Clash of The Titans On Rhen Var

[Ashin Varanin]

Velok snorted, almost in unison with Mikhail. "Thank you, but you've already had your recommended daily intake of nefarious monologue. I've given you enough clues, when I can fit in an edgewise word between your taunts that somehow aren't taunts. Allegedly."

Without hurry, he drew his lightsabre. One of the most complex such machines ever made, it boasted all manner of controls, recessed inside the wide handle. It could operate underwater...and its construction had absolutely no dimetris circuits anywhere in the activation loop.

Making it invulnerable to cortosis ore. Situational, but useful. There was a real joy to doing one's research.

The crimson blade snapped to life, and he settled into a Djem So power stance. This would be a fight of timing. Otherwise, his powerful strikes would leave him wide open to the speed and finesse of two-blade Vaapad. Oh yes, he knew of Vaapad, and knew Darron's biography as if he had written it himself. He had slain a Juyo master blade to blade.

And he charged anyway, bearing left to put himself on Darron's right side. His two-handed strike lashed out at the base of Darron's ribs, a carefully chosen level. Leap up, and he might catch your feet; duck low, and you might not be fast enough to avoid a tonsure.

 

[Rosa Gunn]

Rosa had barely reached her hand to the walls again to push deeper with her empathy when she had flet the warning and Darron tackled her to the floor and out of harms way. Too close, she thought not only thinking about the collapsing tunnel but of their proximity as she felt her emotions threatening to rise from her as he eyes bore into hers. As he helped her up she gave him a small smile, accepting his silent apology as she buried her emotions deep again, locking them away in the box at the back of her mind.

She cast a glance back at the wall of ice hoping that the Mandalorian's were safe and hopefully smart enough to not follow them down. She had a bad feeling about the coming fight and the last thing they needed was people caught in the crossfire. Though she every much doubted they would be anything but smart, Mandalorian's always chose a chance to prove themselves in battle over simply staying alive.

Following Darron through the new entrance she ran her fingers across the walls, pushing gently as she did looking for answers and for a location, for a way down to the darkness that welled beneath them. It was painful process, the tomb was so full of dark memories she had to be careful not to absorb them. Before long though, they found themselves face to face with Velok and Mikhail and she retracted her fingers and moved to next to Darron.

Silence was always the better option when men had their pissing contests. She moved a few feet from Darron sensing the coming fight, here eyes flicking from one man to the next, she couldn't help but smile at them. As she slipped the thick fur coat from her shoulders, it was not really the best thing to fight in. The cold hit her, raising goose bumps on her arms but she ignored it, she would be warm soon enough she closed her eyes for a moment, centring herself drawing on her own calm. Opening her eyes she pulled her lightsaber from her belt, her eyes settling on Mikhail, though she did not activate it there was no need. Not yet anyway.

As Velok leapt forward for Darron Rosa's hands snapped up and she force pushed Mikhail as far as she could away from the two Masters, following at a pace that gave the impression of boredom, activating her lightsaber as she went, the pale purple blade illuminating her face.

 

[Lord Ghoul]

Action!

The force shove sent Mikhail backward. He flowed with the attack, letting it carry him. He backflipped and landed in a crouch, hand extended forward to steady himself. Rosa moved in slowly, her purple blade in hand and a bored expression on her features. Some might call it laziness. His own violet blade hummed venomously, seeming to long for blood as red flecks flickered up and down its shimmering length. A dark whisper touched Mikhail's mind, urging him to attack. He did. Mikhail moved forward, body accelerating as he was propelled on legs strengthened by the Force. He moved with the precision and grace only wielders of the Force could display.

As a Makashi practioner, Mikhail specialized in this kind of combat. In a fight with a platoon of troopers, he would fare the worst, while Rosa would undoubtedly do better if she wielded any of the other forms. Mikhail, however, focused solely on lightsaber combat. As such, besting him would be no easy feat, let alone holding one's own. Especially considering they were both of the same seniority, newly promoted Knights. This would not be like fighting Darren Shaw. The man had been armored and wielding three lightsabers at once. No. This... this would be ease itself.

The dragon-hilt saber did not have a curved hilt, which offset Mikhail slightly. He was used to wielding a curved lightsaber. However, the mental acuity he received from wielding Abomination outweighed the price he paid in hilt familiarity. The particular ability the Soulsaber bestowed, though Mikhail did not know it, was called Battlemind. It gave the wielder a fiery spirit, a passion for the fight. To a Jedi, it would be dangerous as so much passion could push them to the dark side. But to a Sith... it was like dumping starfighter fuel on a fire.

Mikhail zeroed in on his opponent. Wearing the full-body Hydra combat armor - manufactured from phrik - definitely gave him an advantage in this engagement. Mikhail could be more open when it came to attacks, not needing to fear the usually disastrous results of a counterattack. With it, however, came a slight decrease in speed. Rosa would be a bit faster than him. But only barely. Mikhail's precision, skill in dueling, and added power from Abomination would outweigh. Further, Mikhail was gifted at telekinesis, whereas Rosa's strengths lay in empathy, or so he gathered from the way she kept trying to feel people's emotions whenever he was around her. He would be stronger than her telekinetically. All this factored through Mikhail's mind as he attacked.

He reached out a hand and yanked Rosa toward him with a vicious Force pull, thrusting forward with his violet blade, intending to impale her upon it. He doubted the initial attack would be successful. They seldom were. Judging by her stance she was Ataru. Makashi practioners made a habit of identifying the various styles, if not being intimately familiar with them. Ataru... a lot of jumping about. He followed the thrust up by raising his blade high in case she tried to leap over him in typical ataru fashion. The movement was both a defensive stance and an attacking stance... depending on how the opponent moved.

 

[Darron Wraith]

He's fast for someone so big.

The trajectory of Velok's strike was an awkward one to say the least, the Jedi Master noted as the massive crimson blade came towards his ribs. Should he try to leap up and over, he would be eviscerated, try to push back against his strike and he could burn himself with his own sabers. Worse, the Whipid could slice the hilts of his lightsabers due to his proximity to their emitters, thus rendering them useless. If he tried to roll underneath the strike he would be even more open to an attack that there would be no hope of defending against. It was quite perfectly one of the best opening strikes the GrandMaster had seen before, but that didn't mean he didn't have a plan. It just wasn't a traditional one for a duelist of his stature, but just because it bucked convention didn't mean it wasn't wise.

Because it's orthodox nature was what made it so great.

Darron eschewed normal strategy and instead planted his feet and twisted his blades into an x to meet the incoming strike, his knees bent to brace for impact. Except, instead of fighting against the blow. He allowed the blades to meet, and he rode the strike for all of it's momentum. Which was quite the considerable distance given the Whipids power physically and in the Force. The Jedi Master went flying up and away about ten feet away from the powerful Sith Master, somersaulting in the air. Combat boots made contact against the ancient stone first, and he landed in a crouched position with both his blades pointing towards the floor. The kinetic energy from the strike finally dispersed as he slid back another foot, his breath visible in the cavern.

Blue eyes sized the Whipid up, as the storm on the inside of the GrandMaster raged. "That's all? Your best shot?" While on the inside he was honestly trying to rack his mind around how to deal with an opponent who was legitimately more powerful physically than him. He hadn't been hit that hard in years, not since he was a Padawan struggling against his Master. Years of fighting against multiple races and any foe who came his way, had hardened him and gave him confidence. Yet Velok...he hit with a power and ferocity that Darron had never seen in his entire life. What have you gotten yourself into Wraith?


"My turn Whipid..."

Confidence was practically dripping from each word, but on the inside he was searching for answers. Yet his sense of calm, and the storm of Vaapad took over, there was all the answers he needed. Multiple path's illuminated themselves the GrandMaster, and he took the first one he saw. The Force carried his feet as he charged at the Whipid, as he neared saber range he side stepped to the left and jumped forwards Velok. Being a couple feet in the air, he aimed a quick slash coming from the blade in his left hand while coming overhead with his right blade hoping to find an opening as his boots connected back with the floor. As he made contact with the ground he brought his blades up and over his head and brought them both around in powerful slashes to make his opponent choose which side to be burned.

 

[Ashin Varanin]

With ponderous grace and perfect timing, Velok extended his blade to the right, then swung it up and to the left in a wide arc that caught first the quick slash, then the heavy downward chop. The price of catching the second blow was letting the first be un-bound as the blade's point slid off Velok's moving guard, but Darron was already drawing back for another set of strikes. His torso was opening up, in martial arts parlance, preparing for what would most certainly be a pair of widely convergent attacks, one from either side.

And Velok knew he wasn't quite fast enough to stab Darron in the chest, even though his lightsabre was now pointed more or less at Darron's face. So as the strikes came in, he backstepped just far enough that Darron's strikes caught robe, skin and chest hair, extended his long arm, and toggled a switch on his lightsabre hilt.

His blade doubled in length in the course of roughly a quarter of a second. With Darron's chest in the way.

Not waiting to see whether he successfully impaled the Grandmaster, he filled his lungs and roared, blending the deep-chest breath control of all true martial arts with the focus necessary to use the Force. The one amplified the other, and was amplified in turn, as a shockwave blasted out.

 

[Darron Wraith]

The smell of burnt fur and flesh filled the GrandMaster's nose as he feverishly brought his blades to bear on the whipid. The Sith's economical defenses were to a point frustrating, but to be expected. The slouch in his back indicated that Velok was very advanced in age for his species. The power was still there, oh he had that in spades. The quickness was gone though, but one thing that never aged was technique or footwork. That was apparent from the first strike that the Sith Master knew exactly where to put his blade, and at what moment it needed to be there. His natural strength, and Force ability where all lending with his technique, but he was absolutely perfect with his placement and leverage. That much Darron had to compliment the man on, even if his staccato flurry of blows were simply deflected with such a simple defense. It was brutally efficient, much like Velok himself.

As the GrandMaster wound up for another slash, that precognition that was his most valuable weapon tingled up his spine.

Blue eyes darted to the Whipid's fingers, and he saw the knob get adjusted quickly. Almost instantaneously the crimson blade extended towards the GrandMaster's armored chest. He simply re-chambered his strike and stepped to the side of the extending blade while dipping his right shoulder back to avoid any slash that would try to behead or bisect him. The maneuver saved his life, but as a sacrifice he gave up all of his leverage. That tingling feeling went up his spine again, and all the GrandMaster could do was ride out the shock wave from the Force bellow. The concussive blast sent the large man flying as if he were a rag-doll across the temple steps. Without much ceremony Darron landed flat on his back and slid another dozen or so meters before coming to a stop against a nearby wall. Chunks of ice and rock had been dislodged, and as the blonde haired Jedi stood, an idea crystallized and became reality.

As he reached his full height, the Jedi Master extended his senses to all the nearby boulders and chunks of ice. With minimal effort, he lifted them as all of his focus was on them. Then with a flick of his encumbered hands, they all accelerated towards the massive Sith Master.

 

[Jorn Mair]

Jorn heard in the tunnel falling debries. He didnt think that It would be natural since he had just seen the Two force users enter the Cave. he silently motioned forward to Verz and the other Mando. They would have to tread carefully because It sounded like someone didnt want to be followed.

 

[Ashin Varanin]

Velok flung out his free hand, putting his weight and focus behind it, and the largest boulders slowed. The smaller chunks pelted him with bruising force, and he felt something crack in his chest. He was too large to stagger from the impacts, but that only made it worse. Grunting, he let the boulder fall, and his hand dropped. Blood slicked his arm from a particularly rough impact.

Well, he could fight one-armed. He had always taken his cues from Vader in that respect. Blinking grit and debris from the fur around his eyes, he raised his wounded hand, and a stream of pale golden light connected his palm with the center of Darron's chest. Force Drain could not be taught, only experienced, and he had experienced the worst of it. And as a result, he knew it better than most. Not the broad-scale applications so much -- he was not about to drain worlds -- but the more personal touch was entirely within his power.

This most ancient of Sith techniques attempted to drain away not just Darron's strength as a Jedi, but his life force. The Jedi Grandmaster had the edge on Velok in terms of power, but the hunger Velok now unleashed had the potential to even the odds, by taking Darron down to his level.

"I'm hungry, Grandmaster," he said, voice even.

 

[Rosa Gunn]

Rosa did not like the power that emanated from the lightsaber in Mikhails hand. The darkness emanating from it seemed to tug and pull at her empathy, almost daring her to investigate, but Rosa knew far better than to be lured by such things. She pulled her mind away from it as Mikhail began to move towards her, his speed somewhat hindered by his armour, though only slightly. Rosa's priority here was simple, stay alive and disarm him. Killing was not a necessity, not if they could still be saved.

The force pull was unexpected but Rosa did not resist it, she ran with it, jumping over Mikhails thrust she somersaulted her saber flashing out to brush aside his as it came up to find her. Landing lightly she spun to face him, her movements fast and seamless as she rained a series of strikes upon him intended to push him back while assessing his armour searching for a weak point.

 

[Darron Wraith]

A snarky comment was on it's way out when suddenly a stream of golden light hit him right in the chest. "What is this?"

The question formed weakly on his lips as suddenly all of his concentration was broken, all rational thought leaving him. He tried to step forward, to bring his blades up, to pull from the Force. Yet none of his options seemed to be working, he was thrown impossibly off kilter by the beam sent from the injured Whipid, and he couldn't re-center himself. All tangible thought seemed to be leaving the Jedi, as his knees began to buckle, and his palms began to incessantly sweat. Another weak step forward and his leg gave out forcing him to one knee. His grip grew slack in both hands, as he couldn't muster the focus to keep his prosthetic closed. The sounds of clanging lightsaber hilts hitting the ground echoed throughout the cavern as they deactivated and rolled away from their creator. Soon even the GrandMaster couldn't lift his own head as he felt the very life draining from him.

Is this how I am going to die?

Rational thought was quickly becoming hard as the world around him was fading black, yet a road of possibilities presented themselves to him. Darron saw the Order burning, the Jedi being massacred, and he saw Velok murdering Rosa. More images of his past failures began to mix with the uncertain future presenting itself to him as the world disappeared from view. Yet a thread emerged, a lifeline of sorts. He could see his child's face, and that served as the gateway through which he started to remember every skill he had ever been trained in. Suddenly something so mundane, and rarely used popped up in his head and it wouldn't retreat back into his subconscious. Can this work? Can I focus?

His arms moved up to point at the Whipid Sith, as he locked eyes with the monster. "Take my life Velok, and I'll show you light."

The GrandMaster felt as if he were moving through sludge as he finally managed to center himself and the purity of his spirit. Focusing the remaining energies within him, he focused on a nexus point, a stone on the floor near the Sith Lord. Yes, that will do, he thought. A slight glow began to radiate from the Jedi's skin as he pushed with every bit of his focus and will. He was willing his own light out of himself, and he pushed it violently towards Velok. As it made contact he felt resistance, but that only fueled him and the Jedi pushed harder, trying to siphon the Sith's darkness out of him and into the rock behind him. He could feel the power working, as the channel upon his chest began to weaken and what he could best describe as a grunt of pain began to emanate from his opponent.

"Let me show you the light, and strip you of your darkness Sith!"

 

[Lord Ghoul]

Just as Mikhail had expected, Rosa somersaulted over his head. Typical Ataru. All jumping. No finesse. She had managed to bat his saber away, somehow, but it would not happen again. He believed he had her full measure now. She did not have the motivation for this fight, nor the concentration. Mikhail did. His anger billowed out, empowered by the saber in his hands. The darkness within him craved release. He would not deny it. Pain and anguish were channeled into aggression, whose full fury he directed at Rosa. He did not withold his emotions. He would not chain them like the Jedi. They flowed forth, a relentless stream, filling him with the dark side. He gave in to its wonderful taint. The sickly-sweet feel of its energy pulsing through his body granted Mikhail that unnatural strength, speed, and grace only Force Users could wield.

Mikhail parried the incoming blows with economical movements of his violet blade. Shorn conserved his strength. Ataru practioners had a severe weakness due to all their acrobatical maneuvering and aggressive attacks. He intended to exploit it. The onslaught drove the Sith Knight backward. The attacks came incessantly, not the staccato, unpredictable attacks of Juyo, but an unending flurry. Their blades clashed together again and again in brilliant flashes of light, illuminating the dark, cavernous tomb.

The power emanating from the dueling Masters was immense. Mikhail tried to not let it distract him, despite the possibility that he would be turned into collateral damage.

As the attacks from his Jedi opponent came again and again, Mikhail found an opportunity to counterattack. Instead of lifting his saber to parry, he met Rosa's blade with his phrik vambrace. The sudden change up freed up his saber enough that he could bring it in again. He locked blades with Rosa, switching to a two handed power stance. Their lightsabers crackled together, positioned in such a way that neither could attack with their blade until it was first freed from the lock. But Mikhail did not need his lightsaber for every attack. He lashed out with a savage front kick toward her stomach. Not every blow had to be a killing blow. A lesson in Makashi.

 

[Rosa Gunn]

He was there, every strike she made he caught and it seemed effortless for him. Doubt began to creep into her mind and her defences slipped. As Mikhail brought his vambrace up to deflect her attack she knew that she was severely outmatched. Their blades locked and a powerful kick caught her hard in the gut, breaking from the lock Rosa leapt backwards sinking to the floor pausing like a cat, reassessing the situation.

Mikhail was young, but he had experience and armour on his side and what did she have? The power emanating from the two masters brought a smile to her lips. She had received some of the best training and she was not about to let it go. A new sense of determination settled over her, giving her the will power she needed and she sprung forward again, unleashing another flurry of attacks while reaching out around her with the force looking for aides.

She leapt to Mikhails side, driving a back slash to his knees before jumping out of range and hitting the ceiling above with a telekinetic wave to bring the huge icicles down on top of him.

 

[Lord Ghoul]

A savage grin of satisfaction flashed behind Mikhail's helmet as the kick connected, boot sinking deep into her stomach. His blade came up in a defensive guard as she leaped backwards. So much movement. She would begin to tire eventually. And Mikhail would be there every step of the way. Right up until the moment he could plunge his blade right through her little Jedi heart.

He did not need precognition to warn him of the incoming blow as Rosa leaped toward him. The Jedi did it all on her own. Her large, acrobatic movements practically holographed Mikhail when attacks were coming. With flowing Makashi footwork, Mikhail stepped smoothly in and met the blade with his own. Their blades locked for a brief moment, but Rosa suddenly jumped backward. The ceiling above Mikhail's head rumbled. Uh oh. Icicles rained down on Mikhail.

The thick shards pelted his armor, and bore him to the ground with their weight. Mikhail fell onto his back, icicles still raining down on him. They shattered against his armor, but some of the larger ones left bruises beneath. Mikhail grunted as each blow left a new mark on the skin beneath the armor. The ice was exceptionally hard, but phrik was harder. The armor held easily.

Shorn rose to his feet, but as he did he reached out in the Force. The shards of ice rose with him. Extending his hand in a sweeping gesture, Mikhail sent a spray of the fragmented icicles toward Rosa. She wanted to play games with the Force? Well, Mikhail wasn't one to turn a lovely lady down.

 

[Ashin Varanin]

Velok grunted, falling to one knee, as the light eroded his stream of energy. In the gaze of that light, he struggled to hold onto the darkness that gave him power.

"Fascinating," he gasped as his lightsabre deactivated. The power he had stolen from Darron was still light and fresh, and he kept that in a little kernel in his heart, but weakness overshadowed him. "The accumulated Dark Side taint of centuries is leaching from my body, and with it the networks of...aah. The networks of Dark Repair that hold my old body together. They're eroding. Less stable than alchemy, more stable than a constant spell...until you erode them."

He coughed up blood.

"Keep up the light and win, Grandmaster, if you're willing to kill me like this. Or have mercy -- and respect for your enemy. What you do is the..." He coughed again, wiping his mouth. "...ultimate expression of the Light Side. Doesn't keep it from being a coward's move."

 

[Darron Wraith]

Weakness was overtaking him, and yet he persevered. Darron had never backed down from a challenge in his entire life, and he wouldn't let Velok rob him of his power here in a cavern on Rhen Var. Too much was at stake, he needed to live, and the Jedi needed him, hell Rosa needed him. That drive, and the will to win that had pushed him so far in life, that had helped him master Vaapad, was on full display. He was willing his light into Velok, he would drive the darkness from the Sith, and he would end this unnecessary conflict. Answers to his questions be damned, he wasn't going to die after all he had been through. Twenty years frozen in carbonite, all his loved ones and friends lost, a power of the darkside wouldn't take him from this world just yet. I'm glad you can see the future Velok, but you can't possibly quantify how badly I will fight to protect innocents and stop you.

The thought hardened his resolve as he felt the drain no longer working, and he pressed further.

Suddenly Velok's voice made it to his ear, barely a whisper. Yet when the Jedi reached out in the Force, he could feel his words were true. It seemed the Whipid held himself together with darkside alchemy. How far are you willing to go Wraith, he is a Sith and he has killed untold innocents. Yet if you kill him like this, are you truly any better than the very enemy you face? Though that question wasn't even really a question to the Jedi GrandMaster, it was already answered before it had been asked. Darron fought, bled, cried, and sacrificed for innocents. There was a line he might have crossed at one time staring at him, and he would never cross it again. He had come to far, and it was what separated him from his enemies. No, I am not him, and I will not become him to win. If the Force deems me the one to succeed, I shall regardless of letting him live. With those thoughts, he did what he would do a thousand times out of a thousand, consequences be damned.

Darron let up on his power, and for a moment he fell to a knee. Weakness was overtaking him slightly, and looking down he noticed his was bleeding from several places. Blue eyes noticed tears in the clothing he was wearing, and his armor was dented and burnished. Velok looked no better himself, it seemed they had decided to beat the feth out of each other. "You are right Velok, it's a cowards move. I am anything but that, and I won't murder you regardless of the consequences. Should I kill you in defense of my life or other's so be it. But I refuse to kill you in cold blood, think of me what you will, and my code. But I am a Jedi and I do follow it."

Weakly standing to his feet, and noticing that his energy was slowly; albeit slowly coming back to him. Darron once more pushed himself through the penumbra of the darkside as he grabbed both his lightsaber hilts and activated the blue blades once more. With a soft pull of the Force, he extended his senses towards the Sith's hilt and lifted it to his hand level, with the emitter pointed away from him. "You want to continue fighting me, so be it, I won't allow you to succeed on this mission. But if I stop you, I will do so as a Jedi and you deserve honor and respect."

"Your move Sith..."

 

[Ashin Varanin]

Velok snatched the lightsabre out of the air and stood, knees shaking with age and fatigue. He began to re-weave the networks of Dark Repair within his body, never taking his eyes off Darron. The energy he had stolen suffused him, warming and strengthening him.

"And this moment, right here, is part of why I chose you. Vondiranach would have killed me. How well do you trust him to live up to your ideals, effective warrior though he is?"

The crimson blade ignited, and Velok lumbered slowly forward. Stray icicles and chunks of rock battered him, the efflux of Mikhail's duel with Rosa. "You have all these ideals, Grandmaster, all this leadership, all these values -- but how well does the Order respond, hm? How much do they deserve or even acknowledge what you bring them?"

 

[Darron Wraith]

"I have faith in Kamon, he's a great man. Every man has their own demons, it's the capacity to rise above them and make something more of yourself that is the sign of a true Jedi."

Even though the whipid came forward, Darron held fast where he was standing. Blue eyes never moving as debris fell on him as well from all the chaos the other two where causing in their fight. Darron barely managed to get his senses to extend to make sure Rosa was alright, the world around seemed so much more closed in. The Jedi was beginning to notice just how heavy his armor and greaves where, and the thought of sitting down and resting was most certainly on his mind. Yet, he held fast, his blades humming against the air as ozone flooded his nostrils. No, he wouldn't move and he knew Velok wouldn't go away no matter what he said or did. This would end only one way, but the Jedi Master wouldn't initiate it. No, he had given Velok the chance to live and would continue to do so until given no other choice. It was the right of all sentient beings after all, despite his actions.

"My name is Darron, yes I do have a title but I am still a man." His face turned to stone as he verbally sparred with the Whipid. "The Order will do as it must, and should they try and aspire to do good like I do...then my job has been done. I see my purpose as a beacon of hope and leadership, and I will always aspire for that."

The GrandMaster crossed his blades in front of him to make his point clear, don't come any closer Velok.

"You preach as if the Jedi don't deserve me, yet it is I who am the one who didn't deserve the title. Teferi Efreet should still be leading, but I will do my best to do the job he saw me worthy of doing."

 

[Ashin Varanin]

"Oh, come, let's not hide behind dissembling." Velok slowly circled the Grandmaster, blade low but present. "Vondiranach doesn't even try to uphold the Jedi ways, by some accounts. And let's not get caught up in modesty. Remove your own petty insecurities and humilities from this equation, grandmaster. Objectively, qualitatively, you are too good for them, and they will never search for virtue as you do. Your Jedi are cursed. They judge each other -- in friendly ways, usually. They hold themselves above each other. Pacifism, traditionalism -- Grandmaster, your Jedi don't just think they're better than everyone else, they think they're better than each other.

"Don't brush this off; this is no callow attempt at a Dun Moch recruiting speech. I sincerely wish to know if you believe your Order has value beyond institutional momentum. Value sufficient to the task at hand. Are they the kind of people who can change the universe?"

 

[Darron Wraith]

Darron could feel his ears burning, though from the cold, an injury, or the Whipid's words he couldn't quite tell.

"Yes."

It was more an affirmation of what he felt, deep inside he did believe in the Jedi. Yes, they would be the shining beacon of hope throughout the galaxy as they were always intended to be. Not an untouchable ideal, no, but something to strive towards. Everything that he held fast in, every belief that made up the core of the man who stood there against the darkness. It was the culmination of every lesson he had learned over his life, and none of them the easy way. It was seeing his parents being murdered as a teenager, experiencing life as a slave, and being rescued by the Jedi. It was in his child's smile, losing him, the years in carbonite, the wars he had fought in. It was in every battle, every life he had saved, and even every life he had taken. Everything he had ever done had led to the beliefs that formed the bedrock of who he was on this day, right here and right now.

"The Jedi are flawed yes, I will agree wholeheartedly. Though if you want to look at flawed Jedi, you need to start with me." Darron slightly pointed the tips of his blades back up at him with a subtle bend of the wrist. "You know who I am, I'm sure you have seen inside my soul. If I had to guess, it was you who made it to where I was alert for the two decades so you could judge if I would go crazy or become something more."

Never moving, despite the massive creature circling him, he defended his Order still.

"The Order can bring change and it will, yes they all have their flaws. I do as well, and they will do the right thing when the galaxy needs them. It's why I have made so many changes so that our duty as protectors of all life will never be forgotten. Yes we are blessed with incredible powers, but we serve those who can't do the things we can. It's what makes us different, you seek order through subjugation and instilling it with your power. We seek to help bring peace by serving those you would rule, and the Order would do so even if I no longer drew breath.

 

[Ashin Varanin]

"Fine words. Fine ideals. No, I mean it." He came to a stop behind Darron, a childish but instinctive choice. "There's no question that that's the nature of ideals -- we always strive toward them, we never quite measure up. This is why it's so very, very important for a leader to be able to tell the difference between an honest attempt and a halfhearted one. Halfhearted Jedi can never oppose men and women of purpose.

"Do I err, Grandmaster, in describing our organizations that way? We Sith enshrine purpose. The best of us even understand order and unity. We work. We are the blue-collar spirits of those who need to work to effect change, because we don't have the benefit of centuries of upper-class respect, unlike your order."