Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Private Chance gathering at Dusk

Light and Darkness, they are a balance
Tags: Victor Blackheart Victor Blackheart Balun Dashiell Balun Dashiell Pari Sylune Pari Sylune
Location: Coruscant, Jedi Temple, Upper Levels, Balcony

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The Temple terrace spanned wide and high — an open-air platform of polished stone and inlaid durasteel, suspended on the uppermost level of the Jedi Temple like a tranquil ledge between the galaxy and the stars. It was a sacred space known to few beyond the Order: part meditation garden, part training floor, and wholly serene. Carved plinths and smooth benches traced the edges, and silent fountains cast soft ripples into still pools reflecting the Coruscanti skyline.

The city stretched endlessly below, its towers veiled in hues of deep lavender and molten gold. It was dusk, and the sun's last light slipped between skyscrapers like a whispered farewell. The sky above held a liminal glow — not fully day, not yet night — and in that hour, Master Xerothan Valekorr stood alone near the balustrade, reading quietly from a slim, flickering datapad held in one gloved hand.

Her presence, as always, was quiet yet undeniable. Cloaked in layered Jedi robes of midnight blue and muted charcoal, her silhouette blended into the darkening light — a living shadow tempered by silver. At her hip hung a beautifully crafted lightsaber: polished and austere, its hilt gleaming with soft Serrano silver, too elegant for ornament, too refined for vanity. She did not fidget, did not move more than necessary. Even standing still, she seemed in motion — like a slow current beneath placid water.

Around her, Padawans sparred in hushed rhythm. A Knight knelt in meditation beneath the open sky. The city buzzed far below, but here there was only quiet breath and the faint chime of metal against stone. Xerothan did not interfere. She only observed — as she often did — her golden-yellow eyes unreadable in the fading light, as though they were waiting for nightfall to speak their truth.

The datapad flickered once more. Her gloved thumb slid across its surface, reviewing encrypted data from a recent Outer Rim recovery mission — a ruin cataloged, an artifact sealed. At least, that's what the Council had been told. No one questioned why she preferred to read these reports alone, during the hours when light and shadow could no longer be told apart.

The sun dipped below the horizon. The blade at her hip caught the last of it — a brief gleam of pure silver light, before the darkness claimed it.

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It was only a couple of days ago that he had joined the ranks as a Padawan on Tython, and now already he had found himself on Coruscant. And he hated every moment of it.

Victor was used to forests, grass, and long fields from Tython and Eshan, but this....the city that never sleeps, the constant buzzing of droids, ships, and people, annoyed him beyond belief.

He could hardly sleep in place like this, but at least he knew he wouldn't be here for much longer since he was selected for apprenticeship under a Jedi Master Missar who lived on a planet far away from here. Being unable to mediate in peace as he had hoped, he slowly made his way towards the balcony of the temple. He would put his black cloak over his head and make his way out of the room. His white hair would be visible to anyone who.

He would offer a gentle nod to the fellow Jedi before looking down upon the sprawling city below. While he hated it, he could not deny the certain beauty of this mechanical marvel. The entire world is moving constantly, no hills, no forests, no nothing, only mechanics and wounds of old wars.

Tags: Balun Dashiell Balun Dashiell , Pari Sylune Pari Sylune , Xerothan Valekorr Xerothan Valekorr
 
Light and Darkness, they are a balance
Tags: Victor Blackheart Victor Blackheart Pari Sylune Pari Sylune Balun Dashiell Balun Dashiell Emery Lloren Emery Lloren Malcolm Ironmaster Malcolm Ironmaster
Location: Coruscant, Jedi Temple, Upper Levels, Balcony


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As the dim, amber light from the aged datapad washed over Xerothan Valekorr's angular features, its flickering glow reflected a mosaic of information — encrypted reports, half-deciphered glyphs, and forgotten teachings collected from ancient, dust-laden archives and the hollow remains of temples long abandoned by both Jedi and Sith. Her gaze slowly lifted from the screen, unblinking, and passed over the terrace that stretched wide beneath the twilight sky. Around her, Jedi trained with rhythmic precision, young initiates meditated in quiet alcoves shaded by imported flora, and Temple residents meandered through in casual motion. To her, they blurred into the scenery — indistinct shapes beneath the filtered light of dusk.

But one figure fractured the rhythm.

A young man stood draped in a cloak so dark it seemed to absorb the ambient glow of the city. He moved like a shadow with weight — too rigid, too self-contained. There was something unsettled about him, like a note out of harmony in an otherwise tranquil song. His presence rippled through the Force, not loud, but sharp — soaked in unease, frustration, and an unspoken hunger for something not offered here. At first, Xerothan considered letting him vanish into the crowds — his choice to remain unseen felt like a sacred deflection. And yet, her senses lingered on that pulse of dissonance. Curious. Familiar. Useful. With silent deliberation, she deactivated the datapad and clipped it to her belt, its light extinguished with a soft click.

She moved toward him with the fluid grace of someone who was never truly still, her steps soundless across the polished stone. "Greetings, Padawan," she said, her voice smooth and composed, yet imbued with a sincerity that felt both comforting and precise — like the edge of a blade hidden in velvet. The soft folds of her midnight-and-obsidian robes rippled faintly in the evening breeze, clinging close to her tall form as if shadows themselves did not want to let her go. Only her pale white hair, hands, and dark blue face remained clearly visible beneath the gentle cascade of starlight above and the endless circuitry of Coruscant's towers below.

"I sense you are troubled," she continued, pausing just far enough to allow him to retreat — if he chose. "Would you speak of it?" Her tone was patient, almost inviting, as though she were placing a quiet wager on the moment's potential. Her yellow eyes, bright and piercing in the dusk, scanned him slowly — not just seeing, but measuring, like a cartographer tracing the contours of an unseen landscape hidden just beneath the surface of his skin.
 
Tags: Balun Dashiell Balun Dashiell , Pari Sylune Pari Sylune , Xerothan Valekorr Xerothan Valekorr , Victor Blackheart Victor Blackheart

Master Malcolm Aramis Ironmaster had arrived on Coruscant only hours earlier, on his way to visit family on Chandrila. He'd recently been on Batuu, exploring the ancient Jedi Temple in Peka to aid the Silver Jedi Order in restoring the temple to its former glory and establish a presence of the Silver Jedi Concord there. But the backwater planet on the edge of Wild Space was a far cry from the hustle and bustle of the planet-city of Coruscant or the serenity of his native Chandrila. It was good to get back to civilization for a time before visiting home and continuing on into the space of the High Republic to check in with Silver Jedi temples in the Slice, formerly the domain of the Silver Jedi Concord.

Malcolm was clad in his traveling vestments - grey tunic and trousers, brown boots and belt, and blue tabards and cloak. An ornate saber hilt hung from his belt, along with an antique E-851 blaster pistol in a holster, and a leather wide-brimmed hat with a plume in the hatband sat upon his head.
 


Set before the GE Invasion of Coruscant.

CHANCE GATHERING AT DUSK
LOCATION: Coruscant, Jedi Temple
INVENTORY: Spacer Apparel, Lightsaber & K-16 Bryar Pistol
TAGS: Victor Blackheart Victor Blackheart Pari Sylune Pari Sylune Emery Lloren Emery Lloren Malcolm Ironmaster Malcolm Ironmaster Xerothan Valekorr Xerothan Valekorr

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Coruscant, heart of the Galaxy and once upon a time, the only home that Balun had ever known. The Jedi Temple was a beacon of everything the New Jedi Order represented, both to Galactic Society and Balun Dashiell as he walked through the main entrance and on into the great foyer. For many, the Jedi were seen as warriors of hope, guardians of the downtrodden and the defenseless, while there was also the flipside to that coin, people who feared the Jedi for their ability to use a power beyond their comprehension.
For Balun, the Jedi Temple reminded him of a group of people who had taken him in at a time when no one else had wanted him, left there by his mother in the care of strangers to him. They had raised him for the first fifteen years of his life, trained him in the Jedi way, and despite his decision to walk away from them in the end, he would always return to stand at their side in their times of need. After all, family didn't always see eye to eye, but you always stuck by them.

As he walked the Temple floor, keeping an eye out for anyone familiar to him from the years long past, Balun's Lightsaber swaying against his belt would have been the only clear sign of his belonging. While the Jedi Robes had once been his preferred dress sense as a young lad, he now favoured the rougher aesthetic, given that his life had spiralled in that direction.
It wasn't your typical getup, of course; the Brown leather jacket had been inlaid with dense protective duramesh padding, the utility belt and harness worn around his waist holding numerous ringlets for the carrying of equipment, including his holstered firearm, and the pants were noticeably built for heavy-duty or outdoor adventuring as given away by the hodharium shin guards, the knee pads and boots that he wore. It was a look that best fits his particular vibe: part Spacer, part Rogue Force User.

With his hands buried in his jacket pockets, he wandered up the stairs leading onto the second floor. It felt like it had been some time since he had last stopped by to check in with the New Jedi Order, not since his meeting with Valery Noble Valery Noble , where they had discussed the subject of his son Kellan Dashiell Kellan Dashiell 's special circumstances, that he had last been there.

From word of mouth, he had questioned whether the Coruscanti Temple wasn't the station of the High Council nor the centric command for the Order any longer, though he could have been mistaken. He had passed some students discussing the change of political symbolism from Coruscant to the Jedi World of Ilum, yet Balun hadn't a clue concerning news of the Order in the core worlds lately. He hadn't stopped to listen to the small group however, given he didn't know any of them. They were young, fresh faces and that in itself suddenly made him feel much older than he was comfortable with.
Once upon a time, he had been one of those young students running around causing headaches for his tutors. Getting lippy with them during his classes when they had expectations of him, refusing to fall in line simply because he was being told to do so. He hadn't been easy on those who had taken him in, forever carrying that chip on his shoulder, reminding him that he had been abandoned to the Order, and so why would anyone else have wanted him?

If only he had known how much his life would change in the years to follow. The discovery of his birth father, Judah Dashiell Judah Dashiell and his brother, Makai Dashiell Makai Dashiell ...-And then, while not having planned it, winding up with a Son of his own. Life had thrown him no small amount of twists and turns since his leave of the Order, and for all the chaos, Balun wasn't sure he would change any of it, if given the choice.

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Jedi Master: Ala Quin
Major Faction: The High Republic
Sub-Faction: Jhaessa Prime
Conglomerate: Dashiell Incorporated™

Subsidiary Company: Dashiell Retrofit™



"Speech"
'Thought'
 

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