Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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THE WARDEN
TO BRING A LIGHT TO THE DARKNESS
THE NEW JEDI ORDER | PROSPERITY | PURIFIED MEDITATION SPHERE

To fight ignorance through knowledge;
To act as the guardians of life;
To bring light to the darkness;
To serve others, rather than rule;
To always seek betterment;
To be the light in the dark



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Hope was an incredible thing.

For something so intangible, it was all he could feel. From all he’d seen, from all he would see, all they would see –– he felt the goodness of this collective before they gathered in the room before him. A well of virtue to counter the oppression that flanked the New Jedi Order and by extension, the galaxy.

Each individual that gathered would be those destined by The Force to foresee, to seek, to find, to hunt, to decipher, to interpret the whims, fallacies, intricacies and wonderfulness of the spectral planes seers were both cursed and blessed with seeing.

Cursed like he was, blinded by the shattering of Csilla. He’d felt it all. Pathways of the living that thrummed and pulsed with brilliant glows, and dim shadows. Some routes lead to life eternal, others diffused and puttered out to a void that was beyond his sight. In the wake of Csilla's destruction, he'd been effectively blinded. So many souls, voices, lives calling out with a final shout of desperation. He'd felt their burns as if he were on the planet as it ripped apart, the excruciating agony that prologued forever nothingness. All their faces turned into nothing, photons streaming off skeletons that glowed light and dark. It was as if he were observing a beautiful, chaotic painting from across a room –– and the closer they got to death, without warning, only the brushstrokes made it up. Life was nowhere in it.

They shouted, and Asmundr could feel that they sensed the pressure waves going out from their throats. The clouds of molecules that made up their fingers slapping against whatever they could, as if getting a grip on ephemeral objects or persons nearby would save them.

Where their air began, and their bodies ended, was lost. The boundary between their bodies and environment blurred. And then...in union, singularity's realization that something dark and sudden moving through the atoms they'd joined toward them.

And then nothing.

And now, again, he felt something. Many somethings, from all different sources but teased similar outcomes, dancing around the undefinable. Intersections and divergences of pattern, lattices, networks, that felt familiar and strange at the same time. Glittering with alluring potential but frustrating fragments that his distracted mind was weary to parce in time to be proactive, helpful. The great seer’s vision was impaired by the vast spread of empathy that still plagued his peripherals. It was too much, far too great a responsibility to see everything that happened in the corners, too tolling for him to burden the responsibility of attention –– choosing what here and there received it. A wider scope was necessary, with more eyes.

In those, more eyes, would be the blessing. The opportunity.

In strife, they’d find harmony. Balance, answers.

There were many answers to be sought –– between the Brotherhood of the Maw’s accelerated uprising and the recent attempt on a Senator’s life during a senate session, the necessity to seek dialled up intensely.

They’d all received the invitation, a gentle brush against their mind from the well-connected Master, to the meditation sphere of Prosperity. The wording of the summon was not verbatim from recipient to recipient. The only similarity each shared was the sense of urgency and weariness from the venerable, mountainous master.

Organized and timely, per his request, those that had been affected by his plea would walk into the spherical space and instantly be cast in a blue glow that came from nowhere and everywhere. If they sought to perceive the physical and not just the spiritual, they’d appreciate the generic runes scrawled on the walls in a pattern reminiscent of primitive star maps and the open space where each could sit or stand. It was a generous room that had begged to be filled for far too long.

So he stood, hands clasped behind his back and golden gaze affixed on the doorway with a pleasant smile. Brimming with hope in the establishment of the Circle of Seers. It would be done here today.


 
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Shapes swirled in the mist, jagged shapes jutting out from the unseen. A boy ran through the deathly fog, pursued by...something. An unknowable terror had claimed him. The haunted boy continued to flee, though he didn’t know whether shadows of his past or the ghosts of the future were harder to face. A shade ahead of him turned, its form flowing and indiscernible. A hand reached out, then another, then hundreds from all around…


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Leon Gallo shot up. Rapid, unsteady breaths sent droplets of sweat running down his chest. The Jedi blinked a tear out of his eye while his trembling hand felt around for water. He swore silently as liquid dribbled down his chin. Swallowing hard, the man set his drink down. Fumbling around for a shirt, Leon nearly stepped on one of the many canvasses littering the room. The dark tones of his art matched the unlit room, the only vibrant splashes of color being the two Golden Starbird medals, haphazardly set on a shelf.


He blinked hard as light flooded his vision. Stumbling out of his quarters, Leon began to rove the Prosperity's endless halls. Unkempt hair matched the deep bags under his eyes and the stubble forming on his chin. At an intersection he’d gone through many times after the nightmares, he paused. Typically, he’d turn left and go towards the sparring halls. He’d spent more time there than sleeping over the past few months.

But today, something was drawing the Jedi towards the right. He needed to be free of the nightmares, and no amount of martial prowess could fight off a haunted mind. Twenty minutes wandering the halls, and the haunted man spotted someone he felt could help.

“M-master Asmundr,” Leon spoke as he reached the giant Jedi. I was wondering if you could help me.”

Asmundr Varobalder Asmundr Varobalder
 
Timing was impossible to control, even if you were fortunate enough to foresee the warnings or glimmers.

His eyes flicked up as Leon Gallo Leon Gallo marched directly towards him. Between exhaustion in his eyes, heaviness in his shoulders, and the hurt embrace he seemed cocooned in, the Master's empathetic heart thumped achingly.

"Padawan Gallo," He greeted in a calm baritone, keeping a neutrally welcoming façade despite the pain emanating from the youth.

Despite the notion of this collection was supposed to be for seers, The Force's timing was not to be questioned. And someone in need, wanting help, was not to be turned away.

He gestured with a sweep, inviting the Padawan to step in further.

"I hope I can. Walk me through what's bothering you."
 
As a Jedi Master of his past, Coren Starchaser could appear as if he belonged in nearly every Order the galaxy had to offer. His Order of Residence was the Silver, with his Temple on Kattada, but the New Jedi Order and their approach to the galaxy was just as important as anything else he could find. The Jedi found their own balance, one Order a Shield, the other a Sword, and the Wayseekers, the ones between, were able to make their own goals and ambitions, they were the ones who were the glue of the Orders. Wayseekers would have it easier, being between Orders and on their own, but he knew what would happen with the New Jedi Order.

It could affect all Jedi.

Yes, he wasn’t here to lead, he was here to support and advise. His war was over, but it seemed that the war of being a Jedi was just beginning. Stepping aboard the ship, his own craft having clearance, the Jedi Master stepped to where the meeting was. He had an idea of what was about to unfold, but he wasn’t positive. Dark gold robes with navy trim, the robes of the Master of Kattada, had made his way to the ship, knowing he felt a summons in the Force.

Stepping his way to what felt like the source was, he saw Master Asmundr Varobalder Asmundr Varobalder , the Protector. So, this wasn’t a war summons. Interesting.

Leon Gallo Leon Gallo
 
if they're watching anyways


"Master Varobalder is the most experienced seer I know. I'm not sure if he, ah- has them in the same way you do, but I'm sure he'll be able to help." Auteme gave an encouraging smile.

Sundara had not been with them long, but her gift -- or curse, as some might see it -- was clear from the start. Auteme had some experience with more 'out of control' manifestations of the Force, though the last had been sudden surges of power rather than crippling visions. All she knew was that Sundara needed help, and she would give it however she could.

It was a stroke of luck that Asmundr's first meeting of seers was now. As gifted as Auteme seemed, the Force rarely gave her clear visions, and rarer still were they intentional. With a bit of encouragement, she had managed to get the Devaronian oracle to come to the Prosperity with her -- a sort of gift to Master Varobalder. If anyone could keep up with the giant's wandering eyes, it was Sundara.

Unless...

"Er, Sundara- are you able to focus your sight, summon it when you want to? Or... are they all... unintentional?" She paused outside the meditation sphere's entrance.
 
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The corners of the Sundara's mouth twitched into a tightlipped smile of her own, not quite able to match the warmth in Auteme's. "I certainly hope so."

It had been some time since the Devaronian had set foot in a temple of any sort. A varied combination of events, some her own mistakes, others just sheer happenstance, had made sure of that. After so much distance, it should've been an easy affair to drift into civilian life. But with no resume outside of the Jedi and no real roots elsewhere, the road to normalcy was a sheer mountainside. And that was without taking visions into account.

She'd tried seeking aid before, just as she'd tried blocking out the visions entirely. For one reason or another, however, all she'd tried thus far had been in vain. It was maddening, driving the Jedi further and further away from any order, in hopes that stepping away from the galactic eye would allow her to fade into obscurity. But there was only so much running a person could do. And now, once-strong features had almost literally shrunk under the pressure.

But then came Auteme's question, causing the knight to pause and ponder. "Well, uh, I haven't exactly wanted to. Not outside of combat, anyway. Even then, it's less intentional, more survival." Her voice faded as she cast another glance at the sphere's entrance, blue eyes bright with apprehension.

"You know, maybe this isn't the right meeting for me to sit in on," she started, the words gushing out before her brain caught up and eventually coming to a halt as she forced herself to take a breath. "I mean, I can listen to whatever there is to be said, maybe speak to Master Varobalder afterward, but actually contribute to this meeting? We'd have better luck having a youngling try."
 
Padawan. How long had he been one? Years now, at least since he’d rejoined the order. In terms of skill, Leon felt he could give most knights and even some masters a run for their money. But he knew damned well he was far from being ready to face the trials…

“I’ve been having nightmares. I can barely sleep.”

There was something else bothering the Padawan, the constant presence of a river of spirits. Ever since he’d first been taught to channel the power and emotions of the dead, they’d been there, at the edge of his mind. Too long pushing himself opened himself to the stream, and too long waist deep in the dead would drag him along with the tide. Pair that with the visions he’d had each time, and the boy wasn’t sure he should share that.

Master Varobalder’s presence was calming, and the Padawan’s breathing was relaxing. The fear and panic that’d gripped him a few minutes before was gone, and even the lasting uneasiness typically left over was fading.


Asmundr Varobalder Asmundr Varobalder Auteme Auteme Sundara Nyveit Sundara Nyveit Coren Starchaser Coren Starchaser
 
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OPBiVYj.jpg

THE WARDEN
TO BRING A LIGHT TO THE DARKNESS
THE NEW JEDI ORDER | PROSPERITY | PURIFIED MEDITATION SPHERE

To fight ignorance through knowledge;
To act as the guardians of life;
To bring light to the darkness;
To serve others, rather than rule;
To always seek betterment;
To be the light in the dark

cj2JhgK.png


“I’ve been having nightmares. I can barely sleep.”

The only reason Asmundr smiled, was because the second part was well apparent in the way Leon carried himself. Weary bones tended to sink into the ground a bit more, the husk they supported slinking about with a drag. That much had been clear in his approach.

He put a hand on Leon's shoulder, not too heavy so that he might crumble beneath the weight of the palm, but enough for the Padawan to rest assured he had the Master's focus –– despite his attention shifting temporarily to Coren Starchaser Coren Starchaser .

"Master Starchaser, thank you for coming." He looked relieved. "It's good to see you." In real life, not just as a spectral string interconnected to all the other tessellated patterns in his mind's eye.

"I'm sure you too have familiarity with nightmares." He gave a nod, an invitation to join if he wished and also an attempt to normalize the distress that welled within the Padawan in front of him.

"I know I do. That's..partly why I'm asking for help as well." Shifting his golden gaze back to Leon, he pulled his hand back and let it hang loosely, open to the dialogue.


"You're doing the right thing, Leon. Talking about what keeps you up at night –– do you want to tell me about these nightmares?"

 
if they're watching anyways


Auteme recognized part of herself in Sundara's words -- a vicious hesitation, a fear unbecoming of a Jedi. Not a malicious or dangerous fear, but a quiet one, a constant one. Auteme had not conquered it entirely, but she knew how only a little encouragement could change a life, and wash away the indecision.

"I won't force you," she said, "but I think you should attend. Maybe this time you don't do anything, maybe you just listen; no one here has any expectations, there are no standards for you to hold yourself to, other than the ones you set yourself."

She paused a moment, before again giving a warm smile -- the sort that shone with an endless patience and quiet support. She wanted Sundara to feel welcome and relaxed. "Even if you feel like you have nothing to contribute to the meeting, the meeting might have something to contribute for you."

Did that sound a bit weird? Definitely, but confidence was half the battle, so Auteme didn't show any sign of hesitancy. Funny -- when she was among most of her other peers, she always did the most second-guessing. It was like Sundara had sapped out all the nervousness.

"After you," she said, gesturing to the door.
 
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Her lips compressed to a thin line. She'd expected some sort of push back, maybe even relied on it, but the far more gentle approach had her temporarily at a loss for words. The Devaronian's mouth opened and closed as if to argue, though no words made it out.

And finally, a reluctant sigh. As nerve-wracking as the whole ordeal was, there was wisdom in Auteme's words. Just as there was no wisdom in letting Sundara's own nerves get in the way of, well, anything. "But what if I ruin it?" She was taking back the words almost as quickly as they came out. "Well, no, that's unlikely, I know." But what if? She could keep going with the mental gymnastics of what-ifs and worst-case scenarios.

"You're right, I know. Well, I think." A hand reached out toward the door before hesitating, hovering back and forth between moving forward and continuing to hide before eventually resting on the door itself. The moment contact was made, she quickly drew back a fraction, as if she'd expected the door to bite or be scalding and was surprised to discover otherwise.

"I hope, at least. What could go wrong, right?" With one last steadying breath, she moved to actually open the door.
 
if they're watching anyways
"We could be beset by Starweirds, or ambushed by the Sith, or the electrons of the oxygen in the air could decide that their probability field is a sham and all hide in the corner of the room for a good minute so we can all suffocate, but those things tend to be unlikely." Not that it was terrible to worry about those things (Auteme did often), just that it was irrational.

"Focus on what you can do. If your visions come, if it hurts, it's not your fault, nor is it permanent." With her last bit of advice given, Auteme waited a moment until the door opened, then stepped inside.

Asmundr was there, of course, and Leon, who looked like he hadn't been sleeping well; the Prosperity tended to cater to one's worst sleeping habits, and she knew a bit about the stresses he faced. Then there was the robed wanderer, Coren.

"Master Starchaser," she said, stepping over and giving a respectful nod, "always a pleasure. I hope your experience will help guide this new circle of seers."

For a moment she glanced to Master Varobalder. Though few were present, it felt appropriate to begin this first meeting.
 
The towering Jedi master was a beacon of light, and with his hand on Leon’s shoulder, a pillar of comfort. The Padawan Nodded to the newly-arrived Jedi Master, before beginning to speak.

“They started after Brentaal,” The words nearly caught in his still-dry throat. “Ever since I’ve barely slept.”

“I-I see mostly things that have already happened. The time before I joined the order. The Field of Blades. The monsters on Brentaal. My duel on Korriban. The horrors of Ziost.”


He stopped for a moment, then spoke again.

“I see things that I haven’t seen with my eyes yet. I see a figure, all in red. He has a red lightsaber, but he looks different from that Sith we fought on Korriban.”

After that, Leon stopped. He wasn’t sure if he should tell Master Asmundr about the rest. The ghosts, the tide of death. How that figure had his face. How he’d been taught to channel the dead, likely by a Sith ghost.

 
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OPBiVYj.jpg

THE WARDEN
TO BRING A LIGHT TO THE DARKNESS
THE NEW JEDI ORDER | PROSPERITY | PURIFIED MEDITATION SPHERE

To fight ignorance through knowledge;
To act as the guardians of life;
To bring light to the darkness;
To serve others, rather than rule;
To always seek betterment;
To be the light in the dark

cj2JhgK.png


Asmundr listened attentively, with each location Leon Gallo Leon Gallo had visited, the nightmares seemed to follow. Brentaal was a long, long time ago. It had been one of the darkest times before the dawn of The New Jedi Order. In understanding to the intensity of the timeline, he made a small sound of understanding at the base of his chest.

"Darkness tends to envelop the soul." He murmured somberly, "It's heavy with all it's nothingness. But the light, Padawan, that light within you can crack through and lift you back up. It's keeping you alive, and preparing you it sounds like."

Those he had felt on the other side of the doorway entered, and it appeared there were no more.

"Stay, Padawan Gallo. Your burdens are not alone, and I'd like to talk through this with you further –– I imagine this figure you see, this Red Knight, may have some overlaps with why I've asked for help from everyone."

He gave an invitational nod and gesture, by way of introduction to the collection of Auteme Auteme , Coren Starchaser Coren Starchaser and Sundara Nyveit Sundara Nyveit to Leon. Those that had heard his beckon were few, but better than none.

"Thank you all for coming, and thank you for your patience. I trust it's unnerving to receive a call through The Force and I apologize for that but I need your help." Asmundr navigated swiftly to the purpose of their collection.

"Darkness is rising. Csilla was the first of many, many more horrors on the galaxy –– I trust you've already felt this. This is not new. But I feel there's something closer. A war that's encroaching us that we need to be prepared for, to help The Alliance and Jedi see and ready themselves as much as possible.

My vision is contaminated after the destruction of the Chiss' homeworld. The clarity which I could connect with, foresee with, is diluted. My hope is, that with your help, and other seers that you may know or have yet to respond to my plea, we could combine our efforts in preparedness and peer into what the threads of time's tapestry, and perceive a pattern together.

Perhaps some of you have already begun to see, to feel it."
An invitation for those in attendance to speak up.


 
He had been a bit quiet in this conversation so far. Coren Starchaser was a Jedi of many groups, but lately he was doing his best to not throw his breed of being a Jedi, more specifically a Jedi Wayseeker, down anyone’s throat. The other Orders had stood without him, and while he was here to support the New Jedi Order, he supported all Jedi who were not using the title of their Ancient Order to masquerade as raiders and conquerors. The Sith should be dealt with, but even Coren was mellowing on the how.

Protect the people, be the light in the darkness.

For Light and Life

But there was darkness out there. The fall of Csilla weighed on Coren’s mind, the same as it would for any Jedi, not just some who lived on the world for a spell. “The death of the world is very… devasating. I lived and trained among the Chiss peoples in my youth.” The was before Coren Starchaser was frozen in carbonite, when he was a practitioner of the dark side.That was a life time ago, carbonite, the death of his first wife, and the absence of his children’s youth provided the man today much to temper him.

“I have been working to approach and determine the more inner workings of the Light Side… There are the challenges, and I will admit I am not much of a seer. But the Force, that I do know. It’s a matter of finding the connection again, and accepting loss…”
Not that there was much any one Jedi could do. He was curious how they handled the loss of worlds in the past.
 
Where some were beset with nightmares, visions of the dead haunting them day and night, and others with unwanted glimpses of the future, and all held under the veil set in the Force by the destruction of Csilla, the cold presence of a spectre suffusing the air around them could go easily unnoticed, for a time. The Warden's call had not gone unheeded by other entities who swam the currents of the empyrean, and as it had often been through the millennia, where Jedi gathered, other beings followed.

To feed.


To destroy.
To corrupt.
Or, perhaps, simply to observe, and aid.

The dark spirit settled like a shroud over the collective, making its presence more noticeable, a miasma that filled the room. Touching all of those present, observing, sensing. Doubt. Fear. Pain. The presence grew stronger for a moment, more solid; the stench of decay feeding into the room, and a mindless pain to dwarf that that the others were feeling.

But they also held hope, courage, and affection. Few beings to exist could truly claim to be free of either end of the scale, the vast majority somewhere in the middle. In every light, a shadow cast; and in his shadow, so many motes of light, struggling to shine through the wider sheets of pain and death that had been laid over the galaxy. The miasmic shadow withdrew, coalescing into a single point—

—And just as suddenly, out from one corner of the space stepped Tsisaar Taral, as he had appeared during the attack on Coruscant, the fall of the previous Galactic Alliance, years before, rather than the twisted, rotting, living corpse he had become. The spectre raised one arm, glancing at it curiously. "If only it were so easy to make this imagination a reality," he mused to himself, the hiss of a distant chorus of voices suffusing the dominant, rumbling tones that were the former voice of the freshly-minted Lord of Rot.

And he turned, facing ethereal eyes on the leader of the group.

"Master Varobalder," he said, giving a polite bow. "You called?"

Asmundr Varobalder Asmundr Varobalder Coren Starchaser Coren Starchaser Auteme Auteme Leon Gallo Leon Gallo Sundara Nyveit Sundara Nyveit
 
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OPBiVYj.jpg

THE WARDEN
TO BRING A LIGHT TO THE DARKNESS
THE NEW JEDI ORDER | PROSPERITY | PURIFIED MEDITATION SPHERE

To fight ignorance through knowledge;
To act as the guardians of life;
To bring light to the darkness;
To serve others, rather than rule;
To always seek betterment;
To be the light in the dark

cj2JhgK.png


Asmundr nodded solemnly as Coren Starchaser Coren Starchaser drew a parallel of his history to his immersion with The Chiss. Even now, talking reflectively, it was difficult to imagine a world, a civilization, just gone. The words said it. The heart felt it. The mind –––

It’s a matter of finding the connection again, and accepting loss…”

Hmmmm. The viking nodded, moving his hands from behind his back to fold across his abdomen, the other scratching his beard in thought. His tone was heavy, acknowledging his own inability to overcome loss.

"Acceptance is a world of its own."

And then the room's composition shifted. Not the physical structure, but the metaphysical representation. What had been light, full of hope and curiosity turned into something indescribable. Dark. The intentions weren't known.

But they were polite.

He supposed, that achieving Oneness on Korriban broadened his reach within The Force.

"I did." He replied plainly, calmly –– though he squinted at the spectre in fascination. "And you chose to respond –– you know the purpose of my outreach, then?"

 
The spectre shrugged.

"Somewhat, you could say. Forgive me, I've been a bit...f̵͓̤̝̈́̋̐̈̈́̀͜͠͝ͅȓ̸̲͖̟̲̟͖̬͊̌͋̂á̸̢͉͈̬̫͖́̏g̸̤̞̈̍͂̒̊m̸̧͙͈͖͉͓̰̪̄͊ͅȩ̷͚̩̫̹̗̻̥͚͓̺̪̈́͛̀͐̎̚n̴̢͕̘͙̬̰͚̺̥̂̇̌̉̓t̸͎͚̲̯̺̖̩͕͕̰͊̔͐͒e̷̡̧̱̯̹̺͚̜̙̩̽̇̃̓ḑ̷̮͈̠͎̟͓̖̦̜̗̺̟̄ lately. Hard to catch everything." Rare was the day that Tsisaar didn't find himself subject to some new horror of the cosmos, after all.

Well, perhaps subject wasn't the right word. Witness, however...

"Your...sight, yes? The veil of darkness lies thick and heavy over the galaxy, Varobalder, the efforts of my former comrades have not been entirely lacking in success, though they are all too often lacking in thought. And when they do have thought, they entirely lack understanding, wisdom, and the like." The spectre turned, looking around, though clearly the gaze was not focused on anything within the room.

Almost as though it was watching for something else.

It turned back to Varobalder, and the visage seemed to shift for a moment. Rotting, decaying, the stench coming again—flesh sloughing off bone—pain, rage—and more; the screams of the innocent, the agony of a billion souls dying at once, and the massive void left behind after such devastation. Then, in an instant, everything snapped back to how it was before. "I understand I am hard to trust, such as I am. You've little to fear from me, however; I'm not so blind to the realities of the galaxy as to continue our ancient enmity without reason."

Again, that far off, searching look. Then, again, the voice but...like before. The shift, the change.

The voices, as of millions of voices crying out in terror, suddenly silenced, yet still screaming beyond the grave.



"Y̶̢͈͎͔͇̩͎̺̼̠̘͆ǫ̷̧̹͙̫͈̫͓̎u̶̡̪͍͕͚͌̉̒̆̔̀̂̾̎̑͊͜ͅr̸̗͠ ̸̧̡̪̥̯̮̩͔̩͕͓̎͛̋̊̐̿̃̄͌̂̀̋s̶̛̗̼̺̹̯̬̯̦̐͒̅̉́̽̇͘͜î̵̢͍̗̞̓͗̈́ģ̶̛͙̝̥̘͕̂̂́͘h̶̲͎̞̊̈́̒́̓͛̃͐͆̉̆t̶̪͍̻̗͆̒̾̐͝ͅ ̴̢̧̞̦̬͕̜̻̜͙̘͌̅̀͐̊̚ǐ̵̳͓͈͒̽̇̈́̊̒̇̚ͅs̶̡̜̬͆̄͗̈́͋͐̾̉̚͜͝͠ͅ ̴̡̛̰͑͐͒̉̍̚̕c̷̨̯̜̻̠̦͙͍̙̊̎́̊̄͠l̷̨̲̼̱̜̗̤͈̳̺̤̘͔̽͛́̋̾͌͗͊͋́̔o̷̺͙͔̦̱̝͍̻̽͆̎ư̷̝̱̣̙̐̑͐d̵̞̩̺̗̮͙̟͖͔̹͖͗́͛̆͜ë̴̯͕͇̍̐̂͑̊́͋̀͠ḑ̴͔̭͓̱͓͈̿͌̄͋͒͘̕͘͝ͅͅͅͅ.̸͈͎̈̈́͊͋̍̃̎͋͂ ̸̻̩̙͓̥͈̬͉̾̈́̅̿͜T̴̢̲̻̔͋̎͆͌͝͝ḩ̸̗̤̗̠̬̲̰̃ę̸̣̲̻͕̗͍̑̀ͅs̵̛͚̰̗̜͚̦̔͑͊̔͋̿̔ę̸̨̟͎̞͈͓͉̿̍͌͑ ̶͈͓̗͍͔̹̞̳̑s̷̼̃̿̒͂̑̕͘͝o̶̤͎͐͠ų̶͎̼̫͓̟̮͓͕̽̕l̵͔͚̰̺̽s̶̢̰͕̥̀͂̓̐̓̀̉͑ ̸̢̛̪̝͗͊͌̊̈̕͜a̶̡̢̛̛͙̟͖̩͈̯̙͓͌̿̊̅̀̌̍̍̍̕͘͜ͅr̶̨̡̛̬̰̺͔̟̰̙̺̋̐̊́̕͠ͅȩ̶̛͙͈̹́̎́́̚ ̷͕͉͇͔̦̹̝̀̍̓̓̾͌͑̀̌̚͜ļ̶̖̲̥̾ͅơ̷͔̝̅̅͒̕͝s̵̢̢̭̩̬͖̗̞̗͍̚͜t̵̟̳̣̩͎͒̌͘.̷̡̱̦̞̺͓͔̿ͅ ̷̨̢̨̛̛̼͓̩̘̀͗͗̈̋̅̾̇̉͂̊P̴͎̭͇̂͝e̶̱̣̿͑̈́͛̽̑͋̑r̴̦̓h̶͉̻̪̼͓͙͔̓̀a̵̡̧͔̹̞͉̮͊̈̊͋͛̿́p̶͕͓̩̻̼͙̱̳͒̿̆̈́̀͛̌͘̕̚͜͝͝s̴̛̫͉̯̟̹͕̲͙͍̖͙̃̿̐ͅ,̷̡̧̯͖̭͔̪͎̣͓̗̓͋͆̑͂̑̂́̈́ͅ ̵͚̘̰̅͛́͂̑̑̃̏͠t̴̡͊̐͛̋̂ò̸̞͙͓̮͙̖̼̋̍̃̽̄̊̒̃̉͝g̵̡̗͔̦̣͖͚̞̻̱̽͑̂̄̌͊̈́̔̐̕͠͝ͅͅè̶̛͉̘̫͇̻̰̜̳̝̟͖͍̄͗̉͋́̀͝͠ẗ̵̖̯̠́̄̈̽̃͛̔͒̀͜͝h̸̡̡̖̰̤͍̬̙͚͕̖̖̜͐̃̄̀̿̈̎e̸̢͓͈͖͇̺̲̭̝̩͗̀̑̉̽̈̕͜ͅr̸͇͇̮̙̦̥̃̏̽̓̋̑͆͘͘,̵̢̡̨̞̘̦̘̟͔̹͓̖̎̃̀̒̐͊͘ͅ ̵̣̪̥̝͂̂̇̈́̉͊w̷͓͇̋͗̓͘e̴̲̳̪͙̮̦͕̘͂̏̌͊̈́̉̀̐͂͋̈́͜ ̶̡̟͕̬̹̭͓̰̘̐͛͌̈́͊c̴̳̈̍͗͂ḁ̵̌͆͝ͅn̸̟̺̼͙̯̲̲̩͋̍̾͑ ̷̧̨̝̝͑͒̐̈́̏̍͆̒̎͛̎͜͝͠ạ̵͓̟̗̦͖̬̲̭̓͊̀͂̔̿͂͘͜i̴̥̮̥̫̟̐̑̄̒̏̇͆̑͆͜͠d̴̲̩̥̑̈́̓́̆̄ ̴̳̗̬̮̳̓͂̓̔͋̒̿́̒̑̄̎ṫ̴̟͍͍͎͉̈́͛̿̍͛̅̔̾͘̚h̶͖̝͍̦̪̖̤͒̍̎́͂̌͗̋̊͗́̚͝ͅe̶̜̰̯̬̋͝m̸̺̤̗͚͓̣̗̭̤͋̄̽̐͌̔̎͛̃͝,̵̨̡̜͉͕͈͚͙̬̗͈̣͇͐͌̓ ̸̢̱̱̗̮̗̤̎́͗̇̐͌͂͗͆͆͠͝a̴̟̫͉̤̭͔̗̘̫͍͙̖̳̽̈̈̓̈́͂̈͛̆̚n̴̪͖̦̪̺̿̈́̕d̴̫̬͖̒̄͂̇͊ ̵̨̙͈̺͇̗̯̰̦̭̘͉̊̂̏̐̆̆͝y̵̪̤̤͈͍̠̙̹͍̠̔͆̀̎̈́͊̽̾͝ͅő̸͙̖̬͙̦͍͋͒ù̵̢͕̱͎̥̥̣̠̤̖̒͒͌͆̌̐̓͝͝ŗ̶̺̪̫͉̦̜̞̜̮̞̰̋̍̋̕ͅś̷̡̨̹̝͍̜̰̗̖͔̯ę̶̰̭̼͗͌̾̽̓̋͗̅̏͐͘̚l̴̨̖͙͎̳̜̙̮̲̖͔͙͉͂͂̄͒́̇̈́͌̑̀̚̚͝f̴̱͋̄̿͋̒̈̂̍̎͊͊̈́̓.̴̨͉̼̱̦̹͇͇̬͓̟̼̼́͛"



Asmundr Varobalder Asmundr Varobalder
 
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THE WARDEN
TO BRING A LIGHT TO THE DARKNESS
THE NEW JEDI ORDER | PROSPERITY | PURIFIED MEDITATION SPHERE

To fight ignorance through knowledge;
To act as the guardians of life;
To bring light to the darkness;
To serve others, rather than rule;
To always seek betterment;
To be the light in the dark

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When the spectre spoke, distortion danced around their words. For the most part, Asmundr could unflinchingly understand the darksided presence, but when certain sentiments aired he felt his mouth pull into a grimace. He hoped by former comrades that meant the ill-intentioned. And that was a thing of the past.

He was about to question the statement and participate in a bout of dialogue when the room shifted. His cheeks fell, the temperature dropped, and he felt his senses entirely assaulted by the fractals of pain that had been clinging to his psyche for months. And then, as quickly and all-encompassing as it had arrived –– the experience was over.

Parts of it resurfaced in the final delivery, all those voices unified and harmonious in distress. It was gruelling on his nerves. And, shamed to admit, the venerable Jedi master was flummoxed by the event. The catastrophe of Csilla hemorrhaged his heart, and his stoic expression dropped into something more pained, looking to the Sith with a peculiar sense of searching.

The question of Why was starting to form on the tip of his tongue, but he withheld.

Lost souls. Aiding lost souls. Aiding himself. Healing.

That why turned into a meek: "How?"



Shade of Decay Shade of Decay | Coren Starchaser Coren Starchaser | Auteme Auteme | Leon Gallo Leon Gallo | Sundara Nyveit Sundara Nyveit
 
"This...v̸̢̝̐̈́̈́̉͐͛̾e̴͇̭͕̓̎î̴̘̈̓̂͠l that has been placed over the galaxy by the other Sith blankets everything. Your sight, and that of your fellows, included. I have no doubt that through numbers alone you could manage to pierce it, gazing deep into the b̵̡̨̛͉̮̦͊l̵̇͊͝͝á̷̛͓̏̄̇̓͠c̶k̶̐̋n̴̨͓͈͔̩̑̓̑͒e̴̳͛s̴͈̝̿͝s̶ and the p̸͎̫͋͜͠a̶͒͌͘i̶̖̥̐͠n̴̜͆ to find that which you seek. But it would take many, and would prove quite the effort, likely wasted, just as with the ancient Jedi before P̶̦̜͠ͅà̵̞̻̣̥̤̘̘̏̊̈́͆̉͛̿l̶̹̫̾͛̈́̚p̴̲̺͍͌̈̇̚ȁ̷̢͉̣̣͠t̴̩̽̔͋͜͝i̶̧͚̪̮̫̘̊͜n̶̨͔̩̥͙̘̯̈́̀̉̕͜ȩ̸̺̖̟͖̅'̴͕̋͂͘s̷̥͇̝̈́͆̾̏̔̂͝ ̸̜̦̅̈́̑Ṕ̴͔̗̳̻̅̃̂ư̴̪̳̗̊̏̀̕r̵̲͛̌́͝ḡ̵̖̎e̴͇̊́̀͋̚."

Tsisaar struggled inwardly, a constant fight to maintain primacy over all the voices constantly striving to speak out through his voice now. Worse still was the knowledge that this effort for dominion over his own soul wasn't due just to all the others he had picked up, but the fracturing caused by years of darkness and decay playing upon his cloned brain. The spectre closed its eyes, as Tsisaar laid his heavy will atop all the others that fought for prominence.

He had survived, for decades, despite every card in the deck being stacked against him, through sheer force of will. He would not allow anything to take his very mind from him so easily.

When he spoke again, it was as though the spectre he spoke through became somehow more solid, more real, in response to the enforced stabilization upon it.

"I have been ranging the shallows of the Netherworld for some time, Asmundr Varobalder Asmundr Varobalder , keeping watch over the galaxy. Any interest I had in the workings of other Sith is long since gone, save for creatures such as Voracitos. I could not allow him to consume so many lost souls just to appease his insatiable hunger and sense of grandeur. He has long since lost sight of any larger goal beyond slaking his own lusts." The spectre wavered, growing again more intangible.


"But I am not yet capable of delving deep into the world after without losing myself to it. It has been pulling against me for quite some time, and for the sake of a great many things, I can not yet allow myself to be severed from my mortal tether. But I can make you a path through the veil, a tunnel into that pure land from whence your vision springs.

"A̴͍̙͇̰̥̯̳̾̂n̶̪̙͍̎ď̶̢͍̲̜̬̳̺ ̷͕͑y̴̯̹̾͒̏ò̴̹̣̝̠̐̋̀̑͌̋͜ͅu̷͖̠̬͋̂̅̅͋̌͠r̴͖̘̬͎̾͝ ̶̧̖̙̻͖͗̒͛̚p̵̗̐̃̓͗̃̄̿͝ŗ̷̛͉̒͌̀͒̕͠͠ę̶̮̪̤̝̭͇̜̃͋s̴̲̍ë̶̛̞̽̔ņ̶̬̲̤͖̙̭̾̽͋̀c̸̨͇͈̰̫͈͖̑e̶̬̋̚͝ ̸̭̈́̿̿̈́̎w̷̛̩͒̈́̑̍̕͜ĩ̴̗̾̅͒͒͠͝ľ̸̟̲̥̔̎̃̕͝l̴̡̳͂̀ ̴͇̝͛͌͂͊̃̚ṕ̶̧̛͙̭̘͈͓̓r̸̨̧̛͉̟̟̦̭͌͝o̷̢̢̨̜̙̤̙͐̾̎̋̑ͅţ̷̺̥͎̝͔̐̽̌ĕ̶̡͎c̸͎͔͔̬̮̑̀́̅͐̈́͜͜͝ͅt̸͔̠̖̬̿̑ ̵̢̖͍̟̪̝̙̫̊ṫ̶̰̟̭͔͙̫̎́̽̉h̵͇̫̝̠͉̗̿ĕ̷̛̘̦̪̩̽͌̽͘s̷̬̩̭̭̽̂̅̓̈́͝e̴̢͇̫͖̱̯̓̒͊͂̀̉̚͠ ̸̡̨̘͕̹͖̥̞̾̅̈́̔̒̈́̅̓š̷͇̣̭́ͅp̴̛͍̈́̑͝ḭ̴̮̔̉̔̀̚͜͝r̸̛̛̜̲̮͎̱͂͐͋̃i̴͎͎̭̲͇͒͊̈́͗̓͆͘ṭ̸̡̡͈͓̀̔̇͒s̸̰̮͈̤̲͉̳̿͘,̷̬͉̠̘̩̹̀͒͝ ̴̰̥̫̭̪͇͋a̸͕̩̮̲͕̝̋̈́̑́n̸̡̲̈́̌́̒͒d̴͖̝̘̘̦̭̰̄͋͜ ̶̧͓͉̰̳̫͋͌̂̇͑̄g̷̻̖̭̯̼̉̔́͜ù̵̞͎̤̪̼̰͇̈́͋̿͘̕͘i̷̛͖͖͗̄̈̔͗̑͘d̸͍̣̓̄̂͛͝e̶̛͖͊͋̾̋͊͝ ̵̨̰̱͈̝̄͘t̸̤̩͊̈͋̈̓̚h̶̼̦̞̃̉̉͐͝ë̴͙̥͉́͜ͅm̵̳̒̆̊̇͘͝ ̷̝̙̺͇̥͑̇͑̾̚͠t̶̻̬͙̗̳͕͉̎͋ơ̶͎̄ͅͅ ̸̡̯̣̠̽͒̌̑̌͊̄͠w̵̖̝̟̙̜͈̏̈ͅh̸̡̝͔͑̋̂̅̆͜͠ͅe̴̻̿r̶͈̜̲̿̒̓̑͠ͅḛ̶̡̈̊͐͗͗ͅ ̵̧̛̼̞͉͈̂͜t̶̳̀̀̎̀͊͑̈͘h̵̲̻̻̙͈͒e̵͇̮͕͖͜͝ÿ̴̖͖̮́̿̈́̂̈̊͜ ̶̭͙̹̖͐̌b̴̧̘͍̲̖̦̤̑̓e̶͙̦͔̿̎͝l̷̻̩͓̻̀͆͆̽̒̇̕͝ö̵̳̖̫̼̫́͛̔͗ͅͅǹ̶͈̺̘͓̹͝ͅg̷̭͆̎͌̆̊͐́̕.̴̨̧̱̜̦̋͑̌͒͊̕"
 
if they're watching anyways
Fragmented as the specter's presence was, Auteme could still sense an intensity in it, like a far-off calling to an ancient power, a gust of wind in remembrance of a hurricane now faded -- or perhaps, one on its way.

Asmundr seemed stunned. Perhaps she should've been as well, but her sight was far more limited, and far more youthfully naïve. There was a pause, letting the frightening man speak, but Auteme found a touch of boldness that allowed her to speak.

"Who are you? And what reason do you have to help us?" The darkness in the specter's presence turned away her instincts to trust.
 

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