Populate [GA] Picking Up the Pieces | GA Populate of Onderon

[Cinnamon]

Daring Rescue​

The fluffy white hair hadn't come back yet.

Cinnamon had spent a day pacing about it. The poor kit hadn't been left alone for this long before, and her Azzie was nowhere to be found either. At least for the first day, she was able to distract her with things around the ship, getting into stuff that she had been told not to get into, but usually forgot or was too curious to care. However, sleeping that night brought visions. Ones that startled her awake so violently she'd fallen off her scratching bed.

Firstly, there was her companion, looking hurt, somewhere in a red-lit metal room, laying on the ground. Secondly, the fluffy-haired one, also hurt, was lying under rubble.

Before any of the ship droids could stop her, Cinnamon had bounded out the doors and down the ramp, searching for any signs of a scent she could track, desperate for anyone she could turn to. Luckily for her, she picked up on one that was familiar, even if she hadn't picked it up in a bit of time. So she followed it as quickly as she possibly could until she saw Cora in the distance. Her frantic chittering was loud as she approached, practically running headfirst into the knight's leg.

Corazona von Ascania | Aadihr Lidos
​

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

"Oof-!"

Cora stumbled, nearly knocked to the ground by Cinnamon's approach. She caught her footing and peered down, brow furrowed.

Compared to many of her peers, the Jedi Knight had gotten lucky. She counted her survival as a miracle - one either wrought by the Force or sheer chance - as she crawled from the wreckage of the data center. The debris had formed a pocket around herself and Madrona A’Mia , and the jagged end of a snapped beam had embedding itself into her shoulder had been the worst of it.

"Are you…"

Cora wiped the dust and grime, thick with sweat, from her brow. The racyon was still there. What was her name again?

Digging further back into her memories was a slower process than she would have liked. She recalled the courtyard, Azzie sitting cross legged while the tan and white kit had claimed her lap.

"…Cinnamon?"

The name finally came to her, and with it, a sense of urgency. "Where did you…Azzie? Is Azzie alright?"

Her head whipped around, worried, hoping to catch sight of the Zabrak Padawan.

Cinnamon Aadihr Lidos

 

[Valery Noble]

​

Outfit: Jedi Jumpsuit | Wedding Ring
Weapons: Blasters | Lightsabers

The air inside the emergency field hospital was thick with antiseptic and the quiet mumbling of overworked medics tending to the wounded. It was organized chaos — doctors and Jedi Healers rushing from one patient to the next, exhausted but unwavering in their duty. Valery had been in places like this before. Too many times.

And now, Kaelos was here too.

She spotted him before he saw her, standing with that same determined look she had come to expect from him. He was still favoring his arm, though he was clearly trying to hide it — trying to push through, even when he shouldn't. A familiar sigh left her lips as she crossed the room toward him, boots quiet against the sterile floor.

"Kaelos," she said, coming to a stop beside him. "You shouldn't even be up right now, let alone volunteering to run yourself ragged." Her fiery gaze flicked over him, noting the way he held himself, the stiffness in his movements — lingering pain, barely masked. He'd argue, she knew. He was stubborn. But Vera would absolutely kill him if she found out he was pushing himself too hard.

A slow smirk tugged at her lips.

"So, here's the deal," she said, crossing her arms as she leveled him with an expectant look. "You can help me bring supplies around to those who need them — but only if you promise not to overdo it."

She arched a brow, adding with playful amusement, "Because if Vera finds out you've been ignoring your own recovery.... well, I won't be able to protect you."

Kaelos Vryn ​

 

[Shan]

"You don't seem too bad...Just tired. Rest will obviously help. Make sure you're eating and all of that."

Shan would have been more serious and stern with most of his patients, but he felt like telling Jonyna to make sure to rest and eat well wouldn't have went well. Neither of them really wanted to rest. Though he blinked slightly when Jonyna Si asked if all she needed was a few good meals and a nap. Okay. Maybe that would be much easier than he expected.

"Should be. Your immune system is shot right now as well, so rest will be important. I might be able to give a booster but you're already getting sick so it might be a bit too late for that."

Finally though, he tilted his head at the comment about her pulling a ship out of the sky and even Shan himself couldn't stop letting out a chuckle at that.

"Well. If you could pull a ship out of the sky, you'd be able to be a real star killer with that."

...For some reason Shan felt the urge to look around for a camera but shrugged it off and focused on making sure there wasn't anything he was missing.

 

[Jonyna Si]

TAG: Shan

"Harr Harr." Jonyna chuckled weakly. "Yeah, I think I'm gonna have a big dinner tonight and pass out watching some old shows of mine." Bucky Stardust and some steak dinner sounded divine right now. "What about you? You look like you've been through the Nether and Back. Make sure you get some sleep too, bud."

It was her motherly instincts kicking in. She had seen Shan grow up over the last 3 years alongside her adopted kids, and now she wanted to make sure he found some rest as much as she did. "You could stop by the Reaper and take a dip in the hot tub if you want. Relax, take a nap in one of the empty rooms. Just....get away from all this for a bit."

 

[Vera Noble]

​

Tag: Diogo Talon

​

Vera snorted, rolling her eyes as she grabbed her own rebreather from her belt. "Jealous? Please," she scoffed, voice muffled slightly as she secured the mask over her nose and mouth. Her smirk lingered as she followed him into the airlock, stepping into the docking tunnel as the last hiss of pressure equalization completed. Then, the doors slid open, there was nothing but darkness ahead of them.

The derelict cruiser stretched before them, a hollow shell of its former self. The emergency lights had long since flickered out, leaving only the faint glow of their own equipment as a consistent source of light. The air was thick, stale — wrong. Even with the rebreathers, she could feel the lifelessness pressing in around them.

This was a graveyard.

Vera stepped forward carefully, boots echoing slightly in the unnatural silence. Exposed wires dangled from the ceiling, sparking weakly. The metal beneath their feet groaned under the weight of their presence, as if the ship itself was protesting against their entrance.

But she could feel it — faint, flickering presences. Not whole, noot strong, but alive.

"They're here," she murmured through the rebreather, her voice quieter now. Her fingers twitched at her side, itching closer to her weapon as her senses stretched deeper. "We need to move fast."

​

 

[Caelan Valoren]

Caelan was also slightly different from the typical Jedi when it came down to it. While he was one, he was also the King of the majority government of one of the Alliance's worlds, which meant he was also directly interfaced with the rules and regulations of the Alliance and rulings of the Senate. He also really was interested in doing what was best for the people that were asking him for help. Amongst the Jedi he was very much an altruistic sort. Except when it came to his people. He had an obligation to stay alive for them at the moment.

It was difficult to hear over the crowd, but he did catch what Ventra had said. Fate chirped a response at him.

"Relay it to security personnel," Caelan replied. "Not a threat at the moment."

He kept his voice low, utilizing his communicator more than speaking out loud. He didn't want to disturb the people with the realization there were unsavory types lurking among them, though he was certain some of them probably already expected as much. It was common for people to take advantage of situations such as this.

In this particular case, both he and Ventra would pass on doing anything. A Chiss off to the side smirking to himself didn't really mean much, although the open expression was odd for a Chiss. Could be drug induced. Either way, security personnel would keep an eye on them and be ready in case they turned out to be a problem, which left him and Ventra free to continue with their missions of providing aid and keeping an eye out for troublemakers in the crowd.

"Please, if you would, follow me. We'll get you food and medical need at the Lazerian vessels as well. Please spread your numbers equally to make things efficient and remain orderly. Everyone will be helped."

He started trying to maneuver his way towards the Lazerian landing craft. He figured this might weed out some bad actors as well, but it depended on how they intended to act out.

---

ATTIRE: Link | WEAPON: Lightsaber | COMPANION: BD-F8 | OTHER: Sigil Bead (Necklace)

TAGS: Ventra Flavius ​

 

[Shan]

"Rest...has not been coming easily for me. I'll do my best to try. But I won't make any promises."

Unlike Jonyna Si , Shan didn't have any favourite shows to watch. In fact he didn't have much favourite anything to do. If he thought about it, he didn't have much in the way of hobbies. Nearly everything he did revolved around helping people or focusing on the future. Taking a moment to think about himself...Well, it wasn't something he did too much of anymore.

"Don't worry. I'll make sure to come round for the hot tub though. I might not be able to sleep, but I can try to relax at the least."

Plus he had never been in a hot tub before. It would make up for a nice change of pace.

 

[Ventra Flavius]

Location: Vondarc
Objective: 2
Tag: Caelan Valoren
Disguise​

Keeping the crowd on the move. Smart. Made it easier to spot people who might have more nefarious plans. Either way, she was going to continue with her mission. Caelan could hand out the supplies and care that these people expected, but none of that mattered to Ventra. If it wasn't for her role as Neela, she'd be shoving people left and right to move through the crowd but instead she was the one being shoved and pushed around. Pushed from side to side as she scanned through the crowd.

"Hmph. Damned Jedi. Think they can sort this all out after their own mess? They just wanna clean up their own messes."

She turned her head to hear the voice of a beaten and bruised human, covered in soot and bandages. Squinting her one "good" eye at him, as the man seemed to mumble away to himself. There was a part of Ventra who was debating whether or not she should just leave him be. He didn't seem like a Sith. If they were, they'd be louder. The man was just mumbling away, about his own thoughts. If it had been against the Alliance as a whole, Ventra would have jumped on him but it was only about the Jedi.

It was actually times like this that Ventra hated. She was meant to be finding Sith, or Sith infiltrators that were trying to cause unrest. The human didn't seem like a Sith and wasn't clearly trying to cause unrest but could do it all the same...She came to her decision after a few seconds, sighing to herself. It would cause more problems if they tried to stop him so she moved on. The man wasn't that much of a threat in her eyes...or well, eye at the moment. Either way, it was time to give an update on the communicator.

Ventra can't see any infiltrators here. Only various angry and upset citizens. Ventra will keep an eye in case any infiltrators plan on using explosives against the vessels. More than likely, Ventra will take action unless they are closer to your position.

 

[Ares Dargir]

Objective: Obj. 4
Equipment: Curved-Hilt Lightsaber, Jedi Clothes, Comlink, Utility Toolbelt
Tag: Jack Wright | OPEN

”I wasn’t implying that we shouldn’t investigate the source. Just that we should coordinate with the others in the event that this becomes a trap. It’ll at least increase our chances of successful retrieval.” Ares countered as it was the logical solution in his mind. With the constant war and death on every horizon. He knew better than to jump ship the moment trouble sparks their interest. Alas, he was not the one in charge as the Padawan leaned back into his chair. What was done, was done. The man could only hope that his intuition was wrong as the streaks of stars soared past what their cockpit was allowed to see.

It certainly was better to keep their minds and hands occupied with some sort of movement. Whether that was simply hailing a distress signal, or simply pushing through the grim tidings that continued to plague their corner of the galaxy. His fingers tapped away upon the screen as he communicated with the fleet. As he informed them of the recent development and the exact coordinates that they were headed towards. If nothing else, it would serve as their backup in the event that they need it. Ares could only hope that it wasn’t necessary.

Though not much was known about Ares as a person, he still strived to provide succor and safety wherever he went. Only there was a limit as to what a Padawan could do. Even during the relief efforts; Ares couldn’t shake the nagging guilt that he should’ve been there. Perhaps it wouldn’t have changed much, but he’d give anything to have prevented a tragedy from occurring. The curved hilt rested at Ares’s side as it captured the blinking lights on the reflective surface.

”Let’s hope that it’s just a malfunction to the ship. I think it’s safe to say that we’ve had enough bloodshed for a lifetime.” Ares muttered, and perhaps that it was rather optimistic and naive for him to think as such. But he’d rather maintain that level of hope than to have none. For how could he, a Jedi, inspire hope if he didn’t believe in it himself?

 

[Cinnamon]

Daring Rescue​

The chittering from the young racyon was loud and desperate, Cinnamon immediately began tuggging with both hands at the robes around Corazona's leg. Her honey colored eyes held a desperation, and she pulled towards the place where the inner facility had collapsed.

Letting go, she started to run in the direction, turning and getting impatient when no movement was made immediately. She quickly turned back, and rather than tug this time, she started to climb Cora and reach to grab her hand, hoping to relay the visions she'd had before.

The chittering stopped, and she stared up at Cora's blue eyes with a pleading gaze. One that easily read as Help.

Corazona von Ascania | Aadihr Lidos​

 

[Tigris]

:

​

Objective III
Tag: Kellen Mynn

The I-33 starfighter broke through the cloud cover, descending to fly low over the rain forest canopy. Raindrops pelted the fighter's canopy as Tigris sought her destination. In the chaotic withdraw from Woostri, she was separated from Everest, who was taken for medical care after their evacuation, the Echani wounded and suffering severe shell shock from the battle. There had been no rest for the Alliance personnel and their Jedi allies. Regrouping, repairing, healing, recovering and dealing with a pending refugee crisis meant little rest for most.

Tigris had proven herself in her first large scale battle. By no means a soldier, the former Seyugi assassin had stalked the streets around the data center, ambushing Sith patrols, eliminating two such units as she made for the GA's battlelines. Someone noted her work, and the tattooed padawan was tapped to join those quickly gathered to spy on the Sith along the new borders and counter their attempts to do the same.

Still masterless, the Recopian padawan had been assigned to Master Kellen Mynn. He was a battlemaster and well known for training younger Jedi. She had even seen him once when he visited the Jakku Enclave. His reputation was well known for certain. They were to rendezvous on Ord Vaug, a relatively unihabited world covered in rainforests, one of the closest systems to Woostri in Alliance space.

Below, through the towering trees, she saw it. The structure was ancient, from the days of the Galactic War. It had been an Imperial prison, but now the blocky structures were nearly overtaken by the rainforest. Large trees rose through fallen roofs, jungle fern and creeper twisted and sprouted anywhere sunlight could reach. Still, the stubborn buildings refused to succumb completely to tree and vine. Tigris landed the ship in an open area within the compound, most likely a former courtyard. She was to meet Master Mynn there.

 

[Sevrin]

Objective I: Licking Wounds

"Out of my way!"

Drystan barked as he forced his way through the group of medical staff trying to keep him in his room.

His eyes, though heavy with exhaustion, flickered with unmistakable determination.

His breathing grew ragged—not just from his injuries, but from the emotions roiling beneath the surface.

They had found him on Woostri.

After his final, desperate strike against Zachariah Conway, the one that had split the very clouds above, Drystan had succumbed—his body giving out from exhaustion and wounds.

Yet when they recovered him, he had still been standing. He was still in his combat stance when they found him, his saber ignited, gripped tightly in his last remaining arm—the other, lost out of necessity.

But he had been unconscious, unaware as they had hauled him away from the planet in their escape.

Even before his treatment could properly begin, he had woken. And immediately scrambled out of his bed.

His armor was shattered, dirt and grime caked into the exposed slivers of flesh where the plates had broken away. His face was raw, his skin marked with the signs of battle.

His helmet was gone—obliterated beyond replacement.

A fresh scar ran down his left eye, a vertical reminder of the fight he had barely survived.

And where his left arm once was, only a cauterized end remained.

He paced through the medical facility, ignoring the looks of shock from patients and staff alike.

A half-dead man storming through the halls—his destination clear.

He was heading for the exit. For the hangar.

He needed a ship. Now.

His wounds be damned.

OPEN

Drystan Creed



Sevrin hadn't come here for any grand purpose or mission. He had no orders from some great Sith master, and he certainly wasn't part of any grand Sith scheme. This was curiosity, pure and simple.

He had stolen the ship from another Sith on Korriban, escaping the inevitable fallout of his sand trap pit, the very ploy that had granted him access to this fighter. Now, he found himself wondering what exactly its previous owner had been involved in.

The fighter's computer logs were filled with encrypted chatter, military-grade transmissions that suggested something far bigger had gone down than just another skirmish. Woostri. The name surfaced again and again, threaded through Sith fleet movements, emergency directives, and after-action reports. He didn't care for the particulars of the war itself, but he was curious enough to listen.

That was why he had set the ship down here, on a nameless little rock at the edge of the system. Well, not quite nameless. Nixus IV, if the ship's nav records were accurate. A long-forgotten planetoid with a thin but breathable atmosphere, abandoned mines, and just enough industrial wreckage to offer a place to land unseen. Perfect for a quiet moment to dig through the ship's systems.

He sat back in the pilot's chair, fingers idly tapping the controls as he sifted through the data logs, listening to lingering transmissions, fragments of panicked comms, battlefield reports, and Sith fleet commanders barking orders in voices filled with either triumph or barely contained rage.

Then, something caught his attention.

The ship's call sign was still broadcasting. Open. Unencrypted. For all to see. Sevrin's fingers froze over the controls. It wasn't just some passive system idling in the background. It was actively transmitting to the entire galaxy.

This fighter had been part of the Woostri battle, and someone, maybe multiple someones, had noticed it was missing. The stolen ship was still tagged. Still broadcasting its fleet ID. And it had been airing out his location the entire time.

With a flick of his fingers, he cut the transmission. Too late? Maybe. He had planned to scour the battlefield when things quieted down, searching for choice saber parts to add to his growing collection. But that might be difficult if he was found first.

 

[Wedge Draav]

War without end, war without hope.

​

Wedge wiped the tears from his eyes, having composed himself on the pile of boxes. Somewhat. It was hard to understate what he felt- watching the ships limp into view from the viewport. His eyes glassed over the Destroyer's transparent windows, a relatively thin layer of security between him and the void of space. He had left the hangar, and was now on one of the many hallways that intertwined the Destroyer's galley. He breathed deeply, holding his side. In the firefight in the stars, a TIE fighter had gotten through his shields- one of many, and managed to score a hit on his hull. The minor explosion inside sent a sear across his left side.

Luckily, his flight suit and it's flame retardant nature caught the brunt of it. However, he was going to have to explain to Reima why he was going to need more surgeries and another few trips to the bacta tank. She made a remark once that they should have one in the house for him. Which wouldn't be a terrible idea, truly.

He needed it enough.

He grit his teeth, limping back over to the elevator where he came. He was the Commander of Revenant Squadron. This behavior was beneath him. It certainly wouldn't appeal to Reima, and not even to himself. He steeled himself, leaning on the wall. Blood, guts, or burns be damned. He had a job to do. He exited out of one of the many hangars, grunting, grimacing. A shuttle was near him-

One of many battered ones. But in the corner, he spotted something familiar. Nej walked over to his helmet, still stuck on the ground. Not a soul in the ground crew would even dare to make the move to pick it up. Not his, no, not Wedge Draav. He dusted it off, thumbing away scratched paint. He took a deep breath and turned to a Crew Chief nearby.

"How long before you can have that thing up and running?"

The Crew Chief clicked his teeth and turned his head back to it. "For you sir? Give me just a few minutes. Where you taking 'er?" He asked, musing as the ground crew scrambled away from their other projects to pre-flight the Gunship.

"Wherever I can, Chief. Wherever I can."

Wedge wasn't out of the fight yet. They may have been losing on all fronts- but damn it, if Wedge wasn't going to fight like hell, or do something.

 

[Gym Halpern]

LOCATION: Vondarc
TAG: Isoroku Spruance , Max Akratonos

Objective II — Displaced & Desperate​

.

With Commander Billit overseeing the assistance to the ANS Vanguard and whatever else they may need, that gave Gym some time to focus on the people in front of him. The refugees, the evacuees, those being overrun and feel that they are being ignored (the locals). That meant he was doing what he hated the most, “babysitting”. It’s not that the Captain did not want to serve, but this was a waste of time. He was not a public speaker, he was still a bit bitter about recent events.

Liram Angellus was not a public speaker.

Liram Angellus hated “babysitting”.

Liram Angellus never made service about what he wanted, but about what service needed him.

Gym Halpern, upon realizing this, got over himself.

There was also a problem that had to be sorted out. Marines were being called over to backup the perimeter guard, which meant that Gym would not let this get overblown. There was not quite a “riot” where they were, but the locals, while not disrespecting those who were finding refuge, needed services as well. No one was in the wrong here, but there was less and less a degree of “right”.

The squad leader of the Perimeter Guard was trying to be calm, but he was a soldier and not very good at it. There also were just too many angry people, and things were starting to escalate. Right now there were just water bottles and paper towels being thrown at them, but that was just the start.

Captain Halpern walked up and did not like what he saw. Then he saw something he did not expect. Someone he recognized.

Or in this case, recognized him. “Captain Halpern?” It was Vadnar Bondar, a Mon Calamari engineer who retired from service recently. He was Chief Engineer of “The Celestial City”, the recently “retired” supercarrier that was flagship of the 3rd fleet, and Halpern’s command.

Vadnar? What are you doing here? He asked, genuinely surprised. He thought that the engineer would go back to his home planet.
“I settled with my family here. We wanted a quiet life.” He seemed angry at the situation, but there was also a quiet calm now too, especially since he had seen a friend. “This is a rough situation for all of us.”

I can see that, this is delicate to say the least. I don’t want to be the “yakhead” here. It was a joke, and a callback to the late Admiral, one he hoped would ease some tension. It didn’t really. How can we make this right? Give us the chance to ensure all are receiving the help that they need?

There was a serious tension still among the crowd, they had heard all of this before, but there was a bright spot. “Captain, sir…”

Please, thank you for the respect to my station, but you have earned the right to call me “Gym”.

Vadnar smiled, not that anyone could truly tell…

That’s racist…

… anyway… he smiled and said “Respectfully, maybe, but you still deserve the respect here. Is this guard situation truly necessary? I think that is the majority of the issue?”

How about we do this? Thinking quickly, he thought of a way to de-escalate. We keep the perimeter guard in the area, but we stop the “check in” process? The guard stays here and continues their operation of being here for the protection of all, but the populace come and go as you please. This is a safe place for you to be after all. It wasn’t a perfect idea, and not all were going for it, but the majority were and that was the important thing.

When there seemed to be a consensus, it was well received by the Captain but not necessarily by the squad, moreso the squad leader. “Sir, we are giving up a secure position…”

Captain, I agree, and am aware, but these people just need help, not protection. If any threats are noticed on your end, you react.

“You are okay with this?”

I’m not saying that this is a resort, be on alert, but we’re here to help, not fight.

Walking away, well aware that this isn't the best situation, he looked up and thought to himself.

I hope this is how you would have handled this old man.

 

[Caelan Valoren]

"Acknowledged," he said into his comm as he heard from Ventra.

So far they hadn't pulled out anyone that seemed out of the ordinary. Just a couple of people upset about what had happened. It was to be expected. He, and others, had failed to stop the Sith. It didn't matter to them that he had lost an arm in the fight. They didn't care about that because he was alive and many of them had lost family members or at least their home. These were not things that were easily replaced and they were angry and distraught as a result.

He didn't like it, but that was the way it was.

Fate beeped at him and bumped his leg and he looked up to see they had arrived at the makeshift structures that the people of Lazerian IV were putting up to assist with administering aid. The hardest part was going to be determining who would be going back with them to Lazerian and who would be staying behind or relocating to one of the other Alliance worlds.

"Please form orderly lines and we'll assist your needs. If you are willing to relocate to Lazerian IV please let one of the staff members know. We're looking to take anyone willing to be a productive member of society. Especially if you have experience in medicine, biotech, or research, but all are welcome who wish to contribute."

They wouldn't turn anyone away unless they filled up the ship. Which he was now worried about. If someone did try and bomb the transports, they'd wait until they got to the larger ship in hopes of taking it out. They'd have to be extra careful.

---

ATTIRE: Link | WEAPON: Lightsaber | COMPANION: BD-F8 | OTHER: Sigil Bead (Necklace)

TAGS: Ventra Flavius ​

 

[Lily Decoria]

Outfit: Jedi Attire
Equipment: Crossguard Lightsaber, Hydrangea Moonblade (concealed)
Tag: Dean Walker | Katarine Ryiah | Aymeric Prendergast

Lily smirked at Dean's comment, "well, I'm surprised to find someone complaining about the fact that they get to work with two gorgeous Jedi." She teased in a casual tone with a wink, stretching her form as she watched the agent pilot the ship. It was always a good chance to learn from observation on how someone piloted a ship.

Looking over to Katarine, the Jedi Master was not subtle in her jealousy. Lily was confused by it, was it envy in the fact that Lily was more muscular? If it was, then she would offer to train Katarine. All it takes is a physical exercise and the mental determination to keep up and push through the hard training. Especially when you hit the wall. Lily made note to offer her training regime to Katarine to make sure the Jedi Knight got every chance to bulk up and feel more comfortable in her body.

The Echani had no clue the jealousy was targeted on Dean and any potential connection he could have to Lily.

"Need a co-pilot?" Lily asked, shifting closer, willing to help Dean out if this was going to be a tough situation. As she shifted closer, she heard the call out from Aymeric in a rough situation with no easy way out. "Are we close to him? I know our mission isn't rescuing spies but he seems to be rough spot and if we can save him, we need to."

Looking over to Katarine, "right?" Hoping that the Jedi Master would be on her side in this since Katarine did outrank her and she would have to follow Katarine's decision on this matter.

 

[Damian du Couteau]

Damian du Couteau, Senator of Empress Teta
Objective Two: Displaced & Desperate
Outfit

Damian sighed as he continued to scroll through his data-pad, it was a rather rugged piece of technology. Unlike the sleekness of his personal data-slate design, the young du Couteau heir needed something built for the outdoors and possible drops in the mud and dirt. Reports of the failed defense against the Sith incursion had set off several warning alarms in the markets. Damian had the displeasure of waking up to such reports but he knew of ways to offset anything truly catastrophic.

“Establishing refugee centers for process and assignment. Locate worlds that won’t affect the employment rates harshly and of course find proper trade lanes away from the new Sith border.” Damian rattled off his mental list in a tired murmur.

The way things were easier said than done had a certain comfort, as if introducing a finite list made the end reachable. Damian took a moment to scan around him, the relief effort in full swing and quickly the numbers began to add up in his mind. He had tasked his Senate Guard to assist with security, while his staff that weren’t holed up back in the offices had gathered important field reports.

Damian never enjoyed surveys and simple manifest reports to be used as concrete economic data-points for future construction of refugee centers. Unlike true markets where consumer reports are quite accurate with supply and demand. Far too easy for simple corruption and errors to influence greater mismanagement.

But that is all we have, so we make do as the saying goes.

“Hm.” Damian returned his attention to his data-pad and a new report arrived which scratched something in the back of his mind.

Something is adding up.

Damian began to walk deeper into the Refugee camp, his feet careful to avoid unsavory looking mud puddles at every opportunity. The Medical Tents were far off and he needed to find the Quartermaster for a quick discussion, while the last report had not been at all too concerning, the last few in tandem showed a rather unique pattern. Not that he’d ever accuse anyone of fraud, but Damian would make sure proper corrections and adjustments were made before too long.

“Is the Quartermaster or Head Doctor in the supply tent? Or where I can I find them?” Damian asked a pair of Medics who both shook their head with a quick response of:

“Don’t know. Probably assisting new patients or other Medical staff.”

This was a common response to his line of questioning as he ventured deeper into the Medical and Treatment tents. Damian struggled to keep his boots mud free, not that he was particularly vain but hated the prospect of tracking it back to his office. Don’t need to make things more difficult for the cleaning staff. . . . Everything becoming more muddied and unclear, harder to clean and maintain.

He ventured into several of the Urgent Care Tents if the Medic or Doctor assigned to supply was needed in one of them. Need to add personnel planning for future Refugee Centers to my list as well. Damian approached a cloaked Medical staff comforting a rather unfortunate patient covered near completely in bandages. A gruesome scene flashed from his memory to the fore front of his mind and Damian quickly refocused his attention to his data-pad as distraction.

“Excuse the intrusion, but have you seen anyone who manages the supplies?” He asked quietly and quickly, his eyes only shifting a glance away from his data-pad.
​

|| Alicio Organa | @Open ||​

 

[Diogo Talon]

Vera Noble​

"Please, what?" he asked, suppressing a smirk while he played with her words. "If you want haircare tips, just ask." With a quick tap of his heels, Dio activated his mag boots, then carefully moved in sync with Vera. Each step punctured the air with a sharp click.

Diogo couldn't sense any life forms, but his knees threatened to buckle under the sheer weight of grief and desperation. The derelict ship was thick with it. He brought his lightsaber to life. Plasma bathed the vicinity in blue light, casting shadows that lingered like ghosts.

They moved through the ship carcass. Exposed wires sparked, faint and weak, but with enough juice to fry a rancor. Twisted metal jutted out like sharp, broken bones. Conditions required slow, deliberate movements, but the clock was ticking. Every second counted. "We're running out of time," he said, his voice tinged with frustration. "Do you think you can pinpoint them?"

 

[Aris Noble]

Katherine.

Ari blinked as he glanced over to the now giant woman before smiling and nodding his head towards her. She'd been part of why Colette was here now. He wasn't going to comment on it just now, but, he was thankful that his sister was still alive. The same could be said about the triplets, who were restraining themselves from just tackling her with their hugs.

Well, Adam and Aeryn anyway. Aurra was too respectful to hover like they were.

"They have an estimate on when you can leave at least?"

Colette | Katherine Holt