Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Girl Talk [Invite]

Azurbani System
Kiffu Palace

Kiskla wiped her tired eyes as she looked at the blue screen erected before her. Since her meeting on Necropolis, she'd been working tirelessly to reach out to former members of The Jedi Order who had defected in one way or another. Before meeting The Dark Lord, she'd had the idea to reach out to the Grandmasters but now she saw it was more than that.
So far, nobody on the council had given her a second glance or questioned her absences, which suited her just fine. She'd approach them soon enough, once she had enough information and reason beyond her own.

Another source of this information was a contact Ashin Varanin had mentioned; @[member="Rosa Mazhar"].
It was not the first time she had heard the name. Well, it was the first time she'd heard the last name. Darron, in sharing his memories with her via a simulation of flow walking, had shared the name Rosa. There was little beyond that. Nevertheless, it was the name Kiskla was reaching out to now as a member of the Vagrant Fleet and a conscientious abandoner of The Order.

Kiskla needed information and reasoning beyond her own inclinations to the current direction of the Jedi. Initially, she hadn't minded it's more assertive ways but now, they were growing to be so large that the republic was opening itself to weaknesses. Patches and issues that it could not afford to expose; something Kiskla was reaching out to sew as well as she knew how. To explore the whys.

The opinions if the defected were important. They'd left The Order because they didn't agree with it. Kiskla was, as usual, on the fence. But she preferred to work from the inside in order to be effective. She'd established herself as a worthy warrior and councillor; she could have some sway on The Republic now. But she needed sources and the time for them was accelerating and so her message went like this;

Greetings,
You likely don't know me, but I've heard you've a strong definition on what it means to be a Jedi. I have a feeling it's been some time since someone from The Republic opened correspondence with you, and I'd like to be the person that bridges that gap. I understand that you are an active traveller, and if Kiffu is within your travels, I'd like to connect with you there, bring whom you wish.

Dragging Rosa into Republic space would be unadvisable. But Kiffu? That was her territory. The comings and goings of those ships were under her jurisdiction moreso than the Protectorate-- who were distracted with other things.

Landing codes for an uninterrupted arrival will be detailed at the close of this message.
I appreciate your attention, and I look forward to meeting you.

Sincerely,
Kiskla Grayson, Councillor of Reconciliation.

L12-R14-113



@[member="Seroth Ur-Rahn"]
 

Rosa Gunn

Guest
R
Somewhere Between Fringe and Protectorate Space.
Aboard the Iron Snake

"Change course." Rosa said sharply, climbing into the cockpit, having read Kiskla's message. Rosa had made a vow, a claer defined one that said she would never join with the Republic again, nor would she join an Order that was a slave to them. That was why she had ended up at the Conclave. But with publicity like the 'Battle for Democracy' their private little world was about to get shattered. Wasn't that why they had spent a standard month in hyperspace? so they could get their hands on Tibanna gas and build themselves another hiding place? This message tolod Rosa that time was running out. Ignoring it would do nothing to help matters. Better to show you face and ask to be left in peace, than continue to hide and have them dig you up.

When Seroth protested, she brought up the message to silence him. "We're going to Kiffu." there was a tone in her voice that said 'don't argue with me' "Change course."

Greetings Councillor,
Our travels are bringing us close to Kiffu. We will be with you by tomorrow.
Regards,
Rosa

Rosa sent the message, leaving Kiskla in the dark about whom she was bringing. Perhaps she was too short in her message but what else could be expected? She drafted another message, encrypted and just as short.

Jax,
Jedi Council has requested I meet them. Seroth and I are heading to Kiffu. Pay attention to the holonet, if we get captured it'll be on there.
Stay out of trouble
Rosa and Seroth
@[member="Jaxton Ravos"]

Her hand found Seroth's and she gave him an apologetic look. "I think I owe you dinner this time."

@[member="Seroth Ur-Rahn"] @[member="Kiskla Grayson"]
 
He read the missive.

Like a black thunderhead, Rosa Mazhar came roaring in powerfully. The lad was busied with an umpteenth set of sensory calibrations; he sat balanced on a dark-grey leather seat, data-slate in one hand, electro-stylus in the other, making minute adjustments to a cannibalized circuit-board. Their cockpit was quiet for the day, mostly. TibannaX sat in code-locked sealant containers tightly stuffed into the Iron Snake's meager hold. It was, for now, their surest bet in maintaining what was becoming rapidly disintegrating anonymity. Ahead they were scheduled to make a brief rest on Annaj and, with luck, trade either words or swords with the Fringe Lords' penultimate Lady. Then with little warning, Rosa shoved a holopad into his fingers, telling him to read. Quickly.

Seroth didn't trust it. He told Rosa so. Slate grey eyes met, battled, and lost to golden hued brown orbs that hardened.

His hands whisked across a summoned holo-board. Kiffu? Then Kiffu it would be. Despite the hazards of skirting gunboat patrolled void-space belonging quite exclusively to the Protectorate. A Councilor of Reconciliation, stationed, waiting, on a Pyre world? Seroth shot Rosa another uneasy glance. To say he trusted her emphatic instincts to a honed degree was understatement. Yet, conspired events on Tund and Contruum broke his trust. Reconciliation could come when chained painfully to electro-bilboes, processed through a Jedi-styled inquisition.

And then Rosa touched to his hand, and all felt well.

The Iron Snake briefly shuddered as Seroth keyed the hyperdrive. Stars all around turned to solid bars of elongating light, lancing past them into infinity. Before them rolled open a hollow corridor edged with corposant energies, so azure it was nigh on indescribable. Hyperspace. The warp, some called it. Ahead, dead center, burned an iris of light that neither grew nor shrunk. It was the only steady constant, Seroth calling it 'the perfect North Star'. Relinquishing the control yokes, he glanced at the navicomp's ETA.

"Hmmmn. We've a day, maybe less."

Those grey eyes looked up. Sometimes, Rosa told him, she found them difficult to admire. They were like watered whetstones. Sparks were shorn off whenever his fervor was lit. Her beau rose, and then bent close and scooped her up like an unwitting bride. "You'll never owe me," Seroth spoke. "I've only ever wanted your sighs..."

He whisked her away. They had to a day to make personal efforts to ready for the waiting audience. Rosa swiftly found herself pressed, denuded, to the fogged tiles of their shared bathroom. Hot water kept in tanked collections spewed down like hellish rain. A tall shadow crossed over her, as thundering and undeniable as she'd been a scant quarter of an hour prior.

Seroth got his sighs.

@[member="Rosa Mazhar"] @[member="Kiskla Grayson"]
 
The fact that she was getting responses reassured her that her actions held merit. Her youthful vision, fuelled by nothing but ambition and the sense that she'd not failed before, seemed to be gaining traction. Which was necessary, considering the ticking of The Republic's clock.

The same building that had hosted The Former Grandmasters was cleared for her new guests; with all the similar arrangements. She didn't know their living conditions, and was therefore prepared to provide should they request it. A select handful of her Guardians had been asked to escort the arrivals from the personal landing pad; their careers as guardians dependent on their secrecy. They didn't question her though, Kiskla had long since established herself as her people's princess. Although, when they turned their backs, she reinstated her hold on The Art of the Small and concealed her identifying tattoos. The Jedi meeting her would not need to know of her royal affiliation; only of her Republic alignment.

The promptness of Rosa's correspondence suggested that there was an agreement. Too long had she, and other Jedi of similar disposition skulked in the shadows, self exiled for their own conscience. Kiskla wasn't just going to help Ashin transition back to the light. She was going to bring the light to them all. To their honour, to their resolve.

But not until The Republic was ready. Kiskla was not on a mission to expose, but rather to reinstate and reinvigorate.


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The next day
Outskirts of Kiffu's Capital City against the Desert Perimeter

Same building. Same six seats. Same tea set. New tea.

Kiskla stood on a balcony that looked at the deserts beyond the city's perimeters. Her hands were behind her back as the sun, the unforgiving sun, best down against her skin. Hosting the past few meetings on her home planet had already given her more pigment than she was used to, which made everything else more extreme in contrast; the blueness of her eyes and the blondeness of her hair, mostly. A breeze slid grains of sand around, shifting the rolls of the dunes ever so slightly. It also ruffled wisps of blonde across her vision, obscuring the landscape before she reached up to tame the stands once more. The wind was foreign here, which likely meant a ship had touched down on the outskirt landing pad. As she had arranged. Her tongue clicked against the roof of her mouth, marvelled by the promptness as promised.

@[member="Rosa Mazhar"] @[member="Seroth Ur-Rahn"]
 

Rosa Gunn

Guest
R
The Iron Snake cut through the atmosphere, its galvanized form slid uninterrupted towards their landing pad. It was a good sign, Kiskla had remained true to her words and she had chosen a location out of the city and out of the Republic. So why did she feel uneasy? Fingers drummed lightly on the console as she chewed the inside of her cheek, brow furrowed in thought. She extened her senses, letting her field of perception reach ahead of them, touching the desert permiter and the city beyond it. There was nothing to make her uncomfortable. No sign of deception, nothing to give her any reason to believe this was more than the message suggested. She retreated and sighed, running a hand over her face.

"I hope I'm right about this." she said quietly. She didn't need to voice her concerns, for her love shared them same ones. They settled upon the landing pad and Rosa rose from her seat as it began to cycle down, golden brown eyes sought slate grey and her worries ebbed away. She gave him a smile, and a soft kiss. Hands locked tightly together and they moved down the landing ramp to meet their escort. Tattooed faces, steel with discipline met them at the base, no words were spoken as they beckoned the pair to follow. She stayed close to Seroth, eyes fixed on the path ahead, continuously poking at the world around them in the force, looking for cracks, for anything out of place. Since when had she become so mistrusting? Perhaps it was because she was dealing with the Republic, a nation who used deception on a daily basis to cover up their faults.

Doors opened before them to reveal a conference room of sorts, Rosa's hand slid from Seroth's and her attitude shifted from concerned Jedi, to practiced politician. They stepped over the threshold and the doors closed neatly behind them. "Master Grayson, I presume?" Rosa offered a smile and a hand. "I'm Rosa," she gestured to Seroth "This is Seroth. I'm surprised the Republic would reach to us, and fascinated to know how you got your hands on contact details for me."

@[member="Kiskla Grayson"] @[member="Seroth Ur-Rahn"]
 
The hall was stocky, thickset and wide but with elongated by a crisp eighteen meters. It resembled not so much a space of political debate as a mead hall. Seroth had seen drinking dens of similar sort, past Terminus, outbound where the Unknown Regions kept up its silence. Or, had. The lad kept his stature soft, unassuming. His shoulders were girded close with a well worn rain cloak, dirtied from forest green to gunmetal grey. Harnesses were buckled and looped on his frame. From one hip hung Huntsman, trusty axe, and on the other, Seydakin, sheathe knife and close companion. They were kept shielded out of gaze by his cloak's ride; it'd be rude to brandish unspoken violence. He watched Rosa fall into a perfect frame of political mindset.

Heat-smoothed walls curled overhead into a low ceiling. Glow lamps with strip-lights were kept recessed in cut alcoves wrought against cinnamon stone. Pillared stanchions rose in six meter intervals. Seroth ran gloved fingers over the paneled duranium. They'd imported Syp wood, though time had dusted its polished luster to this lightless, blunt husk. Their guest was only a scant handful of paces off, by a high chair. The lad glanced her way. Kiskla Grayson, purported Jedi Master, and now Councilor, looked out of place against the squalor. Not a thread nor hair looked unkempt and she appeared dressed to mete out an impression of authority. She reminded him greatly of Rosa: sculpted beauty with natural poise, underlying with power behind a reassuring countenance.

Save that his impressions of Rosa's tanned skin and blonde locks had long indentured his affections. The lad smiled, albeit slightly, to himself. He adjusted a harness buckle and stole in a little closer. The chamber featured paired doors on either end. Besides tall windows fixed with steely filigree and lime-glass, a few scant circulation vent-holes screwed to the stony ceiling, and hints of a stairway gliding down to a second hall-floor, they appeared to be the primary points of entry. The lad stilled, to listen. Force Sense was a localized scan ordinarily consisting of ephemeral impressions. Seroth interpreted the power in its most literal capacity. His ear drums began to dully throb. Gurgles of piped fluid rattled through insulated piping behind the walls. Electric ticks of power-sheets chattered in hidden wiring. Guardians kept up their station outside: one was bothered by indigestion from how his intestinal tract kept protesting. Another was tired; he could hear her long sighs breathe out exhaustion. But they were keeping their peace. Seroth flicked from Rosa, to Councilor, waiting on the conversation.

@[member="Rosa Mazhar"] @[member="Kiskla Grayson"]
 
Heavy steps lumbered toward the door and Kiskla turned from the balcony, fighting away stray wisps of hair before the door opened.
Rosa spoke quickly, before Kiskla could offer salutations but she did cross enough distance to shake the woman's hand, and reached out to the gentleman next to her. So that was Seroth, the warrior Ashin had spoken highly of. While this transpired, The Guardians peeled out of the room, leaving the trio of Force users to their private matters.

"You presume correctly." The young woman confirmed, now gesturing to the spread of seats for their comfort. But Rosa didn't dilly dally and the princess hadn't expected her to. "I'm no slicer," Kiskla replied bluntly. That was obvious, if she had been she probably would have cut more shut eye instead of tirelessly trying to tie up loose ends. "Your breadcrumbs are difficult to trace, I've heard your name, both your names before. Thankfully, the Jedi keep rather detailed records that with the right navigation.. Well." self explanatory.
"But rest assured, it wasn't easy and I doubt you'll be hearing from anyone else from the Republic anytime soon." More like.. Never.

"AndI do appreciate your responding, and your attention to the urgency behind the matter." She followed the pair to the seats and lowered her own frame to sit.
"Perhaps you've heard, but The Empire is weakening under the Republic's doing." She reached for the teapot -- "There've been some outspoken former members of The Order, and even now within The Order too there's unsettlement; worry that the Jedi title is being tarnished under current leadership." She poured three separate cups as she spoke, not yet making eye contact. She had been referring to the HNN broadcast of former Jedi healer from Ithor, one that Ashin suggested she reach out to. He'd be next, unless they wanted to do the leg work for her.
"I reached out to you, as I said, to hear your side of the story. Why you...both initially left in the first place." Two of the cups lifted from their rest and levitated to the individuals across from her. "What warranted your motivation." Nope. Absolutely no beating around the bush.

@[member="Rosa Mazhar"] | @[member="Seroth Ur-Rahn"]
 

Rosa Gunn

Guest
R
Rosa frowned slightly as she took her seat, wondering who else had though to navigate such records. Kiskla's assurance that no one would contact her again did not put her at ease. She was not the only one trying to hide and there were people in the Republic not so diplomatic as the one before her. People who labelled them as traitors. Rosa had no doubt that they would come, it was just a matter of when and how. She glanced to Seroth, but kept her thoughts to herself, wondering if her love was thinking the same as she.

She listened attentively, picking up on things that were not being said. Rosa paid attention to the HNN, she was watching the movements of the Order and the Republic carefully. Old habits die hard, and it helped to keep them ahead of the game. A smile tugged at the corner of her lips, the only outspoken former member of the Republic was Boolon. The rest of them remained hidden, kept their voices unheard, some would call it burying their heads in the sand. Rosa called it choosing not to invest energy in a lost cause. She accepted the levitated cup and set it down upon the table in front of her. "I believe our reasons are similar, but our stories are dramatically different. I've lost a great deal serving the Republic both as a politician and as a Jedi, and ultimately? It has been only to watch it become more like the Empire its so desperate to crush. The Republic is supposed to bring worlds together under diplomatic rule; find a peaceful solution for problems. It is not supposed to oppress and conquer worlds that it believes need their assistance. I lost my child," she paused for a moment, hands moved around her cup as she gathered herself, regardless of her acceptance, saying it never got easier. Especially when her dreams were haunted by a girl she'd never had the chance to meet.

"I lost my child," she repeated, recovering from her stumble "and with her, my faith in the Republic's ability to come back from a downward spiral. As for the Order?" she shook her head "The Jedi are not meant to be a weapon. Yet they are nothing more than that to the Republic."

@[member="Seroth Ur-Rahn"] @[member="Kiskla Grayson"]
 
"...Rosa was at the Raid on Roche."

Her statements now stung with fortified bitterness. Behind her, squared by muted light sheeting down from a high, filigree window, Seroth stood and kept up measured sips of the proffered tea. Scruffy hide-gloves gently slid through the Bothan-porcelain handle, gripping carefully. The lad paused to look back across his shoulder, as sunlight shaded a curtain over his eyes. A year past, perhaps two if the dates could be properly compiled, the Republic and Sith Empire met explosively at the Verpine Roche facilities. Simultaneously, fleets and marines engaged. Jedi met against darker warriors, pitching close combat in viciously tight corridors whilst capital ships tore one another apart. The conflagration both destroyed and made a heady count of notables: Ashin Varanin supposedly perished, Darron Wraith went down as legend, Mikhail Shorn became perhaps the most hated Sith Knight, and Jaxton Ravos with Benjamin Watts proved their indomitable and unbreakable mettle.

But for Rosa, answering her duty, she was awarded with heartbreak, physical agony, and no small degree of emotional grief. Her unborn was taken. Wholesale, virtually crippled, she was abandoned as 'useless'. Despite the shade, the lad's jaw visibly tightened. He turned back, and kept bowed against the muddy sunlight. At some silent, unseen prod, Seroth spoke up again in turn.

"I had departed before then," He explained. "No one seemed to take notice. Everything was in wild build up, readying for the hailstorm; rumour went the Empress herself was leading the Imperial charge at the asteroid field. Some said it was the Republic's best chance to break the Empire's spine, then and there. ...Mayhap they were right, but it broke them as well. I took up beast slaying in the Outer Rim, 'fore the Fringe broke in.

"...Master Grayson, I fought at Cato Neimoidia's subjugation. Like Master Murr, I was invited to stare into the Republic's heart; see just where its conscience lied. Afterwards, Rosa and I tried to lead a small mission skirting Sith space, in a joint effort between ourselves and a trio of Sith agents. The Omni Crisis was in swing. ...With us, we were accompanied by a Ms. Selena Halcyon."

He paused, and drank to steady up his narrative. Bile began to coax its way onto his tongue. "That outing failed. In Halcyon, I discovered a dark illustration of self-righteousness. Of arrogance. Contempt. That she could do no wrong. It was a window into our generation. Master, I... I am as much a hypocrite as the next. But I've never tried to justify it. It's become my failure... This indifference to killing. I've withdrawn because I am no Jedi Knight. When I left, our Order was transitioning from a role of maintaining conscience, morality, and altruism into militarism. Into anger. Into aggression. I saw at Cato Neimoidia that we were beginning to believe in infallibility. That Light makes Right. That, somehow, our label excused us from taking responsibility for our shortcomings. That killing was an acceptable course. We can make war now, and damn billions to its aftermath. ...And they've no one to answer to."

Grey eyes turned. Upon his hips knocked his axe and knife, murmuring in a broken voice. "...We're murderers now. I'm a murderer. And there is no rightness to that... I ran because I couldn't stomach being a monster, behind a name that's meant to mean so much more."
@[member="Rosa Mazhar"] @[member="Kiskla Grayson"]
 
Kiskla listened to the spin of their stories, her elbow against her arm rest and thumb supporting her chin in contemplation. Rosa had suffered personal affliction, and didn't pinpoint individuals as her oppressors, but rather the faction as a whole. Her comparison of The Republic to The Empire was not the first time she'd heard that; even in this week. It seemed The Republic's army was more active than the senators that made their decisions; and The Republic army was manufactured by Jedi rather than trained soldiers. Rosa's sentence after her stumble confirmed this. At the mention of losing a child, Kiskla's brows knit in concern, her gaze quickly betraying her and dropping to Rosa's stomach, then her hands. Had the child been born already? She took a baby to the battlefield? What?

Rosa had spoken with emotion, and Seroth joined the conversation with his own considerations; coated in a different type of concern. Murr? Seroth was speaking of another Master that was recommended to speak with. Her own expression crumpled with the explanation and insight into the current Grandmaster's disposition. It didn't come as a shock, considering the oppressive aggressiveness the Jedi were displaying pillaging and rampaging without considering the implications and reverberations from the rest of the galaxy. It was curious, that Seroth spoke so politely of his comrades by referring to their titling as Master but to Selena, he regarded her as a Ms. with no regards to her position within The Order. They had to know who she had become, after being exiled by the very group she now lead. Kiskla still couldn't wrap her head around that.

Kiskla finally spoke, after a moment of respectful silence hung between the trio. Her stomach tightened as she pursued the conversation, dropping her hand from it's resting place against her chin. She didn't need to reaffirm what they said when they gave definitions of The Order, and what it should be as opposed to what it had become. The Republic could boast it's strength because of Jedi and unfortunately The Order and The Republic were synonymous these days. "The Republic abandoned you after your loss?" Kiskla inquired, perhaps poking too deep into Rosa's painful memories "Or individuals did? If you don't want to answer, that's..completely understandable." She shifted her weight, her lips heavy with a threatening sigh.

"I'm just worried that the minority are spoiling for the majority. Although these days, it's visa versa. The majority are the minority." She pinched the skin between her eyes in a pensive pause before flicking her gaze upwards to the high ceilings "I reached out to you because you were both exemplars of The Order before you abandoned it." And she did mean abandon, they had, in reality departed without considering the affect they could have had from the inside. "And now, you're not involved with the decisions it makes. Your opinions are uninfluenced by anything other than your personal doctrines. You say you're murderers now, what is it you've done after leaving The Order? Does the code have any affect on you, or the ones you travel with?" It couldn't possibly just be those two fending for themselves in the galaxy; Ashin had spoken of far more than Seroth and Rosa. "Do you think The Jedi still have time to make their own paths right once more?"


@[member="Rosa Mazhar"] | @[member="Seroth Ur-Rahn"]
 

Rosa Gunn

Guest
R
Rosa didn't miss much. She saw the gaze drop and the unspoken question form on Kiskla's lips and Rosa let out a soft sigh, realizing she would have to expand on the matter. "The child was not born, Master Grayson. Her life force was pulled from me by Derriphan and its wielder, Mikhail Shorn." The sentence was given with an air of finality, a sign not to press the matter further in terms of details. Her other question though, saw a spike in Rosa's anger. She turned her eyes to the balcony, something dark glittering behind her eyes for a moment before she regained control of herself and looked back.

"Both. Darron Wraith abandoned me as well as the Order, struggling to deal with the issue himself he fled. The rest of them? They did nothing to try to bring a falling Jedi back to them. They offered no support, and when I disappeared? No one came looking. Perhaps you can say we abandoned each other, but the Republic and the Order were in a better mindset to find me, than I was to seek help from them. I found refuge in the Vagrant fleet, run then by none other than Ashin Varanin and it was through her and Spencer that I found balance. It was through Seroth that I found harmony. The Jedi code holds no sway over me anymore. I adhere more closely to that of the Je'daii, aside from that we have our own code of sorts."

She paused for thought at her final question, her lips pursed for a moment and she shook her head slowly. "Whatever time you have, Master Grayson, it is slipping through your fingers rapidly. The Empire is crumbling and when it falls, we would be fools to believe that the Republic will stop there. The Republic commands and the Jedi obey, without question it seems. If Matsu Ike can find her way among your ranks after Metalorn, then you are way of course for making things right."

@[member="Kiskla Grayson"] @[member="Seroth Ur-Rahn"]
 
Kiskla almost vomited. Almost meaning; her stomach felt like it had been punched in the gut and she flinched ever so slightly at Rosa's explanation of abandonment. She had met Darron when he had been wandering after, apparently, abandoning his..baby mama? She hadn't been so impressed by him then, but he had slowly made his way back to The Order when they ran into each other once more. Twice..more. Oh goodness that certainly put a wrinkle in time, didn't it! Then, Rosa dropped another name; Ashin Varanin. Perhaps that's where the woman had accumulated one of her other, many names. One that started with an 'O' lest she recall, and that's when Kiskla had saved both her and Darron from Kaine's ambush.

A small smirk quivered against her lips, and she gave into it, offering an "I'm sure you do." To the comment about The Vagrant fleet having their own code. Of course they did. By now, Kiskla's suspicions were confirmed and the fleet was comprised by a majority of Jedi.
Darron's Heir, Jaxton Ravos, Rosa Mazhar, Seroth Ur-Rahn, Boolon Murr; all names that The Dark Lord of the Sith had used.

"The Republic and the Jedi were married into a toxic relationship." Kiskla commented, glancing briefly at Seroth to see if his physical appearance was a window into his thoughts on the matter. The Order was nothing more than soldiers for The Republic, and they were what gave it their strength. To divorce would leave both factions exposed. "I reached out to yourself for support, Rosa. And I think, since you came so quickly, that you have a small inkling to offer it." She shifted in her seat, feeling heavier than usual; mostly just out of emotion. "I wanted to gain a consensus from current, and previous members of The Order as to just why they would leave, and see if I could patch the holes that so many slipped through. It seems the only way to do that, is to suggest a divorce between The Republic and The Order." Pause for dramatic effect and gathering spittle to avoid a dry mouth; "That's where I was hoping to get support for. If The Order and The Republic were separate entities, would members of the Vagrant Fleet consider uniting in some fashion? You said you no longer follow the Jedi Code, which can only mean you returning is a chance between scarce and none, but to see The Order's once finest, and I don't say that just out of flattery, disappear; I think the statement made of your resurfacing once the wheels of change begin to turn, would be resounding."

@[member="Rosa Mazhar"] | @[member="Seroth Ur-Rahn"]
 
"...If you want, you can give our tidings to whatever council's that will listen," Spoke up the man at the window. Seroth turned his emptied teacup over in his palms, fingers itchy with idle energy.

"As I can see, the problem isn't issuing from the Jedi following scripts set out by the Senate," He said, coming around close and navigating to a pause behind his seated beau. "The Order is taking the lead. It's not a case of divorcing one from the other. The Jedi Council orders immense military clout in how it directs the acolytes. The Republic's dependent on a vanguard edge of lightsaber blades and for that, they've let the Jedi take up the lead in decision making. We were never soldiers. Keepers of the peace, marshals as best we could. ...They invaded Nar Shadda on a whim. A slight. Now they lead 'liberation' fleets that leave innocent dead in their wake. That was never their authority. That should never be their authority. We were content when it was only a scant handful of Watchmen and plucky apprentices. They can't say they cannot live without their drug of power. ...If the Jedi want to turn around, Master Grayson, you must tell them they must disown themselves."
@[member="Rosa Mazhar"] @[member="Kiskla Grayson"]
 
Kiskla nodded to Seroth's words. Motivating The Order to stand one way, would be a difficult task, especially when they were so occupied with 'purging shadows". She'd have to call them together quickly, Rosa too was right when it came to timing.

"Thank you." The blonde princess spoke softly, glancing at an invisible chrono on the wall idly; before back at the pair who were closer together now. That made knowing where to look easier.

"I had hoped to call the council together and discuss these matters, to see where they stand and if they're aware of what we know." She re-crossed her legs and shifted slightly. She didn't want to take their time more than she needed to be.

"The actions to take aren't obvious, and I'm open to suggestions." With a charismatic smile, she slowly rose, fabric slipping from her lap and falling around her hips and legs appropriately.

"However, I understand your time is valuable. There are big things happening beyond The Republic, I know, and I sincerely appreciate your time and invaluable insights."

@[member="Seroth Ur-Rahn"] @[member="Rosa Mazhar"]
 

Rosa Gunn

Guest
R
Rosa offered Kiskla a supportive smile and rose as Kiskla did. "Our insight is limited to only what we have experienced ourselves and that which we have heard along the grape vine. Nonetheless, as Seroth said, you can pass our tidings to those who will care to listen." If truth be told, Rosa pitied Kiskla some. Many had tried to change it from within, each had continued to hit the same brick wall and had taken a step back. Boolon had asked her once for help, and she had given him the same response that she had given Kiskla. Her voice, but not her body. They had far more important things to be dealing with than to waste energy fixing the Order.

She turned to glance at Seroth briefly. "I wish you the best of luck Kiskla, I dare say you're going to need it. Should you need to reach us again, do not look within the vagrants, we've not flown with them for quite some time, best that you leave them in peace." She gave a small bow "May the force be with you." She turned to go, pausing at the door she turned to look at the Kiffar again. "Our doors are open, should you need them to be."

@[member="Kiskla Grayson"]@[member="Seroth Ur-Rahn"]
 
"...Just take a track east and keep going. You'll find us again, Master Grayson," Seroth turned with Rosa's cue.

They departed and left their hostess alone in the scents of trailing tea vapor and cold sun slight. Behind, the tall oak-plated double-doors rose into place, sighed back again into the floor mag-locks in their wake. Together and as was habit, they made quick paces to extricate themselves from the premises. Outside every tall window stalked a long grey sea, the looming desert environs just a click away. Shrieks of high, dry winds wove over the stilted tower. Weather vanes and unused, partially dismantled telecommunication rods bent stiffly and rode out long, haggard whistles. The pair stepped outside to the landing pad. Armoured columns of Kiffex warriors lined either side of the stained decking. Seroth looked at them cursorily, just wondering if now, someone was going to step out with a lightshoto.

"Pins and needles..." The lad murmured, climbing aboard the Snake. With their bodies securely installed behind impervium coated durasteel hulling, he nestled into a rump-worn cockpit seat. Systems cycled on under his hands. Low whumps shook off the long steel-wings of sluggishness. Reactor output, fuel soundings and their feed lines, hydraulics, weapons charge, cabin pressure, inventory readouts, popped out into his field in long-scrolling holo-plates. "Alright... Right, love. Back to work we go."

The Iron Snake shuddered free from the docking mag-clamps. Kiffex guardians raised armoured hands to keep a shield against their sun visors, washing raw with scouring desert breezes. Up they ascended, rising on a quick gale, to where silence and void awaited. It was only when their navicomp locked to coords that Seroth felt his frame slump against his seating.
@[member="Rosa Mazhar"]d @[member="Kiskla Grayson"]
 

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