The Jedi Way

[Elias]

"The wind is rising," he noted. Gusts blew, sweeping across the knolls, addressing the heat of summer with a cooling breeze. Elias's clothes swayed with the wind, and Banta's hair-like tendrils blew back. For a moment, tranquility dominated the plains, and rolling hills. His eyes closed, his mind focused. He pictured himself dancing in the wind, twirling his saber in one hand, stance expanding, palm pointing with the breeze. The sky sung for him, and all was right.

When his eyes opened, he felt it; inspiration. The sort he hadn't felt in a long time, not since discovering the Force, not since climbing the great hills of Alderaan, not since first reading the great theories of the darksiders who had left the Jedi, and formed the Exiles after them. This art, this dance, was his to master. He had never felt so perfectly at harmony as right now, in this moment. In all other places, thoughts ran across his mind, and pelleted him with worry. Not here.

"Raise your saber," Banta commanded, and he obeyed. Holding his long-handle saber with both hands, he listened, hardly able to stand still with the falling of the wind, but too determined to move.

"Last time, I taught you of the saber-stinger," the man stated. "This day, the footfall sweep. Each day, we will focus on one or two techniques. Within no time, you will be a master of them all. You... have the talent. I see it, clear as the sky," said Banta. Raising his practice saber as well, he paced back and forth across the ancient, stony platform on which they stood, thinking of the words to explain the ability.

"You know that this art is one of Djem So, yes? A technical term -- particularly used within Form V, and alongside Shien -- to describe the art of defense, wholly dedicated to lightsaber dueling. After a successful evasion, especially one leading into their blindside, the footfall sweep is a horizontal sweep, swing or vertical strike directly leading into the foe's calves, hamstring, tailbone, shoulders, biceps, triceps or even possibly the elbows and knees, if striking from the front. It is an attempt to lessen the amount of limbs one has to work with," he stated.

"The body is all about balance. For a Djem So, the goal is to disrupt the enemy's balance, whilst maintaining your own. Not only balance in the literal sense - like standing up - but in the rhythm at which they move. For most warriors, if they lose even one muscle in the engagement, they are finished. Even the greatest are severely marred," he explained. Then, dancing quickly to Elias' blindside, he pressed the side of his "saber" into the Padawans's calve.

It did not pierce - he wielded a blunt weapon. It was merely a demonstration.

"You try. Fight for it."

And he did, back then. Banta was a Nautolan man, and Elias was an aristocrat straight from the faux castles of Alderaan. Yet, in those times, they were unified. Banta was a great master of Shien and Djem So, and it was with his expertise that Elias had grown so capable in the art of saber dueling. It was Shien that he utilized throughout all of his conflicts in Hutt Space, in the Outer Rim, and Djem So in his early brawls with the Exiles - back when he still held some uncertain level of loyalty to the Jedi.

Like all manner of anchors to the Jedi, though, Banta passed in time. He died horrifically, choked and... imploded by the darksiders of the Exiles, on a mission appropriately labeled as 'suicide' after its failure had already been made known. In Banta's place was allegedly his legacy, which was allegedly Elias - a man who would eventually catch up to the Master in skill.

Or so they imagined. In truth, Elias did not expect to be able to reach Banta's throne of talent. Not now, anyway. He didn't have enough to fight for, and he never had. His whole ideology was essentially the belief in nothing - raw desires, at best. An empty life of mismatched whims. No loyalties, no structure, and not even a culture to lead his thoughts. He knew that, in a way, Anarsynthesism was loneliness quantified.

So by coming here, maybe, he could expand onto it. Add more, learn more. Perhaps the Jedi had some beliefs worth integrating - something to unify the Anarsynthetics, and make the ideology more popular, and feasible. If he could walk within their walls - if there were any walls worth walking in - he could find out.

 

[Cavalas Onn]

"So, are you absolutely sure your intel is right?" Cavalas asked his companion crusader as he pushed aside yet another abnormally large plant. Ossus wasn't his favorite planet and swampy forest didn't even come close to his favorite climate either, still someone had overheard someone about an Exile sighting and naturally he had rushed for the opportunity to continue his crusade. Meditating in some temple and discussing terms with some politician just didn't even come close to what Cavalas thought was needed to end this war. It was just so damned unfortunate that fighting said war meant he had to go to places like this. Ossus. Damp, Sticky Ossus.

Five years ago, when the Exiles were in retreat and the Crusaders numbered ten times their current number. Before Ilum. Five years ago Cavalas had been here as well, fighting a good friend that had Fallen after he had accidentally slain an innocent. He had tried to redeem himself, find solace on Ossus, but for a murderer there could be no solace. Cavalas and the other crusaders had known that he would have turned to the Dark Side eventually and thus they had ended the threat before it could do further harm to the galaxy.

It was the right choice, Jas'hor. Cavalas sighed, "I don't like Ossus."

Just as he said it a lone figure walked into view, seeming reminiscing about something. If this was the Exile, surely Cavalas would be able to pinpoint that fact from his reaction to the clearly Jedi-themed modular armor. A Crusader didn't hide his allegiance, didn't bother to sneak and instead announced his presence. For Cavalas, who didn't like to speak much, his attire was enough. Whether his companion was equally subtle was up to him... @Loco

 

[Fennex Zeerda]

"I don't know garbage from trash Cav, I'm just going off what I, um... erm... overheard." Fennex replied over the bigger crusaders shoulder. The Amaran was clinging tightly to the mans back- he'd told Cavalas that his leg wasn't quiet healed up yet and that navigating the dense, swampy vegetation would be an arduous task for him. This was all true, from a certain point of view, but also he wanted to avoid getting his paws muddy. The Consulars were so damned tidy, always having the younglings mopping the polished temple incessantly. They really hated it when people tracked in mud and lichen, and it was hard for the knight to claim that a bunch of little muddy paw prints belonged to anyone else in the temple.

He didn't like this planet much either, if he was being honest. He was a descendant of desert dwelling vulpine creatures, and the muggy, humid atmosphere here made his fur stand on end erratically. He looked like a fuzzy orange mess. Unfortunately all the best healers in the order resided here, and a good healer was what the knight had need after Illum. He was just now getting back to working alongside his fellows again. Being stuck here and bumming around the temple fortress on Jedha had him going stir crazy. So, when he overheard the Consulars talking about a possible intrusion near the temple, he'd jumped on the opportunity, recruiting a familiar face as he went. All he really wanted was to get back out there and start fighting again. Start chasing these exiles again. Start putting the Galaxy back to right.

Fen smelled the stranger before he saw him. Peeking over Cav's shoulder, he called out to the man.

"You there! You haven't seen any strangers wandering about have you? We're hunting an exile... We, uh... we hope."

@Ecclessey @Incubus

 

[Elias]

Immediately, he was drawn into the thick tensity of anxiety, as he heard a voice from his peripheral - beside him, first a man, and then... something else. Glancing to his side, Elias' eyes scaled the surface of the other human's armor, his gaze immediately narrowing as he pursed his lips. He needed to freeze his face in that exact, peering position - if he didn't, he'd surely make an expression that yelled, 'oh shit,' or something equally incriminating. This man was a Jedi, and not only a Jedi but...

He was a Crusader. Elias had been one before. Before he was forcefully cut off, for his protestations regarding the ways in which the Jedi failed their own, and the galaxy around them. Banta had been a Crusader too. He knew their tactics. They would gang upon others, encircle them, and slay them. It didn't matter if there was a numbers advantage, or if it was dishonorable. In their eyes, to be an Exile was far more dishonorable, even if one did not go to the dark side willingly.

Or even if one hadn't really gone to the dark side at all, in Elias' case. He joined for protection, so that he was not merely a lone man in the fringes of space. But all these excuses wouldn't protect him from the... righteous Order.

And of course, they were in fact hunting a f*cking exile. That was probably him. Had someone seen his cruiser land on Ossus? He was certain to have parked it in an obscure place, and he'd done the same thing before. This was not the first time he'd gone to a planet he shouldn't have, merely for the sake of philosophical reflection. But if he did not play himself well, and correctly, this may have been the last.

"I'm a stranger, actually," he grinned, ruffling the hair atop his head. "An archaeologist from the Kingdom of Alderaan. I was searching for a unique flora that grows here - my people call it the Ossa'i Green. It's said that they grow among grounds blessed by the Force, and the regency of House Alde was seeking information on it. Do you folks happen to know where these flowers may be located? They have green petals, and are shaped something like... bowls. They're rather rare, but -- I imagine they must be somewhere, right?" he questioned, raising a brow.

His ability to lie had always been a key factor in his continued survival. It was an ability so profound that his heart scarcely missed a beat. And now, hopefully, it would keep his heart going. Even though they were Jedi, he didn't sense that they were utilizing any force abilities. They weren't keeping tabs on his words. With any luck, they would simply lose interest and move on -- and he could fly the hell out of here. His shuttle wasn't far.

@Loco @Ecclessey

 

[Fennex Zeerda]

Fennex' ears (literally) perked up at the mention of flowers. It wasn't something he often spread around to his crusader friends, but he was very much an amateur gardener. He didn't know anything about this "Ossa'i Green" in particular that this archaeologist from Alderaan mentioned, but he knew of several near the temple grounds that matched that vague description, to one degree or another. He'd tried several times to transplant one species from here on Ossus to the atrium of the temple on Jedha, but to no avail. He supposed it had something to do with the strength of the living Force on Ossus vs Jedha, but it might also be the vastly different climate- he was an amateur, not an expert. Fen Scrambled further up Cav's shoulder to get a better look at the stranger. He looked awfully strange for an archaeologist, but who was he to judge?

"Oh oh oh! I think I know that one! There's a field of them on the far side of the valley south of here! Really difficult to transplant, I warn you. I hope you have a good hydroponics bay for the trip. We could take you!" Fen nudged Cav in the back with his hind paws, indicating he should go along with this idea, "We're headed that way in any case. No trouble, really."

This could be his chance. If this stranger had any professional know how, maybe he could impart it on the Amaran in exchange for an escort. With the Forces blessing, today could really turn this last year or so around- his first good Exile hunt since his injuries and the day he finally succeeded in bringing this damnable flower home with him to Jedha.

"What was your name again?"

@Ecclessey

 

[Cavalas Onn]

The only thing Cavalas registered in the past couple of seconds was that the Amaran's nails were in a dire need to be clipped. The whole conversation about flowers and archaeology went straight passed the military-minded man who grew up believing that such pastimes were reserved for the common folk and not Serenno aristocracy. What he did know was that with a fallen exile rumored to be nearby it was way too dangerous for a common archaeologist to be roaming around. "Fennex keep your ears piqued for the right things," he berated his Amaran companion, "-this man is obviously too weak to take care of himself. We should get some Guardians to protect him while we search for this Exile."

Despite the bother of his companion's nails portruding into his tunic, Cavalas pulled out his communicator and tried to call the temple. In vain, it turned out, because the line appeared to be dead and no one answered. "kriff, the beacon must be down again." He sighed. The communicators were depending on the beacons to keep a steady signal strength, but unfortunately both the weather as mean-spirited visitors often disabled the dated scrap-worthy beacons, leaving Cavalas again unable to phone home. "Fine, have it your way. We'll accompany and protect this stranger. Let's just hope that we don't miss the Exile because of this delay."