Ary the Grey

Okay, so...this is definitely not what killshots were made for. Technically, Raia should get a defense post as well, but since it's an NPC controlled by her...it's weird. Because of this, since the killshot is the person against themselves, I am highly tempted to simply allow it, because it seems like that's what the person wanted anyways, and didn't need a killshot to do it.

I mean...this is an NPC. I get this is a story arc, but it didn't really need a killshot or a Mod ruling when it's all practically predetermined anyways. Just write it how you want it next time, and leave killshots and capture shots to use against things you don't control.

Because the writing assisting Raia is solid, this is pretty clear cut...

Killshot Failed

Since Raia has control of Mitral, I'd say the next post is hers, but this is goofy, because Raia was the one targeted by the killshot... Carry on however you guys want. No actual PCs (or potential controllable assets) oppose you here, so I'm not concerned with post order or the like.

Due to good writing, a lot of patience, and some quick math, you manage to harvest 109 ysalamir for your faction.

Aryian sighed. He could try to train people, but they had to want to be trained. Maybe it was him? Maybe it didn't matter. The illusion faded, the link severed, and Aryian piloted the shuttle back to Coru. It was time once again to find his own way in the galaxy, epic stories be damned.

"Mine. I'm going to need control to properly set you on the right path. Here, I have it. More or less."

Aryian waved his hand, and a small child appeared, a girl of no more than six. She looked vaguely like Dahar, and instantly shied away from Aryian and gripped Dahar, hiding from Aryian. Subtly, Aryian wove bonds between the two, attempting to manipulate Dahar's emotions. The former Grandmaster would likely be able to tell this if he focused on it for a moment, as Aryian wasn't trying particularly hard to hide it, but still wanted to make this seem as realistic as possible.

"Your daughter? Adorable."

Aryian hoped to move with enough speed that Dahar wouldn't have a chance to realize what had happened until everything was over, that she was really only a figment of Aryian's imagination, the sensation of belonging to her faked. But...his reaction and subsequent emotional response, that was going to be very real. Again, he reached his hand out, and violently jerked the girl into the air, gripping her tight with the Force. She whimpered, and then began to scream as it appeared that Aryian tore at her through telekinetic energies, ripping her apart atom by atom, dissolving her as if she were being dipped into a vat of acid.

A tear welled in the corner of Aryian's eye as he listened to the screams, the screams of a thousand innocents ringing in his ears. Needless tragedies replaying over and over, more than just the now bloodied flesh-stripped girl dangling in front of him. Beings from times past that he couldn't save because he wasn't fast enough, strong enough, powerful enough...but it was a hell he'd created for himself, not the one he'd created for Dahar. He needed to focus.

If the Grey Master was lucky, Dahar wouldn't outright attack him. But if that were the case, this was certainly a place he could endure it.

Making the usual obligatory post in the space thread, Aryian's shuttle, which was unspecified at this point yet carried both he and Dahar, zoomed through the hyper lanes well past the speed of light. For all Aryian knew, he could be piloting a glowing neon green stuffed unicorn, but as such creatures didn't really exist in the Star Wars universe, this was highly unlikely, although Aryian himself probably wouldn't know any of this.

To summarize, ship go zoom, much travel, wow.

Aryian made himself comfortable behind the unspecified spacecraft's controls, knowing how to fly it instinctively, which was really a piss-poor excuse for explaining how the narrator was too lazy to look back a few posts and figure out just what exactly Dahar was flying around in these days. Dahar himself looked a little too mopey to do anything at this point, so Aryian simply took the initiative and ran with it.

With the roar of unspecified engines, the unspecified shuttle blasted off the unspecified landing location and unspecified, unspecified, space hyper jump thing.

And like that, it was finished. Painful, but fast. The pain would fade, and time would heal all. While he wished to comfort his old friend, Aryian knew this wasn't the path for him to walk. Kirlocca would be okay. As he quietly passed them, he softly clapped a hand on Kirlocca's shoulder, a symbol of somber solidarity.

"Brother."

Nodding his goodbye, he left the room without another word, and waited for Dahar. What would happen next would be interesting indeed, as Dahar had upheld Aryian's stipulation, despite every indication that he wouldn't. In the end, Aryian felt the bitter sting of being right about the true burden it was. He hadn't intended it to be like this, and in fact was about to go against what he'd told Dahar in the beginning, and train him as he wanted anyways. But such was the way of things. Perhaps it was fate? Or maybe even events outside of the spectrum of normal perception that drove Dahar to do something so contrary to what was expected. Probably the latter. Probably a whopping heap of the latter.

Whopping. Whopper. Aryian's stomach growled. As they met up away from Kirlocca, Aryian spoke up first.

"I'm starving. We need to go get something to eat. A nice juicy nerf burger or something. At the least, let's go to Coru, I know this little restaurant with the biggest nerf burgers you've seen."

"I see."

Aryian had never made it that high in the ranking structures of the Jedi, and while he had a rudimentary understanding of how it worked, he'd never really cared to learn the details of the positions that Kirlocca now divulged. Deciding he'd derailed the conversation enough, he simply remained quiet, awaiting Dahar's decision on where to move the Order Headquarters. It wasn't a light decision to be made.

Aryian's thoughts drifted to Phu briefly, but that was hardly a planet that was better suited than Tython. If anything, it was more hidden than Tython, and Armiena had hidden it from the Order intentionally. Plus, that much Phrik didn't need to see the galaxy again for a while. It was a factory for war, which could bring no good to anything. So for now, it would be Aryian's secret.

"I will be available for counsel, if it is needed. But my time with the Order has come to an end a while back. My path lies elsewhere. Though I still wish to maintain amicable ties to the Jedi, if allowed. I will train those who I can as requested, and that extends to more than just Padawans."

Aryian's gaze shifted to Dahar, choosing for the time being to leave out his request. He might have desired to skirt the Dark Side, but it didn't need to define him as such. Just as long as he understood that, and didn't allow the risks he decided to take to poison the next generation of Jedi, intentionally or otherwise. That was the responsibility he would fully need to realize by pursuing his forbidden knowledge.

"I am curious, though...who is to lead the Order, then? The mantle of Grandmaster is not a light title to take. It carries a particular set of responsibilities and generally requires its bearer to follow a particular path. Does the Order even need a titular, singular leader right now? Or would it be better off with a small few sharing those responsibilities and aspects? It has been done in the past...but current events may call for differing structures of hierarchy."

Aryian sat down, and remained silent. He could tell his opinion might be wanted, but he would not give it unless asked. This was no longer his business. Not his fight. But he would end it, if one broke out. He felt the Force stirring, like a simmer before the boil. This could go one of two ways, and he hoped it would go peacefully. He might not be part of the Order, but he was still willing to lay his life down to protect it. What was another life, anyways? Especially when he had given so many already...

Bumping the thread up from the second page of the forum, Aryian looked out the viewport as the shuttle came in for a landing at Ossus, and he could feel Kirlocca's presence nearby. It was a warm presence, but there was also a tinge of caution. He'd not seen the Wookiee for a decently long time, and it was to be expected.

"Lead the way. I have not been in the presence of more than one Master of the Force in a great while. This is a rare honor, anymore."

Aryian gestured, hoping Dahar would post most of the stuff. But they were here, and that was the important part.

"The Force wills what the Force wills. Chaos and Order will never stop trying to dominate each other."

Aryian had to think a moment before answering the last questions, though.

"Umm...years, actually. He was my best man. We've worked together on and off since then, but because of the nature of our jobs, it was never long and never often."

((At this point, I'm just going to land the shuttle. He's been waiting for us long enough. Next post on Ossus.))

Aryian nodded as he sat down in the ship.

"Sometimes the choices we make are terrible. But to not make them is a choice in and of itself, and is usually the wrong one. You are correct. It doesn't often happen that way, but it can and has happened to me in the past. A certain Sith terrorist had hidden massive bombs all around Coruscant, trying to blackmail the Alliance. Both I and my wife lost our lives that day. Of course, some of us are forcibly attached to the mortal coil, but you understand that. Had we simply let the bombs go off and gone after the true threat, the Sith, we could have captured and imprisoned them, greatly reducing the scope of their future murders. But, like fools...we went for the bombs."

The Grey Master exhaled slowly, stifling emotion, not something he did on a common basis anymore. His memories weren't what they used to be, but the memory of Armiena still burned brightly in his mind.

"Sometimes being a true hero means making sacrifices. Making hard choices. Choices not everyone agrees with. You try to fight it, but it gets you in the end. But it also means insulating yourself from those you care about so they don't get caught up in the sacrifices you make. Because otherwise...who would you be sacrificing for? Yourself? That is truly what the Sith Order philosophy wants it's practitioners to believe and thirst for, but it is hollow and meaningless. You have to ask yourself, at the end of all things, if you are a god floating in an empty void, was it all worth it? And if the answer is no, the question becomes where to draw the line in the sand. And that, the truth at the end of all things, is a choice we all have to make for ourselves, and only we can make it."

His stomach rumbled again, and Aryian ripped off a small chunk of the jerky in his pocket, nibbling on it. He was still slightly resentful at the lack of frozen custard, but perhaps Ossus would offer something different.

Aryian sighed. Loudly, grumpily.

"I have more experience in my little pinky dealing with the Sith than the rest of the Order combined, save for perhaps Master Kirlocca. I used to think that going after them aggressively was the answer the Order needed. It led to bloodshed on an insurmountable scale. So Grandmaster or not, at least respect that; that my reasons and opinions and actions hold the weight of my past. You come at me with reckless talk, the kind an uppity overconfident battle-hungry sand-hating Padawan would say, as the Grandmaster of the Jedi Order, no less, and expect me to shove you down the path of the Dark Side? If you do nothing else, please at least understand my hesitation on the matter."

Picking up another piece of jerky for the trip ahead, he stood, awaiting Dahar to usher them away to the shuttle.

"I will come, if only to gain more insight on this. It will also be good to speak with Master Kirlocca again. Maybe he'll have some of that Kashyyyk whiskey...stuff could put a gundark in a coma..."

Aryian trailed off, wondering how the Order had come to this. How the galaxy had come to this, that Force Users had nearly been hunted to extinction.

"Truthfully, friend, your answers are already very Sith-like in nature. I'm surprised you haven't felt the temptation or taint of the Dark Side already. Heh, taint. Anyways, as a former Master of the Order and in both the interests of you and the organization, I recommend that you step down as Grandmaster immediately. I mean no offense when I say you stand to do great harm to the Jedi Order by following your current intentions, harm that it likely cannot recover from, especially after this recent purge we have been seeing, with a bounty out on all Force users. There are not many of us left, and to scatter them...there might never be an Order again. Not in our lifetimes, anyways."

Cooly, Aryian took a sip from the bland cup he was offered, the water tasting metallic and tangy, likely indicating something wrong with the plumbing. Ah, the simple joys of peasant life.

"As for Ares, he is...well, 'we' are whole again. He is locked within me, as much as he is me. I have vague recollections and memories of what he did, but let me assure you that not only will he not be returning, but I will do everything in my power to prevent that from happening. So no...he will not be making an appearance. And you say you want to tap into all of the Force, but like I just said, you technically already do. If you want to feel like what it is to lash out in wrath or anger with the Force, that is something you don't need me for. That is the Dark Side. I can show you how to harness Force Lightning like Sith do, but there is a reason it comes so easily to them, because the technique is tied to strong emotions. Like wrath or anger. Strong passion."

Taking a bite of the salted meat, smoked nerf by the taste of it, the Grey Master avoided a scowl. He preferred a little meat with his salt, but whatever. After he left, this would be Dahar's hut, and Dahar would have to deal with the crappy food, not Aryian. There was always the future to look to, which always provided the same thing that kept the galaxy fresh: change.

"Now, Jedi can tap into these emotions and still remain on the Light Side. This is contrary to the traditional dogma the Order teaches. In fact, several Jedi before have mastered a similar technique dubbed electric judgement or some fancy-named nonsense that is in essence the same technique, but the wrath you are lashing out with is in righteousness. If, to protect someone, you must strike down another, and are incredibly moved to do so, then that is a scenario in which this technique can be useful. In almost all other instances, you are lashing out in wanton anger, and willingly tapping into the Dark Side to do so."

Aryian looked Dahar dead in the eyes for this next part, a grave look crossing his face.

"And just because you are a Master, do not underestimate the allure of the Dark Side. It is like an addictive drug, but it will take to you like a cancer. You above all others should realize that the Light provides just as much strength and power as the Dark. The Dark may seem faster, easier, but it isn't. It simply seems that way. Playing at Darkness invites it to corrupt you. To commit acts which are anathema to the Light. If you do these acts willingly, you wouldn't be sliding down a slope, you'd be jumping off a cliff. And depending on how far you wander, even outside what I can show you, there is sometimes no redemption. Consider yourself warned."

Aryian broke the gaze, taking another sip of his rust Kool-aid.

"So. I will show you electric judgement. But to teach you more, you will need to renounce your position. Or find a different teacher, I suppose."

Aryian took a chair, reconsidering what he had just said based on Dahar's new input.

"Normally, Masters of either Order are so indoctrinated by the standard curriculum that they are blinded to other perspectives. The Grandmaster is usually in charge of enforcing that dogma. But, I could have been wrong. You could be closer to my perspective than I initially had thought."

The Grey Master looked around, but didn't really see any food in the hut. Not out in the open, anyways, there was probably a stocked cooling unit squirrelled away.

"But if you truly wish to understand the Dark Side, to be able to tap into it and use it, then you must understand how they think as well, and understand their perspective. Many before us in the ranks of the Jedi have learned to walk the narrow path of Vapaad, a lightsaber dueling form that uses a method of tapping into the Darkness. I can also show you how to allow yourself the luxury of anger, harnessing the passion it brings, while also showing restraint."

The Grey Master's stomach burbled again, more audibly this time.

"I have a few questions before we begin. Firstly, what exactly do you expect to learn from all this? Secondly, what do you treasure most? And thirdly, do you have anything to eat? I'm pretty famished. Some ale, as well, if you have any."

He wasn't trying to be an inconsiderate guest, but he was damn hungry.

Aryian scowled lightly as he listened to Dahar. He'd thought this was going to be a much more fun trip than it was turning out to be. At least he wasn't half comatose waiting on someone else to say and do something, though.

"You ask a lot from me. Even more, you push the boundaries and duties of the Jedi Order Grandmaster. I will help you, but only because you helped me in my time of need, and I will caution you that the path you intend to walk could have grave far-reaching consequences for someone in your position."

Aryian produced a credit chit from his robes, a meager value on the chit itself. On the front was the demonination in white text, the back was darker in color, bearing the seal of the Galactic Alliance.

"Your first problem, and the easiest to fix, is the one of perception."

He turned the chit over slowly in his hands, clearly using it to make his point as he continued.

"You see the Force like a two sided coin. It is the problem many suffer from, even some who place full faith in the Dark Side. It is either black or white, Dark side or Light side. They also tend to see it as only usable from those perspectives. Indeed, the philosophies and rhetoric both Orders held in their common curriculum held tightly to these ideas, not wishing to expand their perception of what the Force really is, and its true nature as an energy that binds us all together. The Force itself, in fact, is almost sentient in nature, this has been documented time and again, the best evidence for this being visions given to individuals in the past whose resulting actions have tipped the balances for outcomes on a galactic scale. But...it also always tends to find an equilibrium."

He slipped the chit back into one of his pockets, and cast a shadow on the floor in front of one of the deck lights, the far side of which was near another light and hardly any shadow existed at all. It cast a nice gradient of light to dark though, which was the point.

"What if a so called Sith used their skills to destroy an enemy so as to save another? Say, through Force lightning, or forcibly breaking their spine through telekinesis. Is that not acting noble? Could it be considered an act of mercy in the Light? And what if a Jedi heals a known dictator, knowing full well they will continue to oppress their people, though not healing them would mean they would die. Is it more noble to save one life, or many? Would the opposite be considered an act of Darkness if it was known that one path was the true will of the Light Side?"

Aryian sat back down. He was lecturing again, and he hated lecturing, but he was also on a roll and wanted to finish strong.

"I believe that the Force simply is. It is our intentions and actions that determine if our use is of the Light or the Dark, and that none of it is as black and white as many would have you believe. The old rhetoric was designed to maintain control, to prevent members of the Order, either Order, from leaving or challenging the status quo. I also believe that one can tap into the same emotions that tend to fuel the Dark Side, and remain righteous. It is a knife's edge to walk, a difficult path, but it exists nonetheless. I understand the passion of the Dark Side, and also the importance of the purity of the Light. This is what separates me from either Order. This is why I left."

Aryian sighed, pausing for a while, allowing Dahar to mull over what had just been said.

"I don't use the Dark Side, just as I don't use the Light Side. I simply use the Force, and my actions can be defined as such through my intention. I can teach and understand both sides, but if you wish to walk the path that I walk, you will need to cast aside your preconceived notions and relearn what you once learned as rote mental muscle memory. And as the Grandmaster, it will be exceptionally difficult for you. But, I am patient."

Sitting back, Aryian relaxed, less lecturing and more speaking aloud as an afterthought to Dahar.

"I won't lie, it concerns me greatly that you still wish to do this while bearing the mantle of the Grandmaster. The...complications it could cause for the Order are numerous and severe. Just because I don't identify with them anymore doesn't mean I don't have a vested interest in seeing them survive and thrive."

And with that, the Grey Master shut up. His stomach burbled a bit, as Aryian thought of frozen custard.

While Dahar was cruising through space, he received a comm from "Arizzle Darkfizzle" that outlined where and when to pick him up. It was short and to the point. Like this post.

A comm came back a few minutes later for Dahar. It was clearly from the same comm contact Dahar had sent one of his messages to, but now the information updated itself as being from an "Arizzle Darkfizzle".

The contents of the comm were simple enough, filled to the brim with unnecessary emoticons, and only two 'words': "Whatchu need?"

((3/3 - Oh. Oops.))

Not paying close attention was probably a side effect of being poisoned and forced to the Dark side, his entire perception clouded, he momentarily disregarded her offhand saber. Still, Soresu focused on defense, and it was a small movement to catch her offensive blade in his inner circle of defense, late at it was, it was still deflected and dealt with, returning her to his outer circle of defense. As she struck towards him, it was a simple maneuver to catch the back of her wrist on the middle of his staff, twisting his saber as he disengaged so as to disarm her of the one she held in the offensive fist.

You've put up quite a fight, but you'll be put down soo-

A bright-hot pain ripped through him as she brought the full brunt of her Exorcist powers to bear, but pain was his ally. Exorcists always proved to be fools, hoping that through the very tools the servants of the Dark side used they could extinguish them, and yet it only served to strengthen their resolve. Pain let him know he was still there. It was mildly disorienting, but fed into his rage. As she attacked with her sabers once more, a foolhardy move against his superior rock-solid Soresu defense, he parried and struck once more, using his last bits of connection to the Force to summon a Force barrier in the direction the obvious dodge would be in, blocking her off. Attempting to deflect his staff saber would likely result in injury, attempting to dodge would likely result in death. Relying on her exorcist powers to further drain him would be meaningless past this unless for a moment she decided to think outside the box, but given how she had reacted thus far, it was unlikely.

Checkmate.

((2/3))

Pathetic.

Her counterattack was predictable and weak. Instead, he pulled back, disengaging from her twist but spinning the staff to deflect any residual effort she may have put into the swing so as to ensure his legs weren't clipped. But that was just muscle memory and instinct Soresu movements guiding him. The Force was a different animal entirely. Already he could feel his grasp weakening, and that needed to stop, immediately. Exorcists were something he was familiar with, a bastardization of the Consular sect of the Order, specialized in neutralizing the Dark Side through the Force. But she wouldn't be able to use the Force if she couldn't access it...

As his bottom blade tossed the tip of her lightsaber aside like a plaything, he summoned a small telekinetic Force blast directly in front of her forehead, that would hit her with about the force of a punch. This would serve to the effect of disrupting her concentration of the Force, as well as leaving her wide open to his lightsaber's non-blocking blade from her weak side. When you only have one saber, you can only block one blade. The staff style might have been a slower style focused on power over form or speed, but he still commanded twice the effective firepower on the field, and that was an advantage he was unwilling to let go to waste. Their thoughts linked, his musings echoed maliciously in her head.

You will die, like your predecessors. You are all vermin, ripe for slaughter.

((Fine. 1/1))

"You just bit off more than you can chew."

The Force swelled as Aryian gripped tight on it, abusing it to his will. With inhuman speed, he ripped a skull-sized rock up from in front of him, blasting it at her telekinetically. Immediately he charged in behind it, one blade high and to the right, ready to cleave her diagonally in two. Of course, he was expecting a counterattack, and was more than ready to counter with the blade that was further back. He totally could have put more description into this, but it wasn't really necessary and would just be more fluff, much like this sentence.

Aryian's mind had been clouded, poisoned. The magicks of Lord Ar-Pharazon were strong indeed, and they held the young Knight strongly in their grip, forcing him to evil, pushing and twisting his mind until he saw a perversion of reality, a warped view of what really was. His goal had been simple: retrieve the relic Ar-Pharazon sought, obliterate anything that stood in the way. Sow chaos, reap anguish. And something had now come in between him and the completion of his mission...an unfortunate Jedi. Aryian was confident in his skills with his saber, having studied Soresu extensively and learning the basics of Vapaad, and his skills in the Force were more than enough to be a match for her.

"My, my, my, said the spider to the fly..."

The echoing voice seemed to come from everywhere at once, striking a chord of terror as its cacophony echoed through the mud and stick huts. To Xae-Lin Ardel, the darkness would swell as Aryian's perverted presence filled the village, souring further what once had been merely uncomfortable. He rounded a corner, and activated his lightsabers at the same time, the silver blades in staff formation casting a menacing glow upon the tainted Jedi in the night air.

"If you surrender now, I might not have too much fun killing you."

((Intro post))

Aryian woke up from his coma-like restful sleep, now almost completely healed from his injuries.

"We're still here? Shit, let's go chase this sucker down. I bet he's popped his head up by now. As long as he's not involved with one of our aliases, of course."

He didn't expect Fett to understand that last bit, but it wasn't that important anyways. What was important was the fact that Aryian's author had stopped being a lazy c***bag and actually wrote a post that was a couple sentences long.

"Well...every technique takes concentration, and the more complicated it is, the more concentration it would take. I would imagine the smaller scale stuff he did down at the shipyards would take a lot less out of him than something on that large a scale. It could be disrupted, but not indefinitely. It might allow for a small window of opportunity for a larger attack."

He thought for a moment, going over tactics, everything he could ever draw on in his experience.

"We're going to need the GA."