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Description
The cantina was almost full. Save for a distinct lack of music, spirits seemed to be high. Every patron wore the uniform of the Empire, and most had blasters holstered to their hips. A work shift done, a night to relax away from the crushing heel of their Sith overlords.

The door opened. No one paid much attention, simply another patron come to drink and rest.

The bar slowly fell more silent. The chatter and discussions gave way to suspensions of breath as more people realized the newcomer was no mere patron.

The newcomer walked slowly, methodically, to the center of the front area. His pants, sleeveless shirt, and overcoat were mostly white but for a right-angled pattern of black lines. Even his fingernails were painted black. His most distinguishing feature was the mask - a white helm with black circles spreading from the center of the forehead like ripples. Some could see the flash of a lightsaber hilt beneath his long coat.

'Friends...' the figure started, slightly raising his hands palm-upwards to signify friendship. 'I come with a message for your masters.' His voice was deep and raspy, and seemed to reverberate more than it should.

His statement put most men on guard. Some stranger coming around threatening the Sith in front of them put them in a bad position.

'Their judgment is coming. They will all become one with the Force...whether they want to or not.'

Some soldiers unholstered their blasters and held them at the ready. The cantina was dead silent now.

The newcomer seemed to notice. 'Such hostility. I wish you no harm.'

One man stepped forward. The patches on his breast indicated he was of a higher rank. Likely the captain of a ship or outpost. He also had his blaster drawn. 'We are not your messengers. Are you a Jedi?'

The masked man turned his head to look at the man, though there were no eyeholes in his mask. Miraluka did not see with their weak eyes - they "saw" through the Force. 'I am no Jedi.' His words were tainted with a hint of anger.

'If you are no Jedi...and you are not a Sith, then what are you?'

'What a foolish question,' the man's voice was slightly muffled behind the mask. 'I am as you are - a man. A servant. That we serve different masters has no relevance. You are not a Jedi or a Sith, what does that make you, I wonder?'

'A name, then?'

'A more pointed question.' The man started to walk towards the captain with that same purposeful gait. 'I am Pure.' The name almost weighed like stone on each man's shoulders.

The captain took a step back. 'Well then, Pure...I will warn you once to leave this place.'

'I can sense your fear.'

'One step closer and I'll give your mask an eyehole to see out of.'

A chuckle. Then a blaster shot.

The bolt bounced away from Pure as if it had struck an invisible wall, searing into a nearby patron who fell dead. Pure raised his right hand and clenched his fingers. The captain dropped his blaster and started to clutch at his eyes. 'No...no!' he cried out before falling to his knees. He started to scream louder and tear more frantically at his eyes. Blood began to leak from the corners. Pure squeezed his fist shut and with one final scream the captain collapsed, blood pouring from the eye sockets where his burst eyes used to be.

It had all happened quite quickly. The rest of the men took aim and started firing.

Pure lifted the same right hand and every single person present was thrown to the ceiling and pinned with the force of a charging rancor. Lifting his left hand now, Pure's fist sparked.

In the next second, all that could be seen from outside the cantina was a flash of white light from the doorway, then spilling smoke.

Pure pivoted, taking stock of his work. Most bodies had been annihilated. Those remains that were still strewn about were on fire. Remarkably, the cantina itself - the walls, the stage, even the bottles of drink - were completely untouched.

'Go now,' he said quietly to the one survivor he had left alive. 'Give your masters my message.'

The man nodded frantically, crawling backwards to get away before standing and sprinting out of the bar.

He didn't get far.

He was lifted by an invisible force, his feet dangling a foot off the street, clutching at his throat.

Another stranger walked past him. 'You will deliver no such message, scum.'

Pure faced the doorway. 'At last.'

The stranger entered, lowering his hand as the last of the soldier's life was drained and he crumpled to the ground outside. 'It has been too long, brother.'

Pure replied, 'I was wondering when you would show yourself. I did not want to have to obliterate your men to get your attention, but you are as slow as ever it seems.'

'Why are you here, Darth Ruin?'

'I have not used that name in years...' Pure stepped towards him. 'I am Sith no longer.'

'If you are not Sith, than you are nothing,' the other man growled. He was mostly human but for his cybernetic eyes and ears.

'Quite the opposite, actually. The Sith are empty. The Sith are a blight upon the Force. The Sith are just as blind as the Jedi.'

The other man snarled, 'You speak insolence, you traitorous swine!' In one smooth motion his lightsaber was in hand, the red blade sparked up.

Pure seemed rather unperturbed. 'The Jedi and the Sith - two names for the same thing. Two pretenders to the mastery of the Force. You cannot master the Force any more than they can! We are but servants to the Force, tools to do its bidding, not the other way around.' He started to walk to the side, looking away from his brother. 'The power of the Force lies not in the dark side, nor the light. The power of the Force lies in the balance. A balance I have achieved. Equal parts light...and dark.' He stopped walking and turned once more to the Sith. 'The Force has suffered your misuse and degradation for far too long, brother. It demands retribution. It demands a return of all things. The Jedi and the Sith will become one with the Force again, and I will be the instrument of justice.'

'What...are you saying?'

Pure's head lowered a bit. 'I hereby declare war against the Jedi...' He drew his lightsaber in his left hand and lit the silver blade. '...And the Sith.' His lightsaber hovered out of his hand and danced around him, as if it had a mind of its own.

'You're mad!'

Pure walked towards him, left hand sparking lightning, right hand clenching. 'I...am...the FORCE!'

The hovering lightsaber flashed forth. Lightning arced. Flesh burned.

Description
The cantina was almost full. Save for a distinct lack of music, spirits seemed to be high. Every patron wore the uniform of the Empire, and most had blasters holstered to their hips. A work shift done, a night to relax away from the crushing heel of their Sith overlords.

The door opened. No one paid much attention, simply another patron come to drink and rest.

The bar slowly fell more silent. The chatter and discussions gave way to suspensions of breath as more people realized the newcomer was no mere patron.

The newcomer walked slowly, methodically, to the center of the front area. His pants, sleeveless shirt, and overcoat were mostly white but for a right-angled pattern of black lines. Even his fingernails were painted black. His most distinguishing feature was the mask - a white helm with black circles spreading from the center of the forehead like ripples. Some could see the flash of a lightsaber hilt beneath his long coat.

'Friends...' the figure started, slightly raising his hands palm-upwards to signify friendship. 'I come with a message for your masters.' His voice was deep and raspy, and seemed to reverberate more than it should.

His statement put most men on guard. Some stranger coming around threatening the Sith in front of them put them in a bad position.

'Their judgment is coming. They will all become one with the Force...whether they want to or not.'

Some soldiers unholstered their blasters and held them at the ready. The cantina was dead silent now.

The newcomer seemed to notice. 'Such hostility. I wish you no harm.'

One man stepped forward. The patches on his breast indicated he was of a higher rank. Likely the captain of a ship or outpost. He also had his blaster drawn. 'We are not your messengers. Are you a Jedi?'

The masked man turned his head to look at the man, though there were no eyeholes in his mask. Miraluka did not see with their weak eyes - they "saw" through the Force. 'I am no Jedi.' His words were tainted with a hint of anger.

'If you are no Jedi...and you are not a Sith, then what are you?'

'What a foolish question,' the man's voice was slightly muffled behind the mask. 'I am as you are - a man. A servant. That we serve different masters has no relevance. You are not a Jedi or a Sith, what does that make you, I wonder?'

'A name, then?'

'A more pointed question.' The man started to walk towards the captain with that same purposeful gait. 'I am Pure.' The name almost weighed like stone on each man's shoulders.

The captain took a step back. 'Well then, Pure...I will warn you once to leave this place.'

'I can sense your fear.'

'One step closer and I'll give your mask an eyehole to see out of.'

A chuckle. Then a blaster shot.

The bolt bounced away from Pure as if it had struck an invisible wall, searing into a nearby patron who fell dead. Pure raised his right hand and clenched his fingers. The captain dropped his blaster and started to clutch at his eyes. 'No...no!' he cried out before falling to his knees. He started to scream louder and tear more frantically at his eyes. Blood began to leak from the corners. Pure squeezed his fist shut and with one final scream the captain collapsed, blood pouring from the eye sockets where his burst eyes used to be.

It had all happened quite quickly. The rest of the men took aim and started firing.

Pure lifted the same right hand and every single person present was thrown to the ceiling and pinned with the force of a charging rancor. Lifting his left hand now, Pure's fist sparked.

In the next second, all that could be seen from outside the cantina was a flash of white light from the doorway, then spilling smoke.

Pure pivoted, taking stock of his work. Most bodies had been annihilated. Those remains that were still strewn about were on fire. Remarkably, the cantina itself - the walls, the stage, even the bottles of drink - were completely untouched.

'Go now,' he said quietly to the one survivor he had left alive. 'Give your masters my message.'

The man nodded frantically, crawling backwards to get away before standing and sprinting out of the bar.

He didn't get far.

He was lifted by an invisible force, his feet dangling a foot off the street, clutching at his throat.

Another stranger walked past him. 'You will deliver no such message, scum.'

Pure faced the doorway. 'At last.'

The stranger entered, lowering his hand as the last of the soldier's life was drained and he crumpled to the ground outside. 'It has been too long, brother.'

Pure replied, 'I was wondering when you would show yourself. I did not want to have to obliterate your men to get your attention, but you are as slow as ever it seems.'

'Why are you here, Darth Ruin?'

'I have not used that name in years...' Pure stepped towards him. 'I am Sith no longer.'

'If you are not Sith, than you are nothing,' the other man growled. He was mostly human but for his cybernetic eyes and ears.

'Quite the opposite, actually. The Sith are empty. The Sith are a blight upon the Force. The Sith are just as blind as the Jedi.'

The other man snarled, 'You speak insolence, you traitorous swine!' In one smooth motion his lightsaber was in hand, the red blade sparked up.

Pure seemed rather unperturbed. 'The Jedi and the Sith - two names for the same thing. Two pretenders to the mastery of the Force. You cannot master the Force any more than they can! We are but servants to the Force, tools to do its bidding, not the other way around.' He started to walk to the side, looking away from his brother. 'The power of the Force lies not in the dark side, nor the light. The power of the Force lies in the balance. A balance I have achieved. Equal parts light...and dark.' He stopped walking and turned once more to the Sith. 'The Force has suffered your misuse and degradation for far too long, brother. It demands retribution. It demands a return of all things. The Jedi and the Sith will become one with the Force again, and I will be the instrument of justice.'

'What...are you saying?'

Pure's head lowered a bit. 'I hereby declare war against the Jedi...' He drew his lightsaber in his left hand and lit the silver blade. '...And the Sith.' His lightsaber hovered out of his hand and danced around him, as if it had a mind of its own.

'You're mad!'

Pure walked towards him, left hand sparking lightning, right hand clenching. 'I...am...the FORCE!'

The hovering lightsaber flashed forth. Lightning arced. Flesh burned.