The End of An Era

Gram Van Alasdaire

Character
Independent
Rank
Independent Force User

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OOC
Aurius
Joined
Apr 8, 2020
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Death was always a certain thing.

That was the sad truth.

When Gale had heard of a Sith traitor being hunted down, it was no accident. In his mind, it was either a trap, or something that could not be avoided. An inevitable confrontation, to protect another who was in a situation similar to his own, without the remorse to back it up. And yet, when the time had come to do battle - he had frozen up, perhaps due to shock, perhaps due to fear. But the hesitation cost him his life. The man who once aspired to proclaim himself the second coming of the White Flame had fallen, fallen yet, and fallen still. The world began to roll away, the dirty streets and durasteel walls. The misshapen buildings and husks of terror, ever roaming, gone from his sight. Everything was about him, and yet nothing at all, in this void of empty space.

Then it happened. A small voice, coming from ahead. The faintest of a whisper spoken by an old crone, humbled about a walking stick, ever gently making her way towards him. Her posture was bent, and oblong, a Vahla by the looks of it. An ancient Vahla. One that had far exceeded the lifespan of any known Vahla in generations. Was this...

Could this be...

"...Vahl?"

The old woman chuckled, and softly shook her head, taking her time to approach him, yet Gale stepped forward to close the gap. Helping the elder woman to his position, the raven haired mystic couldn't help but ponder her purpose. Was this the spirit of the Goddess, Vahl, the mythohistorical progenitor of their race? Was this the embodiment of Death, come to judge him before his passage into the next journey. Yet the woman remained still, chuckling, but unwilling to answer. When she drew back her hood, Gale's heart ran cold. He recognized that face. But he had only seen it once, when he was a young lad, in a holobook.

"No, I am not Vahl. I am Kathreveris Van Alasdaire."

"...but how? Why?"

"Who are you, boy?"

"I... I am Gram Van Alasdaire. Your progeny."

Her face thinned, old wrinkled eyelids peeling back to reveal ancient, deep set purple eyes. There were no sclera - only the pulsing of energy beneath the folds. The woman looked him up, and down, and nodded, but said nothing. When Gram did not continue to speak, she struck him over the head with her cane. Reeling, not understanding how he could still feel ANY sensations at all, his left hand lowering to his waist to check for his weapons. But the hilts were not there. Shaking her head, Kathry looked upon him once with an intensity unseen by the mortal gaze, looking far past his spirit - into his very mind, his memories, his ambitions, hopes, dreams, accomplishments and failures brought to the fore.

"I did not ask your name, boy, I asked WHO ARE YOU?! Whom do you serve?"

"I am Gram, a servant of the Force."

"Not... not Gale?"

The question took him aback. And yet, all at once, the woman was gone. In her place stood another being, in brown robes, hooded and cloaked. This being had no issues spacing the distance between them, but drew two blue weapons, and charged. Being unable to defend himself without weaponry, Gram acted on instinct, attempting to summon a wall of flame to his defense. To no avail, rolling to avoid the oncoming double stroke with barely a second to spare. As the shoto moved for a cross, Gram stepped forward to catch it, spinning the arm up and over the being's head. The second saber could not reach him with the way the arm was being bent - double her over as he shoved his fist downwards with intense energy. To his surprise, he was buffeted by a blast of air, separating them as the being caught their footing.

"I do not wish to fight you!"

"Who are you?"

The hood was withdrawn, this time revealing a pink, fair skinned Twi'lek. Her azure eyes pierced into him as Kathereveris had once before, sifting through his experiences and memories like wheat in a cornfield. Not that he could mount any defense with the sheer amazement on his face. This one he knew immediately - this was Aliyah Coven. One of the Jedi responsible for the Vahla's emigration to Rhen Var, and Padawan to the White Flame. While she was not known as the most orthodox Jedi, she had a vaunted place in the Order's history. In time, the tales told that she grew even stronger than her Master, living to face off against the Dark Council, where she ultimately fell.

"I am GRAM! How many times must I say this?!"

"As many times as you are asked."

His heart ran cold. The hair on his metaphysical body raised, his sense of alarm heightened. Behind him stood a figure clad in crimson, bloodstained armor. A sword was at their hip, and their very presence seemed to give off an aura of presence unfelt even by Gram, during his life. Nothing, none, had the presence this being brought forth. Though not the most powerful among the Jedi, nor the Vahla, the blood-soaked armor was famous throughout Vahla history. It had belonged to Vahl's opposition - Venatus. The Phoenix of Vahla, the first to ever join the Jedi Order. He was renowned for his ability to boost the morale of those about him, even in the most intense situations, and acting as the poster for what any Vahla of his line aspired to be. And here was Gram, a lowly force-user, next to two beings that could have erased him with a single thought.

"...You... you two... how is this possible?!"

"You are dead, Gram."

"You will be joining us."

"Yes, I know I have died. But how is it you are here?"

The crimson armor disappeared all at once, replaced by basic robes sported by the pair. The face of the Phoenix blazed like fire as his amber eyes looked down upon his descendant with an aura of absolute authority. And then, he smiled. A wide, and happy grin that progressed into a gentle laugh. The old woman had returned, but her formed shifted and changed, until she was the spitting image of her youthful self. Two more, twins, flanked them - each propping open a doorway forward.
"We are here to welcome you. Your parents are waiting. We all are."

"You have brought honor to an ancient tradition..."

"...far beyond what you understand. Your actions have not been in vain."

"You... finished my work. My teachings. Now our people will understand that this power within me, within us all, belong to none. Anyone could have become what I was, and yet, so few choose to become a symbol for something greater. As a Darth is, so a Phoenix must be. In opposition, using the light to become an antithesis of the very thing they proclaim to be. Not to kill them, but to try and redeem them."

"This you have done."

"This you have wrought."

"And at last...

...you are at peace."
 
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