Objective: One (Recover from fight.)
Wearing: Jedi Robes (Silver Armorweave)
Equipped with:
De Lifte Crystal
Armed with:
The Sword of Cinndurr
Crime Hunter's Pistol
Moya's Wrist Launcher (Sonic Bolt Loadout)
Atrisia had been bad. Worse than bad. People dying around her, her ordering people to their deaths just for a chance to slow down the enemy.
But Yurb had been a special hell all its own.
As bad as the Sith were, as much as Laertia detested them and killed them nearly every chance she got, even she knew they didn't want to kill
everybody they conquered. There was a method to their madness, as sickening as the method was.
Wirh the Bryn'adul...
Laertia had never let it become personal with soldiers. Even Stormtroopers had a fifty/fifty shot of surviving an encounter. But not the Bryn. Laertia had carved through them like a scythe cutting wheat. She'd let up when they did: The Bryn played for keeps. So did she.
She remembered being carried away in a stretcher after leaving Yurb on her ship. She had been surrounded by so many defending
Coren Starchaser
at the end that her world had become nothing but lightsabers, cheesy action horror, and copious amounts of dismemberment. She hadn't stopped until the only reason she was still standing was that freakishly strong armor House Li-Ves had given her. She hadn't taken it off for 007 hours after leaving Yurb, so broken her body was that the shock of being removed from it might have killed her. Then she had gone directly into the Bacta Tank.
Laertia had dreamt. Dreamt of a meadow where she played with her rabbits. Dreamt of a world where there were no need for lightsabers. It didn't last. Cold hard reality would intrude, draining her tank and causing the woman to wake up, weak in the knees from such a long time being suspended in liquid.
Laertia blinked her one working eye and flexed her organic right arm, the only one she had currently. Her cybernetic left eye and arm having been removed during the immersion process. The tombstone skinned, raven haired Jedi scanned the chamber she was in, the vision in her gray eye still blurry.
A Medical droid walked in on the undergarment clad Jedi.
"Ah Master Jedi! You are awake!" The silvery droid spoke. "I sent for your Android Assistant as soon as we got ahold of your contact list. She should be here in an hour or so."
"Wherrz exxactleez iz heer?" She asked.
"You are on Kattada. It's a close to commenor. You are actually at a med-center located close to our beaches."
"Myy stuffz?" Laertia asked, cringing in embarrassment from her own speech impediment.
"Your ship is in a secure hangar about two blocks from here. As a precaution we left the weaponry you came in with in the Contraband room."
"Myy prossthetikz?"
"Being processed and sterilized currently. No one but this unit has handled them."
Laertia grabbed a towel. "Letz seez..."
She was escorted out after having dried the bacta off. She winced as she saw plenty of horrifically wounded soldiers and Jedi in their own tents. Laertia was fortunate to have had the Morpheus Chitin...not everyone had been so lucky to obtain such protection.
She stopped at one bacta tank. He was a boy. Barely fifteen. Half his face was destroyed and his legs were missing.
How many have I sent home to their family in such a condition? the Knight wondered.
How many did I never allow to return home at all?
"He's a padawan who was injured helping a family escape from Yurb." The Droid offered. "His prognosis isn't good...the damage to his brain is extensive. Even the healers said they cannot do anything."
Laertia blinked at this, refusing to cry. She nodded and headed to the room her prosthetics were being cleaned in. They needed another hour--they had been damaged in combat and were due to be repaired. Laertia in the meantime decided to get dressed, heading to the locker, finding a silvery armorweave Jedi Tunic left by her equipment, a repeating Symbol of Ashla on the torso. Her Power Armor, the somber, knightly looking Morpheus Chitin had multiple dents and scratches, but nothing that could not be easily repaired. She'd arrange for it getting moved to the ship later. It was too bulky to wear here, and seeing her in it caused fear in others.
But she saw her weapons. The ornate Mandalorian Pistol and...
...The Sword of Cinndurr.
It had scorched the table it was placed on, displeased with being kept seperate from its master. The leather wrapped hilt with scorched black emitters vibrated as she approached, seemingly in anticipation of being grasped.
She didn't like using it. Ever since turning it on for the first time at Atrisia she had feared the Saber for its sheer power and the arcane source from whence it came.
It was a demanding weapon--even Laertia's formidable strength had trouble fully controlling its gyroscopic effect to swing it properly. But its ability to cut through lightsaber resistant materials was savage: It went through a solid rod of pure beskar in four swings, and blades would often melt in under a minute of sustained contact.
The Sword's only purpose was to destroy. Though Laertia accepted she had made it this way intentionally, recreating the crystal's ancient housing to do so, it was also the reason she did not fully trust it: Tales did not abound of people getting destroyed by their own creations for nothing.
She spotted something that should not have been there. A black and green gem with the light twisted around it. Moya De Lifte's crystal. She knew who had left it. Themis. Themis had been by here. Had she seen this moment, in her twisted visions? Her wrist launcher was also there, with a fresh pack of sonic warhead tipped bolts.
Laertia felt a growing pain in her skull, knew a migraine was coming and grasped the crystal, feeling the pain deaden to a tolerable level and restrict her Force Connection slightly in compensation.
"Tellz mee whennz duh prossthetiks arr redeez..." she told the droid after changing into her robes and claiming her weapons, giving him her contact frequency, leaving the med center to wander the streets.
Karra Tor
|
Ura Iolar
|
Ilias Nytrau
|
Okkeus Dainlei
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Caden Evesa
|
Nida Perl
