Ideologs

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There were a handful of souls Cedric had glimpsed from beyond the void. The Whills and their gifts had granted him a foresight unbeknownst to most sentients. He knew it was a temporary thing: a boon bestowed upon him by the Force itself to carry out itself holy will. Cedric had been divinely ordained by the only gods that mattered, and he would not squander their gifts.

Thus it was that he found himself reaching out to an errant soul. This one he had only watched for a short time, and knew little of, other than that destiny marked him as someone of great importance. That was enough for the Jedi Master to reach out.

Ghastly cyan smoke would appear a few steps near the youth. It moved with thin tendrils of vapor to coalesce into a vaguely human form. After a few seconds, the mist drew away, revealing the opaque, glowing view of a tall figure in full battle plate. The figure was adorned with a long cloak with cowl over its head in the color of a raven's feathers. It stood regal, as if the gods themselves had demanded that it be there.

In a way, they had.

"Hello Alar." The figure's voice echoed with the unnatural twinge of the empyrean.

 

[Morain]

[SIZE=11pt]It was time to leave. There was nothing else to possibly accomplish in this company. They were comprised of quixotics and narcissists in the most part. Trying to explain to them that just because they thought of some ideal to adhere to, and force others to adhere to. Is not enough even for an argument that it will benefit all of the people that seem to be in their care, and most definitely does not justify the certainty that they seemed to speak with. They will be death of their people if they don’t grow before they go to war. Alas most of them seemed to be warmongers who knew little else. Warmongers who learned nothing else but fixing their problems with violence. A bunch of hammers in a sea of nails it seemed. Self entitlement was one of those little things leading people towards the darkside. The one that people seemed to miss so very often. It lead to anger very quickly, and self entitlement that has escalate to war. Brought rage, terror and a general blurring of what’s good and wrong. Getting broken people to join your war was a simple exercise in manipulation. You simply promise them revenge, and most of them will flock to you. Getting young people to join the war however was even simpler. You promised them glory in order to coax their narcissism, you invigorated their dreams of fame and glory. As well as the implied exaltation they will be showered with, from which ever sex or species they prefer to lie with. For some of course. Having the gracious leaders convincing the rest of society. That the animalistic and disgusting things that people did during war. Were in fact necessary if not heroic. Completely absolving them off guilt.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Alar was packing his things. He was going to catch the first opportunity to fly away to more stable pastures. Maybe he’ll go to naboo. Supposedly it was one of the most beautiful places in all of galaxy. He needed some rest. No matter where he went there force always brought upon him something unpleasant to do. He was ready to challenge it to bring something upon him, on one of the most peaceful planets he has heard of. He knew better than to tempt fate though. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]He felt the force shiver around him. He turned around and quickly reached for his weapon with the force. It flew into his hand, comfortably positioning itself where it belonged. Alar pressed the ignition button just as he saw a form appear. He stopped in bewilderment just for a second and then started to back up. *What is it with masked people and appearing out of thin air?* He said incredulously as he kept stepping backwards. “Of course a cosmic being seemingly teleporting itself in front of me would know my name.” He looked upwards and sarcastically added. “If you guys could also bring me some orange juice while you are teleporting. I would be eternally grateful.” He regarded the figure in front of him for a second, and then decided that the best course of action would be of course to bluff. “You see I am having a red haired jedi master coming over to...” He stopped to cough in order to add some more levity to the situation. “Spend some quality time with me. Of course a man like you would understand. Eh? She also does not like it when things aren’t exactly as planned So she might hurt any other guests I might have here, just so that our cornucopia of pleasure can commence. Also don't tell her i told you. Seems like a bad thing to brag about it. A gentleman does not kiss and tell after all.”[/SIZE]

[SIZE=14.6667px][member="Cedric Grayson"][/SIZE]

 

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This one was a troubled soul. Cedric stared through the miasma of the empyrean; he saw with both the sight of mortals and gods now. In that of the mortal, he saw a boy no older than many of the students Cedric had trained throughout his life. Through the eyes of the empyrean, he saw a conflicted creature, one whose motivations were torn between self-preservation, aggrandizement, and disdain for those around him.

"Another padawan gone to pasture," Cedric's voice rumbled throughout the small chamber. "I am not a cosmic being, simply a man, though one with admittedly some degree of cosmic influence," he replied, a hint of good humor lacing his words. He watched the lightsaber humming in the boy's hand, and gave it a simple nod. With a wave of his translucent hand, he would will the weapon to be momentarily shut off, as it if had just struck cortosis.

"You don't need weapons here. I am a friend, though I might not seem it from your eyes," he continued as he began to slowly walk about the cramped room. He halted after a few paces, arms folding about his chest as he appraised Alar.

"You're not a very good liar. There is no one coming." The ghastly figure rumbled with quiet laughter. "It didn't take you very long to decide to leave. This was an easy decision for you to make, wasn't it?"

[member="Alar Morain"]

 

[Morain]

[SIZE=11pt]“A friend is a word with a complicated emotional definition I believe, and since I have never met you. Don’t expect me to share my hopes and dreams with you yet mr. Also a person meaning me no harm would follow the propriety when it comes to teleportation, and would appear outside my door and then knock. I am a nineteen year old. Various things could have been going on right now.” He spat out towards the figure. “If you are looking for your brother. He is elsewhere on the ship.” [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Alar turned off his lightsaber seeing at it was useless. He would have to have that checked somewhere. He put it aside and started packing. “Why should it be difficult for me to leave? My narcissism is already a problem i struggle with greatly. Imagine if I were to feed it by convincing myself I was the hero who was going to save the galaxy. Like the various others on the ship.” [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]He regarded the masked figure for a while. “Now I doubt someone would go to all this trouble to ask me to stay and help out that little soldier. So what is your purpose here? And also the whole trick with the smoke. Can one choose the colour in which it appears or is it fixed with this one?"[/SIZE]

 

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This one was all vitriol and disdain. He reminded Cedric of himself at that age: a self-righteous young man disappointed by what he perceived to be the failings of his supposed betters. It was a path that led to his being ostracized and a profound loneliness, and in Cedric's case, total devastation of everything he had once held dear. For the boy's sake, Cedric could not will himself to simply let him leave without speaking his piece. The Well of Prophecy had shown him the boy's face for a reason, after all.

"I don't like to knock. Some people aren't inclined to answer," the Jedi Master mused as he watched the boy continue to pack. He recognized the lad's attitude for what it was. Alar was self-aware in a sense that others his age were not, but sometimes that sense of self-awareness could bring one down a path better left untouched.

"There's no such thing as heroes," he added, amused. "Only people struggling to survive. These men and women around you aren't characterizing themselves as heroes, Alar, they're desperate people struggling to stave off a genocide." He paused, "The flowered words they speak are the only thing many of these people have left to cling to. The Sith have committed slaughter on such a scale that many of them have no family, no friends, all that remains for them is the Republic."

Another pause. "I've come to you because...well, it is difficult to explain. My name is Cedric Grayson. I have fought the Sith Empire since I was nine years old, though I have been trapped within a realm beyond mortality for some time now," he shook his head, "I reached out to you because I have seen your face in the Well of Prophecy. I would like to try to help you."

The specter snickered, "And no, I can't choose the color. I would have gone with green - it's a bit more mysterious than blue."

[member="Alar Morain"]

 

[Morain]

[SIZE=11pt]Alar looked at Greyson with obviously sceptical look. He knew that there are a million romanticised notions available in galactic societies to promote war. Claiming not to want to be a hero, and yet barreling towards that very same goal. Should take a lot more rationalization than it usually does. As for the other answer “So you find that violating people’s right to privacy is your prerogative? That is a high opinion of oneself even for a jedi.” [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]He walked over to the other side of the room so that he could throw away the trash that Jera had accumulated in the room after the fight. Then he proceeded to turn around and continue his own argument "Of course there is such a thing as a hero. Our societies pick them out constantly. Embellish their stories and elevate their name above that of the others. Use them as tools to try and create more willing heroes for the slaughter. Even the kind that claim no to want to be one." Alar sighed making that statement. He felt his anger recede, to make way for a much stronger emotion. One with which he was far more intimate. Sadness. “Don’t know how well you are acquainted with the current leadership. Take that soldier for instance. One that knows nothing but war, one that can’t live without it, and can’t keep it going without believing himself a hero. Do you think he could go on if he didn’t believe it makes him the martyr that he feels himself to be? Now take Sedaire who seems to have the same problem. Claiming that he was thrust into his position. Ignoring the fact that there is a large group of people actually fighting to be where he is. He didn’t stop for a second to fight his way into the place of power, and now he has his little mantra to feed the narcissism.” He stopped so that he could make his voice deep enough to complete the satirical impersonation of the masked jedi knight “For a good man to do nothing” [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]He stopped packing and cleaning so that he could give the guest his full attention. “There are other factions, stronger ones that would gladly accept the refugees and keep them relatively safe. As relatively as can be hoped with the sith the way they are. Yet some of them keep on insisting that we have to cling to a remnant of something they felt the belonged to. All because they can’t let go.” [/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Alar understood their point of view. He knew that it wasn’t out of the ordinary. Ultimately it being ordinary was the problem. “Answer violence with violence and you multiply violence.” He knew it wasn’t fair seeing that not defending oneself against the sith slaughter had very few alternatives. So he stopped to reconsider for a second. “I feel that if they want to fight a superpower with what they have. They would need to either hide their people or let them join a different faction, take the few most broken ones and leave. Wage guerilla warfare on them, and above all stop calling themselves jedi. Once the republic can actually start doing some damage and fight. They should vanish, into obscurity. Take up farming or something. War is not for Jedi.”[/SIZE]

[member="Cedric Grayson"]