The Old Ways

[Darth Metus]

Who do you think you are?

The echo, cold yet true, sounded within the Dar'manda's mind.

Yet he did his absolute best to close it out. He had to. There was work to be done.

Do you truly think that you can be rid of me?​

***​

Alaris Prime.

This was an unremarkable world. In fact, it was the definition of far-flung. If not for the resources amassed over his lifetime, the Dar'manda would not have been able to locate this planet. The fact of the matter was, he had a rather unique dilemma on his hands: one that could not be solved by typical means. The reclamation of Mount Tantiss had been a victory on many fronts. Wayland, as a whole, had returned to the United Clans; as had a solid number of the Death Watch. In addition, a symbolic victory was won within the bowels of Palpatine's Vaults: the re-emergence of the infamous Darksaber. The fabled weapon that had guided the ancient Death Watch had now found itself in the hands of a faithful, True Mandalorian.

But what did that mean, exactly?

It meant that Isley Verd was in a rather unique situation.

He, as the successor of Ijaat Akun, stood upon the precipice of House Mereel. Yet within his hands rested the weapon of House Viszla. Quite literally, the Dar'manda was the intersection of two warring halves; yet perhaps he could guide them into being whole again. Perhaps, if his ambitions were realized, the sordid state of the Clans could be converted into a new, shining era. The Galactic stage was ready for such a period of Mandalorian dominance. The Primeval was dead. The One Sith was standing upon a shaky foundation. The Republic was in tatters. All that stood in the way of a Mandalorian Golden Age...were the Mandalorians themselves. In truth, the Dar'manda thought himself worthy of ushering in the winds of change.

But first, he had a piece of history to repair.

You see, not every ancient relic can escape the ravages of time. Not ever vessel, saber, or holocron can survive eons without damage. Such was the case with the Dark Saber. Thousands of years had passed since its creation; and hundreds had passed since its last use. It was, regrettably, in severe disrepair...and Isley would not dishonor its history by tainting it with modern additions. Instead, he would make a pilgrimage to the furthest corners of the Galaxy to a place known as Alaris Prime.

Yet what awaited him upon this forgotten, Jedi world?

 

[Darth Metus]

This was not a mission broadcasted to his friends.

This was not a voyage told to his allies.

The sole individual who knew of this Isley himself...and the monster within.

***​

There was a pronounced shudder as the corridor between time and space concluded. A single vessel: a metaphorical dot in the perpetual horizon, promptly dipped out of Hyperspace and into the orbit of Alaris Prime. This vessel, a simple Espada-class Stealth Transport, had been selected by the Dar'manda for a variety of reasons. For one, he had never used the ship before; meaning that it carried untold heaps of anonymity. In addition, it boasted a rather useful trait: a cloaking device. Now, unlike his beloved Mie'yebo, this cloaking device was one of the preferred varieties. It allowed him to remain invisible to the overwhelming majority of sensors whilst permitting him to see.

And so, only moments following its entrance into realspace, the Espada activated its cloak.

Descent gripped the vessel immediately as Isley guided it towards the designated landing zone. The target in question was an ancient Jedi Temple: one lost to the ravages of time. Between the fall of the Old Republic, Order 66, and the Plague, the Jedi Temple on Alaris had all but been forgotten. However, there were sources that remembered...valuable sources that the Dar'manda was lucky to have access to. Now, being honest, the Temple itself was nothing special. Isley did not anticipate finding ridiculous sums of valuable artifacts or ancient records here. In fact, he estimated that the Temple had very little in the way of value...at least, the collector side of him did.

But what made the trip was the era.

You see, the Jedi Temple of Alaris had not been touched since the era of the Old Republic. Fortune would have it that this was the very same era that saw the Darksaber come into being. So, if the goal of the hour was to make fitting repairs to a weapon using fitting parts, what better place to look than an old Jedi Temple? Of all the places in the Galaxy, it would be the perfect place to find components of that time period.

And so, Isley landed his vessel amidst the ruined courtyard of the Temple. Nothing was disturbed...save a murder of crows.

 

[Darth Metus]

Have you come to cower in the ruins of the Light?

By all means, cower.

I will not be denied.

***​

There was a slight hiss as the side door of the vessel slid open.

Light flooded the Espada, causing the Dar'manda to squint. He quickly donned the helmet of his Warden, the Forge Father [member="Ijaat Akun"], in order to block out the nefarious rays. From there, he disembarked: armed with only a pair of weapons. The first was the relic of old, the famed Darksaber. And the second was a lightsaber provided by the man who had forged his current beskar'gam. It was an unremarkable lightsaber, a nameless weapon of no reputation. Yet it was a gift...and as such it was highly valued. With these alone did Isley hold as he strode quietly across the courtyard and into the ruined entryway. Now, having never set foot within the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, Isley was easily impressed by what he saw.

The vaulted ceilings reminded him of his old, ruined citadel: Castle Ne'tra. The cracked stone and debris brought back memories of what was currently left on Krant.

Ah, the wrath of those who needed an out. Ah, the avarice of those who wanted his possessions. Such was the price of tampering with the Darkness.

Pressing onward, the Dar'manda descended a flight of stairs...before feeling something. It was heralded by an icy wind which swept across the Great Hall before him: a presence that sent a shiver down his spine. There was a voice. Bold. Strong. Foreign. Yet despite the fact that it was a completely unknown entity, it addressed Isley in a tongue that should not have been uttered this far out. Mando'a. You show promise, youngling. Decades' worth of instinct roared in that instant and the Dar'manda prepared himself for the worst. His muscles tensed. His fingers came to rest upon his sabers' ignition switches. The rangefinder of his beskar'gam whirred about, attempting to give its wearer some degree of information.

Yet there was none to be found.

No.

Wait.

Laughter.

 

[Darth Metus]

That's right.

Fight like the animal you are.

You will succumb. You will slip.

And then you will be mine!

***​

The robust peals rattled about in the mind of the Dar'manda, unsettling him ever so slightly.

Words of Mando'a...but being referred to as a Youngling? The two did not quite add up. Perhaps the intelligence Isley gathered prior to coming was faulty; maybe there were inhabitants left on the world. It was once colonized to some degree...No. No, the Plague surely devoured it all. Surely. Else the Temple would not have been in such a state of disrepair, right? Else the natives...or the Jedi for that matter...would have done something to rebuild this relic? Nay. What if there was something else keeping whatever survivors there were at bay? What if this presence...what if this voice...was the reason the Temple remained in ruin? Perhaps the Dar'manda was dealing with something of a much more deadly nature.

Overthinking is not inherently bad, youngling. But don't push it too far.

What disturbed Isley the most about this being's power was its ability to bypass his walls. He was no Queen of Eshan, but when it came to Mentalism, the Dar'manda was far from being a pushover. Yet this being was able to simply plant his voice in Isley's mind with, seemingly, no effort. It was enough to prompt additional chills down his spine. It was more than enough to encourage Isley to press the ignition switches of his saber. Snap. Hiss. Fzzzzzrreeeet! Immediately, a blade of gold and a black of darkness shot into being. However, just as quickly as it had been created, the Darksaber failed. It fizzled. It sparked. Its blade ceased to exist. Dammit. he thought.

Language. corrected the voice, in a teasing tone.

Just who the hell are you? Show yourself!

Isley began to advance. Carefully. His functioning saber was pointed forward whilst he relied upon the rangefinder to give him views from other angles. Thus far there was no movement, which was...good?

Alright. Give me just a moment.

 

[Darth Metus]

What. Is. This?

Quiet you.

***​

In the beginning, there was nothing.

The ruins of the Great Hall were devoid of anything of note. There was debris, of course. Remnants of a proud and noble past were literally scattered all about. Yet, in the blink of an eye, there was light. It was not the all-consuming sort employed by the modern Jedi at every clash against the One Sith. It was not the sort that signalled a last-ditch effort...no, this Light was warm. It manifested as a pillar, spontaneously erupting before the eyes of the Dar'manda. If he did not know any better, he would have likened its appearance to fire: free and wild. Yet this was a manifestation of the Force...and that begged the question...who? Who was powerful enough to create this sort of display? Who was mighty enough to breach Isley's mind?

Isley immediately retreated from the pillar of dancing light. He took swift, cautious steps in the opposite direction whilst keeping his functioning saber pointed forward. While he sincerely doubted that his weapon would do much good against such a manifestation, it was all he had for the moment. You see, if the being was able to manifest into his mind with minimal effort, then what use was the vast majority of his mentalist arsenal? What's more...Isley had made a vow to himself. He promised that he would move forward without the Dark Side. While a noble challenge indeed, it did pose a serious risk in situations like present. When facing something of this magnitude...it would most likely take more than telekinesis to emerge victorious.

Again. Overthinking. scolded the voice.

How are you doing this?! Isley demanded. He quickly clipped the Darksaber to his belt and held his functioning one in a defensive grip. Lots of practice. Plenty of free time nowadays. There was a humorous edge to the voice, yet Isley did not dare waver in his defense. There had to be some way to be more than a target...Listen. If it will make you feel better, I'll start by saying that I mean you no harm. The Dar'manda bared his teeth. And you expect me to believe that? A scoff. Search your feelings. Open yourself. You'll see that what I say is true.

Despite the protests of his inner monstrosity, the Dar'manda took a moment to do just that. He weighed his thoughts against what the Force told him...and both met for a decent conclusion. He was standing in the ruins of a Jedi Temple. There was no pronounced stench of Darkness, nor any sort of familiar vibes. To be frank, the only thing that Isley felt from the pillar was warmth. It was...jarring. If you're not here to kill me, then what do you want?

I wanted to tell you that we are watching.

And just who are you?

At this moment, that's unimportant. What's important is that you understand the road you're traveling.

The...What?

I'll put it bluntly. We gave up on you for awhile there, thought you had let that thing consume you for good. But you surprised us. Now we can see what the Future holds...and it's good. Man is it good.

Isley was skeptical, but he knew enough of history to give the pillar some degree of credit.

 

[Darth Metus]

...Flee.

You must Flee you Fool!

You really don't stop talking, do you?

***​

His feelings were telling him that the pillar meant him no harm. Common sense was telling him that the pillar meant no harm. In fact, the only being in the vicinity that had any objection to their meeting was Him...and frankly, the Dar'manda didn't give a hoot what he had to say. As such, he slowly lowered his functioning saber and slid his finger over the ignition. At once, its golden blade extinguished; thereby making the pillar the sole source of light in the room. Isley swallowed hard. Disarming himself was not exactly the most comfortable thing in the world to do. But it was done...despite very audible protests in the back of his mind. Yet, at least it wasn't just Isley giving the Sith monstrosity lip over it.

I don't suppose you'd be shedding any light on the details of that Future?

You know that's not how this works. And now it was Isley's turn to scoff. I don't know anything, aside from the fact that I walked into a building and found a pillar of light." The laughter returned in a more tame form this time: manifesting as simple chuckles for a few moments. Alright, I'll shed some light on the situation. The voice then chuckled some more; no doubt in response to the karking puns. In life, you and I were vastly alike. I was the intersection between two completely different worlds. I stood for something different in the midst of a war. I was what you would call a Mandalorian Knight. Isley gaped.

I'll let history speak for me in terms of my life...Yet in death, I learned so much. Felt so much. Eventually, my fellows and I began to feel you Isley. You walk a path similar to ours...and now it is taking you to a Mandalore that desperately needs help.

Just...how much do you know?

You were clouded for quite some time. The Dark Side clung to you relentlessly. Yet, now, the haze has begun to clear. We know of the civil war and your place in it. We know what you plan on doing with that relic of yours.

And why did you choose now...here...to appear?

You needed to walk the path yourself. We could not alter your steps, nor make choices on your behalf. We could only spectate...but now that you've come this far, we can offer you counsel.

Alright. I'm listening.

Your Master, [member="Rave Merrill"], made a choice. You, too, have made the same choice. In doing so, you feel something that she did not: powerless. Even in her final moments, she was able to fight. Yet as you stood before me, I could feel your frantic thoughts. You thought yourself naked without the Darkness. Isley. As your path draws near its conclusion, remember that you have a weapon. It has been there since time immemorable. It has always been there. The nameless Knight did not explicitly state what this weapon was...but the Dar'manda understood his meaning. There was only one weapon that could fill the void left behind by the Dark Side. There was only one tool that a Mandalorian Knight, the intersection between Jedi and the Vode would suggest.

The Light.

 

[Darth Metus]

You would listen to these lies?

Fool. The Light is Weakness.

Look to the Republic. You know this to be True!

How you manage is beyond me...

***​

Isley had never considered the Light to be an option.

In truth, he had looked to the more benign side of his maternal heritage for guidance. The heritage of Dathomir: of Petra Cavataio and her lineage. At least, by examining their means, he still could create. At least he was not completely powerless in the Force...and it did not come at the high price of succumbing to that beast. Yet to look to the Light Side of the Force...was a foreign concept. It was most likely due to his existing stance regarding modern Jedi. Republic Jedi. He had heard the horror stories of their war against the Sith Empire; how the Jedi had committed worse atrocities than the Sith Empire. Then there was the Republic: a literal cesspool of corruption. Perhaps he just...lumped the Light in with all the bad seed that he had seen over the years.

But that was what normally happened with negative things. Men could do good for thousands of years, but the world would only remember their week of transgressions.

Yet, despite this, the Dar'manda had to know. Despite how much he ignored the ravings of Metus, he needed to know the ancient warrior's take on the current state of things. If the Light was to be an option, then why was it that it was failing against the Darkness? If the Light was to be a weapon, why was it that the modern warriors of Light fell rapidly to the One Sith?

Why d- he began.

Because Schism. said the Knight, cutting him off.

What you were about to ask is the very same question every Padawan asks these days. Why are the Jedi losing? Why are the One Sith thriving? Because the Jedi Order fragmented and its strength no longer lies with the Republic. The army that decimated the Sith Empire is no more, youngling. But the Light has not been extinguished; not by a long shot. Look to the Coalition if you must. See that the Light burns strong in them.

Why do you keep calling me youngling? Isley blurted out.

Because that is what you are. A youngling. You have been through enough to be considered a Knight...but, you know not the Ways.

I'm no Jedi, nor do I inten-

Not the Jedi Ways. Our Ways. he began. The Ways of a Mandalorian Knight.

 

[Darth Metus]

Now there was a path that the Dar'manda had never considered.

But how could he consider it? There were no living members of that organization. In fact, the Mandalorian Knights were a "flash" in terms of history. They appeared during the era of the Old Republic, only to never be seen or heard of again. Yet they were the answer to the Dar'manda's predicament. They knew how to utilize the Light as a weapon...and how to remain a Mandalorian whilst doing it. The Resol'nare infused with Light... The Dar'manda's thoughts raced, contemplating the possibilities. With this...he could put the Darksaber to use. Perhaps he could even help the fragmenting world that he called home. Mandalore needed this, just as much as Isley did.

I can show you the Way. We can show you the Way.

What must I do?

There was a pause...and suddenly, Darkness.

It was not the Darkness that Isley fought so harshly against, mind. It was not the manifestation of his affliction coming to exact vengeance. Rather, it was simply the pillar of light fading into nothing. In its place was darkness: especially pronounced to Isley's eyes. He blinked away the blue lines that appeared in his vision, hoping that what he had just witnessed was not some sort of delusion. We are no delusion. Good. Isley was glad that got cleared up at least. He began to repeat his initial question, but was cut off by a subtle, telepathic nudge. The Knights wanted him to press onward...and Isley decided to humor them. He moved deeper into the Temple, following their subtle directions, until he found himself within a training room of sorts.

First, you need to do something about that relic. It is going to be instrumental, moving forward.

Is what I seek here?

Yes. This is one of the many rooms set aside for tutelage. Often, Old Masters would instruct their Padawans in saber combat, using training blades. A man of your knowledge could easily salvage some of the parts here and adapt them to the Relic.

Thank you, I-

Don't thank us yet. As I said, it's going to be instrumental moving forward...

Well that was certainly cryptic. However, the Dar'manda did not pay the wording much mind. After all, he had been given exact direction to that which he sought. Isley did not waste any time in beginning his search about the room. He examined the various trunks and boxes, rummaged through drawers, and even lowered himself to the grim-covered earth in hopes of finding something. However, his efforts did not pay off until he found something in the rear of the room; situated in such a manner that it could be deemed awkward. 'Twas a droid: a vastly archaic design by the look of it. Yet, within the grasp of one of its hands was the distinct form of a training saber. Success.

 

[Darth Metus]

Now, the process of repairing an ancient lightsaber was a gamble.

Primarily, this was due to a singular factor: modern sabers differed vastly. With each generation came advancements and better methods of construction. For example, while unheard of in times long since past, a plethora of modern lightsabers played with wiring to the point where Cortosis was not a factor. In light of this reality, the Dar'manda had to temporarily dispel his modern understanding of the sabers in favor of the old ways. Perhaps, the primary repair was made, Isley would then take the time to do such things...or maybe he would simply leave the Darksaber as it was. Actually, yes. Yes he would. His Warden had given him a perfectly functioning saber, born of the modern era.

That could be the weapon he bestowed all of the "popular" tweaks upon. The Darksaber's integrity would be respected; at least until it was pried from the Dar'manda's hands.

Thus did Isley begin by, firstly, disassmbling the training saber. He was pleased that the weapon was in working order, which was more than could be said about the Relic. However, given the fact that the Darksaber was exposed to active combat only centuries ago...and explosions weeks ago...Isley could totally understand why it did not work. In any case, he did his best to then carefully disassemble the Relic; making absolutely certain to recall where and how the circuitry was laid out. By all accounts, the Darksaber was not horrifically different than the training saber in terms of internal construction. Yet, given that they both hailed from the same era, that was not a surprise. The key differences were emitters...and the fact that a few parts on the Relic had pronounced damage.

So, the Dar'manda began the process of carefully swapping them out. Armed with a simple pair of tweezers, he took his time making the adjustments. Patience was something that he had cultivated over the years; compliments of Ijaat and Rave. Under their tutelage did he learn the value in taking his time with a project, for haste typically equated to waste. And, while it was easy to replace some botched metal, it was impossible to replace a literal piece of history. As such, Isley took as much time as he needed to get the job done accurately and correctly. In the meantime, the presence of the Knight did not disturb him; most likely because the Relic had some untold value to the "Path".

Isley did not know how long it actually took to transplant the components, but when it was finally said and done he finished by sliding the case into place.

He then raised the Relic and gave the ignition a push.

Shhhhooooo.

The Darksaber lived.

 

[Darth Metus]

Excellent. Excellent!

The voice once more sounded within the mind of the Dar'manda...and boy, was it pleased. The Dar'manda, too, was feeling quite happy with himself and rose from the grime-covered floor. He then gave the Relic a few practice swings, as if to make certain that he had installed the pieces correctly, before extinguishing the blade.

Again. Thank you for the assistance. he said, giving a nod to the room in general.

And Again, don't thank us just yet. That was the easy part.

As if on queue, there was the unmistakable whirrr of servos moving. The Droid which had been crudely shoved into its rack was graced by the presence of the Knights...re-animated through their collective might in the Force. The Dar'manda gaped, uncertain if what he was seeing was possible...but in the end, he was now facing down a rather menacing droid. Temple programming has made it unfriendly to visitors. warned the Knight.

Then came the Snap-Hiss of a saber coming to life.

The Training Droid gave its weapon a flourish before advancing a step. The Dar'manda, in turn, awakened the Darksaber once more. He bared his teeth from behind his helm, preparing to assault the automaton with the Form that he had been utilizing for decades. Juyo. Yet before he could so much as take a single, ferocious step, the voice stopped him. There is another way. A better way. One less...risky. Another step. Things were about to get violent...

I'm open to suggestions.

Put that other saber of yours to use.

I've never attempted Jar'Kai before.

Then be extra careful not to lose an arm.

The Ways of the Mandalorian Knights were quite brutal, of this the Dar'manda had no doubt. Yet, as he reached for the weapon Ijaat had gifted him, there was a grin. As the golden blade sang into being, Isley realized something within his heart of hearts.

He wouldn't have it any other way.​