Private Ideologues

[Cedric Grayson]

Deneba was a mostly inconsequential world as far as the exile could tell. The rust colored planet had once been host to a great Jedi conclave a few dozen centuries back, and had only been of relevance once again recently. Master Arenais had established an academy on the planet a few years ago, and it had since become one of the Confederacy's frontier worlds.

He wasn't entirely certain if the enclave still operated given the planet's choice of allegiance; the CIS had become something nigh impenetrable to him since the Malverns had elected to call it home. The King of Illyria, or so he styled himself, would have jumped at the opportunity to see Cedric murdered while passing through its borders. It was only his old rival's departure that had emboldened Cedric to dare crossing the border.

He'd opted to try and center himself while his pilot busied herself with preparing the ship for its next excursion into the void. She'd let his name slip when asked for identification, and whatever hopes he might've had at maintaining his anonymity had evaporated. He could only hope she finished her work quickly so they could be long gone before anyone with any reason to care about his presence took notice.

The refueling station was relatively unpopulated, which suited Cedric just fine. He'd taken a short walk out toward the wilderness just beyond the compound's borders, and found a shadowed grove just at the edge of a field that stretched on for miles.

The exile cast a quick glance around, reached out into the depths of the empyrean, and satisfied that he felt no malice from the grove, drew his weapon. The lightsaber hummed violently as it cut through the air, casting the treeline in a ghostly blue light as Cedric went through the beginning sets of Form V. It was better to spend his time on Deneba productively, rather than to wasting it arguing with his pilot. The girl would probably win anyway.

Illian Dragos

 

[Illian Dragos]

"Oh shit... oh shit."

Illian tried pressing a bunch of buttons as his smoke filled the air. His ship descended to the ground in a tremendous downward trajectory, the Epicanthix attemping to remember everything Juniper Jett had taught him.

"Try and do something dammit!!"

Looking at the droid, the future Knight saw its light flicker. It seemed like the batteries were off, or maybe he'd forgotten to charge it. Intending to have at least the ship be somewhat salvagable, he attempted to angle the ship to land near its wings. As it crash landed, he could feel the tremor it caused the ground, dust appearing in the viewport as Illian prayed to whoever who was listening, closing his eyes in the process.

"Please let me at have a girl before I die."

Seconds past, and everything was still pitch black to him.

I guess I'm not dead.

Standing up, the neutral squire moved. Coughing, he felt his left leg feel more heavier. Looking down, he could see a piece of metal had pieced his light armour. Summoning all the instincts he had cultivated, the man with fortitude continued to move, his weight supported by one leg. As he moved in small steps, he summoned his rage, and ripped apart the door that was open with the force, pieces of metal going around everywhere.

He then smelled something lit up.

A fire had began.

Cedric Grayson

 

[Cedric Grayson]

He was nearing the end of his sets when a vessel of unknown origin came screaming down toward the earth. At first Cedric assume it was some flyboy trying to see just how low they could fly over the canopy without crashing: realization dawned on him around the same time the ship's nose met the dirt. The vessel careened through the treeline, severely damaging several of the near ancient trees and kicking up small mountains of dirt as it carved an artificial canyon through the grove.

It was all the exile could do to avoid getting crushed by the damned thing. He spat a series of curses as the ship finally came to a halt, small streams of flame jutting out through cracks in its carapace that would surely grow to engulf much of the grove if left unchecked.

His lightsaber hissed quietly as Cedric stowed it away, and made straight for the ship. He had only rudimentary training in the manipulation of the elements, but he understood it on a base scientific level. If he could just...

The exile's train of thought was shattered as one of the ship's doors exploded outward, showering the grove in shrapnel. He summoned an invisible wall of telekinetic energy over his form, and the shrapnel bounced off its surface quite harmlessly.

"There anyone else aboard!?" He snapped at whom he assumed to be the pilot ( Illian Dragos ). With a mild mental effort, he willed the barrier he'd erected to shatter into pieces, and blanket the places in the ship's hull that now spurted fire. The oxygen in those places was deprived, and the flames began to snuff themselves out.

 

[Illian Dragos]

Indeed, the flames were stiffened out. Looking down, he saw his clothes had been ripped apart by the fire. More specifically, his lower jeans had been ripped, his shoes gone. All he had in his lower region were some torn socks. As he moved, he could feel more weight heart his right leg. But he willed himself through, ignoring Cedric's question. He could feel the dirt of the round on his feet. A few moments later, he sat down and leaned on a large rock, taking some time to rest.

"Only a droid. Other than that, I'm the only one onboard."

Moving to lean on his right shoulder, a Knights Obsidian's insignia would appear on Illian's left shoulder. On his part, he could feel the man radiate a huge presence of warmth and sweetness. He could only assume this man, whoever he was, was someone who walked in the 'light', or whatever they had called the light side of the force in the archives.

"Name's Illian. Thanks for saving me. Are there any facilities nearby?"

Cedric Grayson

 

[Cedric Grayson]

His work finished more or less, Cedric released the barriers he’d erected around the ship. The grove had suffered enough in its landing, and it had no need for a forest fire on top of the crash. The exile breathed a quiet sigh of relief as the strange asserted that he was the only living soul on board. The man looked to be in somewhat rough shape, but flesh wounds could be dealt with. If there had been anyone else aboard with more serious injuries, it was likely they would have died this far from civilization.

“I take it the droid wasn’t the one flying?” He asked incredulously as he withdrew from the ship. Cedric was far from a healer, but he might be able to do something about the stranger’s leg. “Looks like you took a souvenir from the crash,” he added rather nonchalantly, gesturing toward the bit of metal lodged in the stranger’s leg. Removing that would cause a good deal of bleeding - might be best just to leave it in for the time being.

“I can help you with that, though I don’t have many bandages. It’s probably going to bleed fairly badly when it gets pulled out.” Cedric muttered as he began to dig around in his belt pouches for those bandages. It was around that time that he caught sight of the badge on the stranger’s shoulder. It took him a moment to properly recognize it, but it didn’t cause him much trouble when he did. Even if it turned out they had sent this one after him, he was too wounded to be much trouble, and given his presence in the empyrean, too conflicted to do so even if he were well.

“I was almost expecting one of your people,” he muttered as he bent to examine the stranger’s wounded leg. “I’m going to pull this out, and you’re going to have to try not to scream too loudly. I need my concentration if I’m to mend it well enough for you to walk properly.” He paused for a moment, though his gaze never averted from the damage. “Any of your superiors aware of your location stranger?”

He paused before answering the final question. “There’s a gas station a few klicks our. More than you can probably walk at the moment.”

Illian Dragos

 

[Illian Dragos]

"No. I wasn't;..." Stopping himself, he chose not to diverge greater information. He didn't think saying he had been training with Sith would help him when speaking to Cedric, and it was the last thing in his mind. Right now, all he wanted was the metal shard out of his leg.

"Feth off. It's not funny."

Looking at the man, he took a few seconds to examine him. Unfortunately for him, he needed Cedric Grayson .

"Forget the questions Just remove the god-damn thing." Grabbing Cedric's arm, the Epicanthix warrior squeezed it, while he also clenched his fist. It showed how desperate he wanted it out. Feeling his heart beat increase, he could feel the metal shard touch his born. It had penetrated deep into his muscle tissue, and it was also extremely large.

"I'm sorry. Just please remove it. I promise you won't hear a yell from me."

Well, maybe. Time would tell.

 

[Cedric Grayson]

Healing had never been his forte, but years of conflict had forced him to adopt it in one sense or another. Normally he would have used some form of tool to remove the shrapnel from the stranger's leg, but he'd not not packed for a field dressing. Instead, he drifted his eyes shut, and reached out into the depths of the empyrean. He envisioned the Obsidian Knight's wounded limb within his mind's eyes, and delved deeper toward the cold void in its center that was the bloodied metal.

He focused in on the point where it was most embedded, and after a few moments' appraisal, decided on where he thought the weakest sports were. Without any verbal warning, Cedric tugged upon those places with an expression of telekinetic will, and the metal began to slide out of Illian's leg whilst making a sound that was most unpleasant. The process was far quicker than a proper surgery, and without anesthetics, far more painful, but it was required if he wanted to keep the limb.

Blood spurt wildly from the open wounds. Cedric quickly wrapped the leg in three full rolls of gauze, then did his best to encourage the regrowth of cells around the wound. It was no instantaneous healing more practiced Jedi were famous for, but it would speed up the process, keep it from getting infected. Cedric wasted no words as he'd march off into the woods for a moment, returning a few minutes later with a makeshift splint that he would apply to the wounded leg whether the Obsidian Knight protested or not.

"Well," he offered a grim smile, "You'll probably need surgery, but you're stable for now. You'll need to rest for a moment if you can. I don't have anything to treat you with if you go into shock." Cedric offered unclipped one of his canteens from his belt and offered it to the stranger. "It's rum. Should help with the pain. I'm Cedric, who might you be stranger?"

Illian Dragos

 

[Illian Dragos]

Illian could feel his body being ripped apart, the metal shard slowly coming out of his leg. Well, for him, it was a slow process. It was as if time had stopped. Nearly breaking his earlier promise, he bit his hand while clenching his fist. Attempting to sit still, he grabbed the Jedi Master's arm, and squeezed it, all his strength and pain being released toward that Cedric's arm. In the same way, he called on the force to aid him, to calm him down and keep him at bay.

While the healing process continued, closing his eyes, he reflected on the near-fatal injuries he had survived to get here. Slowly calming down, he released his grip on Cedric's arm, and stopped biting his arm. By the time he had done all of this, the metal shard had come out of his body, blood coming out as if a well of water had been found in the desert. The healing Cedric applied helped him significantly. Soon, it was all over, and he could move to the next thing.

Attempting to stand, he felt his body become heavy, and chose to sit back where he could.

"Thank you... um, Cedric, although it looks I'll be stuck here for a while. Night's coming fast. The name's Illian." he said, stretching his hand out. "I got to ask, what's someone like you doing here?"

Cedric Grayson

 

[Cedric Grayson]

"That it is," Cedric mumbled as he looked up toward the skies. He'd spent the vast majority of the day in his meditation, and time had slipped away from him. The exile was uncertain as to whether night on this world was a dangerous one, but he supposed he would find out soon enough. Walking Illian back in the darkness was unwise, better to remain here until daybreak.

The exile took Illian's hand and gave it a firm shake. "Me?" A brow was lofted. "Simply meditating. The spaceport had far too much hustle and bustle for my tastes." A half-truth. Cedric considered whether giving the rest of it might put him in danger, but he doubted Illian would report him after this. "I'm on a holdover before I head to Ruusan. I have family waiting for me there."

The Jedi reached into his pack to produce a bar of chocolate. Rather than offer it, he simply tossed it at Illian's feet. "Eat that. It'll make you feel a bit better, though I don't have much to help with the pain." He meandered around the man's crash site, gathering bits of wood that had been shorn down from the landing.

"No point in wasting good wood," he mumbled to himself as he gathered the logs in a small pile near Illian. With a brief gesture and a rapid movement of atoms via the empyrean, a fire roared to life amidst the logs.

"Hadn't intended on spending much time here. The Confederacy is not traditionally friendly with Jedi that do not fight for it."

Illian Dragos

 

[Illian Dragos]

"Oh really?", eyebrows raised in a surprised face. He hadn't been in the Confederacy for a while, but he had heard rumours about the Confederacy's problem with other force users, and vice-versa. For him, it didn't matter though. As long as someone didn't want to kill him and his people, there were his allies - a simplistic and beneficial outlook for himself.

"You've probably roughed a few feathers, haven't ya." Reaching out at the bar of chocolate, he nodded in thanks. Despite his gratitude, Illian had to question Cedric's authenticity when he said he was "meditating".

"Meditating out here? Really?" Perhaps a more refined approach should have been conducted, but Illian had always been blunt when he felt he needed to be. And this was one of the moments.

All of the planets in the galaxy, no one came here to Deneba to just "meditate".

Cedric Grayson

 

[Cedric Grayson]

"More than a few," Cedric allowed himself a quiet laugh as he tended the fire. That was putting things mildly. A good half of the galaxy fell under the jackboots of those that would sooner see him dead than otherwise. These days he found himself travelling through black market ports far more than he did any legal ports of call.

"My ship is on a bit of a holdover, and I wasn't keen on meditating in there. It's a bit crowed," that wasn't wholly true. One other passenger was far from a crew, but even sharing his living space with one other person was a bit of a jump for the exile. He'd long grown used to keeping his own company, at least when it was time to hang up his cloak and temporarily slip away from the world.

"I'm a Jedi. I have to keep on my toes, in both the physical and spiritual sense. If I don't have time to center myself, I can't do my job properly. This was a rather peaceful place before you dropped in, believe it or not." A small wry grin accompanied the jab. "The Bogan has hold over many worlds in Confederate space, but not this one. Then again, it has a hold over more of the galaxy than most would like to admit."

The exile paused, "I sense it on you," he added quietly, a direness to his words that almost seemed in conflict with his otherwise warm reception of Illian. "Not within you, but it's touch remains. You learn sniff out these things when you've been in the game as long as I have," he rolled a log over with one of the sticks he'd found, then met Illian Dragos ' gaze. "What sort of man are you Illian?"

 

[Illian Dragos]

"It's just a bit odd you pick this place over all the other places in the galaxy. Isn't Tython a better world?"

Looking at his eyes, his visual expression returned to its, stoic demeanour.

"That, and you seem to have a problem with the Confederacy. But your still here in our world."

Illian then reflected at what Cedric Grayson had done, his suspicions for now, being laid to rest.

"Then again, I suppose I owe you for saving my hide, so I'll bite. I owe you that much at least." His eyes widened, the Epicanthi surprised at how he conversation had gone.

"Um.... long story. I don't know who this Bogan dude is. Is it your friend?" He had a feeling the paragon of light was probably talking about the dark presence he'd recently felt, although he didn't feel comfortable revealing it. But it was better to control how the conversation went then to let Cedric be the constant initiator.

"Normally, I try to walk a fine line in a lot of things. I've always found a balanced approach to be better - well, mostly."

 

[Cedric Grayson]

"Tython and I are not on good terms. I do well to stay out of Galactic Alliance space when I can. Some of the people there enjoy my accompany, but the leadership is not keen on my return." Understatement of the century. Were he to return openly to alliance space, he would likely either find himself in chains, or simply 'disappear'. The monarchist movement had lost much of mass migrations out of the core, but there were still enough of them to bring up worries about rebellion or revolt.

"Honestly this world is just a fuel stop for me right now," he cracked a small smile as he stuck a cylinder of synthetic meat on one of the sticks he'd gathered and held it over the fire. "A layover." He fell to silence as Illian mentioned his ignorance on the Bogan. The empyrean clung to him, and yet he had no idea. What was the Confederacy teachings its people?

"The Bogan is the ancestral name of the Dark Side. Some believe it is the Ashla's sister, the Light Side of the Force, in the balance. They are wrong, unfortunately, but that is the generally accepted belief." He turned to look at his temporary companion. "The fine line is indeed fine until it isn't my friend. I have ill will toward the Confederacy as it serves to maintain the power of a small subsect of Sith. A cult, if you will, and its people fervently believe they do not live under the heel of one. When my father was a young man and in service to one of the Lords of the Sith, he fought alongside this nation's founder and his apprentices. They cloaked themselves in the guise of democracy, but even as the seats of power has exchanged to others, the ones behind it all still puppet the strings. I have little reason to believe that has changed."

The Jedi waved hand about, "But that's not relevant to you, or to me really. I don't live here. I'd just prefer not to be noticed during my passage." A pause, "Have you been trained? I sense the empyrean about you as I would any padawan."

Krayzen Dratos

 

[Illian Dragos]

"You really must have ruffed a few feathers. What'd you do to piss people off?" If he was hated by the Galactic Alliance, he was fine in his books, although he wondered why Cedric was on the run- he had to be since the "leadership" didn't like him.

"Your a weird guy Cedric-I've never met someone who has problems with the Confederacy, and the Galactic Alliance, and still called themselves a Jedi. Do the Silver Jedi like you? I suppose you saved my life, so your good in my book, although I wonder what would happen if people found out I was with you already." He saw Cedric stick a piece of meat into the fire, as he responded to the next set of Cedric's comments.

"Oh, so its just a fancy name for the dark side. Why didn't you say so already? Your father must have been a very powerful man. Probably a good fellow to his son." Illian then remembered his own father and how he had done fallen into crime to help his family. The warrior cursed himself for not being powerful enough, and reaffirmed his vow to protect whatever he had.

"Yeah, I've been trained by many people. Night sisters, Sith - never a Jedi though; they never really interested me. All of them meditatin' and stuff. There were never my cup of tea, although I like them all" He couldn't stop but laugh at his last sentence, revealing it to be a blunder. Spending time in the Sith temple had made him lean slightly to the dark, but he had yet to fully embrace it. Well... he most likely would, but there was no point revealing that now.

"Hey, your secret is safe with me. I'm not going to snitch on you. I already got a bone to pick with someone in the Confederacy anyway. And yes, I've been trained, although I try traditionally have tried to walk the middle path- what do you guys call it, Grey Jedi or somethin'?"

Cedric Grayson

 

[Cedric Grayson]

"I saved them." Was Cedric's response. It was quicker than his other comments, more emotional than the intellectual conversation he tended toward. "We have the time, so I will tell you the story." He settled to warm his hands over the fire as he finished cooking the bit of meat, taking a few absent bites before continuing. "In days long past, the world of Ession protected the Tingel Arm. We were the vanguard against imperialism, and we were an open people. Jedi and Sith lived alongside one another and studied together freely. We considered ourselves the peak of tolerance in the galaxy." The exile huffed a quiet laugh at that.

"There are too many details to recount, but in the end the Sith betrayed us. They opened our gates to warlords, and my homeworld, along with most of its people, was glassed by the Sith Empire. Billions of lives ended in thirty minutes of orbital bombardment. I spent many years resisting the Sith after that, tried to find a home for my people. In that time, the core became home to several imperial fiefdoms calling themselves the Core Imperial Confederation. I turned my armies toward them, forced the warlords to accept the sovereignty of the Essonian crown, and jailed the rest. My people finally had a home, and the core was once again in the hands of the Ashla. The people rejoiced. We rebuilt what had been destroyed, established the rights of freedom for the people, and ensured peace where there had once been oppression."

"During one of our final battles with the imperials, I was wounded and hospitalized for two months. In that time, bureaucrats, corporations, and some of the elites collaborated to dismantle the monarchy and turn the Imperium we had built into a republic. They colluded with out enemies and gave them places of power. By the time I was able to return to public life, my kingdom was ruled by capitalists and oligarchs that saw themselves voted into power via bribery. The Essonian people lost all our representation, had our businesses nationalized, our religion marginalized, and their political parties banned."

The Jedi's brow furrowed. "Many of those currently in the senate held ties to the imperials we overthrew. Their democracy is a farse, and if I were to return, those loyal to me and mine might very well revolt. The senate has little desire for that, and so I cannot return to the Galactic Alliance, even as my students lead the very Jedi Order that protects it."

He paused to respond to Illian's comments. "My father was indeed powerful, and he was a fool. He damned himself and our people in search of petty revenge." A brow was lofted as Illian recounted his many teachers. "Watch yourself. Colluding with the Bogan inevitably leads to it dominating you. It is like a drug, many have claimed to walk as you do, but eventually the darkness always takes them. The more you use it, the greater its hold on your soul. It will consume every bit of you until all that is left a wretch devoted wholly to its will. For all the Sith claim of breaking their chains, their apotheosis always results in them becoming slaves to the Bogan."

Another pause. "The galaxy stands on the brink of apocalypse Illian. Those touched by the Force are faced with a choice: to expedite the coming end, or to try and stop it. I sit on the latter end." He met the young man's gaze with his own. "Where do you find yourself?"

Illian Dragos

 

[Illian Dragos]

"Woah."

Illian looked at Cedric somewhat perplexed, his right hand stroking his beard as he contemplated what he had just heard. Well, if there was one thing he'd take, this was an interesting conversation. He wondered if this was fate: the Epicanthix having recently discussed with Ashin Varanin and contemplated the choice of choosing the dark side as its master. Perhaps it was no mere coincidence that he'd met a Jedi now: especially someone who had probably met and experienced a whole variety of force traditions.

"Your an interesting dude Cedric." Pointing at him, he began to laugh. "If I'd met you a year ago, I'd probably find myself as a Jedi. In the same way you've met a whole host of people - I've been fortunate enough to meet many of them. Nightsisters, Sith I've learned a lot in the past year, especially different views of thought on how the dark side works. And forgive me, but I'm just sayin', it's not as bad as it looks. I've seen Sith Lords who don't allow the dark to control them, and yeah, your probably going to say that they are lying to me, which could be true - but they have a certain level of control of themselves that's undeniable."

He paused, before continuing his elucidation.

"When I first met the force, I was hunting an nerf herder who killed my parents and the daughter of the ViceLord kicked my ass. I've been after her ever since. Then I met one of the leaders of the Nightsisters who taught me a few things, talked to a Dark Lord, someone called Ashin Varanin if I don't say who. Met another Darth who taught me a different perspective on the force, and then I went and read a lot of texts, and yadada. I'm not going to bore you with that. You seem like a Jedi who likes action - my type of guy. "

Looking at Cedric, he smirked.

"In all that time, I never broke. I never became an edgelord - I was driven purely by revenge - yeah, a simplistic goal, but it works given the circumstances. Now, after gaining more knowledge - a goal game to my head, the resurrection of my parents. Illian's faced shifted toward an angry , stern graze, his eyes becaming narrow, as he clenched his jaw and fist - all from the remembrance of his family

"You know, it's interesting; your hiding and all alone, where I'm not hiding but I don't have any close friends, no one I can call family, so I'm alone. So I thought about resurrecting them, and the only way I know now is the dark side of the force. Or Bogan, or whatever the **** its called. I don't really care. So when you ask me where I find myself, I'm not really sure. I'm just someone on a mission. Whether it's revenge, or resurrecting my parents, I'll use whatever tools I have. No philosophies, or whatever. Just the force

Or and some beer. I like beer."

Cedric Grayson

 

[Cedric Grayson]

Understanding the Ashla's will ever eluded Cedric. He often found himself in serendipitous circumstances such as these, faced with men and women that had not felt its presence and had need of it, whether they knew it or not. The exile listened in respectful silence as Illian recounted his experiences with his teachers and his family, of what he had lost and what he had gained in the time since then.

The Jedi offered one of the meat sticks Illian's way, nodding along in silence until the younger man was finished giving his piece. Cedric did not reply immediately, instead mulling Illian's words over as he chewed thoughtfully. He knew well of the Sith Illian spoke of, he'd come across several young people that had been instilled with her insidious ideology.

"Revenge and resurrection," Cedric mused without judgement. "Lofty goals. Goals with strong ideals attached to them. Yes, I think our meeting is indeed a matter of providence." The exile sighed with quiet amusement. "You should not seek to bring those that have become one with the Living Force back Illian. I know the temptation, I toyed with the idea more times than I would like to admit in my youth. My family didn't make it off the homeworld," his brow furrowed, "But to do so is a violation. If you go to your death without the Bogan's presence wrapped around you, you will find paradise. There are some religions that refer to the afterlife as something called heaven, a place in which all evil has been ousted, in which you are reunited with your loved ones, and where you might live on forever beyond the mortal plane."

He gazed up to the stars at the thought. "That is the Ashla. That is the Light. If your family is dead, know that they live as royalty beyond the mortal veil. If you try to bring them back, you are tearing them away from paradise, and they will not come back the same. To violate the cycle of death is to spit upon the very tenants of life. The result will always be an abomination, and in doing so you will damn their souls along with your own. Rejoice in knowing that they watch over you always, and understand that so long as you retain communion with the Force, so too do you commune with them."

"The Bogan is of this world. Of all worlds mortal beings walk. The Ashla is the the spiritual heart of the Force, the true world, the one in which we will ascend to what we are marked to become at our very birth. Trust me, as a man whom has raised children, that your parents would want you to move on and create a life of substance for yourself. They do not want your heart to linger on revenge, to linger on that pain, and they do not want you to forsake everything life stands for to bring them back. They are waiting for you Illian. You must have patience, and you must live for yourself."

The advice was not asked for, but then Cedric rarely waited for a request to give his perspective. "These Sith you speak of, those with control, they very likely do have it under control right now." The exile shook his head, "But I promise you, in time, they will not. I have dealt with the Sith since I was ten years old. It takes time, but these men and women that claim to control the forces of hell itself are always deluded. They are akin to spice addicts. They may control it for a time, perhaps even for a long time, but eventually they slip, and once they do, they are the ones being controlled."

Illian Dragos

 

[Illian Dragos]

"I've met the leader of the Nightsisters, a former Empress, and someone else who doesn't need to be named. All in the space of a year - all during the beginning stages of my 'career', if I can even call it that. What's to say fate, or god, or whatever, if such a thing doesn't exist, doesn't want me to do resurrect my parents."

He took the meat stick, and thought of using it as a metaphor.

"When we choose a path, we like this meat stick, will get charred up. The fact that your hear warning me about the dangers of what I want to do makes me think that you've been burnt more times than I can count. " He went to take a bit, his mouth in a circular motion, enjoying Cedric's gift.

"I don't know much about this Varanin, but I've done some digging enough to know that she definitely cares about someone, people. Everything I see here, light and dark - all this war over just a simple disagreement. You mentioned that Sith can't be trusted; well generally, that's true. And to be honest, I would be a fool to completely trust a Sith. But I've seen their code being used for the better, and I know this people exist. Lana Beniko - Darth Imperius; those names ring a bell? " Looking at Cedric, he continued.

"Your experiences have shaped you. But I know one thing's for sure, absolutism isn't the only path. I've seen enough to know that Sith aren't always the stereotypical idiots with red lightsabers swinging around and yadada; you know the jist. My experiences so far, for the most part, have been positive, and they've helped me even now. Ironically, a Sith Lord told me the exact same thing your telling me: not to pursue revenge. He'd probably tell me not to go and try and resurrect my parents."

He smiled.

"But I've never really seen the Jedi's perspective." Stretching his hand, he offered a compromise. "All I can offer is an open mind and see how you do things, if you'll have me."

Cedric Grayson

 

[Cedric Grayson]

It wasn't so much a verbal contest as it was a difference of perspective, but Cedric engaged in it all the same. "Oh, the Bogan certainly does," Cedric answered plainly. "It wants you to do that and much more. It is as sentient as the Ashla in its animalistic way. If something will further its influence, it will push those susceptible to it will closer toward it every time."

He paused to listen further, a small amused smile coloring his otherwise stoic features as Illian related burned meat to people. It was a bit a crass metaphor, but it had merit. "Burned is a word for it. I'd rather put it that I've been in your position before, and experience has taught me that flirting with such choices never ends well." There were many times when the Bogan had made offering to him. Many times when it would have been easier to ismply give in. He'd resisted it at every turn; something he was proud of, but the journey had not been an easy one. The conviction to remain on the Ashlan path was one few possessed as of late.

"Absolutism," Cedric chuckled at the word, "Yes, I suppose that encompasses my ideology quite well. I do not believe the things I do because they are easy Illian. Were the galaxy fare, we could practice our beliefs and leave one another alone. That would be the ideal, but it isn't the case." He paused for a moment to choose the right words. "This conflict is not about people. It isn't about empires or galactic dominance either. It's about the soul of the galaxy," he gestured up toward the skies, "For the first time in history, the veil between reality and the immaterial is broken. There are dark forces within the Netherworld that seek to dominate reality. They utilize the Sith and other servants of the Bogan to strengthen those tears and to sow mass chaos. The more death the Sith cause, the stronger these forces become. The more people that give the Bogan worship, so too do these forces gain greater influence. They mean to consume us all. Every act you take in cruelty, every twisting of life, every life altered feeds those that would call themselves our overlords."

How could make Illian understand? Those that had not seen the visions rarely gave him credence. He'd become something of a mad prophet in the eyes of some of his peer, and a heretic at worst.

"I'm more than happy to give it," he reached out to shake the man's hand. "What exactly is it you're asking for though? If you have questions, I am more than willing to answer them."

Illian Dragos

 

[Illian Dragos]

"So you think of the Bogan as an actual being, a god so to speak. Well, your certainly very religious." He did his best to hide his laughter - not as a slight to those who like Cedric, held religious beliefs but because he never needed them in the first place. And besides, he knew enough history to know the first Jed'aii held to his view on the force, simplistically at least.


He listened keenly to Cedric's elucidation, the mention of the Netheworld raising his eyebrow. Illian had remembered his conversation with Ashin about the resurrection of people and he knew this was wear souls went. As he considered Cedric's comments, his hands touched each other, forming an odd shape as they touched his forehead. The warrior underwent his own internal battle, considering all the perspectives he had been taught and which one he should peak. Gritting his teeth, he attempted to maintain his stoic demeanour, wrestling with the choice he had to make. Looking at Cedric, he responded.

"Um.." a weighted silence separating his first, and later statements. "Why don't I be your companion? " his tone cautiously optimistic. It was a weird suggestion and personally, he didn't like it. However, Illian had always found experiential learning to be better than theory. That's what had shaped him so far; it was only fair he gave a Jedi the chance to convince him.

Cedric Grayson