a smirk at him. Then, she shouted, "PB, light him up!"

The Sith barely turned with warning heartbeat to spy the droid he had not detected crouching several meters away, a rocket launcher mounted on its shoulder joint, aiming at him.

It fired.

As the rocket launcher fired in Magik's direction he lepth through the smoke filled blast landing to his feet meters away. The droid had missed firing upon empty crates she had been hiding behind. Before the droid could reload Magik crept in it's direction with his lightsaber emitted he quickly struck the droid into pieces of shrapnel onto the ground. As the smoke lifted Magik laid his eyes on her once again where she had been dragged to ontop a pile of wreckage. A bloody mess she was clenching her hands together as if she needed medical attention. He slowly walked towards her in a comforting manner as to not frighten her.

"Tarentum is something I will always be apart off. Tarentum lives on!"

Magik starred at her as he stood in Imperial combat stance. Not knowing what to expect next from the Mercenary he grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her to her feet. In just as much pain as Magik she stood up. "Warrior you were warned," as she spat out fragments of sentences. Magik only laughed when she so calmly disrespected Tarentum. "Are we traitors, now," Magik didn't even care for her response as he clenched his grip tighter and tighter in anger. "Now, you will swear alliegence to Tarentum before me," he pushed her right back to the ground. She let out several cries in agony as she toppled to her knees. She curled into ball just before coming to her senses.

"Satsi, now you are going to pay for your treachery before Tarentum," Magik stood above her gripping his lightsaber with his right hand. "I'am going to show you the light," he then grabbed her by the head. She screamed and begged him to give in as he continued to torment her. With his lightsaber firmly gripped in his palm he was just about to open his blade as she laid before him. As she calmly reached behind her back without a thought she pulled out a dagger. The dagger was elaborately constructed for her as she swiped and thrusted at him. The blade caught his arm as he tried pulling his left hand away from her. Slicing him across the forearm. Magik shrieked as his nerves went cold. The cut was so fast he couldn't feel the pain. Though it was not deep enough it left trails of blood dripping down his hands.

She crawled just under his reach as he now had his back turned to her. Magik then quickly turned to face her again.

The man completed his turn only to find his target had ceased crawling away in favor of crouching to wait for him, springing up to stab at his stomach. He deflected her attack, quickly assessing the situation: her lack of tears, her aggression, her readiness.

Magik sneered at Satsi's change in demeanor, her sudden confidence and viciousness making obvious the act of her helplessness and fright moments before. She slashed at him with that dagger of hers again, swiping fast at his inner legs from her low position while holding her wounded hand out for balance. Her knife slid through his robes and skin like warm butter, cutting deep and making his right leg buckle with cold-pain-numbness too. Hot blood sprayed from his wound across her face, thick and feral-looking like war paint.

The Warrior spat at her, swinging his cobalt blade in a deceptively lackadaisical swing that abruptly cut downward. The mercenary just managed to catch the strike on her dagger but not the next flitting strike of Magik's weapon. That one she dodged death only by throwing herself to the floor and rolling away, though she left a sizzling strip of skin all down her side behind. The Sith smiled for the stench and the steam popping on his lightsaber where skin and sinew had vaporized.

He turned on her again, allowing his stiletto to drop out of his other sleeve and rest lightly in his other hand. He could wield both at once effectively, but with his cuts, his limbs and reactions were slowing badly. His fingers didn't grip the thin blade like they should have, and he certainly couldn't lift his arm very high with the weighty lanvarok on it. His saber would have to accomplish this execution; perhaps the stiletto would do for a surprise attack.

There wasn't more time to consider it, however, as Satsi sprang to her feet, flinched, and then snarled. Her bad hand went to her belt and she pulled free something in a clumsy grip hampered but her seeming lack of half a finger or two.

No, it couldn't be— Magik thought, watching only to see the infuriating woman ignite a crimson shoto saber, its plasma lancing from a stained bone hilt. She launched herself at him, practically dancing in a macabre mock of a pirouette, all her strength and speed and pain thrown into a rapid exchange of slashes and stabs with lightsaber and dagger. She wielded the both weapons as one would knives or swords, no grace nor skill of art in the movement, no guidance from the Force, but her assault was brutal. The Sith felt fresh laps of agony and then frigid shock appear all over his body, especially his arms, and very quickly his leg gave out, dropping him to the ground. A moment later his lightsaber was struck from his hand by her own, clattering as it deactivated. Before the Warrior could blink, he was on his back with a boot on his chest and a scissor of lethality at his throat, plasma and steel crossed over one another and hungry for his head. His body was cold and heavy and he hurt in more places than could be counted. Above him, Tameike panted harshly, sweat coating her skin as her muscles gave fine tremors, her eyes pinpricks of pain. Her saber, bastardized in hands like hers, nearly fell from her lame grip.

But even still, she, she and her Arcona, they stood, and Magik and Tarentum lay in the dirt and salt with the ghosts and their failure.

"Just kill me," the Sith spat up at her, his world already narrowing. How much blood was he losing? He had no idea. Everything had gone gray and unfocused and the stone seemed almost soft beneath him.

The Human seemed to consider it for one hazy moment before her gaze shuttered and her expression turned to one of pure disdain.

"Gladly. You're not worth the effort of torturing. And you killed my frakking droid," she spat back, and then her muscles twitched, and the deadly cross at his throat closed, and Magik knew no more.

Magik turned to face Satsi as she squeezed through his grasp. Her heart beated heavily as she was frightened for her life. Magik had her in his hands as he was about to settle their frustrations. She escaped with her life just beyond his reach. The short haired female was a bladed weapons specialist, but it seems she had lost her dagger as it flew out of her grip when she sliced him across the forearm. The dagger now laid on the cavern floor jutting into the red soil salt. Her enforcer pistol had been cut in half by Magik's blue hued lightsaber when she pointed the pistol in his direction misjudging the Sith's reflexes. The security droid she commissioned to fire her rocket launcher at Magik had been cut into pieces. The droid's circuitry was firing at random as it's parts were scattered on the ground.

They now stood several meters apart as Magik looked deep into her eyes. "Satsi, this is over, now join me," Magik gave her a chance to think things through. Both Arconans were now in pain as Magik tried to settle the conflict between them. "Tarentum lives on, there us nothing you can do to stop us," Magik explained with sympathy. Satsi refused his explanations as this only angered her. The misfortune of Tarentum was not up for discussion as Magik tried to seduce her to the Dark Side. She would not succumb as the Tarenti grimaced in pain.

The conversation was over, she wanted him dead as Tarentum lay over her head. Magik was not so fair hearted as Clan Tarentum was his upbringing. With a last attempt to persuade her, he walked toward her in a friendly manner. Confused by his actions she looked him up and down as he approached her.

"Satsi, forget the past, lets put Tarentum behind us," Magik calmed her as he embraced her as a friend. She smiled and winked at him as she agreed with him. As they let go Magik quietly grabbed his lightsaber attached to his belt. He calmly drew back with his right arm and extended the blade thrusting it into her chest. She dropped to her knees again. The blade had penetrated her straight through. Her face turned pale as she hit the ground. Magik sighed in relief as he retracted his blade. Standing before her corpse Magik thought to himself, "Tarentum Momentum."