OOC: This RP runs paralell, time-wise, to the Xal Kra RP, and the Collective Assembles RP.

Gash Jiren stood, moving easily and fluidly from his cross-legged position to a fighting stance. He whipped out his dual-phase lightsaber, igniting the sharp, saphire-blue blade and moving it through several quick motions. The Jedi seemed to be testing it, listening to the noble weapon's hum, smelling the ionized air. He put his second hand onto the blade, and motioned forward.

From the shadows, a silver droid rolled out. It was a special creation, one which could use a lightsaber with amazing effectiveness. Though no match for a Force-using Jedi, so long as Gash did not use the Force, it provided a healthy challenge. The wheels it used for transportation provided full range of motion.

Gash lept forward at the droid as it ignited it's own lightsaber. The two blades met in a diagonal cross, with a flash of white and a whine similar to blaster fire. Gash spun, striking low with his back still turned. The droid blocked this, and Gash raised his blade to waist height and slashed back on the other side, spinning the other way.

The blades met once again, and the Jedi spun a few more degrees to face the droid. He kept the blades touching, then slashed high, and again low. As the droid blocked the last slash, Gash kicked the droid's side hard, using the force to accelerate his foot.

To the Jedi's surprise, his foot pierced the durasteel siding of the battledroid. On reflex, Gash's lightsaber continued through, slicing off the head of the droid, sending to flying off. Gash caught it in the Force, slowing it's descent.

He was growing stronger.

The anger-less combat brought him closer in harmony with his lightsaber, and execised his senses, bringing him closer to his surroundings. Consequently, it also brought him closer to the Light Side of the Force.

He was growing in the Force.

Gash disignited his lightsaber, striding from the room. In a few moments, he found the turbolift, and took it to the bridge portion of of the Marauder Corvette, the Hermes. As the Jedi Outcast entered the bridge, his eyes first fell upon a small flower from a field on Naboo. He'd found it, alone- and in checking the botanical records, discovered it to be of a formerly-extinct species.

Given his medical background, Gash took interest and cloned the plant. The blue flower, which he'd named "Saphire Squall", now decorated all corners of his personal vessel. As Jiren looked at it, he concentrated in the Force. Feeling the energy created by the flower flow, the energy of everything living on board the ship... flowing together... with a wave of his palm, Gash sent a surge of his own Force energy through the small plant, concentrating on it at a cellular level.

The Saphire Squall's stem sprang upwards, lengthening half a foot. The blue of it's petals deepened, as did the green of it's leaves and stem.

'Nice trick, Jiren. When are you going to figure out how to build me an Eclipse Star Destroyer with those force powers of your's?'

A smile came to Gash face as he turned to face D31, his highly advanced droid aide. The droid had apparently taken a break from ordering the other Cobra Battledroids who crewed the Hermes to watch Gash's show with the flower.

"Probably never. I wouldn't mind building you a nice boat, so the two of us could sail on a Naboo lake, though."

'You old softy. What do you have against ESDs?'

Gash visibly shuddered. "They oppose all I believe in... their ability to destroy sickens me."

'You didn't seem to have any problem with Xylon's ESD smashing the hell out of the TNO's ESD, Admiral Jiren.'

"Sometimes..." Gash grimaced, "Sometimes, we must utilize tools and methods that we do not like, for the greater good. If we had not used the Jenova to destroy TNO's Eclipse, so many would have died..."

'I don't know. That Luke Skywalker would say differently.'

"The galaxy doesn't revolve around the Jedi and their struggles of morality!" Gash snapped. "Sometimes, we must act, in order to save lives. I know the Dark Side; I know that what myself, Xylon and Douglas did on that day was for the greater good!"

'Hey, hey, don't get excited. I'm on your side.'

Gash sighed, and looked out into space through the thin viewport of the bridge. He shook his head, and smiled back at D31.

"I know, DeeThree. But I face the same inner struggle every Jedi does; I simply believe in rising above that conflict."

'Sounds good to me.' D31 pasued, looking over to a console emitting a low sound. 'Gash, there's someone calling, here... Xylon Hexyra.'

Stepping up to the console, Gash nodded. "Put him through."

Standing with a soft waver pitching at his legs, the quiet of Xylon’s lip succumbed to a dim fire trickling upon soiled hearthstone. Although hindered by gloomy shadows dancing in a jovial celebration of dark around fiery apparitions, clarity reigned. Not the touch of a darkly embossed Scotch filtering down his throat or the bitter burn of frozen rain against his withered skin felt any more rational than the spark of his own contemplation.

His psyche fell into a calming ease – a state of perpetual nostalgia – at times of secluded peace in mind. Bizarrely, once this state was realized, it would be only moments before an impediment broke, marking another several hours of labor. As though a chimera monitor regulated such lapses, or so became his common explanation.

Gash…damn.

There it was…he had even begun to doubt the consistency, subsequent to the first minute without ignorance. Swiftly knocking his fingertips to relenting keys, a signal combination was dialed as though second nature.

“Mark message beginning: Gash, immediately relay your trade statistical read-outs to my office upon listening. Make haste. Mark message close.”

Gash raised an eyebrow slowly, letting one of his crimson orbs slip to glance at D31. Xylon Hexyra... always a diplomat. Did his mind ever leave the game? Gash let a smile dance lightly across his lips as his lingers flew across the datapanel, inputting several vital statistics.

Trade.

The Jedi outcast chuckled, wondering how Xylon managed all his endeavours at once. Trade, politics, humanitarian efforts...

War.

Murder.

Death...

Gash gritted his teeth horror and anguish, as the thoughts of the battle returned to his mind. It hadn't been a particularly violent one, or a particularly brutal one. In and out, a quick, viscious strike. But it had stirred something in Gash... Admiral Jiren...

The Jedi Code prohibited it's followers from doing things such as the actions Gash had carried out in that battle. Aggression, attack, willing assault against the unsuspecting... all were forbidden. And yet, three Admirals, all Jedi.

Gash groped for his head as a splitting, throbbing ache slashed through it like a lightsaber through durasteel. Slow, but intense. Like a Sith tearing his head apart...<hr>And then he was back, on his home planet of Asthentia, in the warm, fragrant forest. Tall , tropical trees on every side, the air moist, but not unbearably humid. The castle where he had been born looming in the distance. Around him, a few Asthentian guards stalked slowly along in a patrol, wearing the official robes. The very same Gash wore.

Gash's red-eyed gaze was drawn up. In the distance, barely visible through the blue sky's atmoshpere, four ships lanced bright daggers of green and red light out at each other. One had an explosion on it's aft, and began to spin, and spiral.

But in that instant, time seemed to speed up, and the derelict
A voice behind- or maybe not behind- him, screamed. Like a babe fresh from the womb, or a scream from a nightmare, it echoed out into the forest. That ship began to spiral faster, and faster... plunging towards the planet...

And striking it.

The voice echoed shrilly out again, forming coherent words, this time.

"DAMN YOU, JIREN! THE JEDI DO NOT SEE! NOT ONLY WHAT YOU DO EFFECTS OTHERS, NOT ONLY WHAT YOU BECOME EFFECTS OTHERS, WHAT YOU DO NOT DO EFFECTS THEM! THE JEDI FEAR THEMSELVES! DO YOU NOT PREACH FREEDOM FROM FEAR?! THAT FEAR BREEDS NEGLIGENCE!"<hr>Gash Jiren awoke, once more on board the Hermes. Drenched in cold sweat, shaking, and alone in the medical bay.

A dream of many things, Gash Jiren... think, and more shall come...

As Gash got down off his propped shoulders and lay down once more, D31 entered the medical bay. There was a small dent in the lower hip section of the droid, about the size of Gash's foot.

"DeeThree... what happened?"

'You dropped out cold. I send Xylon your stats, and then we carried you down here. Kicking and flailing, you were... socked me here.'

"I did that?"

'Yes. That abot about an hour ago.'

The dream hadn't seemed more than two minutes. But the effects of the rampant imagination, when given free reign, warp time, so this was not altogether surprising. Concern for himself and D31 wore off quickly, and curiousness for the events of the dream grew. What had the voice meant?

"The Jedi fear themselves..."

What was that supposed to mean? Ah. Yes, the Jedi fear themselves more than anything- they fear what they could become by falling to the Dark Side, and so live in constant fear of it. Fear or vigilance? Same thing, anyway. That fear bound them...

"What you do not do affects them!"

Affects who? Everyone, probably... the very people the Jedi tried to protect with their passive nature were harmed by that passive nature; for it became lathargy, after a time. It was easy not to act, to pin it on the Jedi code. It was easy to fear the Dark Side, even easier to live forever running from it.

But was that the way the authors of the Jedi Code intended it to be interpreted? Is falling to the Dark Side worth a life? A million lives? Hard to answer...

Is risking that fall worth a life? A million lives?

Yes.

What had that lingering voice said, where he had already come to from the dream?

A dream of many things, Gash Jiren... think, and more shall come...

A dream of many things. The dream meant many things, had many messages... think. Yes... he would meditate on this. More revelations than that which had already come would be brought to light, surely... perhaps, even another vision.

'Gash?'

"DeeThree, I need you to leave. It's-"

'One of those Jedi things. I had a feeling it would be. I'll have this room under surveilance, in case you kill yourself or something. I'd want to watch that.'

"Get out, you scoundrel!"

'Ha ha!'

The smile faded quickly from Gash's face as he lept from the bed and sat, cross-legged, on the floor. He felt the Force flow through him... and brought only one thought to his mind... the dream...

And he felt himself falling.

The Jedi Outcast never hit the ground. Instead, the fall suddenly and miraculously ended, and he found himself in a murky, misty swamp. Dark and foreboding, yet somehow homey, the swamp gradually faded into view, like an old holoprojector activating. Gash found the place oddly familiar... like it was somehow and old friend.

The thought struck him shortly before a small stick hit him in the shin:

Or like an old friend is here.

The stick, though, stung badly, worse than it should have, given it's size. Worse than it should have given that this was a dream. But the stick itself held Gash's attention for only a second- as his eyes gravitated to the knobbly piece of wood's wielder.

Rakili!

"Master!"

The little green sprite, similar to the fabled Jedi Master Yoda, nodded and grunted rather gruffly.

'Yes, me it is. Know I would be back, you should have, hmm? Heh, heh.'

The rough and high-toned voice was a sound for soar ears. Gash had not seen his old master since the little green alien had been his mentor in turning to the lightside. Rakili was right; Gash should have known he'd be back.

Jedi Masters had a way of showing up, when needed.

"I have not seen you for awhile, Master... I had thought-"

'Oh, think you did not. Rakili watches, he does... and saw you in distress, he did.'

Gash's brows furrowed confusedly. Up until that point, he'd been under the impression Rakili had been the one to send the dream to him. If not him, then who?

'No, me it was not, Gash Jiren.'

When Gash's mouth opened to protest, or inquire, it promptly shut again as Rakili waved his hand determindly. The green alien held it in one spot for a moment, then two... then, from nowhere, a small slip of flimsy, yellow parchment appeared in his three-fingered hand. Gash looked down at the sheet curiously.

"Master, what is-?"

'Remember, do you, when a Sith you were? Delve deep, you did. Deep into darkness on Ziost. And found things, you did... ancient documents, hmm?'

"Yes, Master. The Prophecies of Xal Kra."

'Indeed. At Dagobah, we are, for more reasons than the history of Jedi training it does carry. Spawn a son, you did...'

Gash sighed haggardly, then inhaled sharply as thoughts came rushing back. Xireon... Xireon Jiren, he'd been named. A molecular creation, of amazing proportions. He'd worked for all but the first year he'd spent on Ziost to create him, melding DNA from the greatest Sith of the age. Himself, Recon Klain, Qual Zaiso, others. And he'd done it...

"No. No, Master, no... it can't be. It can't be. That prophecy was rejected! I found it a year after I started work on Xireon!"

'Rejected, it was. But by Sith, and like the content of the Prophecy, they did not. Read, again, to refesh your memory.'

Gash took the paper as Rakili offered it, and read.



Gash was sickened. Xireon was the son... he was the talon. A conflict, a tragedy long predicted. The Jedi Outcast looked slowly up at Rakili, who only stared back gravely.

The vision, dream, or whatever it was... was only getting worse.

Gash stared at the paper for a second longer, before throwing the paper on the ground, disgusted. He turned away, as if it was a beast too horrible to look upon. In a sense, it was; a terrifying reminder of how far gone the Jedi Council was. Would they believe this? Would they hear of it?

No. Gash was a former Sith, who was basing his suspicions on an ancient prophecy devised by a Sith. How would that look?

And the Jedi would never accept a proactive solution to this problem. They would wait until the prophecy had come to fruition; they would wait until the war had begun. They would wait until...

Until it was too late.

When Gash finally did turn around, Rakili was only nodding silently.

'Now... now, you begin to see.'

"Yes, Master. But... is this true? These are the seeds of heresy."

In a swift and blinding motion, Rakili lept straight into the air and slashed the knobbly little stick he carried into the side of Gash's head. The Jedi Outcast stumbled, and swore bitterly.

"What-!?"

'Why is it that talk like this, you do now, hmm? Never before did you have such a problem breaking rules.'

"When I was a Sith!?" Asked Gash, incredulously. Did Rakili want him to act like a Sith? "The Jedi will not stop this. The Jedi Code-"

'Yes, when a Sith you were. Unacceptable, your behavior was- but your self-reliance was admirable.'

"But the Jedi Code... I have worked so long to learn it's ways."

'Hmph.' Rakili grunted. 'The Lightside's ways are found not in a code, not in words. Not in any document. Love their Code too much, the Jedi do... you did not learn of the Jedi Code. Learned, you did, of the Light.'

"I... I see, Master. But, what am I to do then? You spoke of two meanings for us being on Dagobah... what is that?"

The little Jedi Master nodded and sat down slowly, motioning for Gash to join him.

'Lock up your memories of life as a Sith, you have, for they are painful. To be the Jedi you are destined to be, open them, you must. There was another prophecy. Remember.'

Gash nodded to his Master, understanding, for once. He closed his eyes slowly, and under his eyelids, Gash's crimson-red eyes began to move. The movement grew into almost a vibration, as Gash concentrated harder on his dark past. The Tribunal... the time he spent as a renegade... his first journey to Asthentia... the attack on Theed...

Gash began to sweat, and shake. He felt weak, physically; the memories brought not only mental regret and mourning, but actualy physical pain. He pressed on, deeper an deeper, into memories and ideas he had buried deep...

The Seventh Prophecy of Xal Kra.

Seven? There were supposed to be only five... how many...

The text slowly sank out of his memory into his conscious mind as he dwelled on it silently.


Gash looked more pale than a dying star, as his eyes opened to view Rakili staring straight at him. The little green Jedi Master's large eyes blinked once, and he nodded knowingly.

"Master... no..."

'Yes. As the Prophecy says, so it shall be.'

A tear welled in each of Gash's crimson eyes.

"Tell me... why... are we on Dagobah?"

'The Battle of Man and Machine. Great, evil mechanical creations, they will be, and wage war on man, they will. Controlling of man is possible to them.'

"No..."

In a flash, Gash and Rakili were standing...

No, they weren't standing. But they were out in the cold, endlessly black blanket of space. Stars all around marked holes punched in the backlit canopy of the sky... yet it was not cold, or airless.

Gash looked down on Rakili.

"Master?"

'There.' He pointed towards a far off grey dot. Magnificently, space seemed to flow around them, and Coruscant came into focus. 'Coruscant. Two meanings; the war of Sith and Jedi, first. On the planet, your son is, right now. Preparing to bring an age of darkness on the galaxy, he is. The war of politicians, second. Claim this world, the New Republic will, with the help of Leia Organa Solo, Xylon Hexyra, and Xarrin Crae. They will war with the new Empire.'

"The new Empire? Master, you must-"

The stick lashed out again, snapping into Gash's side painfully. Rakili looked up at his student, firey-eyed.

'You must stop acting like the Padawan you are not! Fall into the apathetic trap of the Jedi, you must not. Do not fear yourself; do not fear the code. Understand this, and do what you must. The risk of falling to darkness is worth a life.'

Gash straightened in his posture, and nodded slowly.

"Yes, Master. I... I understand."

'Meet with me, you will, on Naboo. We will go together.'

"Thank you, Master."

Rakili flashed a very rare smile on his wrinkled old green face, up to Gash. It was a smile of joy, despite the circumstances.

'No thanks to me, but thanks to you, Gash Jiren. You have succeeded; perhaps, with you, the Light may triumph. Thank you, Jedi Master Jiren.'

And with questions still unanswered, Gash blinked, and found himself, sweating, shaking and panting, back in the medical bay of the Hermes. The Jedi stood, and proceeded to the bridge.

He knew what he had to do.

And held no fear.