Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Risidual Jedi, The Lost Calm.

The Chimaera,
Stardestroyer, Imperial II Class.
Much had changed over the years recent.

Veiere stood at the end of his private quarters aboard the durasteel goliath of a vessel, staring off into the distant reaches of space as if the blanket of stars might bring him some peace of mind, the rhythm in which they thrived, grew brighter and died out in such uncoordinated offense, mimicking his thoughts as he reflected upon the past. He had lost much, long before meeting Theodred Heavenshield, the Lady and soon to be madame President of Commenor, Kay Larr, or any of the former associates he had found within the Galactic Republic's new reform or the Silver Jedi Order, of which he had failed to integrate into; a fault all of his own and not to be held against them, once a Jedi in great dedication to the Order, he had tried to keep to the light and only managed to stall his inevitable slip into obscurity.

Where had this downfall started, he had to ask himself. Even having met with Theodred, the younger man had not pulled Veiere from the world of Alzoc Three, in which he had spent the decade prior upon within self-exile following the defeat and desolation of Svivren and the Enclave there. It had been Kay that had offered him a position, a job as a body guard, someone who could offer her security as she was then at the time, on her own and yet to heed Commenor's calling. Together they had sought to help the Republic, only to be deterred in it's downfall and set their sights not on the Jedi nor the government of a galaxy, but upon the smaller trade world that sought one so gifted in politics as she had been. Veiere however, had still yet to find his place and even with their growing relationship across the months, he had been torn by his former duty and Kay had seen this.

Nothing had gone as he had hoped. There had become a slim hope that she might finish her term as the worlds leader and they soon retreat into a much simpler life, nothing of the media nor attention they had acquired, but a humble living together and away from the danger of it all. That too had been taken from them the day that Atrisia had been attacked, the day that he had felt her pain through their bond and turned his back on his own brothers wishes, seeking to find and keep Kay safe. He had failed them both and people on all sides had perished; Cyril Grayson was not to be the last person close to Veiere to be killed due to his own inaction and failure to protect those around him...

A mechanical hiss sounded from far behind him, the doors sliding open to reveal two sets of audible steps, aura's accompanying them both. Cillian Braedon, Veiere's personal pilot commissioned while serving under Lady Kay, he was a youth filled man with a sarcastic remark to almost all insights of the Jedi's and yet Veiere had come to trust and dare it be said, favor the young man as a personal friend. Cillian had shown great care for Veiere, despite trusting in nothing of the Force nor understanding the Jedi path in things, he consistently questioned Veiere's state of mind, especially lately since the Sith had corrupted Commenor's leading office...

The second of the pair, the Admiral of the Chimaera, acting command in the absence of Veiere's presence here rather similar to the way the capital ship was run under Cyril Grayson's watch. Vikras Ansion was older than Veiere was, wise in his own ways and a stable mind for tactical operations and a charge such as this, he was also Commenori by blood and felt the worlds recent changes as deeply as Veiere had.

"We have arrived, Master Jedi" Vikras informed him, his tone of voice ever so factual and formal. You could tell a lot simply by the way in which someone spoke to you, whether or not they cared to respect you, nor how compatible they were to ones choices in life. Vikras was very much a man of formalities being in such a position, and yet in private such as times like this, when glad to be of the company, it was common for them to be able to speak casually together. The fact that he remained on queue and even referred to Veiere not by name but by title, caused his gaze to drop, brows furrowing as he sensed unease in the man. "You disagree with this venture, Vikras?" Veiere asked, almost a little too quietly. Their relationship was more business than it had ever been about friendship and yet Veiere was always wary about their discussions. Vikras, like many of the crew and especially the 501st legion, were not used to being under the command of a member of the Jedi Order...-If that was what Veiere was anymore.

"I fail to see the importance of pulling this vessel and her people away from the Silver territories simply to entertain the loss of your own priorities, Veiere. Yes, I am afraid I do...", he had enjoyed following a more militaristic regime after so long a time off duty following the events surrounding Commenor, to be feeling as though he was fighting for a cause once again, potentially defending and saving lives from the Mandalorian, Vikras was struggling to understand why they were pulling away. The fact was, that before they had come to Voss, the StarDestroyer and the legion had been handed down to Veiere from Cyril upon his death bed made of fallen debris and the blood of war. Like it or not, Veiere's command was law and though he very rarely forced a decision upon them, he had found himself uncertain of his path of late.

"It is true, this trip is of little value to the Order..." He slowly turned and moved to take a seat behind his desk, gesturing for both of them to join him. "I have seen worlds razed in war upon the pettiest reasons, I have seen armies amassed at the selfish desire of one man alone and then seen them all perish..." He waved his right hand as if the thought was nothing, "This galaxy is at war with itself...-Chaos, everywhere. I feel there's more we can accomplish out here for the time being...".

Vikras remained silent, his eyes studying Veiere a moment before speaking up with a little more apprehension coming through in his words, "So it's true then..." The Admiral's eyes drifting to Cillian seated beside him as if looking for confirmation, soon glancing back to Veiere, "You wish not to remain with the Jedi?".




 
Whatever was going on aboard the Chimaera was a couple lightyears away, and of absolutely zero concern to Birathen of Aximund.

The boy had arrived on the world of Mimban a few hours ago. Why? Because that was where the winds blew. Things had changed since his visit to Korriban -- particularly meaning that he had zero intention of remaining in the sector of space that called itself Sith. The people that had birthed the barbarian hordes of his homeworld were unsurprisingly similar to the eternal enemy. Being away from that constant sense of oppression was refreshing to say the least, and safe to say the most. Yes, Mimban was about as far as Birethan could afford before the traders had forced him off their ship.

Didn't matter all that much to the boy. There was much to see on this world.

Whatever history there might have been to this place was lost to the youth. He was here to learn of the outlands, yes, but learning the entire history of every world he visited would have made the boy insane. No, better to simply enjoy the experience of travel before his life was consumed by the war of Meredies.

The townsfolk had been friendly enough. They had tried to peddle goods from some past battle to him when he had arrived initially, though that quickly ceased when they realized the young man was penniless. Birathen had appreciated that -- all the extra attention was giving him a headache. From there, it had been a day's march to the battlefield. The field itself had once been a hilly range, though now it was little more than a flatland postmarked with holes. Artillery strikes had leveled the place.

Not much remained of the conflict, save for the bodies a few feet below the loose soil. Birathen wandered about aimlessly for an hour or so, immersing himself within the outer realm that outlanders called the Force. Grandfather Aximund had suggested that he might learn from seeing these old battlefields. If nothing else, it would help the boy acclimate himself to death. The spirits of the dead did indeed linger, and the echoes of their final moments were like torrents of agony at the back of Birathen's consciousness. Needless to say, the boy quickly tired of this. After a time, he found himself a place beneath one of the few trees that grew in the field. He settled down against its trunk, and began the timely process of treating his longsword with the proper oils.

The constant repetition of the task was just what he needed to keep out the screams of this field. That was what he needed to learn - to keep the roar of an army from shattering his psyche. The son of Aximund could not afford to return to Meridies until he could.

[member="Veiere Arenais"]
 
To say that Veiere wished nothing to do with the Jedi was a lie, one that he dared not speak yet the conversation took a very personal turn with the Admiral's quiet revelation; Cillian had been talking it seemed. Glancing to the younger man, Veiere tilted his head slightly to one side with a perculiar smile, offering no sign of disappointment though it was somewhat unnerving. Between the three of them, they could all be trusted and Veiere often confided in them both and yet his distance from the Jedi Order was not a decision he'd made easily nor one he had planned on expressing to any other; Cillian, again it seemed, was to smart for Veiere's own good and with there frequent trips of late aboard the Vegabond, the youth had clearly noticed a change in the wind, so to speak. The direction of the conversation had turned, regardless of his readiness for it and so, his response came with a fairly quiet tone, his words comprised of uncertainty for the future, yet confidence in their need to traverse the galaxy and seek out other opportunities where they could be found or most importantly, where their skills and many talents would be most needed.

"I have served with the Jedi Order the majority of my life..." He began, glancing between the both of them as he tried to explain himself. "The number one priority of the Order has always been in service to the Force. Neither dark nor light but the whole Force...". The Dark Side of the Force, as well as the Light were often misconceptions to the uneducated. They were two halves comprised of the same piece, only the differences remained in the emotions and ideals, the virtue or lack there of in the people who acquired and wielded such a power. The Jedi had always been keepers of the peace, it wasn't their goal to route out Dark Siders through blood shed and battle; but to keep the balance, preserving life when and where possible from sentient deterrence. To put it simply, to help all peoples were they within reach, to keep them from harm. Death was a part of life, it was of the inevitable cycle, the will of the Force. To kill another however, that was to tear the veil, stealing life where it naturally flowed as part of the ethereal, this was how the Jedi had long served the force. This was most often forgotten, and most notably during the battle of Atrisia. "As a person, I've had goals the same as the next, especially within the Academy on Voss and yet there was great difficulty there. I often felt pulled in the opposite direction and I struggled to acquaint myself with the members there...-My decision to distance myself is by no fault of theirs. I thought it would serve me best yet I cannot help but find myself distracted...-Call it blind faith, neither of you will see it but..", oh how difficult it was to explain such things to those not of sensitivity to the force, "I have a calling elsewhere, I feel I must pursue...".

Both Vikras and Cillian seemed to stare at him, their expressions blank if not for only a margin of a second, Veiere could see clearly their uncertainty, it mimicked his own and he knew the question that would no doubt follow, this time coming from the younger of the two. "This calling being...?" Cillian had a way with words and a lack of formality to him that often showered his youth upon those within the same room. It was a good question in all honesty and Veiere had expected it because above all other truths, it was a calling that he himself had yet to discover. "I do not know..." He admitted openly, "But there are places...-Times where I have found myself at the apex of focus, as though there could be no question as to my role within the galaxy, as a force practitioner...-That is why we have been revisiting some old familiar worlds Cillian. Gyndine, Yutan...." and now Veiere planned to move on Mimban, a place where he first found himself aboard the Chimaera, not as his own ship, but Cyril's during their attempt to help reform the Jedi of the Republic. "For the time being, have the men stand by. I intend to leave for Mimban immediately...-Under the republic, this is the world in which my second great battle occurred post-exile...-I will go this alone". He received no complaints, Cillian of course would be his pilot for the endeavor and Vikras knew his station well, the Chimaera would remain on over-watch and the men ever at the ready in the case of unexpected company, yet Veiere stood at the head of all things. Whether he trusted in himself these days or otherwise. His faith had wavered greatly since the loss of Commenor...-This venture was as much about finding himself as it was, finding a new cause to believe in. A way out of his obscurity.


-------------------​
An Hour Later​
-------------------​
The Vegabond touched down with the surface of Mimban, Veiere dressed in his own tunic and robe, the traditional attire of the Jedi Order much more comfortable than the armor he had left behind, his steps were light and the weight he carried, his own, moving down the landing ramp and turning to wave towards the cockpit acknowledging and letting Cillian know he was clear to head back to the Chimaera. This land was barren, he had returned to the site of the main battlefield and could almost visibly see the grave losses that had occurred here. As was ever the case in war, those sensitive to the force could feel where the veil was thinnest, the taking of life purging the natural world of it's strength, an emptiness that could not be refilled of it's vibrancy of life, no matter how much time had passed. Murder, it stained the area beyond where the eyes could see, Veiere's connection to the force like all other Jedi and Sith alike could feel this weakness in the atmosphere, a dark void that near pained him as the memories seemed to flood back in. He walked a straight line heading in the direction of where the former enclave had been, yet he saw nothing but the past. Captain Decius and he being forced to take to the ground as the transport they had come in on had been hit by a land-to-air missile. Decius had never truly forgiven Veiere for having to act brashly in order to save the man from getting himself killed, the relationship between each other was one of respect earned through battle yet never one to trust in Veiere since the encounter, Decius had always kept his guard up around the Jedi. Perhaps it was also his distrust of most force users who did not command with as steady a hand as his brother had.

The Force flowed around him, Veiere's aura was strong in the light of the suns of this world. He had been here before, he had drawn blood in these lands and had shed it too. It had been a time of great tragedy, as all battles were in his eyes. Such endless and unnecessary loss of life, he remained hopeful that his involvement would save lives, yet having to protect himself and those of the men around him, Jedi were often forced to kill in such times. It was the hypocrisy of his ideals, a pacifist taking up arms trying to save others and only being able to do so by keeping his foes at bay. There never was a victor during war times, in the end, everyone lost something, whether a part of themselves or those they held dear...

War was always cruel and unforgiving.

[member="Birathen Aximund"]​
 
The raider had come alone.

He was an alien of some sort, though of what origin Birathen did not know. The stranger's skin was barbed and brown like the wasteland he stood upon. Two humanoid eyes peered out from a leather cowl, and a vibrosword hung from his hip. The speeder he had rode in on, for that floating vehicle was what Birathen had learned to be such a thing, was a drab old vehicle that seemed like it might explode at any moment. The alien marched toward the singular tree, a hand on the vibrosword at his belt.

"Who are you?" He asked, his voice rough like sandpaper and heavily accented. "You come to the wrong place child. This land is my own now. You trespass."

Birathen rose from his position at the base of the tree. Though tall himself, Birathen found himself dwarfed by the alien. The stranger did not seem particularly muscular; his body was like a whipcord. A leathery hand beckoned toward the boy. "This is a place of blood boy. Those who come here join the ranks of the dead as the mother goddess wills. When you enter the field of blood, you surrender yourself to the promise of death. Some of my people roam here, but all who linger stay in search of an honorable demise. We fight until we are killed: such is our way."

Birathen did not respond at once. His eyes narrowed into gray slits, and a hand fell toward the sheathed longsword at his hip. "I know the sound of a suicide's breath, but I'm not some embittered warrior. I never fought here, stranger, and I don't seek death here either. I'll leave in peace."

The alien made a chuffing noise. "No you won't," Birathen heard the sound of metal grinding against metal as the vibrosword was drawn. "Drop everything but your undergarments. Then you may go."

The son of Aximund pressed his lips into a thin line. "So you're a bandit then?"

"Of a sort."

"You certainly look the part."

"Well now you're just being rude."

Silence followed. Birathen felt something change in the air - the arrival of another, this one touched with the lord's blood. Another bandit? He wasn't sure he could handle one, let alone two.

The longsword was drawn with a stroke of Birathen's arm. He took the heavy blade in both hands and angled his body in such a way as to reduce his physical presence: one shoulder facing the stranger, the other away, one foot forward, the other back.

"No blaster? Now that's boring," the alien remarked. Birathen parted his lips to reply, but the stranger was already moving forward. The vibrosword sang toward Birathen's chest, but the boy parried it with a quick turn of his blade. The vibrosword hissed along the edge of the sword, the force of the stranger's blow redirected away from Birathen. A second swing toward the chest followed, which Birathen blocked full on by grabbing the blade of his longsword with his free hand and pressing forward. The blow jarred his limbs, but it sent the alien tumbling back.

The stranger shouted a string of curses as he sprang toward his feet. Birathen was already on him. The boy feinted to the left, dodged a foot or so around his opponent, and hit the alien over the back of the head with the flat of his blade. The stranger went tumbling to the ground, utterly silent and evidently unconscious.

The young warrior drew in a deep breath, his chest rising and falling rapidly from the short but violent excursion. "Probably on spice or something," the boy mumbled, nudging the stranger with the tip of his boot. He received nothing more than a quiet groan in reply. Satisfied with his momentary victory, Birathen turned toward the coming presence he had felt, his longsword at the ready. Armed with steel, faith, and the adrenaline of victory, there was little that could force the child to waver now.

What are you? A daemon come from Meridies come to finish the job before I can return?

[member="Veiere Arenais"]
 
To claim that this show of aggression had been simply stumbled upon would have been a lie, Veiere had felt something within the force that flowed around him, it whispered to him of a danger yet the threat remained elusive, erratic and by his experience, not entirely directed his way. It was enough however to draw his attention and pull him from his walk of nostalgia, his direction shifting to veer more to the east as the tree stood clear within the distant view, a rare sight for these parts. This had always been a common occurrence in the way of his life, stumbling upon a misshapen situation only to take it on his shoulders himself, such was the offering that the Jedi Order had promised unto others that were in need of their help, such was still very much ingrained within him; with or without the sanctuary of the Order playing home to him.

Perhaps he should have seen it coming, to go looking for something, that which he knew not what exactly it was he should be expecting, naturally some form of trouble was going to present itself to him and reel him in. The Force worked in mysterious ways, it's own ways. It worked for none other than life in full and to which direction it flowed, the Jedi only followed seeking to further its current as the natural wonders of the galaxy continued to thrive or lest it be forgotten beneath the chaos and brutality of the uncivilized society they shared. A man who walked without banners, no flag to represent his cause yet pursuing the cause none the less as he knew little other way to live; least of all find it in himself to forgive himself for his past failures should he cease to honor the Force.

What he found was not entirely what he had expected, though not far from the norm when considering the bandit who had come to be flawed in his approach and now lay unconscious in his face-time with the hard floor of the world. Veiere's gaze however drifted across to study the younger of the pair, he who wielded a blade of steel and seemed adequately skilled in it's use compared to those typical of these parts. What's more was that Veiere had not had a chance to choose his approach, his presence had already been noted despite the short dual having been ended mere meters from him. Veiere simply stood there, his robe draping down from his shoulders and laying loosely at his feet, the sand and dirt of the world having left a musk layer of dust from his stride; still he did not initially speak.

What was it that he had been brought here to witness? Something in the way that the Force swirled around them spoke volumes for the abnormality in the affair and yet as sensitive and knowledgeable to the Force that he was, his sentience remained ignorant to the facts, left to question and learn as the Force did not do all their work for them; no matter how great of an ally it was.

"You did not kill him...", He started with the one simple fact that separated this boy from the majority of the known galaxy. [member="Birathen Aximund"] had shown such a thug mercy in the face of what surely would have been his end had he not the skill to defend himself. An eye for an eye, this was the way of things to those outside of Veiere's path once followed.

There was no aggression, no sign of intimidation in the weight that his shoulders carried as he walked further still and moved to pass Birathen, seeking out the collapsed male on the other side of the clearing and taking to a knee, reaching for his throat in order to gauge, not his life but the pace in which the thugs heart beat, pumping blood through out his veins. In the bliss of his unconsciousness, the heart rate was calm and thus he simply pulled the fallen by the shoulder in order to ensure he lay upon his side, so not to choke on his ego, least of all anything else.

A heavy sigh escaped his breath, audible as he remained knelt with his back to Birathen, his eyes tracing the far horizon in search of the answers he so could not clearly see. The boys presence was not without it's own aura in the force, though unkept, it was clear to see that something else carried Birathen's fate aside from his own means. Curious that it came to be this way, that Veiere would feel such things so distinctly. These were the small happenings in the galaxy that were needed of him, if not only to distract him from the greater threat of galactic society as a whole, society itself.

"What's your name, lad? What do they call you...".
 
His chest rose and fell at such a rate that some might have been worried. It would be a lie to say the Birathen did not fear this stranger. The boy knew how to handle steel, that much was true, but when faced with the challenge of contesting with true warriors of the outlands he often fell short. A sword could accomplish little against a man with a gun, after all, let alone the laser blades some people used. Lightsabers, he'd heard them called. Most of those who were touched by the lord's blood carried such weapons, and this stranger certainly fit the description well enough. The boy's brow furrowed as he observed the stranger, his sword lowering somewhat as he got a better look at him.

The man didn't seem to carry any hostile intent, but then looks were deceiving, and honor was a rare thing beyond Meredies.

"I don't kill. Not if I can help it, and I have not had to yet." Birathen answered, his brow furrowing as the man swept passed him toward the unconscious raider. With a quiet sigh, the son of Aximund cleaned a few flecks of blood from the face of his weapon where it had made small cuts into the alien's head before sheathing the weapon.

"I don't think those robes would do you much good in battle," the boy pointed out, rather than giving the man an answer to his question. He watched the stranger with a hawk's eye - gray oculars scanning the man for anything that may have resembled a weapon. Unfortunately, those robes did afford the stranger an advantage: Birathen could not tell what he might have been carrying. Frowning, the boy turned from this stranger and began walking back toward the tree.

"I am Birathen of Aximund," he finally called back.

[member="Veiere Arenais"]
 
Someone who had not taken a life; as sad as it was, this was a rare thing in those comfortable in battle. It showed character, the reluctance to take a life was never something that Veiere could take for granted in those he came across. The truly capable within the galaxy most often relinquished their integrity in search of the cause they followed and Veiere himself had been forced to enter into war, to take a life and feel the backlash as his blade directly took from the Force, wounding it in by taking another sentient life. "Consider yourself fortunate..." Veiere responded with a hint of regret to his tone of voice, his eyes falling away from the distant land and instead glancing back to the rogue thug who had tried to take [member="Birathen Aximund"] by force. It was easy to feel sympathetic for the fallen, as just as his new found condition was. Criminals were a constant way of life though it was difficult to tell between those that chose that life, and those that were simply brought up in it to know no better. Either way, this man had tried to cross someone far more capable than himself and by the grace of Birathen, was allowed to yet live.

It was then that the lad commented on his attire and Veiere rose to his feet, turning slowly to face his new found acquaintance, "It would not do were I to be hit, that is true. Though the difference between you and myself young one is that I do not dress, whilst planning on being hit in the first place..." He offered something of a wary grin, tilting his head to the side and showing something of his lighter side. "In all truth, however, I did not come here looking to enter into conflict with anyone...." he could have mentioned that which he owned with the rest of the belongings orbiting the world from above yet he had no need, instead his curiosity turned back on the boy as he spoke his name and something around them changed, whether or was Veiere's familiarity with the name 'Aximund' or the force itself echoing his intrigue silently within the back of his mind, his head lifted somewhat and he had to take a moment to question where he had heard such names.

"By your own attire...-You are clearly not a local of this world are you..." He remarked, his hands falling to his front, digging his thumbs into the back side of his belt, standing rather casually. "Where do you call home, if I can ask...".
 

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