Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Private Trial of Insight



TAGS: Jasper Kai'el Jasper Kai'el
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Sacorria
"The shadows of the past guard their secrets well; only those who know when to let go will find what they seek."
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Hey kiddo, Looks like you got your head knocked around a little. You aren't dead, but you are very unconscious.

Sorry, but I don't have long to talk, You've come into contact with a dark entity from my past, one that your father should have never inherited. You felt the his power on Tython, the raw hatred in his very voice for my bloodline. Your new inheritance. A dark sword is the key to his true strength, lost in the far reaches of space. Seek it out... see it destroyed. I have faith in you, little one.

I would be prepared for a migraine when you wake, It seems Kai'el chaos transcends blood. I guess that one is my own fault... Take care of them."
Ever since Braze had experienced those strange Force visions, accompanied by the cryptic warnings of Dillon Kai'el, he found himself captivated by the pursuit of this so-called legacy. It was a calling, pulling at his thoughts and driving him to ask questions about who he really was. He knew of the vile Lord Kalrath Lord Kalrath from their encounter during the sudden attack on Tython, where they had crossed paths and blades. It was there that he witnessed firsthand how Aris Noble Aris Noble could be hurt. It was a realization that shook him, forcing him to reconcile the vulnerability of those around him, even those whom he'd once seen as untouchable. Braze couldn’t help but lament his introduction to Zaiya Ceti Zaiya Ceti and all that had occurred on that fateful day—a tangled mess of choices and consequences.

This quest that had been thrust upon him had led him to ask himself, What is a legacy? It was this question that drove him to Malachor V, to investigate the echoes of history that had resonated there for so long, trying to glean some insight from the distant past. The scars of Malachor spoke volumes—of power, of devastation, and of the choices that left behind more than just ruins. From there, Braze found himself joining Aris in her visit to Korriban, the dark heart of the Sith, in an effort to uncover the mysteries of legacies tethered to the dark side. This misadventure had brought the two of them to their little escapade on Malsheem, a destination that seemed inevitable, as though the Force itself guided their steps. It was thanks to Teresa Zambrano | Darth Pellax Teresa Zambrano | Darth Pellax ’s swift intervention that he found himself in that foreboding place, searching for meaning among the fragments left behind by those who came before. The pursuit of a legacy, it seemed, was never a straight path—it twisted through darkness and doubt, challenging not just his abilities, but his understanding of what he truly sought.

Back at the ancestral home, Braze was determined to find something—anything—that might be a clue to lead him in the right direction. He took it upon himself to clean the home from top to bottom, deep cleaning it like it had never been gone through before. There had to be something here that would allow him to make that connection with the long-dead ancestor of his adoptive father.




 


Sacorria
Tags: Braze Braze
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"Alright, Dillon. Enough sitting around."

Within the meditation room of the Kai'el estate, two bright eyes appeared within the Force Crystal that lay at the center of the room. Cracks began to form, splintering the giant stone. Light began to spill out from the breaks, filling the surrounding area with a golden, shimmering aura. The crystal cracked down the middle like an egg, the two halves falling apart as the ancient Jedi Master emerged, rubbing at a sore spot on his neck.

"Four thousand years... Force, Master Reth wasn't kidding when he said this would hurt," the old Jedi wheezed.

He instinctively reached for his gut, where the near fatal blow had been made. There was still a hole seared into his clothes, yet the wound was scarred over. A relief that it was healed...

Even if it had taken way too long.

The old Jedi turned his head, making direct eye contact with the young Echani cleaning out the home. He paused for a moment, considering what would be the best thing to say. A sheepish smile came to his face, surprisingly awkward, giving a half wave as he decided on his greeting.

"Uh, hey kiddo," he greeted. "Sorry about the mess... I'll help clean it up."

He felt bad making a mess right as the kid was cleaning.


 


Braze had cleaned the entire house from top to bottom—literally. He was just about finished, in the last room he could possibly be in, when he found the massive rock. It looked strange enough to catch his attention, so he decided to clean it too, curious what might be underneath the grime.

He started scrubbing its surface when something unexpected happened—cracks began to form. Braze panicked immediately. Did he break it? Oh no, oh no, oh no. He backed away, heart pounding, but before he could react further, the cracks grew wider. Light poured out, and suddenly, right there, the strange man from his dreams stood in front of him.

Braze froze. He dropped his dust rags, letting them hit the floor in a heap. He pointed right at the man, practically shouting, "HAH!" The sound came out so high it was almost a squeak, but he didn't care. He knew it. He wasn't crazy. Not since Marissa Shoda Marissa Shoda had given him that concussion.

"You ARE real!" Braze blurted out, his eyes wide, his thoughts tumbling over each other. He stared, his mind struggling to piece things together, each thought colliding until it all felt like a jumbled mess. There were so many questions he wanted to ask, so many things that didn't make sense.

"Wait…"
he said, blinking and squinting at the man, his voice slowing down now, almost hesitant. "So… you're not dead?"

He eyed the figure up and down, trying to wrap his mind around what was happening. It felt like everything in his head was frying, a tangled wire sparking as it overloaded.

 


Sacorria
Tags: Braze Braze
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"Wait…" he said, blinking and squinting at the man, his voice slowing down now, almost hesitant. "So… you're not dead?"

"Unfortunately, I did die..." Dillon noted in a somber tone before grinning. "But I survived! Sort of. I think."

Dillon began stretching his fingers, letting out a sigh of relief. It had been so long since he felt things. Thousands of year and he had almost forgotten what it was like to feel. He clapped his hands together just to hear the sound, smiling at the sensation before continuing to speak.


"Right, sorry about the visions," he noted, his tone gentle, "I wasn't sure when my body would be repaired, so Kalrath being loose was a matter of great concern. Luckily I can take a much more hands-on approach to keeping the wind-bag mitigated. Hopefully I didn't cause too much distress. There's only so much one can do in a vegetative state within a gemstone."

The old Master moved to take one step forward, only to promptly fall over. Dillon rolled onto his back, a wide smile spreading across his face before he simply burst out laughing.


"Alright, I've forgotten how to walk."



 

Braze winced in surprise as he lost his balance, flopping back into the pile of rocks scattered across the floor. This was not how he'd expected his cleaning spree to end. Braze squinted, confusion knitting his brow. He gestured vaguely in the man's direction. "So, you... did... die?" He paused, frowning. "Ya know what, I think I did too. Recently. And, uhh... yeah, something wierd happened."

His voice trailed off as he tried to piece together the recent whirlwind of bizarre events. Briefly Braze wondered if perhaps he was in a coma and never made it outta that fight with the Empier's agent and all of thsi was just his delious fever dream. "Pretty sure I was clinically dead for a moment... Or seven," he added, with a crooked smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

Braze padded over, his bare feet crunching softly on the scattered stones, and peered down at the figure sprawled amidst the wreckage of stone. The man looked... disoriented, almost fragile. Braze's gaze was equal parts curiosity and uncertainty, the kind of look one might give a dead snake before poking it with a stick.

"Well,~" he said, his voice lilting with sarcasm, "I dunno about all that big talk if you can't even walk, Grandpaw." Despite his words, there was a hint of affection beneath the teasing. Braze turned, searching for the broom and dustpan he'd set down earlier, intent on dealing with the mess. The floor had already been spotless once, and he wasn't about to let it stay any less than perfect.

After sweeping up most of the mess—enough that the floor no longer offended his sense of accomplishment—Braze paused. He turned back toward the man, hands on his hips, the dustpan dangling from one wrist. "You need a, uh... hover chair or something old man?" His voice was half-joking, half-genuine, but he didn't wait for an answer.

Instead, Braze reached out with the Force, his eyes narrowing in focus. He drew on it, and with an almost terrifying ease, the man began to lift from the ground, the rocks shifting away as Braze willed him upright. The gesture seemed simple—effortless even.

"Up you go, Blondie," he muttered, a grin tugging at his lips. "We've got questions to answer, and you lying around isn't helping."
 


Sacorria
Tags: Braze Braze
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"Thanks, kiddo," Dillon chuckled as he found his footing. "I... suppose 'Grandpaw' is appropriate... I can't imagine that there's a title for a thousand times someone's grandfather... Oh well."

The old Master shook his head.

"No chair required. Joints are just a little rusty," he stated. "I haven't walked in four thousand years after all. Let's loosen up a little..."

Dillon rose his hands, the air becoming flat in an instant. It was as though every molecule in the room stopped moving, anticipating a command from the hands of a maestro. Slowly the fragments of the Force Crystal rose into the air, retracing their steps and reassembling back in the center of the room. The Jedi seemed to encourage the pieces to bind themselves back together, the cracks all but vanishing. A playful grin played across Dillon's face.

"Right," the man nodded. "We have questions to answer indeed. There's a sword at large after all, and I imagine Kalrath will be eager to locate it when he senses my emergence... if he hasn't already."

The old Jedi lumbered over to the kitchen, only to open a small door that was very well hidden. He withdrew a plain vibrosword, running his hand along the blade in a way one might when they were reminiscing.

"This thing will shatter," Dillon sighed, returning the blade to it's place. "I'll have to mend her later. So... Braze, I believe? Dillon's my name, which I didn't provide I now realize. Out of order introductions aside, I'm sure you must be curious about a great deal. I can provide you with some answers, but I'd take them with a grain of salt. four thousand years isn't kind on all the finer details."

As he spoke his hands found the fridge, opening it with wide eyes.

"Isn't this thing sleek," he remarked with a grin. "The one I installed in here could've passed for a casket."

He reached in, pulling out a left-over slice of pizza, no doubt the remnants of Jasper's last meal. Dillon held it by the crust, examining the cold, greasy slice inquisitively.


"Food has certainly gotten interesting..."


 


TAGS: Dillon Kai'el Dillon Kai'el
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Braze watched the old man, still mystified that this was happening, as if he were trapped in some surreal version of his life. He marveled as Dillon casually reassembled the shattered Force Crystal. It was almost like magic—like watching a piece of history unfold right in front of him. Braze squinted at the crystal, trying to make sense of it all, confusion etched across his face.

He followed Dillon as the old man seemed to know his way around the home, his movements strangely confident for someone who hadn't walked in four thousand years. Braze watched with morbid curiosity as Dillon opened a hidden cabinet and pulled out a vibrosword, running his hand over the blade like it was a cherished memory. When Dillon sighed and put the sword back, Braze frowned but kept quiet, deciding his questions could wait.

Braze's eyebrows rose slightly as Dillon moved on to the fridge, pulling it open and grinning at the sight of the sleek, modern appliance. He pulled out a cold, greasy slice of leftover pizza—definitely not what Braze imagined a legendary Jedi would consider a meal.

"You might wanna heat that slice of pizza up," Braze advised, the corner of his mouth twitching with a hint of amusement. He sighed, shaking his head as if trying to shake off the absurdity of it all. He ran a tired hand through his hair, sweeping it back as he let out a weary sigh. Today had been long, and his body felt every hour of it—muscles aching from all the cleaning he'd done without relying too much on the Force. He was sweaty, grimy, and covered in dust.

"Right, go ahead and help yourself to whatever's in there," Braze said, nodding towards the fridge. "I'm gonna get cleaned up. After that, I can show you the research I've been working on, and maybe we can figure out where to look next. If we can pin down a location, we can take the Ashwing out."

He paused, his gaze lingering on Dillon for a moment, curiosity crossing his tired expression.

"Anyway, make yourself at home," he murmured, offering a small, tired smile before heading off to get cleaned up.

It wouldn't take too long before Braze returned, freshly washed and dressed in nice silk robes with black, white, and a splash of red here or there. He had some polished boots on, and his hair was brushed out and damp, but not tied up, save for his Padawan braid, which had been rebraided neatly.
 


Sacorria
Tags: Braze Braze
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"Anyway, make yourself at home,"

Make yourself at home.

Dillon couldn't help but find this statement to be rather amusing, at least in regards to himself. He had built this home roughly seven thousand years ago for his family. Now, highly displaced from his original time, the old Master was a stranger to the space he established. It was funny.

He didn't bother heating up the 'pizza,' as the young Echani had called the curious slice of processed foodstuffs. Instead he simply sank his teeth into the cold slice, far too hungry to even care if it was hot or cold. Needless to say his first meal in four thousand years hit him like a truck, and the old man consumed the slice as though he were an elementary student at an end-of-the-year party, eager to ensure they'd be able to go back for seconds.

Braze would return not long after, having refreshed and gotten new clothes. Dillon had long since finished his meal by then.

"Taris," Dillon stated, "What we need will be on Taris. The sword was there last, lost in our final battle. With luck the lingering essence of the blade may provide some insight." He'd pause for a moment before continuing. "Ashwing, you said... Your Liberator? Probably not now that I think about it. I don't imagine the Order uses the Liberator anymore, huh?"

New starfighters was certainly a surprising prospect. He had experienced a similar thing when he had been preserved in carbonite. He expected that a lot of things would be new for a while.

Fortunate that the healing process had gone so well. Dillon had been blind when he came out of carbonite.


 

Braze chuckled. "No, no. The Ashwing isn't quite like a Liberator. It's much smaller—a two-seater, really. Technically, it can fit three to five people, but it's designed for just a pilot, maybe with a co-pilot." He paused, glancing at his companion thoughtfully.

"How long ago was the Battle of Taris? We're somewhere in the 902 ABY range, right?" Braze asked, a hint of curiosity in his tone. "Do you really think heading there will help?" He shifted slightly, patting his side. "I do have this crystal—Echo—that might come in handy once we get there."

 

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