Faction [Foundation] The Conclave on Crait: The Splintering of the Jedi

[Lily Decoria]

Location: Crait
Outfit: Jedi Attire
Equipment: Crossguard Lightsaber, Hydrangea Moonblade (concealed)
Tag: Mother Askani | Briana Sal-Soren | Casca Pryce

Looking over to the man that talked to her, Lily tilted her head, "what of the Clone Wars Jedi who believed in prophecy so much? So much that they allowed said Sith Lord to manipulate and turn their chosen one into his new apprentice? Blind to it because they believed in prophecy and the interpretation that had been given over the years."

"I do not doubt that things in the NJO and the GA are not the ways for every Jedi. However, a single vision, one person's perception on said vision. I need more evidence than that to show me the NJO are clearly on the wrong path." Lily stated firmly as she placed the hands on her hips, "I have friends, people I care about in the NJO and they are just as valid Jedi as anyone that stands here, questioning their value. If not better, because they don't stand there doubting whether you are worthy Jedi or not."

Shaking her head, "except this isn't either. The Empire was ran by a Sith Lord who ruled through corruption and fear. The First Order was a front for the Sith again, using intimidation, fear and murder." Lily countered, "the Galactic Alliance has not stopped you being Jedi, they have not stopped you being who you wish to be nor prevented you from being here, having this meeting. So you are not rebelling against a corrupt, dangerous dictatorship. You are dividing us against friends, family, the people we love."

"Best way to fight the true evil in the galaxy is to work alongside the Alliance. Alongside those who wish to stop those evil and supporting them as much as possible." Lily stated firmly before she let out a sigh. There conflict in her on this and she refused to be a part of something that would threaten harm to those she had trained with, grew up with. Admired.

She would not help the Foundation and their flawed ideals on who gets to decide who is the right Jedi and who is not.

 

[Casca Pryce]

-|| Location: Crait
-|| Tags: OPEN, to ALL
-|| Theme: No Chances

Casca shook his head. It would only go in circles from here. There was too much emotion, too much attachment. Two things that the New Jedi Order allowed to creep into their ranks and dismantle them from the inside. The young Jedi spoke of family, friends, and loved ones, as if they somehow excused the complacency of the Coruscant order.

"Did the Rebels not fight against brothers and sisters? Did the Resistance not? Two empires burn worlds from the Core to the Tingel Arm, yet the Alliance spends its time hunting Sith shadows in the Outer Rim and sending Jedi to quell rebellion in the Hapes Cluster. It uses the Jedi as an excuse to expand endlessly across the stars, swallowing culture as it grows. The NJO has proved itself to be either too blind to see what's happening, or they are choosing to be a part. Regardless, that is not an order I wish to serve. The Alliance mocks the Jedi tradition, and I'll have no part of it any longer."

When Casca became a Jedi, he made an oath that was bigger than friends or family. Bigger than even himself. He was sworn to uphold the Jedi Code, not the constitution of the Galactic Alliance. He was sworn to fight the forces of evil no matter where they stood, be they at an altar on Korriban or the office of the Chancellor.

 

[Vizion Trozky]

THE CONCLAVE
OLD REBEL OUTPOST ☛ CRAIT

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Hearing Briana align herself with the cause and pronounce that she stood with this Foundation leader was enough for him. He was tied to the woman next to him, whether he wished it or not: the inexplicable compulsion he felt for years, and nowadays examined closely, that he struggled to tease apart from or maybe mistook for feelings he attributed to so many instances in the past, wouldn’t let him be otherwise.

Her brother, on the other hand, barely escaped being on the receiving end of a dirty look for his dissent, his ignorance, as he vanished into the crowd. Vizion turned his head forward again, then skirted a glance at Briana. It was her, it was Brandyn, Lossa, and himself, and for what purpose?

What was his?

Vizion slipped a hand into hers, letting the weight of his arm give an insistent pressure meant to draw her back to her seat. Hardly caring what she might think of it at that moment. Saying nothing for some further minutes, as more spoke and deepened unnecessary lines in the proverbial sand. Talking in circles, unable to see eye to eye.

“I think we’ve heard enough,” he declared quietly, to Briana, “what’s clear to us and--” he flicked a glance up and around, then returned to her, “--others might only become clearer to the rest through our actions.”

The more disillusioned they were, or the more naive, the more they needed that proof. It was not enough to tell them something and call it the Truth.

At least it ought to make council meetings more interesting.

Briana Sal-Soren • Brandyn Sal-Soren • Mother Askani​

 

[Toruun Kai]

TORUUN KAI
JEDI CONCLAVE | CRAIT

In quiet contemplation, Toruun listened, his presence subdued beneath the heavy folds of his robes, as if shielding himself from the weight of the moment. Before him, Jedi from across the stars had gathered, bound by a singular purpose - a rare and solemn sight. He had never walked the halls of the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, nor had he been shaped by its rigid traditions. His path had been different, forged in the aftermath of war, under the guidance of a master who followed another school of thought.

The Jedi Praxeum had risen in a time when the Galactic Alliance was all but shattered, a flickering light in the encroaching dark. It was there that Jace Khel, once a student of Jedi Master Romi Jade, passed down his wisdom to Toruun before his untimely death. His teachings were not of grandeur or glory but of perseverance, of duty not to institutions but to the people who needed the Jedi most.

And now, as the echoes of discourse filled the chamber, Toruun found himself arriving at the same conclusion as so many before him: that it was time. Time to take up the mantle that had been left behind. Time to be a Jedi in the face of competing responsibilities, of duties and oaths that might pull him elsewhere. To serve not for power, nor for recognition, but for those lost among the stars.

To stand against the darkness without fear - just as his master would have wanted.

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[Tyrus Vastor]

SPLINTER IN THE MINDS EYE
CRAIT
JEDI CONCLAVE
Arriving late, as was his usual style, Tyrus felt the tension and mixed expressions across the meeting. Some jedi had already of left, where as others sought to stick around. None of it meant there was no more to be said though.

Joining in with the crowds, Tyrus knelt, pressing his ungloved fingers into the red soil beneath the crystalline salt. His breath slowed, his mind expanded, and the Force answered his silent call. It was not a gradual revelation but an overwhelming flood, a deluge of voices, emotions, and impressions layered atop one another like echoes of a shattered mirror. He did not attempt to impose order upon it—he let it come as it would, accepting the storm for what it was.

A voice, firm and unyielding, rang out first, not spoken but felt, carried on the conviction of the one who had uttered it. "Jedi do not fight for peace. That's only a slogan, and is as misleading as slogans always are. Jedi fight for civilization, because only civilization creates peace." The words came with the weight of purpose, of frustration buried beneath determination. Tyrus saw the woman who had spoken them—Mother Askani—a specter of certainty wrapped in the flowing folds of a brown robe. She had not come here to debate; she had come here to change minds, to kindle something long left smoldering.

Then another voice, felt rather than heard, slithered through his awareness. "I find the interpretation of the vision presented to be entirely lacking in not only good sense, but a fundamental understanding of reality." The presence was not human, but coldly logical, calculating. Tyrus glimpsed a mass suspended in the air, a Celegian Veythun , its thoughts unfurling like tendrils in the ether. "The Alliance is positioned between a rock and a hard place…" Frustration here, but not the fire of revolution—this was the voice of someone who saw war not as a tool, but as a failure.

The sensations shifted. Tyrus felt the weight of many gazes upon Mother Askani , saw how her words had cracked open old wounds, how some had felt seen for the first time, while others recoiled. A name drifted to him—Veythun. A mind structured like a puzzle, fitting together the pieces of diplomacy, caution, and pragmatism. "We should not be here in conclave, even considering striking at another Jedi order. We should be out there, doing what Jedi are supposed to do: help those in need of it." The thought carried the sting of exasperation, the ache of duty left unfulfilled.

A softer presence surfaced amid the clashing tides, smooth like flowing water. "There are many streams that feed a river." Vilka Keldra voice was steady, her tone neither defiant nor submissive. "We are all Jedi but all apply it differently, but we feed the river that is Jedi." Tyrus saw her hands, open, extended—not in combat, not in command, but in offering. Unity, not fracture.

The storm of all the impressions continued to crash through him. Brandyn Sal-Soren and Thal Mantis flares of anger, righteous and indignant. Others of despair, unspoken but heavy in the hearts of those present. A vision of the past tangled with the future—of Jedi on battlefields, of the old and the new orders clashing, of something unseen splintering beneath the weight of all this uncertainty. Tyrus exhaled slowly and withdrew his hand from the soil, the sensation of fragmented time lingering in his bones. Through red tinted glareshades he cast a glance at Altan Casca Pryce Lily Decoria and so many others that he had just felt and heard within. He overstood now.

A metaphysical fork in paths and yet these trails were much like webs, eventually intersecting each other and rejoining. There was no real division, just the illusion of it to the ignorant and Tyrus had already trusted that his path would reconvene with his original.

Stepping out from the crowds the large Korun rubbed his hands together. Getting salt and dirt off with applied friction and silently took a place next to Mother Askani.

@Too many tags • @Everyone else​