Proceed with caution

[Loske Treicolt]

"Well, there were more..but he turned out to be...uh.." He was alive. Micah Talith was alive, but his family and he didn't want anybody to know. "He died during an explosion on Bespin." That was..partly true. Loske was a terrible liar. The truth of it, and what she hoped she was projecting, was that Micah Talith had died. Whatever he was once he woke up from his Coma was a far cry from the guy she'd been interested in.

A triumphant grin evidenced when she glanced over and saw [member="Cedric Grayson"] typing something to someone - right after the Mr. Pickles comment.

She was surprised when he continued to open up about his failed would-be romance. Turns out you can receive without asking. The battle of Dagobah had been...not in her timeline with the whole lab situation. "I'm surprised at you." She announced. "I thought you were all...Jedi code, no passion, no relationships sort of thing...but sounds like you tried to break that code."

 

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"I'm sorry to hear that," Cedric replied sympathetically. If Cedric felt any hint of deception through the Force Bond, he didn't show. It was fortunate that the bond was still a rather weak thing, only being truly expressed in times of crisis. Recent adventures had strengthened it to a degree, though only just enough to be noticeable.

He set the datapad away, brow raising as she asked her question.

He supposed that he did indeed project that kind of mindset given his attitude. Better to correct it.

"The Graysons never agreed with the council's decrees on relationships and dynasties. The key to retaining Jedi knowledge and morality is through family structures, and love is the very Ashla in its emotional form." Cedric explained, glancing over slightly to look at Loske. "It's something only certain Jedi should allow of themselves, of course. Some of us lack the conviction to put the people before our families, but those that do deserve their happiness."

[member="Loske Matson"]

 

[Loske Treicolt]

“Ashla?” Loske repeated curiously, quirking a brow and retaining a quizzical expression. She’d never heard the term before.

“I’m confused.” She stated, being dutiful in stating the obvious. The certain Jedi comment seemed mildly hubris and self righteous. It was something she’d probably continuously wrestle with, given the general reaction to the burden Jedi put on themselves with access to all their powers. “Who’s Ashla?” She hoped it wasn’t another dead sister.

“Suppose nobody can really know until they’re in a dire position.” She didn’t mean to draw up too much of what they’d seen earlier, but seemed Papa Grayson was not one such fellow. And she wasn’t sure which she’d prefer to hang out with. She loved the idea of family first, but then at what cost if there were several more on the line, unaffiliated? Other families? It had the potential to be a burdensome position. When someone committed to a family, their vows were to protect that chosen bloodline. Unless Jedi wedding vows were different.

She wouldn’t be surprised.

 

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It was only then that Cedric realized just how poorly his education of Loske had been. She had learned several abilities in the field, and he'd been there to encourage her along the way, but his teachings had revolved simply on meditation the esoterics of the Force. Perhaps it was time to get into the technicalities of the Force.

"The Ashla is the ancient name for the Light Side of the Force. The Essonians saw her as a living goddess, though our Jedi interpret the Force as the energy field that it is. The goddess is a personification we use to represent a sentience so beyond us that it is impossible to fully understand. We didn't come up with the term Ashla though - that was the original Je'daii of old." He happily explained, always one to delve deep into the old Jedi lore.

Then came the other subject. He picked up on her meaning easily enough - the experience was still fresh on Cedric's mind as he suspected it was on hers. His arms folded about his chest as he breathed a quiet sigh, "Indeed. My father was an example of someone that wasn't ready for a relationship. He was raised as an assassin for a Sith Lord named Darth Vulcanus. For a time Vulcanus was the Dark Lord of the Sith, and my father trained beneath him. Eventually Vulcanus' empire fell, and he joined the Jedi Order." He paused, "The conflict with the One Sith happened shortly thereafter, and he didn't have time to train under the Jedi properly. He was given rank by skill with the Force, not understanding of it, and he was only a Knight when he met my mother."

It was more than Cedric would usually explain, but without doing so he might come across as a hypocrite for his beliefs.

"His time with the Sith left him scarred. That fall was inevitable, relationship or not." He finished, seemingly speaking to himself as much as he was Loske.

[member="Loske Matson"]

 

[Loske Treicolt]

“The Jed’aii order of old? What’s the difference between them and the Jedi now? If Ashla is the light side of the Force, a goddess, is there a counter goddess for the dark side?”

Pandora’s curiosity box had been opened. Loske was ripe to be a student. She knew nothing, but contained everything. Lucky [member="Cedric Grayson"]. Additionally, she rather liked that Ashla was a woman personification —- one of the most powerful references in the galaxy and it was feminine. That was fantastic.

“A Jedi Knight? I’m a Padawan.. you’re a master, Kiskla was a Grandmaster.. are those all the levels? How do you graduate from one to another? Is it an organization thing? What if someone doesn’t belong to a group but is supremely powerful and knowledgeable, could they be a ..” she struggled for a second for the right rank title “master?”

 

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"The Je'daii were the original inhabitants of Tython. The old texts say that at the very beginnings of the galaxy, force sensitives of every species were brought to Tython upon great hyperspace ships. The reasoning why and how these ships were created has been lost, but these species began the to study the Living Force. They believed there were two sides to the Force, the Ashla, and the Bogan. The former is the Light Side, it encompasses peace, love, joy, faith, and the other pleasant emotions. The Bogan is the Dark Side. It is hate, anger, pride, loveless lust, and other such sins."

He didn't bother to take a break. Old lore was something of a passion for Cedric. "Eventually the Je'daii came to understand that the Bogan was the path to damnation, and became the Jedi as we know them. A number of students wanted to continue researching the Bogan, and broke off from the Jedi, forming the Legions of Lettow. They attacked ancient Coruscant shortly thereafter, and were defeated in the first Jedi civil war. Their survivors fled to the unknown regions, eventually finding Korriban and the ancient Sith species. With their dark teachings, the Sith established the beginnings of the Sith Order we know today. There's much in between, but that is the general origin."

He took a moment to breath. Even excited, there was only so much a man could say so quickly.

"Studies by myself and my predecessors have led me to believe that the Bogan is not natural. The Dark Side is the result of sentient beings twisting the Force to their will via violent emotions. It's a psychic field of energy, and it responds to what we put into it, just as we respond to it. If we can abolish the teachings of the Sith and their fellow organizations, we can deny the Dark Side its power, bring true prosperity to the galaxy. That's the reason I forged the Imperium."

She asked of titles, and he was happy to answer. "They are. A padawan is a learner, not a true Jedi yet. A Jedi Knight is someone that has passed his or her Jedi Trials. These are a series of trials meant to test one's character and abilities. A similar process raises a Knight to a Master." He paused a moment, "It is something established by the Jedi, and many other organizations follow its model. They are all a measure of skill, knowledge, and morality forged into a title."

Then came the last question, and Cedric frowned. "They are called Force Adepts. One that has not studied any philosophy cannot be called a master of anything, however. True understanding of the Force comes from discipline. Some might be exceedingly powerful in the Force, but without philosophy or doctrine, they will never be anything more than a rogue adept."

After a moment, he added, "Individual Jedi, and members of similar beliefs, that are not part of an organization can still attain these ranks, though they often title themselves, and do so poorly. Some truly earn them however. The Force brings them trials of its own, and when they have passed, they know."

[member="Loske Matson"]

 

[Loske Treicolt]

“Wow.” Loske murmured, completely absorbed in [member="Cedric Grayson"]’s storytelling. There was a lot of content in all of that. It was a good thing that her driving abilities didn’t require full attention, given the level of detail (although it was high level summarization) of the history.

“Huh. I always thought Sith was the religion, or the practice, not a species itself. They named their whole empire after that.”

There was a sign in passing, galactic standard with another dialect she couldn’t register at the speed they were driving, indicating that there would no longer be natural light past this point. They were entering the artificial levels.

Jedi trials? She imagined blue coals, with flames leaping up against bare feet and poking knives. Then some sort of burning bus situation, in choosing friendships versus a bus of infants or something. Bleh.

“What were your trials like?”

 

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"Well, it is. The Sith gave their name to their religion, and to their empire even after their species has more or less gone extinct. It is their legacy." Cedric explained, a hint of distaste in his words as he spoke of the eternal enemy. The Jedi had studied much Sith Lore in his time, and where others had found temptation, he had only seen idiocy. The Sith doctrine was an immature and irrational belief. It was the religion of victims made to believe violence made them strong: a people eternally in denial.

She asked of the Jedi trials. He'd undergone several, and took a moment to choose which to speak of.

"In my Trail of Flesh, my mind was temporarily linked with a long lost friend. That friend, as it turned out, had risen to become one of the most powerful Sith Lords of the Confederacy. We fought within the empyrean, in a realm that I can't logically explain. I defeated him, or rather elected not to kill him, and the trial was passed." He began. "My Trial of Spirit involved reliving all of my most painful memories as if I was there again, each in a row, and then an offer to change the past from a specter that understood Flow Walking. I did not break, and I accepted nothing from the specter, passing that trial."

He paused a moment, "Then there was the Trial of Insight. I had to come to understand why my family had fallen, why the Jedi Order and the Republic collapsed, and why the Sith had grown as powerful as they did. It was there that I came to understand the truth of the Force, that the Bogan is not truly a part of it, among other things."

"There were other trials. Courage, and Skill, but I completed those during the wars."

[member="Loske Matson"]

 

[Loske Treicolt]

Loske listened with great intent. Impressed with the detail and categorization of these so-called trials. She supposed they made sense—- like any other organization, you had to prove you were as much a part of the organization was you were the teaching. Still, she had more questions.

The light around them began to wane. Where it had felt like twilight was now a full submersion of shadows. The lights that broke through the smog and darkness were fluorescent and shaking, unnatural in its presentation. Where Loske’s hair had been blond above the surface, it was starting to just look yellow in the sickly lighting as they swept beneath traffic lights.

“Is there someone moderating these trials? Your.. Master? Who trained you? What would have happened if you only partially passed these?”

[member="Cedric Grayson"]

 

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Shadows gathered as they delved deeper into the core. Cedric felt it like a cold tide rushing across his back. The farther you went into Coruscant's undercity, the more twisted the empyrean would become, as if a great darkness was pouring out from the heart of Coruscant.

Perhaps it very well might have been.

Something to keep in mind.

"A council of masters, though a single master will do. In times of need, the Force itself will issue these trials." He explained. "I had many tutors, but no formal master. I learned under a Jedi named [member="Veiere Arenais"] when I was a boy, and after that my training was mostly via holocrons and communing with the spirits of my dead ancestors. Learning without a master is certainly not the funnest thing you can do," the memory sounded tiring, if nothing else.

"Fortunately you won't have to deal with that, assuming I'm not killed anytime soon."

[member="Loske Matson"]

 

[Loske Treicolt]

"You try to stay alive, then. Once this stops being fun, I'm out."

The vehicle's speed reduced as some flashing lights up ahead caught the driver's attention. Slowing down enough to squint at the wording, the shape of the signs was also helpful. It seemed the route the GPS intended for the travellers was blocked off, and a detour was the only option. With a frown, Loske shifted the trajectory of the speeder.

The different path meant [member="Cedric Grayson"] and herself would peruse through the streets of the underbelly, less so around the large architecture. Throngs of individuals clung against the walls, navigating en masse about their days. Or nights. It was perpetually one or the other down here, given how the lighting never changed. The pumping of oxygen didn't help either, and she noticed just how artificial it all was within the urban canyon.

The map started to glitch, displaying a loading indicator and a REROUTING.....REROUTING.... warning.

Some of the pedestrians had to side step large compressed blocks of garbage, unaffected by the smell. In the shadows, Loske thought she caught the movement of an oversized vermin.

"This isn't great.." she murmured, as they curved into the next left the detour marked. The aritifical neon barely impacted this space, only darkness stretched and splashed along the walls. No sooner had Loske muttered something, than she slammed on the breaks. Something told her to. If she hadn't, the plasma bolt that shattered the windshield probably would have pierced through her neck.

 

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"Fortunately that's something I'm rather good at," he shot back, his easy smile fading somewhat as they traveled into the darker corners of Coruscant. Going down, he had felt sentient life progressing as it usually did. There were some bad intentions, but the majority of the beings they'd flown past were simply living their lives. It was civilization as it should have been, and it brought his heart no small amount of joy to see Coruscant's populace living life as normal. The scars of the subjugation were fading quickly.

That pleasantness faded the further they went. The innards of Coruscant were a war zone all their own, but Cedric had never actually seen them with his own eyes. The purging of dissident elements had carved deep into the core, though it hadn't touched the lowest levels. From what he understood, they were approaching the Works, a massive factory that stretched beneath the entirety of Coruscant's surface. Most of it was run entirely autonomously by the planet's droid network, though some elements of it were operated by sentients.

He parted his lips to ask if Loske had ever been this far when the windshield exploded in a burst of glass and plasma.

Cedric's lightsaber was in his hands instantly as he ripped off the seatbelt and rose to a standing position. A dozen more bolts poured out from dark corners on either side of them. the ones directed toward the occupants were batted back into the shadows, a handful of screams issuing out when they hit hidden fleshy targets. The rest went around the speeder, or straight into it, causing sparks and bits of plating to kick up into the air rather violently.

"Some kind of raid," Cedric's voice clipped over the shooting. "Can you get us moving?"

[member="Loske Matson"]

 

[Loske Treicolt]

With the smell of ozone fresh above the speeder, and a cerulean shield deflecting any incoming, Loske was privy to her own machinations below the shattered glass. Some of it had fallen backwards, spilling in along their feet and laps. She brushed it off, and got her composure as the above contention happened. [member="Cedric Grayson"] had leaped to parry the salvo of malicious intent, likely only after their personal belongings -- less so a targeted affair.

The vehicle itself was not damaged, and Loske pushed through whatever emotion she could to convey an adequate hold on before stomping on the pedal to belch forward. Speed was their ally, and with the throttle pushed, Loske peeked above the dashboard with full confidence that any threat to her person would be vanquished by the Jedi in the passenger seat. The firing continued, until Loske clung to a tight corner and jetted into the busy streets once again, not losing speed. Pedestrians found their own way to dive from the trajectory of the speeder.

After several minutes of really fast driving, Loske turned to look behind them.

"I feel like that's not going to be the last time that happens on this trip. The deeper we go, the grimmer it gets." She observed, glancing toward the weapon on Cedric's grip. "I'd like to get one of those."

 

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This was certainly a different pace than administrative work.

The Jedi was careful to avoid carving through either the speeder or its other occupants as he batted the bolts aside. Compared to the volleys he often suffered fighting at the front of his legions, this was a paltry exercise. He felt a moment of warning just before Loske stepped on the accelerator - long enough to duck down and grab hold of the speeder's door to steady himself. The blue of his blade was doused as they put a considerable amount of distance between themselves and their would be assailants.

After he was certain they were safe, Cedric slumped down into his seat, his pulse thundering at the sudden exertion.

"Fancy piloting," he mused, breathing an audible sigh as he worked off the post-battle jitters. "I'll have to send some security teams down here. Coruscant's underbelly has gone far too long without the law," he reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose, cursing under his breath at the audacity of the would-be thieves.

"You'll have yourself a lightsaber soon enough. Your training has been rather streamlined given your innate abilities - a lightsaber would normally take years for a Jedi Padawan to earn the right to build, but I don't really think that we have that much time, and the gifts your parents left you might make you innately adept with one."

That was something they would have to handle, soon enough.

[member="Loske Matson"]

 

[Loske Treicolt]

"Fancy parrying." She complimented back.

"Some semblance of law, perhaps. This place is an organism sustained all in itself. Gangs, hierarchies are established, it'd probably be a slow roll to get something set up and working down here efficiently. It's kind of like a self contained outer rim." She reached forward to tap on the screen of the GPS, which was still REROUTING. After a handful of seconds, it acquiesced and the map swivelled around with direction on where to go next.

"Not enough time? Wonder what's driving this timeline, Lord Grayson." She smirked, flicking a knowing glance his way before banking to the right as the map suggested. "Wild. I've seen so many Padawans running around with little glow sticks of their own."

A few glances from the sidewalks were attracted to their sunshine-coloured speeder, now peppered with plasma streaks and spirals of smoke from areas the lightsabre and guns had done some damage. Not to mention the lack of a windshield, given they were wearing glass over their laps and feet. "We should probably stop somewhere to get this out of the speeder, or get a new vehicle. There's still several more hours to go, and I'd hate to go back to the surface and declare your death due to tetanus or something."

 

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"A more apt analogy I've never heard." Cedric's rather ambitious mind was beginning to form more than a few possible ideas. If Coruscant was a living organism, than who better to tame it than he? The glories of the upper crust could be brought to the core, if only they had the will to do so. Another grand campaign to be carried out at a later date - there were other far more pressing matters to attend to.

"Although I think there might be a bit more casual violence than the Outer Rim. Seems to be the culture here," he added as he began picking little glass shards out from his cloak. His efforts were mostly in vain - it was going to take a bit of a session to clear all the material away.

What a fun trip!

"State of the galaxy, lack of Jedi, other things," he retorted, meeting her smirk with a raised brow and a look of faux annoyance. "Those padawans you've seen likely never earned their lightsabers. To wield a lightsaber is to represent the Jedi at all times. It is not simply a weapon. Your lightsaber is both a tool with which you mete out your duties, and a symbol of office. An untrained wielder could harm many, including themself. An unworthy wielder could use it to cause great harm, and would also sever what little trust the people have in Jedi these days." He explained, keen to shift the subject to something more educational. Whatever hidden meanings Loske had to her words would have to wait.

He breathed another annoyed sigh as he came to the realization that there would be no removing all this glass. "Sounds like a plan. Let's find somewhere without gun toting thieves this time."

[member="Loske Matson"]

 

[Loske Treicolt]

Loske's mind went to Abel Groves -- a dutiful Padawan who would have much rather been a farmer. He faced down a Terentatek on his lonesome, with a lightsaber and ended up in the hospital. He'd been one of the first to suggest she visit a Jedi temple. Now she understood why. Back then, she'd thought he was on big pharma drugs. She elected not to delve too deeply into the subject. From his earlier exposure about the girlfriend-that-couldn't-be, she found her silence was starting to speak more volumes than her incessant questioning. She only offered a hum of comprehension.

It was only a few minutes before a flickering neon sign broadcasted a location for refuels, detailing, and washes. Loske signalled in and pulled into a spot.

She stepped out of the car, about to step inside before turning around to talk to [member="Cedric Grayson"], body language suggesting she be the one to go inside. "You keep a low profile...even with all your badges removed, you've still got the face of the subjugator that arrived on Coruscaunt not long ago. Someone might want to show you how things are done around here."

The ding of the door announced her arrival, and a short fellow with a scrunched up face appeared behind the counter. Barely. He was settled atop a step stool.

"What can I do you for." He squinted. "You're not from around here. Your skin has glow and colour."

Taken slightly aback, Loske leaned against the counter. "Would you believe a business trip?" With a thumb jutting out toward the speeder. "Ran into the local welcome wagon."

As if he'd expected that sort of answer, he stroked whatever remnants of facial hair existed on either side of his curled nose. "Tends to happen."

"I need a clean up, and a refuel. Can you help?"

"For a fee."

"Expected." She dug into her pocket to produce what she was expecting to be the accurate amount of credits. He didn't dispute. Instead, he snatched them away, stuffed them in his purse, stepped down from his little ladder, and wandered outside to retrieve a vacuu-droid for assistance.

The short individual, and an animatronic one reappered around the speeder, going about their business of refilling with a portable tank (the small man) and cleaning up the glass shards (the droid).

She poked her head out the shop door, speaking to her passenger. "You want snacks?"

 

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Keep a low profile? Sure.

Cedric did his best to look as inconspicuous as possible, and in doing so stood out like a sore thumb. He stepped out of the speeder and drew his cowl over his face, his fingers thumbing habitually over the lightsaber at his belt. Dozens of beings milled about him on either side, none of them paying him all that much mind. A handful looked upon him with greedy eyes, though once they saw the lightsaber hanging from his belt they quickly went on their way.

"You got any credits?" Came a nasally voice. Cedric turned, and following the sound of the voice, looked down. An ugnaught was staring up at him curiously.

"For what, exactly?" He asked.

The ugnaught, a female, and a rather ugly one at that, shrugged. "Trying to get a glass of slurmo."

"What's slurmo."

"It's a drink."

"What kind of drink?"

"A liquid one."

The two stared at one another for a few moments before it became clear to the alien that she would be receiving no credits. She cursed loudly at the human, before trudging off back into the crowd. It was around that time that Loske came wandering out of the building.

"I could go for some chocolate, but I'm not sure if it'd be real down here," he replied, brow furrowing as he looked off in the direction the Ugnaught had gone. "You have any clue what slurmo is?"

[member="Loske Matson"]

 

[Loske Treicolt]

Psychometery and tracing back to the factory and origin of any sort of chocolate bar was a possibility, but one she’d rather not pursue. Sometimes knowing about your food before ingesting it was a huge turn off.

She huffed a nodding laugh, and then peered over his shoulder at the nearest alien that seemed to be waddling away from the pair. “A slurmo? No, I..” she looked back to him, quirking a brow and a coy interrogative look “never have I ever had a slurmo.” Ah! A continuation of the game!

“We have ‘em inside.” The man wiped his nose, leaving a streak of grease beneath his nostrils like a moustache. “You kids wanna couple?”

She squinted her eyes and nose with a glance toward [member="Cedric Grayson"] with an emphatic “uh, yes!”

The squat fellow pushed past her and pressed the door open long enough to suggest he had opened it for the Jedi Master behind them. He gestured to the dispenser near the back of the shop.

Standing at the dispenser, Loske drummed her fingers against the metal before focusing in on one of the lids. She couldn’t see it in The Force. It was inanimate, made by something animate, but the Force seemed to pass around it, in thin lines.

With much concentration, the adventure’s chauffeur attempted to make the slurmo kid travel from its hold to the rim of her cup.

 

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Slurmo was not exactly the sexiest word to describe any kind of drink. It gave Cedric the mental images of ball of grease, Gammoreans, and particularly bad holofilms. His curiosity was quickly replaced with displeasure at trying such a drink, but then Loske had pulled the game on him.

Shab.

"If this kills me its on you," Cedric half-groaned, following in after Loske.

The Slurmo dispenser was an older contraption emblazoned with neon green highlights and lightning bolts. At its top read 'COME SLURP YOUR SLURMOS, SLIRMIEGANG' in bright red letter. Cedric was uncertain as to what exactly a 'Slirmiegang' was, and he decided it was probably better if he didn't.

He was about to speak when Loske reached out with the Force. He dare not interrupt, eagerly watching as the lid slowly began to lift from its holder as if by the hands of some invisible slirmiegang god. "You've progressed." He grinned, "I'm impressed," he added with a smile as he went to fill up his own cup. The Slurmo came out in a bright green slushy substance that glowed slightly.

Cedric stared at it appraisingly.

"This looks radioactive Loske."

[member="Loske Matson"]