Public In Remembrance

[R3-D1]

Location: The Greywall, Ruusan, Outer Courtyard Landing Pads
Relevant Tags: Kano Stone Minka Vosh
Objective: Work, work, and work some more!

Force users, of bloody course. R3 was thankful, to a certain extent, but that thankfulness was tempered by a natural wariness. Quite frankly, Cedric Grayson had far more luck pissing other force users off than he did making friends, so the reason for this specific wizard to be here was a mystery - and R3 hated mysteries.

The duo of unlikely partygoers, a force user and a man that appeared to be under the influence of more narcotics than were known to exist in the galaxy, were discussing something of import to one or another. Something involving an organic child and a stolen talisman or some other unimportant tripe. Quite honestly, R3 had no time for such nonsense and desperately wished to see these partygoers somewhere that was not its domain.

The maintenance droids had stopped their slow march and stood unmoving, having witnessed their objective completed and now lacking further orders to do anything else. So, R3 ordered them to continue at their lumbering pace, massive feet trudging over the dirt and pavement with all the haste of a mollusc. They would serve as 'escorts' to show these lost souls the most expedient way somewhere else! To articulate the necessity of this, R3 whined loudly and rocked back and forth on its legs. R3's actions would surely translate the request for them to leave, and naturally, nothing would be lost in translation (for astromechs have a perfect record with translating complicated or even basic commands to organics)! Let Grayson deal with the rogue Force Users and raving drug addict wandering his castle.

 

[Kano Stone]

Kano heard Minka speak with bitter temperance and grew even angrier. He had no time to babble with the local rabble. He was supposed to be ministering to his yolk soon. He had a beautiful sermon cooked up and a delicious brew of the latest stims from Corellia to compliment the communion.

He was preparing to charge the woman and smote her with a head butt from his devilish helmet, but then he spied the child.

There! In the cockpit!

Kano would soon have his vengeance! He stormed past the woman and flipped the peanut gallery of droids the bird as he ran forth towards the shuttle bay doors. The sensor opened the air lock with a snap hiss of pressurized gas. He entered the boat and thought for sure the child would hide. But, thankfully, the vessel was a mess of wire and parts and most the furniture had been removed, which left little room to hide.

The little bastard was his.

Kano did a merry jig to the cockpit and cornered the boy whom hid behind the captains chair. The mad man twirled the chair round and faced the child.

"Give me back my talisman or your entrails will become your extrails..." He whispered menacingly.

The boy cocked a brow and laughed "You mean this rusty needle I nabbed off you?" The object appeared in grubby little hands and Kano snatched it from them

"Oh! My precious sword of deliverance! My precious needle of nirvanna! My holy tick of hep-c!"

The boys face contorted in what could only be disgust "Eww!"

 

[Auteme]

Cedric Grayson
​

Though she disliked frustration on principle, she could almost see his honesty. The quest -- the crusade -- to liberate one's home was a just cause. Time to rest was equally important.

His question gave her pause. She bit her lip a moment, then corrected him. "The," she said. "The esteemed leader."

It felt heavy to even say aloud.

"It's not, like, official, or anything. Not like anything really is with us. But Ryv- he just disappeared, after Csilla. I don't know where." There was a familiarity to that. She didn't believe he was dead; she never could. Yet it was unlike him to leave like that without reason. "And there's really no one else who I'd think would make a good leader. I was closest to him, and I think people respect me, but that's just... not enough. Not for me."

She sighed. "I don't know. I was wondering if he might've come here, even. Much of the Order's fighting on Sev Tok right now, and I can't really... be there for them."

Her gaze turned to Cedric. "I don't know. I'm just trying to figure things out. Things always get clearer when I get an outside perspective."

 

[Modor Khos]

Location: Russan - The Greywall - The Outer Courtyard - Landing Pads
Objective : Inspect
Tags : R3-D1 Kano Stone Minka Vosh

Festivities usually had alcohol and that always brought miscreants and the dredge of the galaxy. Modor had been vocal about this but the old guard loved their drink just as much as the dregs did. Following the blur of movement usually indicative of a theft or stabbing the behemoth Jedi slowly made his way across and to the landing pads.

Each of his steps rang with the cold steel of his armor cloaked by a gray robe. Inside he his a massive blade of the order that measured half his own size. To no surprise his first encounter was a very, very irate astromech droid whining and complaining about two individuals who ran rough shop around his place.

He strode in with an unusual silence for a man his size save for the constant thumps of his metal boots. Beneath his cowl a reassuring smile crossed his lips as he knelt down to speak to the droid, eyeing even more commotion a bit more down range.

"My apologies for the intrusion. We will have this sorted quick..."

While on one knee the knight eyed down the landing pad and scanned the entryways and corners. It was typical for one dangerous individual to have more weapons on his ship and sure enough he caught sight of movement down in a Cockpit of a ship just a hundred meters away.

Now Modor took off his cloak, brandished his blade and strode into the landing pad to see what all the fuss was about.

 

[Cedric Grayson]

The exile's brow furrowed.

He kept contact with Ryv the best he could, but the war had seen them mostly separated these past few years. It was not unheard of for his apprentice to take time to himself, though the boy had always made sure to let others know where he was going. Perhaps the stress of the conflict had begun to wear on him and he needed time to recuperate. He wasn't dead, at the very least, Cedric would have certainly felt that. His eyes drifted shut for a moment as Warrior squared up with Titus of Epoch in the ring.

Cedric drew in a deep breath, and as he exhaled, so too did his consciousness momentarily leave his body. He envisioned himself standing atop the waters of the Great Ocean, his gaze traveling far out beyond the horizon. The island he had come to associate with Ryv was farther off than it had ever been, so far in fact that Cedric could only pick up on the gaps in the sea that it had once inhabited.

"I can't sense him." The exile muttered, a hint of worry tainting his voice as he withdrew to his physical form. "He's not dead, but he's far enough away that I doubt anyone could find him if they wanted to. I don't believe he wants to be found. Whether he's hurt or not, I have no idea." He reported, his good mood souring somewhat at the realization.

That mood soured ever further as Auteme corrected him. The leader? The only one?

"Often times the mantle of leadership is thrust upon those most deserving of it, though it is often unwanted," Cedric mumbled, "I do not know you, Auteme, but if Ryv is missing, someone needs to hold the New Jedi Order together. Your order is young and its students susceptible to the Bogan's temptations. You need to be the adult." The Jedi paused, "Were it that I could, I would return with you to Coruscant and offer whatever aid I could provide. Unfortunately if I did return, I expect the senate would try to see me put in chains, or worse. I know that many of their number see me and my people as a threat to their power."

The crusade was important, but keeping a generation of young Jedi away from temptation was even moreso. Still, Cedric had no way to affect positive change in them in any way other than from afar. "Several of my students are at Sev Tok as well. It's not our fight though. If we committed ourselves properly, we would lack the resources to carry on to the Tingel Arm," he shook his lame leg about, "Not to mention my, eh, battle scars," the exile cracked an almost playful grin as he tried to lighten his own mood. "And it is not the purpose of all Jedi to be warriors anyway. I would imagine having someone with a more even temperament at the head of things might quell the need for battle that seems to have enraptured many of the younger Jedi. Ashla knows the pressures on you and yours are nigh insurmountable. There is no greater burden than leadership."

He concluded with a question, his gaze meeting Auteme's. "How do you feel about it? Do you believe you're ready to guide them on your own?" An impossible question. She was no older than Ryv, and his student, while a natural leader, was not nearly experienced enough to call himself a master. Could Auteme say that she was?

 

[Auteme]

Cedric Grayson
​

"No." She shook her head. "There's this- this feeling I've always had, when I'm watching leaders. Ryv, and Tagge, and Chandra -- I mean, I know them. I know they have flaws. But I just... see something there that I don't quite have. I can't explain it.

"But I mean- I want to be a leader. I... I want to help people. And I think the New Jedi Order has done so much -- but there's more to it. Part of me doesn't want to get caught in that role, when I feel like there's more I could do."

She had no idea if she was making sense, but it felt as though there were a weight on her mind. Some lingering doubt about what she did, why she did it, what she could do next -- her mind raced, collapsing in on itself, only to reform her thoughts again and again.

"I should change my thinking," she said, before rephrasing her answer. "Not yet. Those around me, too -- not yet. But someday. Soon."

 

[Cedric Grayson]

He understood as well as anyone could, and at the same time he did not understand at all. The qualities that made one a leader were immaterial as far as Cedric was concerned. What might drive one person to stand at the head of an army could cripple another. There was no great trait that defined someone as a 'leader', other than the will to be one in itself, and even that rarely ensured success.

"Forgive me if I sound presumptive Auteme , but it sounds like a matter of faith." Cedric mused, "It is easy to have faith in others, despite their shortcomings: easy to see the grand purpose behind their actions if you truly want to. To have faith in yourself, however, is another matter entirely." She explained her dilemma further, and Cedric responded in kind. "When you take a position of leadership you take on all the responsibilities that come with it. This can often be limiting toward your personal goals and ambitions. I understand wanting to retain your freedom, truly. As a leader, you represent your organization, your followers, yourself, and your ideals. There are few chains as heavy, and yet we must carry them all the same."

The exile cracked a faint smile of amusement. "Very soon it sounds like." His brow furrowed as he stared at the girl as if he were appraising one of his battle plans for any hint of a flaw. On the surface he found none, but what lay beneath remained to be seen. "Ryv is a capable leader because he believes that he is one. Confidence is the key. If you want to guide your peers, you have to be the first person to believe you can do it. If you can manage that, the rest of the pieces will fall into place, I promise you."

 

[Minka Vosh]

Location: A Bogan-lover's worst nightmare.
Objective: F*** s*** up. Stealthily.
Tags: rusty roid boy R3-D1 , future victim schizo fiend Kano Stone , Fabio Modor Khos

At the last second, the demented addict saved her a bit of a headache in snapping his attention to the child in the distance. Unfortunate, or fortunate? Now she didn't need to evade the reckless assaults of a drugged lunatic, but she had to think quickly to prevent him from murdering a child without drawing any significant attention to herself.

Had he actually charged her, she would have distracted him with an illusion of the boy fleeing in the distance, but now her plan would need to be tweaked.

As she made for the ship, she passed by the droids attempting to herd them away. "Soon." Was the clipped response she gave the exasperated R3. She understood them perfectly, after all. With her own ship managed by a handful of them, it came with the territory.

"My apologies for the intrusion. We will have this sorted quick..."

Minka paused, turning to get a good look at the newest chess piece on this precarious board. A rather large and pretentious looking Jedi, strapped in enough armor to serve as an effective cannonball that she imagined could blow straight through a Star Destroyer and out the other side, with a large enough trebuchet.

Perfect.

"Oh, thank the Ashla." Murmuring under her breath, she turned with a distressed sigh and called to him. "I know I'm not supposed to be here, but this man is chasing a little boy! I don't think he's right in the head, and he reeks of Spice! He's cornered him in this ship, please do something!"

Facade ramped max, the Zabrak used her most concerned and earnest feminine voice. Like a true damsel in distress. Jedi loved that sort of thing, didn't they? Getting to play the hero. Deliver justice, keep the peace, protect innocents...especially children. Only she did more than play the role. She took things a step further and gently nudged Modor through the Force. Using a harmless little mind trick to convince him the boy was about to be butchered savagely by a cold, heartless criminal, and the only way to stop him was to cleave Kano in half with his massive sword.

 

[Mikhail Grayson]

Mikhail's head peeked up, his attention captured from his inner thoughts and doubts. He forced a smile and put on a show of friendliness, "Never thought I'd see so many believers in one place.. heh." He chuckled slightly, "You must be like my uncle Cedric Grayson , a Jedi." He slowed his pace and walked alongside Jegy Sesara . He had never met the male before but had a strange feeling he could trust him, there was a weird connection that he could not explain. An aura of light that bound them all together, was this what his uncle spoke of? Was this something that had to do with his connection to the Force? To the Ashla?

"I don't want to fail my family, my people. I was raised on Coruscant and never got to see Ession in it's glory, the Holy Land is elusive. The Great Oak.. a reliable source told me I am destined to do great things. To be a Jedi. I saw the horrors the Great Enemy of Bogan has prepared, the darkness that comes creeping over the horizon. I just.. I was a swoop racer, a rebel without a cause. I'm not like my uncle, I wish I was but I'm not. I just don't want to fail him."

He just wanted to be a great Jedi.

 

[Titus of Epoch]

The Son of Ession growled under his breath as T The Warrior entered the ring. This one was big, he's fought bigger. Tilting his neck from side to side, cracking it as he loosened his arms up and readied himself. A veteran of Ession, of the Imperium, and of Redwall's company of Essionian Loyalists, it had been a long road to this point. The Lord of Ession had returned from his exile and his flock would gather, Abrams knew this was the chosen time for their people and would do what he did best.

Fight.

The augmented warrior rushed in with a brutal clothesline fueled by instinct and battle prowess, Abrams's veteran eyes immediately picked up the threat for what it was and countered. Quickly the Essionian dipped into a roll to the side, a sudden dive out of the way and attempted to catch his opponent unaware as he readjusted to the soldier's positon. Moving in fast, the Essionian utilized his extensive close quarters combat training and minor Echani Martial Arts training, attempting to catch him from behind unawares in a headlock.

This fight would be a worthy one.

The crowd would get their matchup of the night.

 

[Jegy Sesara]

A forced smile...how long he wished he could even do that for long. Walking now beside the younger individual, he would keep with his pace as time seemed to be almost a non-factor in their conversation now, answering his questions gently. His eyes of course would almost pop out on hearing Cedrics name but it would relax just as fast, he to have learned at least how to control his emotions and facials...mostly.

"Ashla is everywhere my dear friend, one that people are trying to embrace over the darkness of this galaxy, the Bogan as it is known. As for being a Jedi...I never considered myself as one. Cedric knew that all to well about me."

There was that strange feeling of light and darkness around them, though the darkness seemed not to be able to penetrate their conversation. It was meant of light and goodwill, nothing on darkness and hate. With a bit of concentration, the Sullustans ability in the Force seemed tightly wound in a ball, as if not allowed to leave. Listening the boy known as Mikhail Grayson , he would speak up as he looked over to him as he opened up a bit about himself.

"Listen to my words young one...and know them well. I was raised in a far away tribe, knowing nothing more than the medical techniques presented today...I worked as a Doctor, curing the sick and wounded. I did not find that myself would be required to go out doing wonderous...and terrible things in the name of honor. I seen the Galaxy at its finest...and worst at the same time. When the Bogan ruled the galaxy...and when Ashla itself freed it from evil. I been pulled both ways...I did not expect to even live this long and yet...here I am."

"I am no different from you...we all have to start somewhere. Your uncles shoes are...to the best terms, massive to fill even in an attempt so take this advice well. You do not need to be like your Uncle, you need to be your own man in his own time. Maybe you are destined to do great things, but it does not mean Bogan will try to lure you down a dark path, filled with vengeance and strife. Trust your instincts and follow the light in your heart...do better than all of us in that regard. If you do that...you will never fail your Uncle, I promise. Besides...you already beat an old man like me at one thing."

Looking over to him with a bit of a cheeky smile, a coy like grin that does not translate well for a Sullutan like him, attempting to lighten the mood a little.

"You can actually drive a swoop, I can't."

 

[Auteme]

Cedric Grayson
​

She gave a slight smile, then nodded. "I think most of us hold ourselves to higher standards than others," she said. For a moment she paused, then she corrected herself. "It's easier to forgive others than to forgive ourselves."

It wasn't that she felt she'd made terrible mistakes, more the intense worries she had that she might make them. She had to deliberate every decision, ensure that every choice was in the right mind and right faith. Perhaps it wasn't confidence so much as decisiveness. Granted, the difference was minute.

"Thank you, Master Grayson," she said, her tone turning a touch formal. "I will take my leave, and allow you to enjoy the festivities." She stood, pausing a moment to look out at the wrestling and the raucous crowd.

"Your people deserve the best."

 

[Warrior]

Objective: Total Self Destruction
Location: The Ring
Opponent: Titus of Epoch

The sign had been given to The Warrior from the God's above as he slung his mighty arms around in his clothesline. His opponent dodged the strike that whipped the air around it as he swung, screaming like a wild man.

The Warrior was less of wrestler than a brawler, so when his opponent used proper technical work The Warrior was caught in his arms. The blood of the Ultimate one rushed to his head, his vision began to blurr as he dropped to one knee. It was then the ultimate warrior felt the strength of all the Warriors clinging on to his back, it was then he lifted himself and his opponent high and dropped in a backdrop.

His spring up was met with a massive thunder of the crowd as the echoing screams shook the very arena itself. The Warrior grabbed the ropes, the touch igniting them in lighting from his fingertips while violently shaking them.

The crowd became estatic and explosive as The Warrior turned to them and raised his hands to the heavens above. His mighty bellow made the skies rumble and the earth shake much like when two titans like the two were locked in combat once again.

The crowd had seen this gesture many times before, it signaled The Warrior rushing to the turnbuckle and climbing on top of it and then diving to his opponent. The Warrior however stood on top of the ring and raised both his hands to the crowd raising their excitement and electricity even higher.

It was so loud and so deafening that even if he shouted to his opponent there was no way he could hear him.​

 

[Cedric Grayson]

​

She gave a slight smile, then nodded. "I think most of us hold ourselves to higher standards than others," she said. For a moment she paused, then she corrected herself. "It's easier to forgive others than to forgive ourselves."

A kernel of wisdom that Cedric often allowed himself to forget. His features melted with warmth for a brief moment as he lingered on those words. He'd said to Ryv one, and heard them from others more times than he might have liked to admit. To let go of one's own burdens was freedom, and in being such, the most difficult thing anyone might ever do.

"Wise beyond your years Auteme," Cedric nodded thoughtfully as Auteme rose from her chair. "It was a pleasure speaking to you. If there's anything I can do for you or your constituents, you only need ask. My advice and my armies are only a holocall away." In that moment, he desperately wished he could offer more. For all his umbrage with the Galactic Alliance's government, his heart remained with its people, and even moreso with its young protectors. He believed in Auteme, of that much he was certain, but the small, quiet terror in his heart remained everpresent. As she turned and walked away, Cedric could not shake the overwhelming feeling that tragedy waited for her and the rest of her comrades. A tragedy that he would have no power to prevent.

The melancholy hung over off him like a cloak as he was left alone to watch the fight once again. Titus of Epoch and the Warrior were putting on an amazing show, but it had little power over him now. With a quiet sigh, Cedric wheeled his hover chair away, and began humming along down the courtyard in search of a distraction.

He found that distraction in Juniper Jett . Truthfully he'd expected the girl would have taken her leave by now. She had little faith in the Ashlan cause, and given her current aura within the empyrean, was not wholly keen on her current company.

Still, she'd helped to drag him up from the gutter, and he'd eternally owe her for that much. Perhaps she was staying to collect on the debt, or maybe to make sure he was held accountable in a way no one else presence could. Of all the people here, Jun was one of the only ones he did not hold authority over.

"I figured you'd be halfway to the core by now," Cedric mused as his hover chair came to rest next to her. "Thought you might think we were a little archaic with our traditions. I know the wrestling can be a bit much," he offered a thin, amused smile as his attentions momentarily returned to the ring. "It's still always the highlight though."

 

[Mikhail Grayson]

He was a bit awed by the stranger, his presence was calming and clear. A friend despite never meeting until this day.

"Who are you? Have you and my uncle been on many adventures? How did you defeat the Bogan's call?"

So many questions raised, so little time for answers. His words were wise and fair, he understood them clearly and knew to take his advice to heart. He almost forgot to introduce himself in the midst of it all, "I'm Mikhail by the way, Mikhail Grayson." As they continued walking the Sullustan turned and gave him a cheeky smile, jesting about his ability with a swoop bike. Mikhail chuckled aloud and shook his head, "Cheesy. I appreciate the gesture, if you ever wanna learn just let me know. Any friend of my uncle's is a friend of mine."

He took the pause as an opportunity to ask more and understand more from him, "Trust in the Ashla, trust in myself. How do I know if my instincts are right though? I will follow the Light as long as I live and breathe. Thank you for everything, I mean it. It helps alot, I think i'm just experiencing culture shock honestly. Things are so different here than on Coruscant, even by everyday life standards. I guess I also never accounted for everything that's take for granted in the Core Worlds."

He looked around at all the surroundings, the people, and the Essionian flags mounted against the backdrop of the Graywall.

He felt pride.

"Be my own man."



Jegy Sesara

 

[Darth Petrichor]

Petrichor found himself wandering the periphery of the festivities, making sure to mask his presence within the Force as he walked. He wished to remain mostly unseen, as he knew his presence would surely distract from today's festival. These people, who had suffered at the hands of the Sith for so long, deserved this day. With the coming storm, this would be one of the last truly peaceful days they would likely see...

Peace... such a thing was rare in the galaxy. Many had grown up knowing nothing but war and death. To see these people truly at peace, if only for a day, was a welcome sight to the Umbaran. He couldn't help but to feel a small level of contentment within this place, even though many here would likely have a distaste for his presence. Some days, it seemed that Petrichor would never feel completely safe outside of his academy walls. That being said, he couldn't stay there forever.

A familiar presence made its way into his mind as he walked past a nearby hanger. It appeared that Minka Vosh had been doing her own investigation of the grounds. They hadn't spoken much since they first met with Cedric Grayson , no doubt due to her hesitance to ally themselves with zealots like him. That was something that Petrichor intended to fix.

He reached out through the Force, sending the faintest trickle of a message to her, just enough for her and her alone to notice. Her telepathic skills were quite honed, for one of her experience; a skill that would undoubtedly continue to serve them in the future.

Follow my thoughts to the edge of the outer courtyard, I wish to speak with you.

With the message sent, he remained, awaiting her arrival.

 

[Minka Vosh]

Not as much as I wish to speak with you.

The counter was immediate, almost as if she'd been waiting for him to make an appearance. He chose now, of all times. A peculiar coincidence...or maybe not. She wondered if it was intentional, given the precipice she was now standing on. One that lead to either disaster, or hilarious success.

Truly, was it her fault for trying to wield an absolute tank of Jedi like a weapon against vermin? A dangerously unhinged, drug-addicted psychopath who had nothing to offer society but filth? A harsh and unforgiving judgment, but Minka had never been a student of the Ashla. The raging man she tracked was at the very least a weak, if not useless member in their...kingdom?...and at worst, a volatile obstacle. If it wasn't imperative that she lay low and actively attempt to earn the trust of these people, she would have disposed of him herself already.

With the seed planted in the Jedi's mind, and the boy alive and kicking - for now - she quietly backed away from the scene and into obscurity. Assuming no one stopped her. The droids definitely wouldn't, as they'd be the most pleased.

Now it was time...

It didn't take her long to find him, and when she did, she meandered up as if she had all the time in the world. This wasn't a meeting, after all. It was just another one of those coincidences that she found him there, and she offered him a pleasant smile. The air of mystery and tension that normally hung from her like an inseparable black cloud was gone. She was the perfect image of contentment, and somehow, even the smile looked natural on her.

"There you are... Walk with me." Exclaiming in mock surprise, she lead them further from the crowds and roaming stragglers.

This is not sustainable. Their blind obsession with the Light is not only irrational and counterproductive, but dangerous. It is a religion to them. The only reason they are not a threat is because they lack sufficient power to be one. You cannot tell me you intend to tip the scales in their favor.

The words stamped into his mind like one fiery brand after another, in stark contrast to the role she played on the surface. Their diplomatic excursion to Ruusan had only stirred the restlessness she already battled with daily. Their fanaticism reminded her of the Sith, and yet being in their presence was stifling. A horrible combination for her.

@Petrichor

 

[Jegy Sesara]

"Hehe, one at a time. There is many things to say and very little time...but enough around us to talk. Mikhail Grayson, no wonder you said Uncle, how time flies. I may also take you up on that offer some day...provided I can build a swoop again."

Rubbing his own chin, the Sullustan kept walking with his large green eyes almost not noticing the others cheeky smile and laughter. The façade was now gone, the man now let himself relax. With that, the Sullustan relaxed a bit as well, giving his own smile as he kept walking, noticing something afar in the distance growing but did not know what, maybe a tree?

"My name...you know, most of my life I never gave out my full name. My name is Jegy Sesara...and your uncle saved me from Bogan himself."

Letting those words sink in, he felt his mind flash back towards Tython, how they fought a force ghost to near deaths door. Himself so damaged by the body count, that he could not even defend himself. Almost in desperation, part drunk and part possibly stupid, he spoke on who he was to him...and let Cedric decide his full fate.

"I won't lie, I have had an extremely long life. Your Uncle found me while I was drunk, screaming at the world that the Jedi were never of use, having set up explosives all over an abandoned temple on Tython. Your Uncle found me...we had a small argument and then we all fell into a cavern below the temple. We fought a dangerous force spirit, I held it back at the risk of nearly killing myself while him and a friend fought the revived husks that kept coming. I was exhausted and then collapsed onto the tombs coffin nearby."

"I let your Uncle know who I really was...I did not know of Bogan nor Ashla at the time. I was...trained to kill, anyone that got in my way, I had those kind of unique skills as a user in the Force. Jedi in particular, how I hated the idea and all they stood for, their false beliefs. I was of vengeance and darkness always had a hold on my soul. I lived way past my life as I held onto my grief, it kept me going, as if I was to suffer through eternity for my sins. I was dying and I let your Uncle decide my fate. I was tired of living, I wanted my suffering to end."

"Instead, your Uncle grasped my hand and pulled me up. He told me that I had a new purpose, that this darkness that infested my soul for so long did not need to reign over my life forever. He showed me the Jedi were not evil, as much as I was taught they were. He showed me how the Light shined onto my life, to let it in. Your Uncle, made me believe in something called Ashla...and here I am, now preaching Ashlas light. Make no mistake...without Cedric, I would been still wandering the Galaxy as the most miserable Sullustan you ever would have met."

Stopping after speaking for so long, he heard the man speak his problems, how he knows his instincts always be right or wrong. Thinking about that himself, he would speak up as he felt an immense weight on his own shoulders. The Sullustan was starting to get a bit exhausted as he closed his eyes, knowing he would have to wrap up the conversation soon.

"Coming from a man raised in a culture where showing skin was a sin, culture shock be the minimalistic way to say it. Nothing will ever be the same from your home world, it just won't. None of the same friends, the same drinks...nothing. As for instincts...it comes over time, sometimes in the gut and sometimes in the mind. Never below the belt, just a small heads up. However...I will impart at least...a little knowledge. Hold your palm outstretched and focus on it." The Sullustan would mimic what he was doing in front of him, focusing as he spoke again.

"Now...focus on the life around you. The people, the trees, the the little insects...all around you, it breathes and is formed by the Force. Focus in your palm...all that is good, all the is well. Let the hope of the people swell through your palm, let the trees near you sing in your mind, let the little insects know you are their friend. Let your mind be all that their is, let their hope, their songs and their trust flow into your hand. Squeeze your hand...then let there be Light."

Opening his palm back up, a small orb of Light produced by the Force would float in the middle of his palm. It was a bit bright though to the Sullustan, it almost looked as if it was nothing at all. If Mikhail succeeded, he would smile but regardless, he would been proud at the attempt none the less if the person tried. "You are, your own man. Light and Darkness, Ashla and Bogan are a balance. We harness what Ashla gives and what she taught me so long ago, I give my knowledge now to you. So long as you can keep those thoughts, and keep life pure in your heart...you will always have a defense against Bogan."

Mikhail Grayson

 

[Darth Petrichor]

Her response was shot back as quickly as his was received, confirming his assumption of her thoughts. As she sauntered up to him, Petrichor could sense some of the tension lifting from her shoulders. No doubt there was some comfort to be found in their meeting. Being surrounded by these followers of Ashla was almost as alien as a planet one would find in Wild Space.

He calmly followed her, moving further away from the celebrating crowds and wayward wanderers. Once they were more than far enough, Minka Vosh began to share her thoughts with him, quite literally. Beneath the calm, friendly demeanor she maintained, lurked a deep concern for their current efforts. Such thoughts were understandable, and Petrichor took every word of her council to heart.

I understand your concern. Truly, I do. Such fanaticism always carries dangerous implications. Nevertheless, they are already dedicated to this crusade of theirs, and if their violence can be channeled against our mutual enemies, then I see no reason to not let it be so.

He turned to her, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

These zealots are merely another cog in the greater machine of the galaxy, as are we. There are many pieces at play in the wars that be, as well as the wars to come. And yes, there is risk. There is always risk. But be assured... there is more to my plans than even these crusaders can see. Our mission will remain intact.

It was true, there were indeed many layers to the machinations of Petrichor. While he bore no ill will to the followers of the Ashla, he simply could not deny the reality of their beliefs. The alliance they had recently formed would be shaky at best, and dangerous at worst. He would inevitably have to take steps to maintain the safety of the Order, and take them he would.

 

[Modor Khos]

Location: Landing Pods
Objective: Justice

The law was clear about theft, even more about its punishment. Before He even arrived to the ship he was met by a young lady in distress with a tale filling out the blanks of the story he had already detected.

His smile was as heart warming as only one who survives on imitating emotion could possibly grant, sublime.

He looked down to Minka Vosh and nodded confidently. "Not to worry Ma'am, we have it all under control". She was lovely, something wasn't quite right with Her placement in everything however.

He turned to the ship and flagged the thing down, sealing the legs with the magnetic latch system. He would rather get off letting the regular law enforcement who were only now arriving handle that incident.

When He turned to face the young lady once again and she was gone, with her the scent of Sith. It was like a bad red steak left out to rot to the nose of a servant of Ashla. It clearly wasn't Her omen... but He bet his bottom dollar that it was related to her...

Outside of the establishment Modor had a modified speeder for roaming these very streets and corridors to sniff out the usual suspects. It was a black dureasteel layer plated hoverspeeder with several non-lethal and leather weaponry. It sported plasteel visors which were also reinforced with durasteel ridgecages.

"Track down witness number five two seven of sector three" Modor spoke while getting into his speeder which opened up for the hulking jedi. Inside the speeder was a layout map with cross Face recognition software able to pinpoint almost every known citizen and or visitor inside these hollowed grounds.

With power comes order, with order comes law.

This was off the books, Cardinal really couldn't get involved into an altercation with something like this but this, on this day, possibly even disrupt festivities. For these minor distractions the fiar was called and he handled things more, discretely.

Target Aquired.

Minka Vosh

Records: Redacted.

"One of those...." He murmured, placing a cigar on his lips and popping open the lethal canons. "Activate Stygium Cloaking, Send scout drones around the area" Modor said, heading to the direction of his target. Slowly the picture became clear and there was not one but two of these, these was always two. There must only be two.

Such was the doctrine taught to Modor Khos in the ways of the jedi about the Sith, how to sense the workings and the dark side. This place and Cedric Grayson had made him a stalwart defender of the light and the single discordant strand of the dark side of the force was like a cacophony of metal and explosions.

The speeder snuck between the lines of an alleyway the couple would walk through, sending the Jedi Knight falling from the speeder into the dark alley. Below the invisible ship the armor and weapon of the Friar would change and instead of a blade he brought with him a grav hammer.

The construction weapon was modified by removing its outer layer and replacing it with one of the tables of the churches. It was covered in dried blood and sinew and it was carved with the word repent in many different languages, some of which do not exist anymore.

His ostentatious armor was replaced with a sleek black suited robe and a mask over his head. His boots were tanned terentatek hide with durasteel spike tips. His drones weren't able to catch their conversation until now and the subject of which made interventuon unnecessary...

It did however open the path for intimidation.

As the Sith Lord Darth Petrichor and the Sith Apprentice passed by the alleyway they would feel the force beckon them to look, to stare into the dark shadows that crept In the alley.

They would see Him, gravhammer in hand, masked and waving goodbye. He sent his own message in return.

We look forward to working with you.​