[member="Scherezade deWinter"] | [member="Jaron Lesan"]
He had almost forgotten the blistering heat.
Obsidian was seldom a hue to be displayed in the most foul of environments. When the life-granting sun above glared down upon the thirsty ground, such colors worked to ensnare its wrath. For this cause, many of the Knighthood found themselves subject to immense discomfort throughout their time upon Geonosis. So much so that profuse perspiration was a commonality when traversing between conditioned structures. However. Not a single word of complaint slithered from the mouth of Josiah Denko. Not a single syllable of distaste or annoyance. Despite the circumstances that would make any man at least say
something, he was silent.
He was content.
Though it was no secret that sweat beaded upon his brow, he found this reality infinitely preferable to what once was. For quite some time, he had been lost - a wandering soul cast adrift the stars due to his own "Creed." He once proudly called himself a zealot: a champion of the view that the Light existed exclusively to extinguish the Darkness. But, that path crumbled to dust when the corruption took root of the first, modern Republic and its resident Jedi Order. That path ceased to exist once Josiah realized that those who wielded the Light were no better than the Darkness he hunted.
And so he hunted for purpose beyond Light and Dark - beyond "good" and "evil." Josiah found himself persuaded to pursue
Order instead. His hunger for fulfillment saw him swayed into the clutches of Darkness for the first time. And as he descended, he became apart of a collective sworn to provide Order to the Galaxy - the Knights of Ren. For a time, he left the name Josiah Denko behind, and adopted the mantle Herodias Ren. But even here, as a literal blade of Order, he found no fulfillment. He found no joy in the innocent lives taken. He found no purpose in oppression guised as peace. Thus, yet again, he departed and the wandering continued.
Josiah lost himself for so long. The Darkness consumed him. It was only by the grace of an old mentor that he was plucked from the clutches of Shadow. When he came to his senses and felt the blessing of Light upon his life once more, the Jedi began to take solace in things that truly mattered. He did not place his attention on the grandest of things - such as universal purpose or pushing change across the Galaxy. Instead, he found himself content. Happy to protect the home he once had within old Confederate space. Happy to take a place among his former comrades once more. Happy to be himself, a servant of the Light, despite the Darkness around him.
But for just this day...he would let that Light
burn as mighty as the Sun.
The crunch of his boots heralded his arrival into Petranaki. It was not his first time setting foot into an Arena, and therefore the din from the spectators was not at all jarring. Instead, he set his saple gaze upon those who would be his opponents. Allies. But he did not know them personally. And therefore, he had no reason - save the terms of the tournament - to hold back. This day, he was armed with only a single lightsaber clutched within his dominant hand. His body was shrouded underneath the clock of an Obsidian Knight - yet Strike Armor did not reside upon his person. Rather, simple, onyx robes had been procured.
Josiah Denko came to a halt before his adversaries and uttered not a word. He noted the eruption of plasma from the blades of his male adversary, one [member="Jaron Lesan"] - but aside from this there was no offense from either opponent.
No time like the present.
"Good luck, both of you." he breathed, whilst raising his hands. The gesture was...almost as if a holy man was about to prepare a blessing for them. Yet there was no divine intervention to be found here, only the shriek of telekinetic fury. A column of might exploded outward from his person and impacted the earth occupying the space between the adversaries. At once, the tactic caused an uproar of sand to rocket into the air - obscuring him from view and his opponents from the sight of his naked eye. But what Josiah sacrified in physical awareness, he made up for in the Force. He could
feel the both of them, just as much as [member="Scherezade deWinter"] had felt him out moments before his "greeting."
And thus, he struck. His muscled moved in a practiced motion - the golden blade of his lightsaber hissed into being as he leapt forward. The weapon raked across the air, aimed to strike Jaron from shoulder to hip in a deadly arc.
The Jedi was content to lay low his foes.
