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

[Valery Noble]

​

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

Valery listened as Kaelos spoke, her gaze softening with understanding. The weight of war, the senseless suffering of the innocent — it was something every Jedi had to come to terms with at some point. And Kaelos, despite his strength, his willingness to help, was still young. He hadn't yet become numb to it. She hoped he never would.

"You're right," she said, her voice quiet but firm. "It does suck. Every war, every battle, every moment like this…" Her gaze flicked across the field hospital, watching as medics hurried between cots, as Jedi and healers worked tirelessly to mend what had been broken. "People suffer because of the ambitions of a few. Because power and control matter more to some than the lives they destroy along the way."

She exhaled, glancing back at him. "But that's why we do what we do. That's why we help, why we keep helping, no matter how many times it happens." For a moment, she just watched him — reading the tension in his shoulders, the exhaustion barely hidden beneath his determination. He had already done enough. More than enough. But she also knew how much it meant to do something.

"Come with me," she said after a beat, tilting her head toward the largest of the medical tents. "We've handled supplies, but I think we could do something even more important."

She started walking, slow enough that he could fall into step beside her. "Let's go visit the wounded. A few kind words, a little reassurance, even just simple conversation — it can make more of a difference than you might think."

Kaelos Vryn ​

 

[Aadihr Lidos]

Outfit: Clothes, Earring, Bangle
Weapons: Walking stick / Lightsaber Pike

The lights were long since dark, but pitch blackness in the visible spectrum did not affect the meditating Miraluka.

Soon, his troubles were far away - forgotten as his mind dreamt, like a distant memory.

The metal groaned. Abyssal darkness engulfed the figure, thinned with starvation, robes hanging visibly loose from his shoulders.

The pale, skeletal figure slumped, barely making a thump on the durasteel floor as his meditative posture gave way to unconsciousness.

Cinnamon | Corazona von Ascania​

 

[Drystan Creed]

BYOO

Drystan's eyes narrowed slightly as he caught sight of Severin leaping from the ship and landing on the ground. Odd.

The figure looked young—much younger than himself. And with a ship like that? It was... interesting, to say the least. Perhaps there was no need for subtlety.

He wasn't sure who the youth was, but sneaking around wouldn't get him the answers he wanted. Better to ask directly.

"Hold on there."

Drystan stepped out, standing tall despite the battle-worn state of his armor. The cracks, burns, and missing pieces did little to diminish the weight of his presence.

A lightsaber rested at his hip, a silent declaration of who he was.

"Jedi Knight. Identify yourself."

His lone arm hovered near his belt, posture firm yet measured, his gaze analyzing the young man with quiet scrutiny.

He wasn't sure what to make of this stranger, but he would find out soon enough.

Sevrin

 

[Sevrin]

Drystan Creed

Severin landed with practiced ease, dust rising faintly around his boots as he straightened. His gaze flicked to the voice that called out, and for a moment, there was nothing but quiet appraisal.


Jedi Knight. That explained the stance, the unwavering presence and the injuries. Severin smiled just barely as his eyes slid over the battered armor, noting the missing pieces like a puzzle undone mid-construction. This Jedi had seen his share of battle.

But that wasn't what held Severin's attention. No, it was the arm. Or rather, the absence of one. Now, that was interesting.

His own posture remained loose, deceptively casual, but there was no true carelessness in it. He tilted his head, watching the Knight the way a predator might regard an unfamiliar presence in its territory, one that might be dangerous, or might just be a passing nuisance.

"A Jedi Knight, eh?" His voice was smooth, edged with something just shy of amusement before it took on a dramatic lilt, exaggerating the words like they were something out of a child's fantasy. "An actual Jedi Knight?! I've heard so much about you..." A low chuckle. "Never thought I'd see the day where the stuff of bedtime stories was actually real."

He scoffed, the very idea of standing face to face with one of these so-called peacekeepers clearly amusing to him. His hands remained at his sides, fingers slack, as if there was no reason to be concerned. But there was a readiness in his frame, hinting that he was prepared to act if necessary.

"Or am I just special?"

 

[Lily Decoria]

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

"Not gotten anything back yet..." Lily mentioned, there was some concern to her voice since the signal could just die at any moment and then the mission would be lost. Especially with the issue of Sith patrolling, they were meant to be helping Dean with his objective and everything seemed to be getting more complicated at the moments passed.

Doing her best to keep the connection to the signal going, Lily looked around at the Sith vessels that were around them. Hoping that they could remain undetected for the foreseeable future. "Guessing it would be too much to ask if this has a cloaking device?" Lily mentioned, figuring that could help them avoid the Sith vessels with ease but smaller ships tended to struggle with cloaking devices.

Looking back to Katarine as the Jedi Master mentioned having a bad feeling about things as well as the fact that the Sith vessels were moving away from them. "Might not be for long. Could be our only chance to get away, or complete one of our objectives before we get away." Suggesting that they might not be able to do both things in terms of saving Aymeric as well as helping Dean with his listening outpost.

 

[Diogo Talon]

Tag: Vera Noble

"I understand. My brother also can't use the Force like that. But like you, he has other strengths that more than make up for it."

"I didn't know that," Diogo said with mild surprise. To be honest, he didn't know much about Aris. Hadn't interacted with him at all, strangely enough. Compared to his sibling, he always seemed reserved, aloof, and of course, freakishly large.

"Ugh, yeah, fine," she muttered, glaring at him as if he had somehow forced her to admit it.

Diogo met her glare with a smirk. "Can I get that compliment in writing?"

"…Alright," she relented before igniting her saber. "But if I hear so much as a grunt back there, I'm turning around, and we're switching."

"Yeah, yeah," he waved her off. "Just do your job."

When the Sith troopers approached, unleashing a torrent of blaster fire directly at him, Dio moved with practiced efficiency. The Force quickly enhanced his speed, strengthening his muscle fibers, as he shifted and stretched and batted away the blaster bolts. He couldn't use the Force like others, but this he could do. This was his bread and butter. A few well-placed, deflected shots thinned the contingent of Sith, but it did little to slow down the onslaught. "What's taking so long, pipsqueak?" he asked between increasingly heavy breaths. "Do you need to switch?"

And then it finally happened. His busted up lightsaber shorted out, the blue blade winking out of existence. He frantically slammed his thumb on the activation stud, but it wasn't working.

Well... chit.

 

[Cinnamon]

Daring Rescue​

Cinnamon's ears flicked as Cora moved, the scent of plasma from her saber mixing with the acrid tang of scorched duracrete. The Jedi's movements were precise, controlled—nothing like the frantic chaos Cinnamon had created with her well-placed wedgie and Sugar's relentless assault.

The moment Cora yanked the live wire taut, the still-flailing trooper—blinded by sludge while another was still desperately clawing at his underwear—stumbled straight into it. His foot caught, sending him sprawling backward with a loud thunk as his helmet smacked against the ground. His blaster skittered away, clattering uselessly against the rubble.

Cinnamon let out a victorious chitter, tail curling in satisfaction. The other remaining troops hesitated, their blasters twitching between the Jedi, the tiny racyon menace, and the still-wriggling sludge creature. One of them—perhaps the least covered in humiliation—took a cautious step back. One soldier turned and ran. Then another. The remaining acolyte, still recovering from Cora's earlier kick, growled under his breath before deciding he wasn't getting paid enough for this. He followed, sprinting after the fleeing troopers into the ruins. They would probably return with more, but that was a problem for another time.

Cinnamon stood tall—well, as tall as a small, fluffy creature could—puffed with triumph. She let out a chittering war cry, shaking her paws after them for good measure. Sugar bounced around, that consistent dopy look in his eyes.

With the area finally clear, the racyon scampered over to Cora's side, ears twitching as she sniffed the air. The scent of damp metal and murky water was strongest here. The broken elevator shaft yawned open before them, a jagged hole leading down into the unknown. Cinnamon peered over the edge, whiskers twitching. Yep. That was a long way down. She let out a small hmm of concern, glancing back at Cora. Surely, surely, she had a plan to get them down there.

Right?

The small racyon blinked up at Cora expectantly, tilting her head.

Corazona von Ascania | Aadihr Lidos​

 

[Vera Noble]

​

Tag: Diogo Talon

​

Vera gritted her teeth, her grip tightening on her saber hilt as she continued carving through the door. The molten edges of the durasteel sizzled and dripped, the acrid scent of burning metal thick in the air. The heat stung her face, sweat forming at her temple, but she didn't stop.

She couldn't stop.

"You're getting a whole list of insults in writing if you don't shut up and let me work!" she shot back, her voice sharp over the chaos. The blasterfire behind her was relentless, filling the corridor with flashes of red. She could hear Diogo's blade batting them away, could feel the strain in his movements through the Force — fast, efficient, but pushing it. But then...

Fizzle.

Vera's breath caught.

No. No, no, no—

She turned just in time to see it — the flicker of his saber winking out of existence, the frantic slam of his thumb against the activation switch. And the soldiers were still firing.

Her instincts took over before she could think. In an instant, her free hand shot forward, and a shimmering purple barrier erupted into place between him and the incoming blasterfire. The bolts slammed into it, dispersing in bright sparks as the shield absorbed the impact. It held — but she could already feel the pressure, the energy battering against her focus.

"Move your ass, Diogo!" she shouted over her shoulder, breath strained as she pushed against the weight of the barrage. "I'm through the door! Get in now!"

The final cut had melted through the last of the door's locking mechanism. It wasn't pretty, but it was open. And if he wanted to live, he was running through it now.

​

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Cora had no idea how it had worked, but it had.

An injured Jedi knight, a tenacious racyon, and a glob of sentient sludge walk onto a battlefield. Whatever the punchline was, it sure wasn't in the Sith's favor.

After the onslaught they'd produced, what remained of the guards decided to scatter among the broken surface of Woostri. As the acolyte turned tail and fled, she pointed the fingers of one hand down and waved him away in a shoo-shoo motion.

"Well done, Cinnamon and...Cinnamon's friend." If they had more time – if they weren't supposed to retrieve and retreat – then perhaps a bit of affection would have been in order. Together, human and racyon leaned over the shaft's entrance. The emergency lighting had gone out. Cora knelt and retrieved a rock, held it over the tunnel and dropped it. Silence reigned until a distant, muffled thud emanated back up to the surface.

"Well that is...that's something, I suppose."

With a sigh, Cora rocked back on her feet and peered around at their jagged surroundings. Flashes of white caught the corner of her eye. The pair of troopers felled earlier. Quick footsteps brought her to their unconscious bodies, and after a quick search…

"Ah!" she held a grappling hook and length of rope aloft. On second thought, she pilfered a few stims from his medpack. Who knew what condition Aadihir would be in when they – hopefully – found him.

With the hook secured behind some sturdy rubble, Cora dropped the rope into the shaft. One tug, then another, then another, just to make sure that it would hold. "Feel free to hop on if you need a ride – just be careful of my left shoulder."

Whether or not Cinnamon and Sugar would hitch themselves to to the Jedi or make their own way, Cora wrapped the rope around her foot, then clasped the hand of her uninjured arm over the rope. Slowly, they would descend.

Instead of climbing down, Cora slid them into a controlled descent. The further they plunged into the elevator shaft, the stronger the scent of murky water and ionized metal. Finally, her boots hit the dilapidated elevator box, sending a jolt of pain through her frame.

"Oof-" she grunted. Letting go of the rope, she touched her organic hand to it's metallic counterpart. The prosthetic had begun to heat from the friction. "Everybody okay?"

Cora cupped her hand over her mouth. "Knight Lidos!" she called. "Aadihr! Are you alright?"

Cinnamon Aadihr Lidos

 

[Drystan Creed]

BYOO

Drystan remained unmoved, his expression as still as his stance, utterly unimpressed by the faux fanfare Sevrin was giving him. He waited, watching, searching for any reason he might need to draw his blade. Still, something about Sevrin's demeanor struck him as odd. Most people didn't react to him like this upon their first meeting. That alone was worth noting—another piece in the puzzle of this stranger's motives.

"I'm asking you to identify yourself and your purpose for being here."

His voice was measured, steady.

"Your vessel's make is foreign, and you've been traversing an area most ships would avoid given the conflict surrounding it."

A pause. He was still sizing Sevrin up. Was he a scavenger, looking to pick at the carcasses of war? Or something else entirely?

Either way, Drystan didn't like it. And Sevrin's flippant attitude did nothing to convince him that leaving him to his own devices was a good idea.

Sevrin

 

[Aadihr Lidos]

Outfit: Field Attire, Earring, Bangle
Weapons: Walking stick / Lightsaber Pike | Slugthrower Rifle

It was a pleasant dream, for once. He was among the soil, grass and fallen leaves of Alpheridies. Roots of an oak spread through him, a tree portruding from the dirt in which he rested, feeling the warmth of the infrared sun of home.

A metallic thud echoed throughout. The warm light was gone. The roots pulled themselves from him. Metal pressed up through the soil beneath him.

Vague awareness of durasteel pressing uncomfortably on his face - what once was grass and leaves now a crinkled and worn robe, the tree his pike, tipped over.

Echoes of a voice.

"... Lidos!" she called. "Aadihr! Are you alright?"

Duty called. Responsibility called. He wanted desperately to return to rest, to return to the dream and rejoin the matter of this world, any world.

The Endless Rest will wait for you​

A voice unheard, spoken in a language of heat and warmth, like the infrared sun itself spoke upon his skin. Like the waves and winds guiding him back to shore.

On that shore was a flame, flickering as it starved for kindling. A reflection of something he had parted from long ago. Some part of himself shuttered away.

Make yourself whole again
Take back what you've surrendered
The Endless Rest will wait
as long as it takes.​

Aadihr reached out with his hand - his left. The flame, hesitantly reached back.

His arm burned, surging in pain and heat, flaring with the will to live, refusing to let Aadihr drift back to sleep. The scalding heat from his left arm stirred enough for Aadihr to groan out some unintelligible reply. He vaguely recognized the force presences approaching...

"Sugar?"

Cinnamon | Corazona von Ascania​

 

[Sevrin]

Drystan Creed
"My name is Sevrin…" He let the words hang for a moment, savoring the weight they carried. "Escaped slave of Sleheyron. 'Immortus' of the Lava Rings."

With a sweeping bow and a slow, deliberate flourish of his hand, he straightened, a smirk playing at his lips. "And who, pray tell, might you be, oh fabled Jedi Knight?"

 

[Ysennia Lee]

Objective I — Licking Wounds​

Gress D'ran
​

The Stormpiercers had their baptism by fire. Many thought they would get medals and parties back home, but this was not the outcome any of them had in mind. Ysennia herelf felt herself shaking after the battle. She had never lost so many troops before, and much of the surviving Stormpiercers were not in a cheery mood. Despite most of them surviving, a 10% loss in manpower was less than ideal. Considering a bunch of friends were lost that day.

Everyone from senior officers to lowly privates were standing in line, waiting to eat their junk food to fill the void that was left after their first battle. It stung a little more when the 42nd Assault were excited with patriotic fervor and a duty to protect the galaxy from the Sith. Many of them were new recruits with their peers jealous that they were to be deployed to the front lines. Now they felt so alone, being in the category of soldiers who saw hell dead in the face. Ysennia was definitely one of those people. She thought military life was boring until her promotion. Sure she had seen a few things she could forget. But Woostri was something she never expected. She never faced the Sith before and she couldn't help but feel demoralized from their continuous onslaught. She had never seen destruction on such a scale.

Still, it was better to eat all away instead of drinking it all away.

Ysennia wasn't really known for having a large appetite, but for some reason she found herself more famished than usual. Triple bantha cheese burger with fries, a large vanilla shake, and a brownie sundae. She couldn't afford to look at her troops right now. At the corner of her eye, she saw Gress D'ran who was sitting on his lonesome with a dug. She needed some advice or just someone to talk to. Her mind was racing and she needed someone who shared a burden similar to hers.

Ysennia decided to sit beside her colleague, their frames in heavy contrast to each other and honestly, Ysennia didn't expect to be hanging out with him in a diner of all things.

"Does it ever get easier?" She asked the Devaronian.

 

[Diogo Talon]

Vera Noble

So this is how it was gonna end. Goin' down in a hail of blaster fire, a worthless scrap of metal in his hands, trying to defend the Noble brat he begrudgingly liked. Well, there were worse ways to go.

Diogo heaved a heavy sigh and braced himself for death, but the sweet release never came. A shimmering, purple barrier materialized before him. Vera had saved him. That was almost worse than dying. He was never gonna hear the end of it.

Pivoting on his foot, Dio spun and dove through the door. Then it was his time to yank her. He grabbed Vera by the wrist and pulled her through.

 

[Vera Noble]

​

Tag: Diogo Talon

​

The second Diogo's hand closed around her wrist, Vera barely had time to register the tug before she was yanked through the open doorway. She stumbled slightly, catching herself against the wall with a quiet oof, before immediately shooting him a glare.

"Okay, okay, I was coming, you brute," she grumbled, straightening up and brushing off imaginary dust from her sleeve. But despite the tone, her lips curled into a smirk. "You do realize we should probably start keeping a list, right? Y'know, of all the times I save your ass?" She shot him a wink, teasing, though there was something sincere to it as well. She was glad that he wasn't hurt.

Then, without another word, she turned back toward the door.

The corridor outside was still alight with blaster fire, red bolts streaking through the air, hammering against the doorframe. Vera exhaled sharply, lifting a hand and reaching out through the Force. The metal groaned in response, warping and twisting just a little under unseen pressure. With a final, decisive crack, the structure buckled inward, reducing the entrance to a narrow gap — too small for anyone to climb through.

They had bought themselves time. Turning back to Diogo, Vera dusted her hands off and let out a satisfied breath. And then, she saw it. The dim lighting flickered over worn faces, eyes filled with exhaustion, fear, but also the unmistakable spark of hope.

Survivors.

​

 

[Gress D'ran]

Tag: Ysennia Lee​

"No."

It was a blunt, simple answer. The dug across from Gress gave Ysennia a strange smile, before offering a seat next to him.

"Phones, Gress's comms officer. Take a seat."

Gress took a rather rabid stab at his pancakes, before shoving a bite into his mouth. He didn't seem in the mood for manners.

"It doesn't, but you get used to it. It hurts every time, but you learn to cope with the pain. You did a damn fine job as a commander, Lee. We'll see how it plays out next time."

Next time.

There was always a next time.

 

[Alicio Organa]

A stray puff of air huffed out of the Chancellor's nose. Perhaps the closest thing to a laugh Alicio could muster, at the moment. "Well, that's excellent news." Having checked the form on the cot, and deciding them in no need of additional assistance, Alicio gave Damian his full attention.

“My father explained to me the need to carefully curate your image for the galaxy; never show contradictions and always, well. . . smile. . . frowns cause wrinkles to form.”

Alicio managed a dry smirk. The words seemed to stir some deep memories from him. "I imagine your father and mine would've been the best of friends, if men of their type could even have friends. Simon Organa was the kind to emphasize mathematically perfect posture in my etiquette lessons." Always, his smile was tilted a little sadly, as he dredged thoughts from a long-forgotten past. "It would be nice to present nothing but.... perfection. Wrinkles come with age, sure, but I certainly wish I could be without them." Alicio was in his thirties, hardly an ancient prune... but they both knew he wasn't talking about skin creases.

Alicio was left thoughtful as Damian continued. He didn't comment on any of it, the balance of lives, the idea that he was a beacon of hope... though it was clear from the distance in his eyes that his mind was moving.

“A-Alicio. How are you feeling?”

If the question hadn't been so vexingly difficult to answer, Alicio would've found the strain it took for Damian to say his first name very funny. Instead, Alicio pondered the question, tossing it around in his already-cluttered mind for an answer that didn't come easily. "How much time do you have?" A vain attempt at humor, perhaps to buy a second of time.

Well, Damian had struggled to say his name. It was only fair Alicio shared something difficult to say, too.

"If I may show a wrinkle... I'm tired. I have more power than I could've dreamed when I first began politics, and... there are moments I feel more like the Alliance's burning effigy than it's leader."

- Damian du Couteau -

 

[Drystan Creed]

BYOO

"Sleheyron, huh? And a former slave..." Drystan regarded him with a measured look—part curiosity, part something that might have been pity, though intrigue outweighed it. Maybe he escaped on that spacecraft.

"Can't say I envy you. I'm from Coruscant myself—the Undercity, specifically."

A pause.

"Is that why you're here? Escaped slavery on that ship and landed here as a pit stop?" He continued to piece things together, trying to pin down the stranger's motives. Perhaps the darkness he sensed wasn't something the young man sought, but something forced upon him. Drystan couldn't blame him—hard to find anything good when life started at rock bottom.

Still, something didn't add up.

"Doesn't explain why you'd pick a place like this. You're more likely to get caught staying."

Sevrin

 

[Diogo Talon]

Vera Noble

Dio grunted, a more fitting way to communicate with the brat. Still, he couldn't hold his tongue. A brute? Nah, that was hella rude. And he was already on edge from his fethin' lightsaber dying on him.

"Whatever, spunky," he grumbled back, pointing his finger at her. "You started it."

His nostrils flared under the rebreather. "Oh, yeah? How about you take that list and shove it—" But his trap shut tight when Vera used the Force on the hole in the door. "Oh, that was sick."

His attention was abruptly pulled behind him. The survivors were desperately hunkered together. Their pallid faces flickered in the dim light; their chests heaved with slow, ragged breaths.

All of Dio and Vera's childish antics were siphoned away, like air venting out into the vacuum of space. He could feel the survivors' anguish assaulting his senses, and he eagerly moved forward, fixing rebreathers to their faces, hoping to alleviate some of their pain.

In the corner sat a slumped body, head drooping, a blaster pistol idle in his limp hand. Dio tried not to look.

"Well, we can't go back the way we came," he said uneasily, glancing at Vera. "Is there another way back to our ship?"

 

[Cinnamon]

Daring Rescue​

Cinnamon's tail lashed as the last few troopers scattered, their armored forms disappearing into the twisted remains of Woostri. She hissed after them, baring needle-sharp teeth in a parting display of victory. Sugar, the jubilant sludge spawn, bounced in erratic bursts of excitement with that continuous dopy look in his eyes.

Her ear tufts flicked upward as Cora spoke. The racyon's chest puffed with a sharp chitter of pride. She tilted her head, honey gold eyes fixed on Cora as the human fished out a grappling hook and rope. Cinnamon didn't understand much of what the Jedi said, but the motion was clear enough: down they would go. The shaft yawned open like the mouth of some forgotten beast. Darkness, stale air, the faint sting of scorched metal—none of it boded well.

As the rope secured itself with a final tug, Cinnamon scooped Sugar up in one hand. The sludge spawn sloshed happily against her fur, seemingly oblivious to the tension. With the other hand, she grasped Cora's outstretched arm, claws curled just enough to hold on without scratching. The descent was swift, the Jedi's strength anchoring them as the trio slid down the rope. Cinnamon's ears flattened from the rush of stale air, and she gripped both Sugar and Cora like her life depended on it—which, for all she knew, it did.

When her paws finally touched down on the rusted shell of the elevator, Cinnamon hissed lowly at the sweltering heat radiating from Cora's prosthetic. Sugar wriggled free, plopping onto the metal with a quick sploop. Cinnamon flicked her tail in irritation. Everything down here stank. Stale water and scorched circuits mingled with something older, fouler. She chittered in displeasure, nose twitching against the pungent air.

Faint, beneath the acrid stench. The scent of scorched hair. Aadihir. She bolted. Sugar squelched along beside her. The closer they drew, the sharper the scent became. Injured, metallic, and unmistakably him.

There, in the rubble. A battered form, barely visible beneath the jagged remains of the collapsed structure. Cinnamon skidded to a halt, ears flattened and tail fluffed in alarm. Sugar flung itself onto Aadihir's chest, nuzzling against the Jedi's soot-streaked face with gleeful gurgles. Cinnamon chittered urgently, her voice high and sharp. Her claws scraped against the rubble as she pawed at the debris. With another piercing chitter, she demanded Cora's attention to this spot.

Corazona von Ascania | Aadihr Lidos​