Home is where the heart(ache) is...

[Julius Sedaire]

Location: Nar Shada Slum - Alleyway​

"Stumbling" on a stone and pretending to fall, Aitis spun around in the alleyway. At some point he had taken a wrong turn leaving the Cantina. After accepting the tutelage of Coryth, he had taken a short sabbatical back to Nar Shadda to collect the memories and things he had left behind in his rush to go join the Jedi. A rush he now keenly regretted, as it had turned out all the Jedi could teach were how to be pompous hypocrites. There were some good ones, true, but they worried far too much about their Code and the letter of it to ever stop and question the spirit and meaning of it, and what it actually meant to do that which they did.

The problems hadn't come in coming to Nar Shada, though. Not really. The problems had come when he had ran into his old landlord. The scum had seen the finer cut clothes, still vaguely indicative of the Order, and demanded he make good on his back rent, or he'd burn the goods in the holding vault that belonged to Aitis. Aitis had refused, as the man was plain and simple scum, and had told him he would pay the true amount and no interest or late fees. The slum lord had sent thugs after him, and they had found him in the Cantina.

But Aitis was more than even just the budding assassin he had once been employed as here. As the thugs had came at him, he was ready. His time in the order had honed his senses such that he felt them coming. His precognitive abilities showed them firing the blaster bolts before they even raised the guns, and he was upon them before a second shot could be fire from either of the two. The blindman cane he bore slid open to reveal his old durasteel cane-sword, and each was dispatched in a flurry of blows purely derived from Makashi, quick, efficient.

Thrusts to tendons in the wrist to deaden their hands, dropping the blasters. One managed to run as a Aitis dropped to his knee and sliced the tendons in the back of the knee, dropping the man to his knees as he tried to claw away. The thug screamed that Jara would see to him, Jedi or no. And Aitis merely smiled as the cane sword traced across the mans throat, and then hurled, thrown with expertise into the back of the other mere handful of meters from the exit to the alleyway, stopping him from spilling to the dim light of the street and revealing it.

Aitis walked to the body slowly. He felt no emotion, not rage, not sadness, not joy, or even remorse. The blade withdrew from the body with a clean pull, and he merely wiped it on the dead thugs body, stripping it of credits and the blaster and belt from him, strapping it to himself. Jara was the Hutt who had lured his mother here. And his sister. And sold them to slavery. There would be no tears or second guessing the death of these two. If his former landlord was under the sway of the Hutt now, he knew where his work began. Not even thinking, he turned to walk deeper into the shadows, intent on retrieving the goods from the other body.

[member="Disciple"]

 

[Disciple]

Disciple went where he pleased. He did so for reasons known only to himself, and these reasons were as likely to backfire on him than not. But that did not stop him. A thousand setbacks were merely the story of the turning of time; a long view his lifespan had afforded him. For every door that closed, the lock would eventually rust so you could snap it open. The sheer noise of Nar Shaddaa was immense.

So many lights, each a life.

All had their story to tell, their thoughts to think, their words to speak.

Each had friends, enemies, hopes, dreams, regrets.

Some were even winking out one by one.

That was to be expected from the criminal hub of the galaxy. The Smuggler's Moon. Death's Crown Jewel.

And so why were these particular lights disappearing. The droid stalked down the streets, immense mind able to pick and discern the myriad pieces arrayed on the board before him. Rook to D5. Threaten the Queen. Draw the ire of the King. Establish supremacy. Establish that you lack fear. There it was. A muddied light, caught between the piety of the Light and the seduction of the Dark.

Really, it was just The Force and the Dark Side, but everyone seemed to like their dichotomies. Seemed more fitting to be 'Light and Dark' rather than 'What is' and 'What Should Not Be.' Cloaking himself in the Force, he disappeared only to reappear over the body that [member="Aitis Powarth"] was heading towards. So this was the extinguisher of souls. A weak little man, it seemed. How quaint.

"Have you ever wondered of the folly of arrogance? I have. Quite often, you see." The droid simply stood there, long arms hanging limp on either side of an impressively broad chest. "It is the folly of arrogance that allows events such as these to occur. It is the folly of the student to see himself as the Master, even if he does not consciously recognize he is doing so."

There was a distinctively human pitch to the droid, as if an actual voice was taken and only slightly modulated. This was not a typical droid, and his Force Sight would back that up. An angry black knot of the Force sat square in the chest.

"And yet you don't feel much. It's there, somewhere. But you can't be bothered to acknowledge it. How curious. What are you playing at, little fly?" The droid tilted its head slowly to one side. "Would you come into my parlour?"

 

[Julius Sedaire]

The young force user, for calling Aitis a Jedi now after what he had just done would be a stretch by the most generous of minds, eyed the Droid as it began to speak. The vocal tones were impressive, and the saber in his hand was held out in a low guard, knees crouched, but back straight and shoulders back, the tip of the blade arcing up high despite the hand holding it being low at the side of the body. If the droid knew anything about lightsaber forms, it would recognize a rather bizzare blend of a classic guard from two different Forms each blended into one cohesive whole, a synthesis of Makashi and Ataru, creating a deadly fast and liquid like responsive type combat style.

"I stopped feeling much long ago... The Order saw to that as I was trained by them, forced to turn myself into a passionless dredge divulged of individual want, desire, or even identity. In so far as Master and Apprentices, I am the Apprentice of no one, and the master of none, as it should be. I exist to serve myself and my wishes, my own code, now... I play at a dream of vengeance, if such a creation as you can understand such an emotion."

Aitis kept talking, hoping to run the thing into a distraction, but the relaxed tension of his muscles never let up an instant, and his Sight remained narrowed on that black knot at the center of the being in front of him, whatever it was. It felt different, read differently, and he had a suspicion he would sense it less effectively and naturally in the Force by the very nature and quality of it's being. But right now the prudent thing would be to keep it talking until he could secure what he needed from the other thug and be on his way. He had a date with a Hutt crime-lord and likely his own death.

[member="Disciple"]

 

[Disciple]

"Oooh, so impatient." The droid says, swaying slowly back and forth. To and fro it goes, tick, tock. Tick... tock. Sand in an hourglass, the hands on an old fashioned clock. Piece by piece, moving along. One side, the next. "I don't think you understand the Jedi, then. They aren't emotionless, and in fact, they acknowledge and accept that they won't be free of desire or want. They simply know that for their line of work, for what they hope to accomplish, it is better to do without than with."

This was stated as simply as if from a history text, but Disciple had spent thousands of years studying the Force Users of the galaxy. He knew better than anyone what was going on. What was to be gleaned from teachings, both good and bad.

There was a long pause, then a faint clicking that mimed the clucking of a tongue.

"Tsk, tsk." A hand rose, finger ticking back and forth to shame the eyeless lad. "Don't lie to me. You want vengeance. It burns in your veins. Why else would you be so obviously stalling." The droid motioned with a limp hand before his arms went back to hanging at his side.

"So tense, child. So very tense. Take a load off. Sit down. Don't be so... brash."

Its eyes shifted, scanning. "I created an intelligence, long ago. Artificial. Everywhere. Twice it tried to stamp out organics, and twice if failed. Why? Organics are insatiable. They will never be beaten because they refuse to be beaten." It took a stride forward. "They don't back down." Another step. "They don't surrender." Closer yet. "They'd rather fight than die. A droid? It doesn't care. If it dies another will take its place.

Organics don't think that way. They want to survive. And so long as they survive, they will fight to continue to hold that right.

And once they've survived long enough, they'll strike for revenge.

So what will it be, little fly? Buzz, buzz, buzz... your life ticks away, every second a wasted breath. Fight? Survive? Hide? Your window is closing, these men will be missed, sooner or later. Then they'll be onto you so where will you fly to?"

"Time has never been your ally."

[member="Aitis Powarth"]

 

[Julius Sedaire]

The saber tightened in his hands and spun, up and down and rattled back into the cane, clicking softly into the plain wood scabbard. The young seer leaned on the cane almost casually as the droid advanced, showing neither fear nor regret nor worry. Something within him radiated calm, and even curiosity. There was a conclusion came to, in that moment. That if the droid wanted to kill him truly, he would be dead no matter his meager skill with the durasteel blade. That venturing back to here before he had a lightsaber could have been a fatal flaw. And that even the boon of farsight had not seen this being intersect his path, nor could he follow anything in his Sight as a path out of this place. That meant one thing, in his albeit limited knowledge.

This being, this moment, this meeting, were crucial to something personal, something he was not able to accept or recognize or see. Standing, so to speak, in the crossroads of time he made the resolution to live his life as he had always lived it before his mistaken hurry to join the Order. On his own terms, by his own morals, and in his own way. And with that his back straightened as he stood to move and walk past the droid to the body on the ground.

"Let the hutt know I am coming then... Or let him wonder.... I won't stick around long enough to be found... Let him worry and fret as his underlings vanish one by one and his power erodes away. Vengeance is best cold, and if I just charge into his office and kill him, another will just pick up the pieces and move on... I intend for their to be no legacy of his to rebuild. These are but the opening moves of a long intended game, advanced in a hurry by his luck/"

Shifting to move past the droid, but still close to it, neither advancing to him or avoiding him but rather focused on the downed mercenary, he grinned.

"As for the Order, you've obviously never been a student of Grandmaster Raaf's.... Or met most of the current council.. They are a rabid dog as dangerous to freedom of choice and a life of liberty as any Sith they point the finger at. They may have goals, and may say emotion interferes, but I would counter emotion can be both a hinderance and a fuel. It depends on the integrity of the being in question."

[member="Disciple"]

 

[Disciple]

Disciple canted his head to one side, then noted the continued interest in the body. The boy seemed eerily at peace. Only two kinds of people were at peace; those about to die, and those about to live. A hand rose, summoning up the Force to pull the body to Disciple for inspection. He wanted to know what was so interesting about the body, and in the same instant he took the body for his own that knot in the center of the droid's body began to pulsate.

Letting his Force Signature light up like a searchlight in the darkness of the night on Dathomir, Disciple simply invaded the younger individuals mind to find what he was looking for. After all, what was use was being a Sorcerer if you didn't stretch your mental legs once in awhile. This wasn't to say the boy couldn't stop him, but the goal was certainly two-fold. Take body, then take reason for interest in body from mind.

"Would you know a game if you weren't told the rules? Would you know what a 'long intended game' actually was? Your lifespan is so fragile, short. Vengeance is best thorough, not cold. Vengeance is the heat upon which metal is forged and whetted, worlds demolished and then rebuilt. It is vengeance that drives the Sith, and it isn't vengeance that drives you now. At least not in the manner you think it is."

Disciple began rummaging around the body. Maybe he'd turn it into a zombie. That might amuse him for a half-second or so. "I've not reason to meet the Council just yet, although now I know the Grandmaster's name. That will come in handy." The remark was absent, made - apparently - without much thought for his audience. "Emotion does interfere, don't you see? Oh, its a fuel. But even fuel is flammable, and when it ignites all you get is smoke.

It clogs the eyes and nose, obscuring and suffocating. Logic is best, because logic works. Emotion is, at best, a short term solution to a long term problem. The best way to get back at those who have wronged you is simply to ruin their life. Taking their life just saves them the pain of existing. But see, therein lies your problem. You sound as though you were taken aback by what they preach, as if this was some... surprise. As if the Jedi are not an ideal to strive for rather than to be.

Since when have the Jedi ever been about freedom of choice for themselves? They sacrifice so others do not. Jedi have not so that others may. An inherent contradiction but one that works to do something important.; win the hearts and minds of the people.

Oh, sure, they have their faults - every Order does. But three centuries from now when all the 'new blood' in the Order is only Younglings you'll find that they are is what they're supposed to be. Effective peacekeepers. But that won't happen in your lifetime. They're still taking in adults, which, you see, is part of the problem. They took in you, after all.

So, blind man on a blind mission, what is it you're really after here?

Because it certainly isn't vengeance, and it certainly isn't approved by whoever is in charge of you. Because if I know anything, I know one thing for certain - you wouldn't be doing this quietly if something wasn't on the line."

As ever, Disciple was the Devil's Advocate.

Or, perhaps, he was simply the Devil.

[member="Aitis Powarth"]