Private Thunder on the Height.

[Raz Asai'il]

Raz sits at the precipice of the falls and watches the roaring water flow through the stones and crevices carved by eons of travel, feels it tumble off the edge into the great valley far below with a crash. All around him, he senses life. The hardy river fish of this planet, clinging to rocks and fighting the current, great herbivorous creatures as tall as men lumbering through the trees. Lithe many limbed felines, stalking prey, wary golden eyes watching for an opening. He breathes out, a circle of water suspended in midair slowly flowing around him in sync with his breathing, an exercise in control and precision. slowly, he rises, and the ring of water rises with him. The Jedi begins, on his narrow ledge, moving through the forms of Soresu, his lightsaber in his hand but unignited. As he moves, the ring moves and flows with him, tracing his movements in a delicate dancing ribbon. His form is beautiful, but it is not perfect to those who know soresu. His form is full of small adaptations, small adjustments to position and flow that can only be made through decades of use.

The crack of a branch calls Raz' attention, too loud to be a predator, too soft to be a prey animal. he reaches out with his senses, but feels only the wind on his skin. Still, there is a disturbance, the world suddenly silent except for the roaring of the falls. He releases his ring of water, allowing it to flow back into the rapids, as he turns.

"You need not be afraid, I mean you no harm." The master stows his saber and sits down in the lotus position. "Come, let us speak."

 

[Saket Keane]

"Fear iz not whhat you dezerve from me," the voice is forced through a scuffed helmet's filter, "but fury? Yez." Saket's heavily robed form tromps between the trees into view of the peaceful master. The slats of his dark helmet tilt as he angles his head. "Whhat iz thiz but desecration of ancestor'z memory? Your flesshh of Sith harboring spirhit of Jedi." The Ubese gives a garbled scoff, "No talk. I end thhiz disrezpect of your people, of their ways made mine." Though slow in his walk he doesn't pause his approach, each step dragging through the thick carpet of moss and leaves with purpose. His ruana, heavy from the fresh rain, is so stained with mud one might think it brown instead of black. In worse shape are the wayfarer's boots, torn and dented, having carried the young Ubese across a number of harsh worlds. What looks close to clean is the lightsaber clipped on his chest near the left shoulder, its matte body bearing scars but kept free of dirt and grime.

"Make strong fight, Jedi, or be killed with little trouble." Gloved fingers reach for the saber's hilt.

Raz Asai'il

 

[Raz Asai'il]

Raz watches the young man with the calm only the very old carry, as immutable as the river carving through the rocks under their feet. he does not rise from his seated position, instead simply taking his lightsaber off of his belt and placing it down in front of him.

"I will not fight you, young warrior, we have no cause to shed blood. Violence without purpose is an exercise in futility. The force guides us all, whether we know it or not. Perhaps you have been brought here for a reason." A small, wry smile. "Or perhaps, you simply happened across a crazy old man in the woods. Either way, I can offer you tea, and a spot at my fire, if you wish to rest. But I cannot offer you whatever it is you seek to gain through combat." Raz nods at Saket Keane and gestures to a built but not yet lit fire. "I for one could use some company."

 

[Saket Keane]

The determined tread continues as Saket grips the saber. How long has he been on this planet? More cycles than he can recall, and the HUD of his helmet shows only a portion of the information it could before the crash. Night and day came as they pleased indifferent to his march across this planet's lonely face. The Force entertains a humorous side, he thinks, sending him to journey for weeks only to find the joke which sits before him. A Jedi wearing a Sith's face.

A twisted joke.

He halts a few steps away from the lifeless firepit. The lightsaber ignites with a yellow beam which hums soft as Saket swings it down. The blade is held at a low angle, motionless as its user, before being sunk into the firepit's heart. Leaf and debris catch the blade's heat and Saket sinks the same, breath hissing as the helmet's life support stutters.

"Nothhing of hiztory tthen livez in your head. Jedi eraze whhat you are. Tthey try eraze my people. Liez and hollow soulz the Jedi make. Which whhy tea you better have, and food, so you can do one true thhing with your life."

Raz Asai'il

 

[Raz Asai'il]

"You're right." Raz speaks plainly, exhaling as he uses tutaminis to guide the flames along the tinder, slowly bringing the fire to life. "The Jedi Order has committed many sins, and they have earned their reputation for duplicity and pretention, just as they have earned the wary looks of civilians in the street." as he speaks, he gestures with his right hand. There is a ring on it, a ring with the icon of a sith acolyte. "I marked my skin with the genocide of my people so that as long as I stood in their chambers, they would not forget that they are not infallible, nor would they be allowed to conflate their adherence to the force with moral wisdom." He sets up the teapot. "Many jedi have grown far too fascinated with the blades we carry. That destructive power, always at our fingertips, have blinded us to the purpose for which they were forged. A saber in the hands of a jedi should only be a weapon in the most dire of circumstances. It is a light, to guide and protect, not to rule, not to govern, not to conquer. The Order in its current form is entrenched in the most dangerous delusion of them all- the belief that they can interpret the Will of the Force. A militant order, convinced of its moral infallibility, and with carte blanche to act without oversight. A dangerous combination."

Raz fills the teapot with water from the river using the force, his control so precise that the water enters laminar flow as it runs through the air to the pot. "Take the Sith, and their order. they rule through power, and through fear of that power they have enforced something resembling peace. But it is unnatural. Like stale air it sticks in the lungs, until everyone speaks in a whisper. And the Jedi, they rule through adherence to tradition, everything entrenched in forgotten mysticism and rituals that have lost their utility. Both fail because both cannot grasp the truth: There is no dark side, there is no light side. Nobody has any enemies. There is only us, and the Force, which flows through all of us. Like that river, it is incapable of evil, it is incapable of good. What it gives is life. One can follow the flow of the river, and in doing so find a place to make their home. But if one watches only the river, and not the world it flows through, then they will crash over the edge and be lost."

Raz chuckles to himself as he pours his herbs into the pot. "Listen to me, prattling on, I'm surprised you have not nodded off. I am Raz Asai'il. May I have the honor of your name?"

Saket Keane

 

[Saket Keane]

Saket is motionless--and emotionless--as he takes time to digest all the words the stranger speaks. The yellow beam of the lightsaber had been dismissed beforehand though the hilt remained in a firm grip, leveled to point accusingly toward Raz. But Saket can't find the breath to chide him, the Ubese bursting into a frazzled laugh that could sound genuine if not choked by mechanical dampeners. "Iz this trick? Maybe a brain scrahmbled bhy hhyperspaze?" The heavy helmet shakes with a dismissal. "You hhad my fury. You have now my interest. Do not waste such."

He pauses, considering the eccentric seated across from him. Saket indulges in another choked chuckle then shrugs. "Saket of clan Keane, claimed of Uba IV ahnd given proudly to Sith Order. You weahr signet of an acolyte. Perhhapz you not alwayz so lost in your head, yez?" The helmet slats point down as if to watch the kettle, but where Saket's true attention falls is unknown as he speaks. "Tthere iz dark and lighht, but evil and good exhist in person's mind and hand. Jedi cause fracture between uz, churned thhe waters and polluted the river whith the first genocide. Their river, Ashla, I call evil, made so with thheir handz. My river, Bogan, split and flows true, givez power to thhem strong enough to drink. Thiz iz good for me and my kin."

He reaches down to pluck a leaf from the fire, pulling it close to watch it smolder. "I hhave doubt you are Jedi. Thhey would killed you for such sayingz. Iz thiz why you on such planet?"

Raz Asai'il

 

[Raz Asai'il]

At a mention of the ring, Raz' eyes dim. "It is not mine, a keepsake from a young man I met on Tesserae. He was troubled, conflicted in his role during the conflict raging there, the civilian casualties. So his comrades poisoned him. It was an alchemical poison, I could not heal him. He was in pain, and there was nothing I could do except give him the peace he begged for." He watches the fire crackle. "It is a terrible thing, to watch someone so young so terrified they would be forgotten. The young should be dreamers. Old men like me, we should be the ones so embattled...And so I told him that I would take his ring and wear it, so that I would never forget him. Tarmir Zendo lives on in me." It is clear that Raz still mourns the taking of a life, even if it was a mercy.

"There are some in my order who would agree with you, Saket. I exiled myself when I realized that I would not sway them with words. I hope to change their minds through action, even if that means I must oppose them. Any organization that finds moral fault with questioning their view is a failed state. If that means that I am a heretic, then I suppose I am one."

The Jedi pulls two cups from the simple bag on the ground and sets them down, using the Force to take the pot from the flames he pours tea before allowing the kettle to settle on the ground. He sits back:

"I learned a custom I have grown fond of on Raelae, an outlier planet on the edge of contested space between the Concord and the Empire. I have poured the drinks, so you must choose first. It is a show of trust, allowing even the most bitter of enemies to gather round a fire and speak when the need arises."

"You are quite a long way from home, and from the state of your gear it is not by choice. What brings you here, to the edge of the world, Saket Keane ?"

 

[Saket Keane]

Saket's helmet buzzes while he hums. "Conflict in your mission iz weakness. Would nott have lazted long evhen if not poisoned. You take on weakness bhy mourning hhim. The young shhould be conquerorz, the old advizors." The young Ubese reaches for the cup on his left. "Truhst? I not truhst you, Raz Asai'il , but myself. Thhat if deceit iz in your hands I will survive you."

He takes a deep breath as he brings the cup to the helmet's face. A snap, click, and a hiss. Organic features are seen at last after the haze of gasses dissipate, pale skin and limpid blue eyes contrasting the oppressive black and gray of his apparel. He sets the cup to his lips and takes a long sip, savoring the warmth of the herbal mix before pulling away to sigh. "The transport I boarded was shot before hyperspace. Near pulled apart if pilots not drop out, but they drop too close to planet. Everyone joined the dirt. We walk above them now." Unbothered by the event Saket watches Raz with a neutral face. The tea is finished with a sudden and deep drink, his helmet hissing shut as he leans forward. "Ahnd iz exhile whhat bringz you here? To practice Soresu in secrhet? To levitate teapots and play in thhe river?"

 

[Raz Asai'il]

Raz does not take offense at the younger man's words, simply taking the cup back and placing it face down in the fire to sanitize it along with his own.
"I go where the river flows, until I am called away. The force called me here, and perhaps you are why, Saket Keane . I have a ship. Tell me a safe harbor I can bring you to, and I will help you." There is no duplicity in the older man's words, for all the world seeming as if it is just a kind offer to a passing stranger.
"You know Soresu? Not many would recognize it, many Jedi view it as an incomplete form because they believe it lacks a way to win fights. In a way, they are right. Soresu is not a form for those who's only goal is to defeat their opponent." Raz slowly reaches for his lightsaber, putting it back on his belt as non threateningly as possible. "But just as it is possible to lose despite making no errors, it is possible to achieve one's goal without victory, if that goal is peace. Soresu is the form of the guardian, born of the most inconvenient tenet of the Jedi: We are not warriors, glory is not our path. It is true, sometimes we must fight. But there is a difference between fighting to protect yourself or someone else, and fighting to win. Violence is neither good nor evil. It is a tool, like a lightsaber. We alone create good and evil, and so we alone can choose what matters more: Our victory, or our opponent's lives."

 

[Saket Keane]

The Ubese scoffs then waves away the Sith's offer. "Do not insuhlt me withh such speech. If I take your ship it would be becauze dead men cannot pilot." He seems unbothered watching Raz put away the lightsaber. "Of courze, the academy invezted much into training thhe future warriors. Literacy of combat formz waz expected of me." One hand slips between the folds of his ruana to unclip a second lightsaber from his belt, shorter in length than the first but matching in design.

"Iz curious to think what formz you might expect of me, Jedi."

 

[Raz Asai'il]

The Jedi master hums in thought. "You are exhausted, why would you choose to fight me for my ship when I offer my assistance freely? There is a thin line between bravery and recklessness." The teacher in him comes out, concerned for the young man's health.

At the mention of the lightsaber combat, his eyes actually get a slightly intrigued glint. He may not be a killer, but he is still a student of the saber.

"My initial reaction is Jar'kai, the two sabers of course being a hallmark. You have the alacrity for the style, but your aggressive attitude leans more towards Juyo. However, I think you are too shrewd a duelist to lean only on offensive might, it would bore you. Djem So then, adapted to wield two sabers."

Saket Keane

 

[Saket Keane]

Saket's gear is compromised, his life support on fumes, and his mind and body have been losing both their fights with fatigue. And how dare this Jedi mention it, to even say the word 'reckless'. It's a slight to the Ubese, translating Raz's concern as an allusion to Saket possessing what he hated most: Weakness. Now the eccentric has guessed right two out of the three forms he utilizes. Saket's grip on the saber hilts tighten, his voice turning low as he gives a reply. "You talk az if you know evherything of me, Raz Asai'il , so I wonder..."

A dry snap precedes the ignition. The campfire explodes as Saket jumps backward and lands on all fours. He bolts forward with a leap, pushing against his body's stiffness. He's slower than he should be but still determined, blades igniting with a roar as they slash diagonally through the flames.

 

[Raz Asai'il]

The fire Rages and then...shrinks, fading as if being smothered by some invisible blanket as Raz steps forward into his Soresu stance, igniting his saber and blocking the strikes with minimal movement as he begins to resonate with the force, the absorbed energy from Tutaminis flowing through his body. Raz Breathes deeply, his eyes meeting the visor of Saket Keane .

"Saket, you are running out of air. I can sense your anger, but I mean you no insult. I am not a warrior, but still I have my honor. If you want to fight me, you should wait until you are at your strongest." Raz takes one hand off of his saber to fire some of the stored energy at the young sith's feet, cracking the ground in an attempt to unbalance him.

 

[Saket Keane]

Streaks of yellow and orange launch toward Raz as the blows continue, the consular's green blade answering each blurry strike with a resolute block or parry. Saket gives a crackling roar as he dives forward, slamming both sabers into a strike to lock Raz's blade. "I DON'T--"

Rocks splinter from the blast and his footing slips. The lock on Raz's blade opens and the Ubese takes a knee but tries to counter, hurling a wide slash with the longer yellow blade.

Raz Asai'il

 

[Raz Asai'il]

It is met with Raz' bare hand as he uses tutaminis to catch the blade, the white hot surface sputtering against his hand.

" Saket . Enough." Raz' voice is stern as he attempts to wrench the lightsaber out of Saket's grasp. For a pacifist, he is quite strong. "Your courage is admirable, but this is not a fair fight. You are injured, I am well rested. There is no honor for either of us in this."

Saket Keane

 

[Saket Keane]

Saket's growl is garbled through the vocoder. He exhales one of the final breaths left in his reserve and continues to push, his left arm rising stiffly in an attempt to...to... The pain of failure freezes in his chest. Of course he should go with the man, it was his only chance left here. But this was no man, no, he was a Jedi. He couldn't give himself to battle then so quickly kneel. He was a wyrm but still a dragon, proud and ferocious and... His focus continued to spiral, the thin atmosphere diluting his thoughts. One light broke through the cloud however, a beam bright and hot that burned through the cold in his heart. Wrath.


The Ubese channels the burst of anger into one last push. The orange shoto blazes through the smoke, its yellow sibling shut off to give Saket a final chance to close the distance.

Raz Asai'il

 

[Raz Asai'il]

The attack is fast and deadly, aimed at Raz' chest. Sheathing the blade captured in Raz' hand compromises the master's balance, an intuitive and skillful move only a seasoned warrior and dedicated practitioner of the ever aggressive Ju'yo could find in Saket's state. Had Saket been well enough to move at his full speed, perhaps it would have struck true. Raz recognizes the brilliance of the move even as he steps inside allowing the saber to pass him by a hair's breath, one hand moving to lock the wrist wielding the active saber as the other digs its elbow into his far shoulder, attempting to dislocate it and neutralize the other arm.

Saket Keane

 

[Saket Keane]

A strain against the grip about his wrist is all the warrior had left. Saket goes limp, breaths ragged as he begins to mutter in his native language. The shoto goes quiet before clattering to the ground.

The Ubese is out, a smoldering spark of what he could be.

Raz Asai'il He's beat, so whatever Raz does now he can't oppose!

 

[Raz Asai'il]

Raz sighs and sheathes his saber, putting it back on his hip and gathering up Saket Keane 's as well before taking the young man in his arms, using the force to keep him sustained as he carries him back to his ship. When there, Raz sets the sith on his own bed, keeping the sith's two lightsabers: He was a kind man, but he was no fool. The last thing he needed was a lightsaber duel with a furious Ubese on his ship. once everything is situated, he takes off into space, putting in the coordinates of the nearest safe port where the Ubese could acquire equipment to fix his breathing apparatus.