Picking Up The Ashes [Druckenwell Aftermath]

[Ayden Cater]

613,915,874 dead, and that number was constantly climbing. Billions were injured, displaced, or missing. The orbit over Druckenwell was almost as bad. Almost no orbital structure was left in tact, and the planet's orbit was filled with debris and the dead. Trillions of credits worth of damage. And all at the hands of the Confederacy. This was the single greatest loss of civilian life since Velok destroyed the Osarian-Rhommamool star system, and even that incident barely beat the travesty that had occurred here. No one would soon forget this.

The transition from a military invasion to a disaster relief mission was quick, and at the same time difficult. Most of the population was in shock and riots were breaking out everywhere. Dropships were deployed with troops who worked to restore order. Hundreds of freighters were being flown in and the Protectorate issued a blanket call within its territories for any captain to load their ships with supplies and bring them to Druckenwell for a reward. Some took the money, but many more came out of the kindness in their heart.

In orbit, the Protectorate fleet worked to tractor debris out to a stable location for investigation and salvaging. A lot had happened and they were looking for anything that would clue them in to what exactly had happened within the Confederate leadership. No corporations that held any strong ties to them were being allowed in-system. Investigations would be conducted into every corporation that had a major presence on Druckenwell. Those that were found to have no part in the Confederacy's madness would eventually be allowed through. Corellian Engineering was one of the first corporations cleared, by virtue of Ayden's personal knowledge of all their transactions. The closest tie to the CIS was CEC's relationship with Arceneau Trade Company.

And through it all, a wound in the Force was forming. It was not an easy thing to form, but the death of hundreds of millions was not a minor thing. Ayden made private calls to a number of individuals. This was a phenomena that was not fully studied or understood and he wanted some good to come of this tragedy. Perhaps they could learn to close it, help the planet heal.

[OOC: PM for invite if you want in. Those that participated and helped OP in the invasion are automatically invited]

Locations:
Ruins of the Capital City
Medical Cruiser Innehes' Grace
Salvage Field
Rioting City

 

[HK-36]

Aboard the Dancing Queen
For those who I captured or got off planet safely who want to continue RP
[member="Siobhan Kerrigan"], [member="Eyrecae Alzari"], [member="Hayato"], [member="Calico Tal'Verda"], [member="Vorhi Alestrani"], [member="Aaralyn Rekali"], [member="Ermac Laith"], [member="Tricia"], [member="Jared Ovmar"], [member="Aeron Kreelan"], [member="Soliael Devin Talith"], [member="Seanna Vel"], and [member="Eldoc Quasat"]

HK, [member="Hecate"], and [member="Marek Starchaser"]'s efforts in evacuating the population have saved many lives. However, so many more have died that day, they were only able to help as many people as they could before the orbital bombardment of the Confederacy and the shipyard pieces falling in begun to take their toes. Many will live on to carry this legacy of pain, multitudes more have had their flames extinguished by CIS's madness.

Those who were taken off of the planet's surface have been brought to the Dancing Queen, a Protectorate Super-carrier HK has captured during one of the battles he has been hired as an ally, aiding the Moross Crusade in combat against the Horde. The wounded were being carried off to the Medical Bay, already stabilized on their way there by medics inside the dropships, others were motioned to move towards the designated waiting rooms where they can calm down and be kept under the watch of Iron Company troops.

Finally one peculiar dropship has arrived in the massive hangar, the troops of the Company looked to it, recognizing the marks of the vessel, they knew who used it.
The ramp would open as HK would step out, along with [member="Ember Rekali"] if the Mandalorian took HK's offer of aide to get him off of the planet's surface back on Druckenwell.

His troops saluted to HK as the droid begun making his way towards the middle of the hangar,
"Exarch on deck!"
Somebody has called out, HK reached forward to one of the large ammunition barrels used for gunships, moving it more into the open he would step aboard the makeshift scene, connecting himself to the intercom systems of the ship he had access to it.

"My name is HK-36."
The droid begun, his voice broadcasting through the ship's halls as he begun speaking to the crowd in the vessel's hangars,
"And I hold currently the position of Exarch of Abregado-Rae. Today I have led the evacuation efforts along with Commander Hecate of the Firemane, The Techno Union, Protectorate Navy, and the soldiers of both Confederacy of Independent Systems and Omega Protectorate. We have preserved many lives today, and unfortunately, many more were lost."
He scanned over the crowds,
"Our intelligence, and what we have witnessed on the battlefield, confirms that it was the Confederacy that brought down the Orbital Shipyards, with the thunders of their anti-ship cannons, and fired upon the planet in efforts of glassing it, aiming it both on the citizens of the Confederacy and upon its own soldiers as well as the invading forces of Protectorate."
He would gesture over the crowds,
"Upon any and all of you, they did not cared whether you swore allegiance to them or not, they wanted to burn and destroy this planet so that none could use if they could not have."

The droid drawled on in his mechanical monotone voice of Mr. Feeny.
"When one swears an oath of protecting their citizens and planets, they swear to protect their lives and property no matter what the leader's cost is, if the planet is being lost to enemy, let it be lost with as little casualties as possible, if that means one's pride being damaged, then make it so. But what they have done was not only childish-"
He paused for dramatic effect,
"It was inhumane, and that is coming from an assassin droid's for bloody sake. Yet here I stand, a being with supposedly no morals, no soul, and body of cold metal,"
He would point out of the hangar's entrance at the Druckenwell,
"And today I kharking cared more about the fate of Druckenwell and fate of any of you than the Confederacy cared. This is not how things are supposed to work."

The droid lowered his arm, his grey cloak fluttering slightly,
"I, The Iron Knight HK-36, Knighted in Compassion, First Baron of Protectorate, Exarch and Observer of Abregado-Rae, hereby call for exterminatus bounty being placed upon the heads of Confederate Commanders responsible for today events. If they so desire for world to burn, let them be first to burn. I swear in front of you, Confederate and Protectorate forces, that I shall hunt down the Confederate Leaders who have given orders for Druckenwell to die and burn along with its citizens and guardians, and I will do justice upon them, the kind they deserve."
HK nodded slightly,
"That is my oath before you, I will not break it."

He would raise his hand then,
"Now to business, Confederate forces and allies, you will be escorted to waiting areas and medical bays separate from the Protectorate forces, due to the nature of today events, and the battle we fought, wandering around the ship is strongly discouraged. Each of you will be spoken to and questioned, but I promise you no tortures or executions will be involved."
The droid paused once more,
"Enough blood was spilled today."
He scanned the crowds once more before continuing,
"If you would wish to join the Protectorate ranks and make sure what Confederacy did today will not happen again, something could be arranged, if you simply wish to break from the Confederacy and leave this war behind, something could be arranged. Otherwise please wait till you will be spoken to by a representative of Iron Company and your possible release will be determined."
After a second he would add,
"However, I cannot ask you to take up your arms and fight with me in this cause. I understand completely if you would have enough bloodshed, war, and death after today, especially those of you who are connected to the Force."
He continued,
"But what I would ask of you is to remember and tell others. Let the world know what we have witnessed here today and what has happened, tell everyone the side of your story, never forget. For today was a valiant fight that ceased abruptly by the hatred and selfishness of few men and women who would rather see a planet burn to dust like coal rather than suffer a defeat. You have seen this Chaos up close."
HK would deeply bow to the crowds he was facing,
"And for that I honor you, warriors, soldiers, survivors. Never forget."

The droid nodded then, stepping off of the ammunition barrel,
"May the Force be with you."
He said somberly

 

[Tilda Sai]

Omega Defense Force
Intel Division

Anyone needing screening respond to ODF Intel and Security. ( Tag me)

Major Od'Manteiv was placed in charge of overseeing investigations and screening of all holonet data, businesses, intel, and remaining salvage operations on Druckenwell.

Aboard a fob base of a Khandar-class Mobile Repair Station; the station is seven hundred meters wide, five hundred fifty meters tall, and two thousand meters wide. This general profile allows it to accommodate the majority of capital ships. Some ships are larger than these dimensions however, such as the MC180 or Solo-class capital ships. Rather than make a wholly separate station to repair them, the Khandar was designed with a unique feature.
Upon reaching a target area, the Khandar decouples itself at numerous junctions and expands to the necessary size, with thick durasteel cables and repulsors holding the pieces connected and stable. This allows it to work on ships larger than its initial frame would otherwise suggest. Small capital ships, those under four hundred meters, are handled over one of nine circular sub stations. As ships can be handed above or below the substations, the Khandar can simultaneously repair eighteen light ships. Likewise, mid-weight ships are handled to the sides with dozens of deploy-able arms moving ships in place and replacing damaged hull plates.

For the largest ships, the Khandar handles those directly above and below it. For ships that might exceed the reach of the repair arms, they would first be processed at one station then moved to the other side to complete the repairs.

The station has dozens of dropships designed to carry cargo and move pieces in place. And while the station does boost a very large cargo space, attempting a full capacity repair schedule would rapidly deplete the onboard cargo stores so such deployments are best left in orbit over a planet.

And this was just one of deployed mobile repair ship stations brought over to Druckenwell.

With little time to delay, aggressive intelligence went scouring for information. Salvage operations were underway, taking as much of the debris to start their investigations. Debris from the damaged ships in the fleet incursion were also collected.

Investigation of the local holonet would find one particular piece of interesting information. Processing the data and streamlining to discover it's origin quickly went underway. Any thread to the Protectorate, and the Lord and Lady Protector, was taking with the utmost seriousness. Rewards for intel would soon be posted on every bounty board, upon prosecution of the cell responsible. A detailed memo describing the military threat would be placed in a report for the Lord and lady Protector to view at their discretion.

 

[Gilamar Skirata]

Space: Above Druckenwell

Galactic coverage of the beginning of yet another war had been streaming over the holonet for a long while now. It had surprised many, at least those that didn't keep up with the times. Gilamar, while taken aback by the bluntness of the Protectorate's attack was not surprised by the faction's willingness to go to war with the CIS. Many factions held the CIS in their secondary cross hairs, though for varying reasons. For a time, even the Mandalorians had begun keeping tabs on the opportunistic faction. But even with this, knowing the things he did...Not even he expected this.

Druckenwell was now a cloudy marble in the blackness of space. The reporters on every channel were nearly speechless at the destruction that had been wrought by the battle. Gilamar as well was completely shocked. His only response was to call on the aid of the Clans, uniting them in a single goal:

Send aid to Druckenwell.

Gilamar may well have been a soft Mandalorian, but lives were lives, and though other cultures were not as at peace with death as the Mandalorians were, the Mandalorians still understood grief, understood empathy. Gilamar was on the Mythosaur before most of the other crew was. He had the ship dump three quarters of its fighter compliment to make room for the Xerob-class blockade runners and thousands of containers filled with medical supplies such as Kolcta geltabs as well as food, water, shelters, and clothing. He heard that Daw Motors had even sent a few hundred transport and construction vehicles their way.

BSN-class Bulk freighters usually reserved for shipping beskar and other precious minerals were loaded up as well. Even the escort Mandalorian Dreadnought held supplies. With the giant relief fleet ready to mobilize it took only a word for all the ships to begin the trip to the ruined planet. The trip was long, filled with a solemn silence, though weather or not the silence was in anticipation of the destruction they would be faced with or the idea that such a lose of life had occurred with the planet still intact the old man could not be sure.

~Some time Later~
The Mandalorian fleet dropped out of Hyperspace over the ruined planet and after exchanging words with Protectorate traffic officers the hangar doors of the Mythosaur and the bulk freighters opened and hundreds of relief ships swarmed the planet according to the orders of the traffic officers as they directed them first to areas of dire need.

As the Xerob-class shuttle landed in a cloud of dust, the pilot was left speechless and rightfully so. The area they had landed in looked like as if a great grey desert tsunami had overtaken the city, burying buildings and people alike. There was no doubt that they were actually standing atop hundreds if not millions of people that would not be found for many, many months if not years. The thought of walking along the dead disturbed a particular soldier who rushed down the ramp and tossed his buyce to the ground, throwing up bile and whatever else he had eaten before the trip. Striding over to him Gilamar patted his back, the sound of metal on metal rang out, echoed. <You need to be strong vod. Put your helmet back on, the dust will kill you if you aren't careful.>

It was true. The dust was only now starting to settle and a thick grey and black haze of soot, ash, and dust filled the air and sky. It was cold and you couldn't see more than a few meters into the sky when suddenly a Protectorate fighter or search and rescue vehicle would fly over head. All around him crying and screaming. Mumbles and shouting. Frowning beneath his helmet he looked back to the shuttle where other Mandalorians looked afraid to walk on the mass grave. <C'mon. These people need shelter from the ash and soot! Get those things set up. Medical first, then the others. Then get the respirators and masks out so these people don't have to breathe this filth any longer.> Jogging over, his foot sinking slightly in the ash a hand gripped his boot, stopping him dead in his tracks. Looking down the dusty hand and then to his men and back the hand he started waving frantically. "We've got a live one here!!" he shouted in basic, attempting to get the attention of the Protectorate as well.

After minutes of intense, hopeful digging all they found was an arm, still grasping for something, that something now gone. Along with most of the planet. It made him sick.

The Confederacy was sick.

 

[Soell Alberio]

Siobhan Kerrigan, Eyrecae Alzari, [member="HK-36"]

Whether her contributions to the evacuations had helped or not the Echani didn't care. That entire battle had been a huge farce and everyone was played the fool. However, none were as great of fools as the Confederacy was. Their naval officers and chief military command at Druckenwell had been pathetic through and through. Not only had their defenses been atrocious despite the large amount of time they had been given, but they had turned tail and fled like cowards in such a manner as to make the white haired woman bite her lip to the point it bled at the mere memory. Firing on their own station, sending it careening at the planet below, firing on the planet itself, and more. They had even sacrificed a great portion of their forces to attempt the action as well as to retreat after it failed. . . . . technically.

Even if the station hadn't crashed and they hadn't been able to burn the world, the CIS had certainly done a number on the infrastructure and population of Druckenwell. Including their own forces and the Omega Protectorate's soldiers. Not that Hecate could really care about the heavy casualties, not when she had much greater concerns on her mind. Most prioritized among them being whether or not her teacher, friend, and employer was going to be alright. Toward the end of the battle after she had deployed a number of her dropships to support HK-36's actions she had felt her Mistress falter. Having been weakly linked in the effort because of her lack of sufficient training still, Hecate had been able to keep focusing on the battle. However, she had noticed clearly when Siobhan had grown weak, and more so when the telekinetic powerhouse had fallen unconscious.

There hadn't been anything she could do at the time except order more dropships deployed and fighters diverted to help oh so very late. It had been a relief when HK's forces had made notice of retrieving the Firemane Combatants. All the same Hecate hadn't been about to let the Confederate forces go peacefully after it. Unlike the rest of the Omega Forces, the young Echani officer had focused her fleet's efforts on aiming only for the delicate engine systems of the enemy forces as they fled. It was quicker to disable their means of escape than it was to destroy them fully. As such it meant there had been more enemy ships left crippled than if she had ordered her ships to obliterate them outright. Though many self destructed on their own and a few she had order killed when the enemy began fleeing leaving her with no more to cripple. Once the fight had seemed over for certain Hecate had handed command of her Protectorate vessels as she brought the Ashira's Justice and its Firemane escorts to join HK36's fleet so she could depart and get on board the Dancing Queen.

She didn't stop worrying after getting on board until she finally found Siobhan and Eyrecae.

 

[Maelion Liates]

(Participation allowed by [member="Ayden Cater"].)

Druckenwell. That was the source of all the news these days. Millions of organics were dead, billions displaced. Misery on a scale not imagined for decades.
And yet Maelion Liates was torn. She fervently believed that all organics must be purged, replaced with a system where machines guided the galaxy in a way only OMNI had ever imagined. The deaths of millions of organics was the beginning of a general war between them which would inevitably cause their downfall.

And yet, the hundred and fifty million or so organics was but one leaf in a diseased forest of ignorance and chaos. The Age of Steel would come, but with barely 200 droids Archangel could not be shown to celebrate. To all appearances Archangel was just another small droid maker, and one with a toxic liability; an affiliation to Baktoid.

And so while [member="Moira Skaldi"] and [member="Doll Crux"] worked to extend the abilities and control of the entechment process, Maelion had a holocall to make from Corellia. It was time to ‘realign’ Archangel with the vengeful victors of Druckenwell. After all, Corellia was in Protectorate space. It was time to help the organics in expectation of later destroying them.

~~~

The Lord Protector was a busy man, but whilst Maelion made a show of impatience she was as calm as stone as she waited for her appointed meeting time. She had carefully choreographed this meeting, and her infiltration protocols were carefully tuned for this sort of meeting.
When finally she was able, Maelion nodded soberly to Lord Protector Ayden Cater.
“Lord Protector, thank you for your time, I know you have much to do on this terrible day. I am Anna Comnena, Director of Archangel Research and Design. I have just read the news about matters, and I wanted to talk to you at once. We were initially funded by Baktoid, though our debts have long been paid to them. However, I would like to completely disavow them, and state that we had no knowledge or inkling that they would unleash such a terrible betrayal. In memory of those who fell in this cowardly onslaught, and also to prove our goodwill, we would like to offer the support of our industrial and Human Replica Droids in the cleanup and rescue effort. Without charge. Our units are capable of scanning for survivors, digging them out, providing medical assistance, and can work all day, every day excepting a one hour recharging cycle. I offer these to you as gifts not just for the hope of your continued support, but also for humanitarian reasons.”
She waited for a reply, her face sombre and sad, her hair carefully mussed as if to show a sleepless night.

 

[Feena]

More injured were coming in by the second, and Feena was already at the end of her rope. The medical staff was stretched so thin, trying to tend to too many. This was not how this was supposed to go, and Feena was still reeling. Such death, in such amounts... Each wave of it was like a blow straight to the heart. She once found herself in tears without even realizing until a nurse said something. She had to hold it together. Had to keep it together. Had to.

"No, there's no more room in ER," she heard a nurse tell someone over her comm, "You're going to have to take him to the children's ward- what do you mean that's full too?!"

Her faith was waning fast. She had been a healer to many gruesome situations, many wars. But in those, it had been soldiers killed and injured. Soldiers, who knew exactly what they had signed up for. These were not soldiers, her patients. They were men, women, husbands, wives, grandparents, mothers, fathers... And so many children. It was the children that her heart truly ached for. She was keeping a list, a very careful list, keeping familys together on this list. Occasionally, she had to put a little X next to a member of the family, indicating death. A mother, a Father, but occasionally, she had to put an X next to a childs name. X's next to both parents, named the child an orphan, and Feena would circle those names, keeping them all especially close. She would find a place for those children, or she would take them in herself. But there were so many. Too many.

Too many.
All around, the medical bay was packed. People were sitting on the floor against the walls, getting bandages wrapped around limbs. Feena went by one child, a boy of about 6, with an eyepatch. And it seemed to only get worse the further Feena went. Her once pristine white medical uniform was covered in bright red blood from her last patient, soaked right through and sticking to her skin. She held her bloodied glove-covered hands close, so as not to contaminate the med bay more than it already was. If they were not careful, conditions could become very unsafe, very quickly. Cleanliness was key, and Feena needed a change of uniform immediately.

 

[Siobhan Kerrigan]

[member="HK-36"], [member="Hecate"]
On the Dancing Queen
Medbay

The only thing worse than a battle lost is a battle won. The term Pyrrhic victory certainly applied to this one.

Apparently she was still alive. Or at least she was reasonably certain of this state of events as she roused herself from her slumber and rubbed the sleep from her organic eye, the bright being so bright that she felt an instinctive urge to avert her gaze from it. Another medbay, another hospital room. She really had to start grading them now. Instinctively she ran her usual check-up. All limbs accounted for, everything still there. That was something at least. She stretched slightly, wincing strongly as pain shot through her, for it appeared that her body had decided it was time to be cross with her.

As she did this the memories of what had transpired just a few hours ago returned to her and her expression turned grim. Flashes shot through her mind, of the shipyard falling from the sky. She recalled once more how she, super charged by a powerful force meld, had grabbed an enormous chunk of the gigantic station and tossed it far and wide in a superhuman act of telekinetic power, her grip strong enough to avert disaster. But, it had not sufficed, as the rest of the shipyard came falling down out of the heavens. Then she remembered laser fire lancing down from above as death rained down upon the planet, intent on naught but destruction. She remembered gripping Eyrecae tight and raising her from perdition, flying as if the the angels of death were on her heels while seemingly all around her the planet burnt and people perished.


A younger Siobhan would have felt guilt, which in itself was a selfish emotion. This one felt like killing something...most brutally. Truth be told, she was no stranger to acts of mass extermination. She had been a Colonel commanding Omega Pyre when the Sith wiped out all life on Donanyd and turned it into an irradiated husk to prove a point. Velok had completely and utterly vaporised Rhommamool and Osarian with darkside magicks, an act that had also propelled her wife Tegaea to the office of Lady Protector and herself to that of Exarch, one third of Ahto City had been sunk by the Republic....then there was Dromund Kaas, razed by the Mandalorians to show what they could unleash upon their enemies if pushed hard enough after having fought the Sith for years - but that was something she could understand.

Druckenwell was different. Just like Atrisia had been when the Confederates threw Lucrehulks on the planet out of the spite. Siobhan was not a good person or even a particularly moral one. Her hands were coated with the blood of those she had sent to their deaths on Roche and Gehenna.


Truth be told, she seldom gave casualties much thought. War demanded sacrifice after all. Still, her mind rebelled against the sheer...pointlessnes of slaughtering your own people by the millions for no real reason other than sheer spite, no expediency of wartime. The Confederacy would have to be wiped out. Completely and utterly. Just like it should have been after Atrisia. As she had carried out an exterminatus upon the Bando Gora and annihilated them, this the Butcher was certain. Without pity, without mercy. Until they had been wiped from the map. As only the Chaos Goddess could.


So she tried to pull herself up, anger and cold resolve mixed with sadness in her heart, though also relief at having made it out against the odds. Even though her legs felt like they would give way under her, the brief rest not having been enough. "Ma'am, you are in no state to leave. Please get back to bed. I must insist. You...," a doctor sought to impede her attempt to get up, but Mistress Thuella would not be so easily swayed.

"I conquered most of this country's territory, spare me the preaching," Siobhan growled with evident annoyance, though when her bare feet touched the ground she almost slipped before she could grab ahold of the bedpost, managing to stabilise herself before she took another step, this time with seemingly greater stability. Underneath her armour she had not worn much beyond shorts and a sports bra. Presumably now she wore that robe-like thing patients always got. "Has my wife been called?" she asked - nay, demanded.


"A message has been relayed to Countess [member="Tegaea Alcori"]. You should really take it easy and get back to bed. A Lieutenant Hecate Ferrum is coming for you."


"I take it easy when I'm dead and it seems heaven doesn't want me and hell's scared I'll burn it down," Siobhan retorted. Her thoughts drifted to Eyrecae, but the primeval Eldorai supersoldier would be fine, this she knew. Unless she had gotten really hungry.

 

[Eyrecae Alzari]

The shock had quickly worn off for Eyrecae Alzari. After demanding and consuming a ‘snack’ which would have burst a full grown man, she had paced around restlessly for a while before storming off to the hanger.
“Take me down to the surface,” she commanded an evac shuttle leaving the Siege Tower.
“Ma’am, you’re not on the list of authorised…” the man began nervously.
“Do I look like I need authorisation from you?!” Eyrecae demanded, hefting her hammer. “I am going to help rescue people,” she added grimly.
Giving in, the man let her aboard, and she was soon heading to the surface.
Doubtless [member="Siobhan Kerrigan"] would wonder where she was, but since she was still lazing around, Eyrecae had no time to wait. She had to do something or she’d simply die of boredom!

 

[Soell Alberio]

Siobhan Kerrigan, Eyrecae Alzari

"Oh yes I am coming for her." Hecate would grin brilliantly at her timing, though it was also to mask her worry. Seeing the other woman joke like that and boss around the doctor did much to relieve the Echani's concerns, but all the same she highly doubted that Siobhan was anywhere near fine after the whole debacle like that. "Next time you get involved in operations on the ground Mistress I'm going to order gunships on standby to drag you off it in case of another incident like this. I was kind of wishing for more excitement but I think you got too much, talk about levels of extremes. Trying to put things in a more humorous mood was definitely not her forte. It hardly mattered though, just so long as the people she reserved her concern for were ok. Considering none of the other Echani who had joined her had died on her ship and Siobhan was still kickin things seemed to be going her way she supposed.

"So what happens now? Clean up isn't exactly something I'm used to, good at, or have an interest in. The battle had such promise too. Maniacs, burning their own people . . . . . .you think many of their ground troops we picked up will switch sides Lady Siobhan?" Honestly she wanted to ask about her teacher's injuries as well, but she got the feeling that might no go over well. Maybe once the doctors left it'd be more ok to check?

 

[Eldoc Quasat]

[member="HK-36"]
Eldoc was in a bacta tank, the damage on his body extensive. In fact any doctor would marvel the fact he was still alive. The force wave that had hit him had obliterated the garrison wall. he was conscious in the tank at least, the meds hooked up to him took away the pain. He was only barely conscious at the moment, more in a haze as he recovered from the affects of that mindblast.

 

[Ayden Cater]

Salvage Field

Ayden turned over a data core in his hands, sweat and grime covering his face. It had been hours since he last slept, and it didn't seem like he'd be sleeping any time soon. There were still too many questions to be answered, and still too much he did not know. He needed names, faces. Some might question looking through the salvage, but in truth this would be one of the best places to look. Much of Druckenwell was still chaos, and several locations were contaminated from reactor fallout. Up in the salvage field though, there was peace and quiet. He was not distracted by the screams.

This particular data core had come from a section of the shipyard that had been hit in the initial bombardment. One of the planetary slugs had pierced the main data line. Any attempts to remotely wipe the drive would have fallen on deaf ears. There was no telling what exactly was on it however. It could have been detailed profiles on high ranking Confederate leaders or it could have been the lunch menu and the secret recipe for the Slurry Surprise. Any data cores that were recovered were brought to this room. Some would be too physically damaged to try and read. Many would likely contain useless data. But it was a process worth doing.

Nearly a dozen Khandar mobile repair stations had taken up orbit around the planet, deployed and working around the clock. Several Belsar-class Command Carriers had been brought in and were functioning as makeshift stations checking incoming and outgoing shuttles. Eventually proper stations would be brought in from out of system while more major stations and shipyards were rebuilt in-system. Given the recent events, all people attempting to enter or leave the system were forced to go through these check points. Sentinel-class cruisers patrolled the system, their crystal grav-field traps ensuring no cloaked ships could slip through and regular fighter patrols crossed the system in a grid-like pattern for any other suspicious signs of activity. If anyone was going to try and cause trouble, they'd rapidly find themselves staring down the wrong end of a blaster.

 

[Seanna Vel]

Aboard the Dancing Queen
Medical Bay
[member="HK-36"]

Hearing all that was being blasted. No it couldn't be how could someone from the order that invited her into their order. This the pain of it all, then where was she who ship was she on board. Now fear gripped her more now. Feeling a firm hand upon her. Speaking being to flow around around her. All she could do was try and fight. Until she feel a voice to smooth, that all was going to be okay. "Okay,,, I'll stop...", not knowing what was in store for her. Blacking out again only to come to again.

The last thing that had felt before leaving the planet was panic, fear. It then came to the Echo of the force. It over loaded her own sense for a few minutes. Blue eyes of hers shoot open to blinding lights. Arching back as if been stabbed with a million of pins but not all at once. "Beat to Heck, Tar and feather, what ...", turning to raise herself up.

Hold her down, we got to get this IV in her she lost a lot of blood. "I'm trying sir, but this one is strong.", calling in another guard. Holding her arm down in a way so her qukuuf is shown on her arm. Finding that it wasn't long before she could feel her body relax once more. There you go miss relax. As if Seanna was in a dream again. "I want to go home.", the guards looking at her in her state. "Your going to be here for a while, your hurt bad.", looking towards one another thing the same thing this one was so young to be mess up in a battle like this. With her marking one place she could be from, Kiffu. "Where is your home.", in her state and all that had went on the feeling of the souls being lost even now. "Kiffex." , both looking at her puzzled.


Now the two solider making a report sending it on to their Superior.


The doctor now speaking to the two of them. "That's enough for now, she need to be dunk." Finding herself very much shot up and then the lighting didn't help matters. Feeling the cool gel like matter come around her. Feeling the drugs coming to take her to dream land.

 

[Kiskla Grayson-Matteo]

Over 600 million dead was not something that could go unnoticed — especially when The Force was very much alive. The cataclysmic deaths had rocked the metaphysical world and touched many wielders as an after-effect of Druckenwell.

Both the Confederacy and The Protectorate were allies to The Republic— the battle had been almost instantaneous to begin, and just as quick to end. Akin to the brevity of the lives that had been snuffed out by the detonation of the shipyards.

In the end, the politics of it held no gravity on the Grandmaster. The amount of those perished had made her feel like an ice cream carton, with it’s contents being scooped for a summer’s treat. A gauge had hit her while reading the reports for Empress Teta. After steadying herself, she immediately reached out to those within The Order that would be able to do something about this — those that would not have a political influence as she did; her position opened many doors to her, but it also restricted her from some.

No matter. People needed attention — she wasn’t the best healer, but she was well versed in Art of the Small. A Master of it, in fact, and if people need assistance with infections of the brutality, or other remedies, she could assist. With her, not only were there capable healers, but a feeling of calming serenity that she expanded from her benevolent core. This feeling evidenced as soon as her transport touched the atmosphere of the ruined city. The Grandmaster sent a correspondence to [member="Ayden Cater"] to alert him of their supportive arrival, and that if he had anything that needed immediate attention, to pass it on.

“I’ve got to help clear the air down there.” Usually something she said for politics, but in this instance, there wouldn’t be anything more efficient than the mistress of the Small to touch the air where the dust and rubble plagued it.

“I will meet you back at the medical bay.” Kiskla announced to those in the hangar with her, rising from her webbing and adjusting the final plating of her VEIL V2 armour. “May the Force be with you, thank you for your help.”



**
RUINS OF CAPITAL CITY

The whirr of her personal shuttle ended, and the Jedi Master stepped from the ship. She had detected life forms from her radar — but those heat sensors had picked up on [member="Gilamar Skirata"] and his team.

Without a moment’s hesitation, the woman’s helmet sealed over her face and the life support filtered the air for her breathing — so she could focus on clearing the air for everyone else.

In solitude, assumably on top of a random building, the Jedi Master set to work— spending several minutes focusing on her own existence before radiating. The Quukuf rescinded from her visage, and her prowess extended beyond her personal shield, dissipating into the air. Her focus was on a molecule level, microscopically mincing and dissecting the elements that hovered in the atmosphere until they were completely eradicated. The process grew from the silhouette of the Jedi and outward, only a meter at first. Slowly, the breadth of her influence spread to reveal the crumbled ruins below.

This would at least assist the visibility of the team from Mandalore, and provide cleaner breathing air for those who had survived.

Spoiler

[member="Avalore Eden"] | [member="Boolon Murr"] | [member="Cathbodua"] | [member="Anarya Drast"] | [member="A'dele Adonai"]


Healers tagged if you'd like to join, we have permission!

 

[Dicer]

Spoiler

Time to start working towards a conclusion of my "people on the ground" story arc, which includes Dicer's posts on the story and the following:
http://starwarsrp.net/topic/31634-let-slip-the-dogs-of-war-protectorate-invasion-of-druckenwell/?view=findpost&p=445987
http://starwarsrp.net/topic/31634-let-slip-the-dogs-of-war-protectorate-invasion-of-druckenwell/?view=findpost&p=445999
http://starwarsrp.net/topic/31634-let-slip-the-dogs-of-war-protectorate-invasion-of-druckenwell/?view=findpost&p=446027
http://starwarsrp.net/topic/31634-let-slip-the-dogs-of-war-protectorate-invasion-of-druckenwell/?view=findpost&p=446064
(These NPCs will be involved)

This is set at day zero, well before the relief effort can start in full. Will try and catch up with other people timewise. Wibbly Wobbly.

Curtis saw the silhouette of the gunship in the dust, long before he could make it out. He diverged from the mag train line he had been following for clicks and approached it.

"Give me a moment," he said, lowering the child to the ground. The boy stayed silent, but he always remained still. Dicer approached the gunship, looking it up and down. It was almost completely intact.

It pained him greatly, but he managed to haul himself up the the cockpit. There were no remains of a pilot, it seemed abandoned. He found the comms terminal but it was locked. Dicer's only had access codes for the basic OP systems that allowed him to complete training and various other day-to-day activities. This thing would have been hooked into a full command system, not something to let anyone into.

The gunship might have been operable, but he would never know. Curtis hadn't the faintest idea what to do with the dizzying array of controls before him. However, he did find a survival kit in a container on the back of the pilot's seat and some more sidearm cells to loot. He probably had enough rations for a few days now between himself and the boy, he'd need to find more drinking water though. The taps he'd tried in the nearby buildings had been dry.

He dropped back down from the gunship, a bolt of pain shooting from his right hip all the way through his shoulder to his neck. Grimacing he opened a small packet of dried meat.

"Breakfast?" he asked the boy.

The child nodded and reached out a small hand, taking the offered morsel. He chewed on the piece of meat for a moment, but his expression suggested he wasn't a fan of jerky.

"Yeah, it's not great." Curtis said, more to fill the silence than anything. "Try eating rations for a month straight."

The boy handed back the sticky remains of the piece, finally deciding he wasn't going to eat it. Curtis wiped the piece on his jacket, getting most of the saliva off and put it back in the packet. He couldn't afford to waste food.

"Going to tell me your name?"

"Toby," the child mumbled.

"That's a nice name, my own son is called Troy. How old are you Toby?"

"I am four and I will be starting school soon," Toby proudly declared. Just as Curtis had thought, just a bit older than Troy.

"Well I bet you're looking forward to that little man," Curtis replied. "We'd best get moving," he declared.

The floodgates were open now. For the new few clicks Toby regaled him with all kinds of stories about his friends and family. He was particularly proud of some of his recent drawings of the family pet.

Curtis was just glad of a voice against the silence to stop him filling the space with his own thoughts and fears.

 

[Siobhan Kerrigan]

[member="Hecate"]

Considering the fact that Siobhan had gotten up from throwing a large chunk of space station - and incidentally saved [member="Eyrecae Alzari"]'s life since the super Eldorai had been too busy with her one-on-one duel with a Mandalorian to notice the small fact that the planet was being subjected to an exterminatus - this one fails to see how she was lazing around.


Regardless, Siobhan was not in the mood for socialising and smalltalk. "You've got transports and medical supplies, haven't you? Use them. Bring them down and see who you can evac or get to shelters. Get what soldiers down you can spare. There might still be survivors buried under the rubble. Evac teams will need security," she ordered coldly.


"After today, anyone who sticks with the Confederacy is deserving of a bolter round to the face. If our prisoners realise that, good for them. Far as I'm concerned we should press on with the war." At that she began walking out of the room, albeit with an irritating limp that made her look unsteady on her legs. Pain shot through her back, but she forced herself to walk straight and upright, too prideful to admit even a moment of weakness. "You did good work in space," she added to Hecate as she did this.


"Ma'am, the white-haired Eldorai you came with...," a Lieutenant suddenly showed up, sputtering.


"Yes, what about her?"

"She took off towards the planet in one of the evac shuttles."


"What a surprise. You there, where's my armour? Don't just uselessly stand there. I'm not an invalid. Get a move on!" she snapped with an air of irritation and impatience. The minions and the doctor, clearly recognising that antagonising a bitchy telekinetic psycho-soldier of highly dubious sanity quickly obliged. It did little to improve her general grumpiness.

 

[Tegaea Alcori]

Far away from broken Druckenwell, Tegaea Alcori was waking up. The space beside her in the bed was empty, a constant reminder that her wife [member="Siobhan Kerrigan"] was not here.
It was as she was dressing and getting ready for her day when Harmony entered. "A message about Lady Kerrigan, ma'am," her aide said.
Tegaea winced, not liking the 'about' in that sentence. Fortunately though it was not the condolence letter she had secretly dreaded, but a rather brief summary of events which simplified to 'CIS was a sore loser and killed the planet. Your wife still has all her limbs.'
"Thank the Force," Tegaea said. The holonews turned on at her command and she saw the news. Druckenwell was a ruin. "Send a reply that I've received the message and that I'm dispatching all the ships and people I can spare. Tell her I am willing to come to help if she wishes."

 

[Siobhan Kerrigan]

[member="Tegaea Alcori"]

By now Siobhan was up on her feet, dressed in her ridiculously imposing and impractical armour. Since presently she was still on the Dancing Queen and not the planet, where she would have been exposed to all sorts of environmental hazards and radiation, one wondered why she had even insisted on wearing it. Perhaps it was just posturing on her part since she maybe thought it made her look tough.

Regardless, she had been coordinating things, which in her eyes meant barking out orders so that her minions went down and did work. As much as she would have preferred work that involved bloodshed and meting out righteous fury. It was in what passed for a comms room that she received the response from her wife. By now events on Druckenwell were all over the holonews - bad news were good news and those of a such a cataclysm were the best. Hopefully a certain annoying 'journalist' called Maerys Cadalthor would not want to interview her since otherwise Siobhan would be unable to restrain her urge to punch the tabloid gadfly for making disingenuous assertions.

Needless to say the Firemane contingent had not come equipped for a humanitarian mission and such - but then the entire fleet had been an invasion force, what with this being a war and all that. Nevertheless relief teams of medics and soldiers were being deployed to the planet to help dig out survivors, provide medical care and assistance in security at the shelters - people did desperate things under desperate circumstances.

She pretty much emptied her flask in one go, though in her present mood she could not savour the taste much and it did not little to improve her general grumpiness. Regardless she responded with a transmission. "Thanks. I appreciate it. You...don't have to come personally, unless you really want to. Things are a fething mess down here. Not sure when I'll be back...I'll try as soon as it's possible. I love you."

 

[B1-883331]

Dug in within an old Clone Wars-era droid refinery built into one of Druckenwall's mountain ranges, a large chunk of the droid army that Count Morcus had deployed on the planet had holed up within the old facility along with a few organic CIS troops and refugees, managing to avoid the destruction that had befallen most of the planet. Threes tried to get an emergency signal through to CIS command to send supplies. He still believed the battle could be won, especially since his droids had got the foundry operational and building more droids to reinforce his current position.

He had sent a detachment of B1 battle droids in a Multi-Troop Transport to investigate the reconstruction efforts in the ruined capital, instructing them to keep their distance and to set up a forward observation post to transmit any Protectorate movements back to his command center in the foundry.

[member="HK-36"]

 

[Feena]

Clean. Feena had taken a short trip to the refresher and gotten herself a nice shower. With all that blood caked to her skin, it was a necessary luxury. Now she had a shower and a clean uniform and was ready to return to her duty.
Well, as ready as anyone could be here.

She tried to stay as numb to the facts as she could, but as reports flooded in to the medbay, witness reports and rumors were spread amongst the medical staff, she was starting to think the last ten years of her life were entirely spent on the wrong side. How could she be so blissfully ignorant of what the CIS would do? To think that one of their own, one of her own, would bring such destruction down on their own citizens...

Ever since she had felt that first wave of death, Feena had been absolutely sick to her stomach. She may have left the CIS, but for years, she had helped to build it to what it was. She was responsible, or she felt she was. Not even Project Sanctuary could fix this.

Feena paused just inside the locker room, took a deep breath, and screamed at the top of her lungs. Even if the sound could escape the cracks in the locker room doors, nobody would ever hear them over the chaos outside. It would be lost amongst the screams of the dying.

Her breath was ragged when her voice finally gave out, and she left the sanctuary of her little hiding place just like that, exactly as she felt; Numb and worn to her last threads. She was beyond hiding it, beyond being the Lady, the smiling beacon of civility and sunshine. Deep in her heart, a black spot had formed, and she would carry this dreadful burden for the rest of her life. No matter how many people she saved today, it wouldn't cure her consciousness in the least.
In her heart, she was certain that she was responsible.