Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Private The Rain Poured Down

The rain poured heavily unto the Graywall.

Cedric stood motionless amidst the torrent, stripped down to his pants and left to his own devices now that the day was drawing to a close. Bogan's Lament hummed quietly in his cybernetic hand, his other limb held outward toward seemingly nothing. His eyes remained half-lidded as he drew upon the energies of the empyrean, maintaining a tiny barrier around his flesh that kept separated him from the storm.

If the barrier failed, then so too did he fail the exercise.

The two training droids wasted little time in raising their weapons. Cedric parried the overhanded swing of the first droid, sending its vibroblade flying up toward the sky and making it stumble back with a shoulder check. The blow was a painful one, but then if he could not manage that, how was he going to function if he actually got shot? The second droid exchanged several blows with him, the conflict ending in a locking of the two blades. Cedric simply leaned forward, his weapon sliding over the droid's and spearing it in the chest.

"I need to update your moveset," he mumbled as he doused his blade and toggled the droids offline with their control console. With a heavy sigh, Cedric finally relented on the barrier, allowing the rains to wash the sweat and grime from his scar spattered torso as he collapsed into the grass of the courtyard. There was still much to be done, but for a brief moment, he could relax.

Emiery Athelon
 

Emiery Grayson

Guest
E
Rain.

Emiery had endured much worse than rain, and centuries as a subject of the Nether brought perspective, where the parched landscapes of its realms knew no such refreshment. She had a particular appreciation for rain, given this, and here, it fed Ruusan's forests, sustained its people, and slicked the stone of the Graywall, which had hardly changed in... the precise position of the memory in the flow of time was hard to say, but that was another life entirely, both hers, and not. Regardless of the particulars of herself in the present, a visit of the young padawan to this place left a lasting mark when confronted with its history, coupled with that of Ruusan: a key piece in the principles that made up the knight she had once become. It wasn't only word of Cedric Grayson Cedric Grayson 's movements that turned her gaze to this place. No, it was just as much Ruusan itself, and the Graywall.

Meetings saw her speak nary a word, and a limit in her attendance - you meet enough Jedi, you have a reasonable idea of what they may or may not say past a certain point - instead coming to know, or reacquaint herself in some cases, with the structure of the castle, comparing what might have changed with the reference provided by her other self. At some locations, this lead to the outside, and now, it had led her to here, and led her to... well, not spy on the erstwhile imperator, but observe, beneath his notice. Or perhaps, so she thought; he'd often seemed a touch more perceptive, and the marks she now noted he carried on bared skin, as muscle and bone worked within the torrent of rain, against the droids, spoke to exposures with them, a thought which only served to darken her expression. One of the costs, that was, and the ultimate of which she knew on a somewhat personal level. Dying twice was an experience, of sorts. When Cedric dropped himself onto the wet grass, she peeled herself from where she was, against the outer wall of the castle, after a moment or two.

"Comfortable?"

She was mildly curious about it, admittedly, coming to a stop where he began, and were her hair not pinned back, she would be looking every bit the drowned rat.
 
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To maintain one's connection to the Ashla, one needed to make finding their center an action as familiar as flexing an arm. Cedric tended toward it reflexively whenever he had a moment alone, the rain made that somewhat difficult however. He simply stared up into the violent cloud above, his eyes narrowing as bolts of lightning carved their way through the darkness.

He would have to prepare a general staff meeting for the proposed infiltration of Chandaar soon. The preparations and the meeting itself would take up the majority of the night, possibly even some of the early morning hours. Needless to say he wasn't particularly keen on getting up, and the presence watching him gave him another reason to procrastinate.

The exile didn't bother to get up as Emiery Athelon showed herself. He had trouble recognizing her in the storm at first, but realization dawned on him rather quickly. He'd always remembered here seeming a bit fierce in her appearance, but she just looked like a lost girl out in the rain now.

"Emiery," he blinked up at her, lips pursed in momentary confusion. "I hadn't expected I'd see you again." The last he'd seen or heard of her was in the last few days of the Imperium. Before the traitors took power and enslaved his people to endless consumerism.

Cedric sat up, resting his hands on his knees as he peered up at her. "If I had known you were coming I would've brought an umbrella."
 

Emiery Grayson

Guest
E
An umbrella? The barest upturn of the corners of her mouth, a faint smile, was all the response she gave the nicety. In different climes, different times, a different life, perhaps, it might've been otherwise; a little rain wouldn't foster illness... no, but it would make getting out of these clothes later an exercise akin to peeling a fruit, only with more difficulty, if she even went anywhere near slumber, that is. A moment saw her gaze cast skyward, to the display of sheer energy expressed in viper-like light licking the dark, roiling system as it moved across this part of Ruusan, the power, ferocity, beauty of nature on display in one of its myriad ways. A tempest at the forefront of the weeks and months to come.

"Nor I, you," came her reply, words still tinged with the particular Pelagian flavour of the Tapani voice, eyes and chin coming back down to look on Cedric Grayson Cedric Grayson while speaking, as was proper - she wasn't a barbarian - with the realisation dawning that she hadn't before seen him like this when her gaze settled upon him, once again, a sidepath, a footnote in her thoughts, "but the winds change, from time to time."

Emiery blinked rapidly, clearing drops of rain.

"I would have written."

They had all scattered to the winds, her included, but it wasn't every day, much less every year, or century, that the ideals of others lined up so well with her own. Needless squabbling, infighting plagued much of the 'light', such that it fragmented more often than not. More often than not, she found herself disgusted. Sometimes incensed, when reading reports disseminated over the Holonet. There were certain lengths that she would go to, but she had limits. Morals.

"I don't know if I would be standing here now, if this place and the stories of the Jedi Lords hadn't gotten to me as a young, impressionable padawan."

Would she have even found her way into the Imperium, if not for that? Would she even exist in this time, for that matter? Her arms uncrossed, the right going to hang at her side, while the hand of the other went to rest on the pommel of the blade at her hip. The lightfoil was absent, stowed away somewhere.

"Not without a master who was keen on the history of the Jedi, that we should know where we came from."
 
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(phone post)

“That they do.” Cedric muttered as he momentarily cast his gaze toward the sky. There were very few among the Crusade’s number that could claim to have been part of hers retinue during the days of the Imperium. Many of their number were original Essonians, and then members of the lower Coruscanti class that had converted to the Ashlan faith. Not many of the knights from that time had come to join the Ashlans. They had either been slain, or owed their loyalties ultimately to the Galactic Alliance.

Cedric couldn’t blame them for the latter, but he still disagreed with their choices. The cause would be better served out here on the front. “I’ve never been much of one for letters anyway,” he added, the cold of the storm starting to set in now that he wasn’t maintaining his barrier.

“There aren’t many Jedi from the Imperium here. Most bought into the propaganda of our enemies. They serve their masters in the senate now.” It took great effort to keep the bitterness he felt in his heart from infecting his words. “Most of them have never heard the old stories, or they were taught that the heroes of those tales were really the villains. All to appease the control of the Jedi Council, and in turn, the senate. Our people have served individuals only out for themselves for far too long. I sought to rectify that with the Imperium, but I was too tolerant of the old order, and they took advantage of that tolerance. Give them an inch and they will take a mile. That won’t be happening again.”

The exile paused, his eyes narrowing into pinpricks of flint as he appraised Emiery. “I’m guessing by your presence here that you don’t agree with our old friends, or perhaps you’ve come to debate on their behalf?” A brow was raised.
 

Emiery Grayson

Guest
E
They had, they did, and she'd watched it all happen, as they were seduced, one by one. At the mere thought that she would come all this way to speak for them, air expelled from her nose, a muted shade of a snort, her eyes flicking to one side, shifting to and fro, sorting through every instance that had driven her further out of their company. 'Friend' was not the word she would use.

"Truth be told, Cedric," deep browns returned to his form as she began to speak, "I haven't set foot in the Core since a few months after the Imperium was gone."

How long had it taken for her to find her true place, only for it to slip through her fingers? For it to be torn apart? She wouldn't let it happen again, lest she was met with a cavernous lack of direction, without path, that marked every moment from the day she stepped out of hell itself, and none of which she desired to repeat... coming to the Imperium, its convictions resonating deep with her own, was not unlike coming in from the cold and dark.

"My ancestral lands may be within their borders, but there is no home for me, there, and far less, amongst them." When had the hand on the hilt of her blade become tightened? A weak ache from the pressure of her grip rolled through her knuckles, urging a slackening of her hold, to which she relented, bringing her hands together, thumb massaging the palm. "Yes, Cedric, I don't agree with them at all. "

Her brow creased faintly. She hadn't thought talking about it, this far out from then, would bring up much of the same feelings of betrayal.

"And if that makes a villain of me in their eyes, so be it."

Cedric Grayson Cedric Grayson
 
It was answer that Cedric could understand. He noted well the tensing of the woman’s fingers around her blade - perhaps simply a habit, but it put the Essonian on guard to a certain degree. That being said, he did not expect treachery from Emiery. Her expression betrayed no ill will, and her presence within the empyrean was more or less serene, darkened slightly with emotional pain perhaps, but otherwise clear.


He was uncertain how to respond at first, his brow furrowing as he turned his gaze toward the sea of trees that broke out just above the fog that had settled over the valley below. Her thoughts were similar to his own when it came to those left behind in the core. He too had gone out of his way to avoid the former domains of the Imperium, though for likely different reasons. There was a very real fear that if his whereabouts within the core were known, someone would come for him. The senate could not allow a former ruler with a worrying number of loyalists to roam freely within their lands. They had gone so far as to ban his people’s party and ostracize those that followed the faith, any hopes of his being able to lead his students in the New Jedi Order dashed as the bureaucrats sought to secure their power.

It had been a coup, illegal, and a betrayal of everything they had fought for, and those he had once called comrade had cheered it on for the sake of ‘liberty’. They had only traded just rule for unfettered capitalism, nepotism, and an oligarchy that was anything but accountable to the public. That betrayal had been a personal one too - some of his students retained their relations with him in the dark, but most refused to stray from the party line. Only his most favored had been open about his disenchantment with the state of things, and the one that he had come to love too had found a replacement for him.

Some said the galaxy was moving on, leaving him behind as it entered a new age. Cedric saw it for what it truly was: the galaxy had gone mad, and the fabric of trust that once bound society together was coming undone.

“I’ve stopped caring about the opinions of those that are motivated only by lining their pockets.” He grumbled, hints of bitterness leaking into his tone despite his better intentions. “There is no point in trying to appease them. They will only take and take until there is nothing left for you to give. The only future the core has is one of chaos. It’s unfortunate, and I wish that things were different, but it’s a choice they made. For my part, I’ll see the Sith driven out from our old lands and forge a new society. One with the strength and will of faith to survive where their oligarchy cannot.”


He drew in a sharp breath, and reached up to wipe some of the rain from his brow. “There’s a place here for you, if you wish it.”

Emiery Athelon
 

Emiery Grayson

Guest
E
He had the right of it - there was little point in even trying with them, let alone giving them the benefit of attention by way of embittered emotion in their direction, and allowing them to live rent-free in the mind. If only it were so easy to simply decide to release it all, and have it be over with, but given time... her eyes slipped shut, as she drew in a long breath, in through the nose, and just as slowly out through the mouth, just trying to will it all away, for now.

"I do wish it," she admitted, eyes opening once again with a sigh, the cold and wet of the storm beginning to seep into her bones as the night deepened, evoking a chill that sent her arms about her torso as they'd been at the outset of this conversation, "I would like nothing more."

In reality, she had come here with no other intention than to stay. It felt, in the simplest terms, as if this was the only thing that made sense. That she was meant to be here, and that lightning, so to speak, did strike twice. Not every being was afforded such clarity, nor such acute awareness of what the Force wanted of them, of its will; no doubt it had been the very thing that beckoned her forth, that day on Voss, a handful of years prior.

"I would be honoured to carve a path through hell with you, Cedric Grayson Cedric Grayson ...." she continued, "...if you wouldn't mind the company."
 
"Not at all." He replied near instantly. The request didn't require much thought. Emiery Athelon was one of the few that Cedric would wager to say that he trusted. Having another experienced knight could only be beneficial for the Crusade in a larger sense, and more importantly he would finally have someone around that understood what his intentions were with the Imperium.

It seemed whatever good will he'd garnered with most of the galaxy evaporated after the Imperium's forging. His peers either backed his decision to maintain the monarchy wholeheartedly, or disavowed him as a traitor. There was very little room for middle ground. Still, he supposed it didn't much matter anymore. All that remained of relevance was the coming war.

"There aren't really any others left." He mumbled, reaching instinctively for his robe only to realize it was just as soaked as he was. The exile's brow furrowed, "Just us, and a few lucky knights." He turned back toward the castle. "That being said, I'll die of a cold if I remain out here much longer, and that won't help anyone. I'm grabbing some caf. You can join me if you want."

Wholly expecting Emiery to follow, he made his way toward one of the more out of the way tunnels that would lead him toward the heart of the fortress. The doors opened with a quick biometric scan, and he eagerly stepped out of the rain and into the sterile cold halls of the castle's lower levels.

"Won't be here much longer. I'm trying to enjoy it while I can," he mumbled, running a hand along the stone walls as he would lead her into the depths of his ancestral home. "What's happened to you while you've been away?"
 

Emiery Grayson

Guest
E
"Good," she returned, a distinct curl of her lips following, compared to what was given when it came to the umbrella comment, but this too faded in short measure. She had more than understood Cedric Grayson Cedric Grayson 's intentions at the time, readily agreeing with his aims as if her mind had been made up in advance; such alignment of ideals with her own made an easy foundation for loyalty. That they were cut from a similar cloth only made it more specific. Inheritence, the right of rule, a milieu she herself had been born into.

"A shame," flat words tailing his low ones - but their miniscule number could change. She watched Cedric gather himself, her mind turning over thoughts about the matter of her never having invested in the training of another generation, in this life or the last, "Only thing either of us might catch is a touch of hypothermia," she quipped, deadpan, wondering what, exactly, had possessed either of them to remain in the storm for so long: a portent of things to come?

Without another word and an eager nod at the mention of caf, the Pelagonian followed, the promise of something to warm her insides inspiring her to keep pace with the exile, as he sought out a particular entrance, and went along inside, after him, wet footfalls echoing through the corridor. It was only a shade warmer than without, on the sole fact that it was dry, and she peeled one arm from her torso to wipe over her wet face with an equally wet hand, a barely amused note escaping her at the futility of doing so. While the castle stood as an immovable point of influence in her life, it was a home to him, and she could see how he might be loathe to leave it. Not only for that, but for the solitude it might offer; a question about the intervening time between then and now caught her nearly off-guard.

"I..." how could she sum it? "...it was difficult to adjust. I can't say I succeeded at making the transition to serving a cult of pocket-lined political demons."

The words were, perhaps, a touch too derisive. The last gathering of the 'light' she attended, she'd found herself outright struggling to contribute non-incendiary words, in the face of growing disgust. There was something to be said about the fact that the Sith had been by far more cohesive, and none of it was good. She sighed., and continued on.

"The time after I parted ways with our... old friends, as you say, was spent maintaining and improving my skillset, keeping up to date on the increasing suffocation of the galaxy, acting when and as I deemed necessary, and keeping a low profile, otherwise."

Being found to be a long-dead person walking amongst the living, on Pelagon, would have been unwanted attention. Emiery glanced sidelong at him, a level look, being of equal height, "And then I got news of your movements, bringing me here..." a heavy pause saw her gaze directed forward again, "...but in all that time, you didn't seem to be anywhere..."
 
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Of all the ways he thought he might die, hypothermia was indeed the most pleasant of them. the exile snorted at her words, though he offered no comment, simply listening as he led Emiery through the maze of the lower levels. This section of the fortress was generally only tread by him, his aides, and young Mikhail Grayson Mikhail Grayson , though he'd not had the pleasure of keeping his nephew's company much lately.

The further they delved, the staler the air seemed to become. The path eventually opened up into a small chamber that held a private collection of foreign artistry, banners, weapons, and other trophies the Graysons had procured during their millennium of service. Ever the mavericks of the Jedi Order, his ancestors had seen to fit to collect cultural artifacts from most of their former enemies and allies throughout the years under the pretense of preservation, though Cedric privately thought that much of it was a testament to their glory.

His family's great flaw had always been their arrogance. The will to power lingered in each and every one of them, despite the teachings of the code. He supposed without that arrogance, or rather as he saw it pride, they would have been extinguished long ago, be it during the great Jedi Purge or times thereafter.

"I tried to work with them as well, but I couldn't find my heart in it. They made the matter of leaving much easier afterword anyway with their deportation of me and my family to the outer rim." He muttered, running pale fingers over one of the scarlet Sith banners that hung in a corner of the room. "Or what remains of us anyway."

He met her gaze then, lips pressing into a thin line as she stated the obvious. Indeed, no one had heard from him for the better part of a year - a year that he would have much rather forgotten.

"I fell by the wayside," he mumbled, "I let myself dip into despair, and lost myself in drink for a time." The furrow of his brow deepened as he tore his gaze from Emiery back to the banner, "I am naturally melancholic. I gravitate toward it. When I was ousted, I did not lose my position, but rather my entire world. My friends, my family, my partner, my legacy, all rendered moot at the hands a few greedy politicians."

A heavy sigh escaped the exile's lips. "But it is what it is. I've risen from my failure, and my purpose is clear. I will see this to the end, be that either at the gates of Dromund Kass, or on a funeral pyre."

Emiery Athelon
 

Emiery Grayson

Guest
E
The staleness made her nose wrinkle, but there had been far worse, more acrid scents that had assaulted her senses in bygone times. She felt she might sneeze for several moments when delving deeper into the keep, but nothing came of it, eliciting a faint blip of irritation at being deprived, in her overall singular, steady mood. The feel of the place evoked long-buried memories, belonging to a child, old things in an old place, giving her pause in her exposition on the days in which she was not within his service. It was hard to not look over the varied accumulation of items that told tales so far back as to predate her existence, but she recognised many of them for what they meant, and where they came from. It was hard not to look, so she let herself look between her words, and his, until words drew her gaze back into focus, words that answered her trailing question.

She knew the feel of being abandoned, put out, exiled... though the situation had been different, though it had been long in the past, another life, even, she understood. She had eventually come to understand why, and would agree with their judgement... but she would never again be so weak. So complacent, and too proud... but a part of her believed that it all happened the way it did because the Force willed it so. That she was here, now, in this place, at its behest.

"The Empire will become ash, Cedric," she stated, as if it were fact. She had little doubt that its days were numbered. What was her purpose, if not that? "You are driven out, denounced, yet still the people follow you. And you will either lead them to glory, or they'll make a martyr out of you."

Or a saint. There would be no falling into obscurity, no true death for Cedric Grayson Cedric Grayson , not with followers like his, and though anyone could protest the morose alternative of death he presented, it was only the truth. To walk this path was to knock on death's door, on purpose. Willingly. For someone who'd walked through that door twice, she strangely had no reservations about this, but that was making peace with the eventuality.

"And Force willing, this magnificent collection, and the legacy it entails, will only grow from it..." she looked at him, ruefully, "...I only hope to not die of cold before we can make it happen."

Emie rubbed at her upper arms, sucking in a thin, sharp breath. This place wasn't getting any warmer, nor her any drier. She could imagine all the temporary wrinkles she'd have from the long, cold soak, and if she hadn't been stripped of a fair measure of her vanity after so long in the Nether, this fact would have bothered her more.
 
The woman had a point.

Often he had considered his place in the galaxy, and found himself somewhat wanting. It was the nature of men to seek higher ambitions if such ambitions were not stifled in their youth, and Cedric's had only been fed further as time went on. Part of him knew that the crusade was not solely a means of serving the Ashla. It was his life's work, his legacy, and perhaps even partly a statement to the traitors in the Galactic Alliance that he still drew breath, and there were still enough people willing to follow him so as to pose a threat.

Such thinking was negative, of course, and wholly unbecoming of a Jedi. One that walked the path was not to seek ambition or glory, and Cedric had well convinced himself that he did not act for such vain things. His purpose was a holy one, his cause just, and those that walked with him equally as justified in the war they waged.

Yet some part of him still had doubts. He supposed there always would be, Nonetheless, he could so no other means of ending the Sith for good. The Jedi of the past might have disapproved of his methods, but then they had done so similarly with the Army of Light, and that army had extinguished the Sith for well over a thousand years.

Maybe it was better then to be the black sheep.

"You're not wrong," he mumbled as he ran his fingers through the banner of some Sith legion that had been purged a few thousand years ago. "The empire will fall, but the threat will remain. The Sith must be exterminated Emiery. Every last one of them, every piece of their culture, every document regaling their history. We must have the strength to do what needs to be done, as the Army of Light once did, or this chaos will continue. Our children will never know peace."

He turned to face the knight, his arms folding behind the small of his back, fingers picking at bits of lint that hung from the hem of his robe's sleeves. "They will come for us, eventually," he added, far quieter now, "The traitors. They will see us as a threat. When the Sith are dealt with, the Bryn'adul expunged, the Maw tamed, they will come for us, and they will think their cause is righteous." He let the words hang there for a moment, gray eyes narrowing into pinpricks of flint as he stared intently into Emiery's own. "If it comes to that, would you still stand with me? Would you give everything for the faith?"

Emiery Athelon
 

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