A Barash Ended.

[Carn Dista]

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|[Al'doleem]|
|[Jedi Monastery Ruins]|​

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How many years had it been? Time had flown differently here, a blur of a thousand days merged into one. There had been so much change in the Galaxy. So much loss. So many things to resent and repent for. He had failed them, the Jedi. The Republic. Her. His thoughts always drifted back to the one he had lost, the one who had been forced upon him so long ago. The one he had come to respect as both a peer, and cherish as a daughter. How many years? It felt impossible to tell, and truthfully he had no awareness of the passing of time. His only means of tracking such things was within the ship that lay rusting deep within the valley, and he was compelled to leave it where it was. This was, after all, a time for searching - not in the sense of physically scouring the Galaxy, but a search for inner peace. The only true way to do so for one such as he was to remove himself from the Galaxy entirely, to embark on the sacred Barash, and thus remove himself from the Jedi until such time that he had served his penitence. It is why he chose this place of all places, a location lost to all but the oldest of Archives, to undertake a rite that many knew little of.

And so the Galaxy forgot the name of this Jedi. It was as it should have been. As it needed to be. Distractions other than the Force were unnecessary, and against everything of which the Barash stood for. Of which he now stood for. With only his lightsaber and the Force as his ally, he had set off for this remote world without a word said to his peers. The only thing that had been left behind was a single handwritten note on the floor of the Council chambers - "I have embarked on the sacred Barash. May the Force be with you." It was all that needed to be said - his absence alone would speak to the Council on his behalf, informing them of who wrote it. Perhaps they had seen it. Perhaps not. Such things were no longer his concern, no longer his duty. He was steeled by his convictions. There was no being in the Galaxy that could draw him away from them.

With naught else to distract him, and a potential lifetime of solitude and reflection ahead, he did as all Jedi must. His duty. The vow required that all who took it focused on nothing but the Force, so that they might find their true path and thus bring peace to themselves. While his routine started out as a simple adjustment to his new life, it soon descended into an endless cycle - six hours of sleep, two hours of finding sustenance, and the remainder of the day being spent on Meditation. Yet this was not the still meditation one might imagine. No. Within the ruins of the old mountain monastery his saber hummed with life. He moved with consistent purpose through the motions and patterns of Juyo, each step cleansing his mind, each pass of his blade allowing him to reach out into the Living Force and find his center. Each hour blurred into the next - and due to the rigor of it all, each day shifted into one endless drive towards perfection of his art. Perfection of himself.

Yet as focused as he was on his connection to the Force, one thought continued to exist. It was unshakable, like a cube of durasteel in a light rain. There was no eroding it. No doing away with it. Yet despite that, it was months into his regime of Alchaka before he brought himself to confront it. The thought that she may actually be one with the Force. That he had made the ultimate failure a Master could make, and fail to teach his student enough. It gnawed at him, at times consumed everything around him. Between that one thought, and the extremity of his physical actions he near-broke on many nights. Yet he lived by his mantra. Do not falter. Do not bend. Do not break. He pressed on, relentless through the storm of his own actions. Relentless in his pursuit for his purpose. He could not allow himself to falter as he had many years ago. He could not allow himself to bend to his emotions. He could not allow these thoughts to break him.

As the days merged into weeks, months, and perhaps years, so too did the seasons become one. Snow fell in summer. The buds of spring crept out of the hues of autumn. The Force flowed through him, and he through it. Until he stopped. The vibrant green of his blade lighting his now haggard face, it's hum resonating with the land around him. Where time had flowed so freely before, it seemed to stop entirely at this moment. Across the Galaxy a tear fell - He felt it. Through all the background noise of a thousand systems. Countless billions. It fell silent for a single tear. The Force resonated again within him confirming what he had long suspected, but never had proof of. Asha. She was alive - the bond between master and Padawan could not be severed so easily. His thumb slipped calmly off the ignition switch of his saber, and the snap-hiss it's disignition brought him out of his silent reverie. From him a ripple filtered out through the Force like a stone dropped into a lake, reaching out to all that might understand it's meaning.

The Sith would answer for their crimes.
Carn Dista's Barash had ended. ​

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Spoiler

Hi guys. I'm back! Basically this thread is so that those who have interacted with Carn in the past, or those attuned to the Force can sense his imminent return to the Galaxy, and to explain somewhat where he's been and what he's been doing while I've been sorting my life out. Feel free to post your characters responses if you feel it's suitable for them to pick up on it. His next port of call will inevitably be the largest gathering of Lightsiders he can find, so I'll likely hit up the TJO guys for some threads soon!

 

[Tathra Khaeus]

|[Al'doleem]|
|[Jedi Monastery Ruins]|​

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​Carn Dista.

​In the background of various odd jobs and battles under the employment of larger than life Empires and Orders that lived by creeds. Yet to the eyes of the ignorant he had none, he was simply a wayward mercenary with no cause to speak of. However that was untrue, he served the Tol Varen and the will of the Keeper. Forever in the back of his mind, but still the Galaxy at large had been a very different experience than he had expected.

​Even more so when visiting different planets and interaction with various different species. They all had different ways of living, great masses joined together to follow similar ideals. He was not like them, he was a like a rock that the waves of unified thought beat against. Stagnant against the changes of the world, his mind was with the truth that Tol Varen held, a truth unchanged and unbroken for centuries on end.

​Unlike other cultures, his people had a strength. They left nothing to rot, nothing weakened through the waning of time. However, this temple was a example of such things. Rot, this place had a stench of rot. The Jedi Monastery was ancient from what he could tell, as he pushed through the doors of the building. The maple colouring had faded into a silent oak, the grand door slid open. Light shun through more than just cracks in the wood now. That light was devoured in the shadow of the hulking Matador, who slid through the minor opening without as much as a sound.

​The floor beneath his feet echoed a cool emptiness, life had not touched this place. There was no heat, no sign of life whatsoever. He imagined this was what something of great size dying felt like. This place had not a whisper in its halls. Ahead of him was a courtyard that had a large crumbling breach in the left of its wall. Some bricks sticking out on each end as if something had impacted it from the other side. He was between two large staircases that were adjacent to each other, joining at the other end of the courtyard in a crumbled semi-circular platform that housed nothing but a few broken shelves and old blackened lanterns.

​Each surface was damaged, but the entire building seemed to be in a state of passiveness. Nothing moved, as if caught adrift in time. It gave him a strange sense of calm. Until he heard it, a scutter about the farther archway that lead deeper. He took a single step forward, feeling Oribuir's wait comfortably on his back as he tried to slide from view when a man with a refined face came into picture. [member="Carn Dista"], he had kept himself well. For a man, alone throughout years without society. He partially envied that, but he had no time to feel as such. He saw him, and the Jedi Master saw the Matador.

 

[Carn Dista]

Carn moved swiftly, and rightly so. He had been gone a great length of time - And as the Force decreed, he should be no longer than he had been already. What little supplies he had he left behind, perhaps for another who sought to pilgrimage to Al'doleem. It would certainly go unused by himself, for he knew that he would never again return to this place. Each step he took through the ruins, around every corner and down every step towards the main hall was driven with a burning purpose, one that he had not felt in a great many years. He passed decaying rooms, fallen terminals and avoided the decrepit flooring that threatened to cave in to the mountain below without hesitation.

Yet with each step came a feeling of awareness - a deep rooted realization gifted to him by his renewed connection to the Living Force.

He was not alone here.​

And so he slowed his movements so as not to act in haste. So as not to rush into some foul trap presented to him by those he had so unerringly hunted across the Galaxy for so many years. Instinctively his hand went to the lightsaber at his belt, a muscle memory as much as a precaution, the movement was a testament to his understanding that there was no true escape from the enemies of the Jedi. His footsteps changed as he did, slowly now, from heel to toe, silencing the tell tale padding of hardened Synth-Leather while the Jedi moved across the shattered granite that he swept over - a near shadow of blacks and browns.

As it happened, his feelings were not wrong. The final archway dawned, and while he moved underneath it's shadowed arc he came face to face with the root cause of his caution. A great hulk of a biped, clad in thick plate armor blocked his passage, the dim light seemingly clinging to the vicious edges of it's design. And what a design it was - a unique piece, for certain, and crafted to inspire fear within those that it stood before. Yet fear was not the way of the Jedi. Fear, it was said, lead to anger. Anger unchecked lead only to hate, suffering, and the irredeemable trappings of the Dark Side. The ancient teachings spoke to him from a corner of his mind laden with such sayings - such trinkets of knowledge that served to guide a Jedi. The snap hiss of his lightsaber's ignition snapped his mind to focus - his body illuminated with the brilliant green of the Lorrdian crystal seated within his hilt, and the air filled with the unflinching hum of the blade he had carried with him for a lifetime.

"You will present a path forwards and explain your presence here, stranger, or I will create one of my own. The Force wills it."​

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Carn's voice rang out through the ruins in a rumbling tone that spoke as much of warning as kinship - in all these years his Adumari accent had not left him, and it lent his already commanding posture an unspoken message, one that spoke of untold years of both demanding and commanding respect. One that spoke of unfaltering conviction in his actions, and the skill with which to reinforce his words. Everything about him delivered his position clearly. This creature of steel and flesh would back away and acquiesce to his instruction, or be cut past without remorse.

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[member="The Matador"]​

 

[Tathra Khaeus]

​The emerald blade soothed the walls upon which it brought light to, the dead beginning to breath once more as Carn Dista's weapon returned attention to what had been long since forgotten by many. The wind carried through the broken body of the Monastery like a long held breath, waking from a decrepit sleep in response to the haste of the Jedi. The Matador stood unmoving as his form relaxed, seeing Carn Dista stood solemnly with his blade ignited already confirmed the rumours.

He was, very much alone. Oribuir called to him, the blade's handle sitting nearly three feet over his shoulder to compensate for the length of the blade itself. He felt Carns words carry a weight not dissimilar to his own, the weight of combat and leadership. There was much to be said for the facets of a character and how the impacted upon each other. Even still, the Matador turned on his heel; walking a few feet to inspect a crack that carried itself along one of the walls, not dissimilar to a lightsaber strike that had long since lost its energy. He wondered who had left it, raising his right hand to run over the crack. His attention was almost entirely shifted in focus, not star struck by any means.

​"This place is so very old. It has been in a peaceful slumber, yet you disturb it. Why here, Carn Dista?"

​​His voice carried a flippant curiosity that was embolden by a voice of resolve and conviction. The voice help much on display, ones experience most of all. His voice spoke of a deep and painful road far less trod upon. His head glided smoothly across the individual components of both his breastplate and helmet.

​"I am here for you. Jedi. I could not you until you sent out that beacon, you may not have been aware of it."

He spoke, with some casual sincerity his left hand rising to the hilt of Oribuir. ​"The ignition of your blade is unwarranted. Were I here to kill you, we would not be conversing. Put away your weapon and I will not draw my own."

[member="Carn Dista"]​

 

[Carn Dista]

The being had not been phased. This was good - for if the armoured brute had given way Carn simply would have brushed past him and left, with questions unanswered and the monastery to explore. Conviction was a difficult thing to come across, and something the venerable Jedi could respect, yet the flippant tone in his questions spoke to Carn of one who had too much faith in his ability.

Yet despite the modicum of respect that the being mustered, Carn chose not to answer. He had long since given up on giving such replies to trite questions about his choices, whereabouts or apparent lack of awareness from the results of his actions. No. The only things he answered to in these years of his life was his own moral compass, and on rare occasions, the Jedi Council. After all, regardless of what happened to his physical being the Force would ultimately hold him accountable. These things he knew to be truths.

What he did notice is the being move - turning his side to Carn while he told the Jedi he had arrived for him, and opting to inspect the moss filled gaps in the crumbling foundations that surrounded them on all sides. He spoke with conviction, yes, but his actions set aside his stoic posture that existed on first glance, and suggesting that there was deeply more than a first impression to be had for such an imposing figure. However Carn was not the kind of person to second guess, nor underestimate any sentient that stated he had been hunting for him on some level. Such ruses had been placed before him by more dangerous beasts than a man who's sword ran the length of his body, and he was loathe to fall prey to them again.

"If you are truly here to speak," he said, while confidently walking forwards to the exit of which the Matador had emerged from,

"Then you can do so as we walk. Alternatively you can draw the blade that your hand reaches for. Either way, I am departing this place."​

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Again, a choice was presented. The plated creature, in Carn's mind had two options - either draw his blade and force conflict, a choice in which Carn saw no path forwards but to drive him back from the monastery inch by inch if need be, or retract his hand from his blade and depart alongside the Jedi, and perhaps have the opportunity to glean answers to the curiosities that danced through his mind.

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[member="The Matador"]​

 

[Tathra Khaeus]

​The Matador relaxed his palm, his fingers releasing its grip on the hilt of his weapon. His intentions were not to fight the Jedi, that was not what he had been sent here for. Carn Dista had been found, that was his mission. His hand fell to his side, with a slight clank of metal as the gauntlet of his arm slid into a comfortable position against his hip.​

"Once more, hostility is not necessary."

​He turned on is heel, joining the Jedi with shortened strides to keep in line with him. The Matador was reminded that meeting force with force was not always the optimal choice of action. Instead, choosing a more passive option seemed less likely to lead to unwarranted violence. It was not a matter of confidence in his ability, but in truth a matter of convenience. He believed that the remaining factions of the Jedi would possibly pay him handsomely for the safe return of [member="Carn Dista"]. That, and whilst he saw nothing too threatening in the appearance of the wayward Jedi, he knew from recordings that he was not to be underestimated.

​Then again, neither was he.

​The Matador followed, indirectly taking his pace a little bit ahead of the Jedi's by consequence of his size. ​"If I have found you Carn Dista. Others will have as well, my vessel was not alone in it's landing." ​He reached the door, his large hand grasping the damaged wooden door. Small splinters fell as his hand moved the grand door with little effort.