Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Irajah Ven

Content Notes: Genocide, Chronic Illness/Pain, Mention of Suicidal Ideation, Nightmares

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Irajah's Theme - Created by [member="Abyss"]​
CURRENT STATUS AT A GLANCE:
Current Residence: ​Blackwater Reach, Dosuun. New City, Maena.
Title: Doctor Irajah Ven, D.C.O. (Dame Commander of the Order of Merit, awarded by [member="Natasi Fortan"]), Baroness of Blackwater Reach
Affiliation: The First Order
Frequently Visits: ​Azure
Force Sensitive: Yes
Force Alignment: Neutral, skewing Dark
Force Training: Apprentice


STRENGTHS:

(+) Think Fast Irajah thinks fast on her feet. She makes connections that other people might miss, and acts on them, sometimes without conscious decision. She is also physically quick, and her small size makes her a difficult target.

(+) Level Headed Keeping calm in an emergency is easy for her.

(+) M.D. Irajah is a trained Doctor with a focus in emergency medicine.

(+) The Spirit is Willing She's a fighter in the sense that no matter how hard something is, she will always keep trying.



WEAKNESSES:

(-) But The Flesh is Weak Irajah is physically weak, not just strength but also endurance and constitution. Almost like something is holding her back. She struggles daily with chronic pain with no hope of long term relief, despite current medical technology (see below).

(-) I've Taken an Oath Her medical training makes her hesitant to take a life.

(-) Launchpad McQuack She is a *lousy* pilot. Seriously, don't ask her to fly your ship. She'll probably crash it.

(-) Acrophobia A recent foray on Gap Nine with [member="Munin"] led to a number of discoveries. Not the least of which is that Irajah is apparently deeply uncomfortable with heights.

(-) Haunted Irajah is haunted by the memories of her dead planet and the months she spent there alone before making good her escape. She may always have nightmares about it. Because of this she seeks out company whenever possible, even if the company is unhealthy. Better bad company than no company at all.

(-) Ticking Plague Bomb Though she survived, she didn't get off of her home planet unscathed. Irajah is infected by the virus that killed everyone on her planet. Only what little she knows of the Force is keeping it contained within her. In time, her control will improve, taking less conscious concentration and maybe finding ways to keep it better contained. But there is no cure, and eventually she will die or lose control, making her a risk to everyone one around her.

(-) Dark Secret Irajah has a secret that makes her incredibly dangerous whenever she is planet side. But the Haunted weakness keeps bringing her back, and she constantly wars with her own guilt as to what happens if she let's go of her concentration or is killed? Another disaster like the one that killed her people. But she can't stay away either.

Past Strengths/Weaknesses
(-)What Have I Done? Irajah has an over developed sense of personal responsibility. She considers things that ought to be far outside of her actual sphere of influence to be things she ought to have control over, and is wracked with guilt when she is unable to foresee consequences, even if they are not truly her fault. - The discovery of her manipulation at the hands of those she thought her allies buys off this weakness as she sees the total of her experiences and understands that no, these things were not her fault.

SKILLS:
Emergency First Aid - | | | | |
Medicine - | | | | |
Biology - | | | | |

Virology - | | | |
Genetics - | | | |
Biochemistry - | | | |
Prosthetic Repair - | | | |

Cybernetic Technology - | | |
Chemistry- | | |
Painting - | | |
Music (Piano) - | | |

Computers - | |
Prosthetic Design - | |
Communications - | |
Sensors - | |
Hand to Hand - | |

Slicing- |
Blaster Pistol- |
Mechanics - |



APPEARANCE:

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Irajah is a petite near human from a small colony settlement world. She keeps her dark brown, wavy hair cut short and generally pushed out of her way. Wide hazel eyes hold a deep intelligence, but also can't hide physical pain. Her skin is pale, almost translucent and not always in a health fashion, often bruising easily or sometimes for no obvious external reason. She is just a little too thin, as though she is recovering from a long illness. She has constantly reforming bruises on her neck, torso and inside of her forearms from the minute internal bleeding caused by the virus. She tends to wear high necked, long sleeved clothing to cover them.

Recent events have led to a number of cybernetic prosthetics: her right arm, the pinky and ring fingers on her left hand, and her left leg below the knee. She also has scars of sith runes that have been carved into her body, though she keeps those hidden.



History:
Prelude- Before Chaos
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Irajah was the only child of Inara Sou (human) and Dr. Salcom Ven (half Kiffar). Until her early teenage years, her childhood was largely uneventful. Raised by an artist and a doctor, she had a foot in two very different worlds, and embraced both with equal fervor. Occasionally strange things would happen, coincidences too uncanny to ignore, but they were normal enough and her parents never treated them as particularly noteworthy, so Irajah grew up simply expecting a certain amount of benign strangeness as normal.

Until her mother got sick.

It was a wasting illness, a degenerative disease with no cure but a long timeline. No real treatment other than to make the patient as comfortable as possible for as long as possible. It was the first time Irajah felt helpless, and the first time she experienced watching her own father's helplessness as well.

It was also when she learned that he had once been a Jedi. And that she had the same gift inside of her, should she ever choose to nurture it. Dr. Ven refused to tell her why he had left the Order, even going so far as to raise his voice, demanding her silence in this. He had never yelled at her before, not once that she could remember. Whether it was truly that painful, or the stress of his wife's illness, she couldn't know. But she stopped asking, and he never offered. But he did train her. Just a little. At that time, she didn't know that she really wanted to be a Jedi. She knew very little about them, living so far off the beaten path as they did, and he seemed happy enough to never talk about them. And he was only willing to teach her one thing, after all.

A single healing technique. She didn't have the knowledge of anatomy to heal the damage to her mother's disease ravaged body, and even if she did, it wouldn't have mattered. But she could help him by keeping the disease at bay. Walling it up deep within her mother's body. It prolonged her life by a year, and eased her suffering in that time. It gave them time. But that was all it did. In the end, the disease still claimed her. But she went in as much peace as she was able, and in very little pain. It was small comfort to Irajah and Salcom.

It seemed natural for Irajah to follow in her father's path after that. Not as a Jedi. But as a Doctor. She excelled in school and eventually went on to focus on emergency medicine- not her original plans as a teenager, but then, people change after all. She had been a Doctor for four years at the same hospital her father was Head Surgeon at. Respected, well liked, but largely too busy for anything too much more than an occasional date or drinks after work with friends. She was content, if not happy.

Then the virus came. Released in to the atmosphere? In to the water and then became airborne? She never discovered. In five days, every person on her planet was dead, wiped out by a nameless virus sent down by nameless people for an unknown reason.

Five days of dying was followed by five months of hell. It took her that long to recover enough to escape her dead planet. She almost died herself half a dozen times, and not all of them from the sickness. More than once she contemplated taking her own life. The pain that wracked her body, the horror, the literal hell of being surrounded by the dead at every turn. And the knowledge that even if she escaped she was nothing more than a walking plague threat to any living planet she went to. Could she subject others to that? What was her responsibility as a doctor? As a living being? To know she risked bringing this fate to other worlds. It was almost enough to finish the job more than once.

Only the technique her father taught her saved her life physically. Cured? No. She carried that nameless virus with her when she left that planet of death. She kept it sequestered within her, eating away at her organs. She was better now though, and knew more now, and could move the virus, healing the damage before it became enough to kill her. Around and around her body, always moving, always eating, always in pain. Always hidden and safe from infecting others.

And the knowledge that someone had done this, that this virus was manufactured (there could be no denying that after studying it) kept her alive in other ways. Someone knew. Someone had done this deliberately to her planet.

And someone would pay.

Chapters 1- 4
Incoming


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Inventory:
Survival Medpack
ECM-598 Medical Backpack Received
TT24 Hold Out Blaster
Electroshock Emitter Received
Canteen
Alkahest Light Crystal (consumable) Received
Photoreactive Spidersilk Elaxtex Cloak Received

SHIP:
Starlight-Class Light Freighter
'Om' - OM-3 Pilot Droid

KILLS:

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The Story Thus Far:
ROLE-PLAYS:​Threads in Green are formative threads- they changed the character or the path she is on in a fundamental way.

Chapter 1 - Questions
Where Irajah has many false starts, trying to track down information, and meets some very interesting/strange people.
​After crash landing on Tatooine, Irajah travels from place to place and job to job. Always moving, always searching, she never puts down serious roots, though the beginnings of new friendships are formed. Each dead end while searching for information about the virus leaves her frustrated, but the fire burns brighter each time she fails. A spectre of doubt looms, however, every time she is reminded of the risk she poses to each planet she sets foot on.
Chapter Theme - Thousand Foot Krutch - Untraveled Road


Interlude - A Chance
Where Irajah meets someone who makes her want to be better, if only she knew how. At least she'll try.
​Working on Coruscant after the war where control of the planet was rested from the Sith, Irajah encounters [member="Boo Chiyo"] , a young slave- realizing how inadequate the supports that are currently in place for refugees are, she offers, without serious thought, for him to stay with her. Without one moment of regret (though some small amount of panic), she relocates them to Dosuun, in FO space, for the stability offered. These moments, as challenging they are, offering Irajah a slice of life that she had been so keenly missing.
Interlude Theme - One Republic - I Lived
Passing Through Gethsemane ([member="Boo Chiyo"], Coruscant) Complete
A Voice In the Wilderness ([member="Boo Chiyo"] , Coruscant) Complete
Ants and Cats and Sealing Wax ([member="Boo Chiyo"] [member="Ryn'Dhal"] , Hyperspace)
First Day, First Order ([member="Boo Chiyo"], FO, Dosuun)

Chapter 2 - Answers
Where Irajah finds answers to her questions she never expected, and struggles through Denial and Projection.
​Finally, real information. Traveling to a defunct lab on Gap Nine, Irajah and her infochant contact uncover the truth about the virus that wiped out her planet- Project Gideon- and the true progenitor of the horror. Now Irajah must struggle to reconcile the memories she has of her father with the new light shining on what really happened. Dealing with the first two stages of processing Shadow (Denial and Projection), Irajah is keenly and darkly aware of the selfishness involved in the choice to simply live.
​Chapter Theme - Hozier- Take Me To Church
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Questions ([member="Munin"], unknown location) Complete
Boom Crunch (FO, Dosuun)
In My Time of Need ([member="Catya Delarn"] , Dosuun)
Union (FO, Thakwaa)
Silhoutte ([member="Darth Prazutis"], Panatha) Complete
Doctor...... who? ([member="Connor Harrison"], Dosuun) Complete
The Night and the Silent Water ([member="Connor Harrison"], Panatha) Complete
Outside Turning In ([member="Matsu Xiangu"], Maena) Complete
I Need Some Help ([member="Valkyrien Aurelios"] , Dosuun) Complete
Broad Strokes (FO, Dosuun)
Silent Night (Various, Panatha)
To Ashes (Various, Panatha space)
Curiosity Killed the Cat ([member="Jude Falkrowe"] [member="Matsu Xiangu"] , Maena)
Break Out on Dxun ([member="Jacob Crawford"], Dxun) Complete
I Knew My Weakness ([member="Jacob Crawford"] , [member="Connor Harrison"] , Various) Complete
A Castle on the Sand ([member="Samka Derith"] , Dosuun) Complete
Monkey Business ([member="Malok"], Atzerri) Complete
And It Is Surely To Their Credit (FO, Dosuun)
Casus Belli (TA/GA vs FO Rebellion, Kaeshana) Complete
Disarmed and Dangerous ([member="Rexus Wenck"], Dosuun)
A Bell to Raise the Dead With ([member="Garett Van"], Dosuun)
A Doctrine In Motion (FO Dev) Complete


Chapter 3 - Tightening Knots
Where Irajah has gathered her resources, but is too distracted to realize how deep the water is.
Unaware of all of the strands weaving around her, Irajah dives headlong into her research on Dark Side Corruption and the Gideon Virus. As the threads tighten, she finds herself walking paths she never thought possible- not knowing how dark the woods are..... and that here be monsters.
Chapter Theme - Fever Ray - If I Had a Heart
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All I Found Underneath ([member="Darth Prazutis"], Panatha) Complete
Hey All! It's the Sector Pub Crawl (FO Dominion of New Balosar Hex) ​Complete
The Geometry of Shadows ([member="Boo Chiyo"] , Dosuun) Complete
Choking on the Air ([member="Nisha Skaiyr"], Panatha) Complete
Madrigal ([member="Aria Vale"], Maena)
Hindsight ([member="Elliot Locke"], various)
Quando Judex Est Venturus ([member="Xena Amonali"] [member="Darth Carnifex"], Panatha)
Wrapt in Obsidian (Various, Maena) ​Complete
First Order: Beyond Darkness- Rakata Dominion Complete
Swarm ([member="Neesa"] , Bakura) ​Complete
First Order: A Herevan Rose (FO, Dosuun) Complete
Before We Turn Into A Monster ([member="Matsu Xiangu"], [member="Darell Irani"], Dosuun) Complete
Roasty Toasty Princess ([member="Ara Ren"], Dosuun) Complete
You'll Need a Doctor ([member="Vrak Nashar"] , Outer Rim) Complete
Grim Necessity ([member="Darth Carnifex"], Panatha) Complete
Ein Jeder Engel ist Schrecklich ([member="Darth Prazutis"], Panatha) ​Complete
This Is the Darkness In My Hand ([member="Connor Harrison"], Maena) ​Complete
A Piece of Quiet Between Stone and Sea ([member="Jacob Crawford"] , Maena) ​Complete
Endgame ([member="Nisha Skaiyr"], Panatha)

Chapter 4 -​ In This Twilight
Where Irajah realizes how deeply she has been used, and moves on to the next phase of Shadow. Integration.
"Everyone carries a shadow, and the less it is embodied in the individual's conscious life, the blacker and denser it is."
Slipping morality. Promises of Revenge. Poorly thought out decisions. A choice, between giving up part of herself in order to live, or to die.
In this chapter, Irajah chooses life.
Chapter Theme - Tool - Forty-Six & 2
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In This Twilight ([member="Carach"], Maena) Complete
Sea Glass ([member="Carach"], Azure) Complete
Aren't You a Little Old for a Slumber Party? ([member="Matsu Xiangu"] [member="Aria Vale"] [member="Darth Imperia"], Maena)
Dust and Shadow ([member="Pravus Zambrano"] , Maena)
The Drapery Falls ([member="Xena Amonali"] , Maena)
Caught in the Middle ([member="Jacob Crawford"] , Coruscant)
Shoring Up (FO Dom) Complete
Oderint Dum Metuant (FO Invasion of GA) Complete
Aftermath (FO, Dosuun)
To Blackwater Reach ([member="Ashin Karrde"], Dosuun) ​Complete
What We Have Become ([member="Matsu Xiangu"] , Maena) Complete
Bright Lights, Bigger City (Various, Zeltros)
The Spider and the Butterfly ([member="Reverance"] [member="Matsu Xiangu"], Maena)
Orison ([member="Samson"] , Maena) ​Complete
A Second Opinion ([member="Hazel Zanteres"] [member="Samson"] [member="Carach"] , Various) Complete
The Blitz FO Invasion of GA Held Skor II ​Complete
A Gift ([member="The Slave"] , Dosuun) Complete
The Azimuth Circle ([member="Samson"], Dosuun) Complete

Interlude - Black Waters
A series of moments only, but cherished.
Set between the events of the last chapter, these moments mark where Irajah makes her peace with what is to come. She says goodbyes, just in case. Because there is no way to know what awaits beyond the event horizon. As she waits for the inevitable, she fills her days, as best she can, with simply living.
Interlude Theme - Spirited Away - The Name of Life
High By the Beach ([member="Kato"], Various)
The Name of Life ([member="Connor Harrison"], Dosuun) Complete
Remember Tomorrow ([member="The Slave"], Dosuun) Complete
An Unexpected Cut ([member="Jacob Crawford"], Dosuun)
Stars and Bones ([member="Reverance"], Maena)

Event Horizon
A boundary marking the limits of a black hole. At the event horizon, the escape velocity is equal to the speed of light- Nothing inside the event horizon can ever cross the boundary and escape beyond it. Since the event horizon is not a material surface but rather merely a mathematically defined demarcation boundary, nothing prevents something from entering a black hole, only from exiting one.
A short, fast paced series of events. Over the span of a single week, the life of Doctor Irajah Ven changes irrevocably.
Theme - Varied, see behind spoiler.
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A Black Bag Affair ([member="Castor Ren"] [member="Samka Derith"] [member="Amit Nykoan"] , Dosuun)
For Amit | For Samka
Some Like it Hoth (GA Invasion of Hoth Hex, Bespin) Complete
Splinters ([member="Elliot Locke"] [member="Jorg"], Hyperspace) Complete
For Elliot | For Jorg
But Not To Help ([member="Jorg"] [member="Deacon"] [member="Ghorua the Shark"] [member="Samka Derith"], Aleen)
Thread Theme
Choosing My Confessions ([member="Samka Derith"], Dosuun)
Thread Theme
 
Tap tap tap. Tap taptaptap. Tap.
Searching…… Searching…...Matches: 1.
File deleted. Reconstruction possible. Reconstruct or Full Delete? R/D
Tap.
Reconstructing File: Personal Journal
Tap tap tap.
Searching…… Searching….. 19 entries after specified date. Open first entry? Y/N
Tap.
Opening entry. Audio and Visual available. A/V/B
Tap.
Opening with Audio and Visual. Stand by.

The video opens on a small room. The only light in the room is from the glow of the screen, making details in the background difficult to make out. The only thing visible with any clarity is the pale face of a human female. Short, dark hair lies flat and limp, plastered to her face. Her? Perhaps. It’s hard to tell. Dark circles rim startlingly hazel eyes. There is a pallor to her gaunt flesh, as though she has lost a lot of weight in a short period of time. She leans forward, gaze casting about for a moment, clearly checking to see if the recording has started yet.

“Everyone’s de-” she stops, her voice crumbling as her face drops, a sob wracking her slender body , one hand coming out to shut down the video. A high pitched keening. Black.

A quick search of the database turns up three other files with the same date stamp, all timed to after this one. Interesting that it took her four tries. He wasn’t sure if he expected more or less.

“Everyone’s dead,” she says, her tone even, if a touch raspy. Eyes dry.

He knew exactly how much that had cost her; he’d watched each aborted attempt, as hard as it had been and noted the time between them. He paused the video for a moment, searching her face for any trace of the breaking from the earlier videos. Thoughtful, he resumed watching.

“I don’t have a clear recollection of the last few days, but based on what the system is telling me, it’s been five days since the last person checked in. I’ve been either unconscious or delirious with fever for those five days.” She pauses, glancing around the room for a moment as she collects her thoughts.

“What happened isn’t clear yet. I am running gels to see what shows up. What I do know is that it is some kind of pathogen. It has a fatality rate of at least 98%. It causes a high fever and,” she stops, breathing deeply as she closes her eyes. Without opening them, she keeps talking, but her voice is strained. “Pain. Incredible pain. I believe that most of the people in the hospital died of the fever. I have to. The alternative is….” her voice trails off and she doubles over. It takes several minutes, the video running the entire time, before she rallies.

“I have not been able to do an examination of the bodies. I’ve only been lucid enough to start documentation today, and just this is more than I might be able to manage,” she finally continues, her voice strained and stiff. “I will attempt an autopsy after I rest again, and find something to eat. I have sent out a call, but no one is answering. Either the hospital is under Heightened Quarantine, and simply no one is answering until they have something to tell me. Or.”

She stops, struggling. “I will continue to record my findings as I have them,” she resumed, her voice stiff and tight. Reaching out, she touched the screen.

Darkness. Rewinding the file, he took note of the tremor in her hand when it came on screen. Why wasn’t she dead? The records here clearly showed a 100% death rate after the "Event". Well, he couldn’t answer that. Maybe she could answer it for him. But he could answer who she was. It shouldn’t take long for the system to track down her personnel files.

Tap tap tap.

Retrieving personnel records. Run facial recognition? Y/N

Tap.

That would take a few minutes. Ah well, the system was slow after all of this time. And his isolation suit made interfacing with it a little challenging. Not that he was complaining. No. Nice suit. Very nice suit.

Next entry. 24 hours later.

Same room. Same woman. The lights were on now, however, offering a better view of what turns out to be a medical lab bay. White and silver dominate. She looks even worse in the bright light.

“Whatever caused this is viral,” she says without preamble. “The bacterial, fungal and amoebal tests all came back negative, but the shell viral gels tested positive for cytopathic effects in the culture samples.”

She speaks like a professor, explaining something matter-of-factly to a room of students. Or as an official coroner making a report.

“CPE was confirmed by cytoplasmic inclusion bodies present in the samples. These could be either an accumulation of virus replication byproducts or altered host cell organelles. I will need more time to study it. They include very few host protein markers, so the computer should be able to isolate them once I spin down the samples. While this could also be indicative of a genetic disease, I consider that incredibly unlikely compared to a virus. The presentation of fever and the speed this moved through the population of the hospital excludes an unknown genetic anomaly. The coincidence would be astronomical. The virus seems to induce lysis, or a breaking down of the cell membrane, in infected cells. The exact mechanism is unknown at this time.” Pausing for a moment as though to collect her thoughts, she continues, a little quieter. “Death seems to be caused by hemolysis, massive internal bleeding, as the virus completely ruptures the blood cells throughout the body. Bleeding to death, but with no singular location for the bleed, which seems to have circumvented any possibility of clotting. The red blood cells simply fall apart, flooding the plasma with cytoplasm.” She looks down at her hands. In the bright light, it is clear that her hands, wrists and the lower part of her neck are covered extensively in dark, ugly bruises.

“This was visible as a halo in the…. blood samples taken post mortem.” She pauses, breathing in deeply, slipping her hands back into her lap. “This is a typical presentation for certain families of bacteria, but not usually a viral indicator. I expect to find certain variation in future autopsies. Both done so far have been on patients who were unhealthy at the time of the event. I will try next on one of the staff.”

She stops, swallowing. An uncomfortable amount of time passes before she reaches out suddenly, turning off the video.

Still searching. Hmmm.

Timestamp four hours later.

“After further testing, I have found that the inclusion proteins in the affected cells are hydrophobic,” she says bluntly. If she were going to offer an introduction, it seems like she would have by now. “This pushes the infected cells out of the bloodstream and into the organs, or allows them to perforate the circulatory system where there is no convenient organ. This explains the intense pain, and why the organs of the patients with no known health defects were literally full of holes.”

She hangs her head, rubbing her face. When she looks back up, her face reflects both the mental anguish and the physical pain she’s in.

“The system has not yet returned a match for the virus, though it has confirmed that it is indeed a virus. I am hoping that this is not merely an academic exercise, and that discovering the nature of the virus will allow the spread of the disease to be arrested. I have not yet received word from the outside, but this does not surprise me.”

That’s a lie, he thought. You are shocked and terrified.

“Cell lysis isn’t limited to erythrocytes. While it starts in the red blood cells, once those cells are destroyed and pushed into the organs, it spreads from there. It affects multiple cell types.” She pauses, clearly giving a moment for this to sink it. The gravity of that information is conveyed by the expression on her face, even to someone unable to grasp the specifics. “This is atypical for, well, just about everything. While different strains of a particular virus will affect different systems, I cannot think of any virus that seems to consider all bodily cells fair game. Especially CPE viruses. Additionally, the diameter of the inclusion bodies is 2.3 μm. Ridiculously large. The density is also incredible high, 2.8 mg ml−1. Normally, inclusion bodies are porous, but this density implies that these are solid masses. It explains the incredibly damaging effect they have on multiple organ systems when the affected erythrocytes punch through. Between the weight of the infected cells, and how the plasma is flooded with shattered red blood cells, it destroys even a healthy person's ability to clot at the puncture sites. Death for the ill took approximately 18 hours. For the healthy, three to five days."

He tilted his head. He didn't understand all of the medical jargon she was using. But that someone had unleashed a virus on this world was clear as day to him. She was dying (she must be dying, this entry had been on the sixth day after the virus was unleashed, and she had said five days), and she still discovered all of this? Impressive woman. He was sorry he'd never get a chance to meet her. But also appreciative that she'd had the forethought to put all of this down for someone like him to find. It meant that maybe, someday, there was a chance this news would mean something. Maybe. He dealt in information, not always the good or evil of the information itself. But he was still a man, and it was impossible to view what had happened here with completely impartiality. His teeth clenched unconsciously.

She sits back in her chair, at a loss. She starts to speak, then stops again. Finally, she simply reaches out and turns off the video.

Pausing, he checked the date of the last entry the system had reconstructed. Then he frowned. That was impossible. It must be a computer glitch, or perhaps a scheduled session. But there was a thrill of excitement in his chest as he looked at the date stamp. So why did he hesitate, gloved finger hovering over the file? With an unexpected trepidation, he pressed play on the entry dated five months later. Surely not?

Same woman, different room. This one is immediately recognizable as a control room. The passage of the months is clear as she stands over the console, hovering rather than sitting. Her hair had grown to shoulder length. There are still (new?) bruises visible on her forearms and the base of her neck, but they are faded, harder to see if one didn’t already know to look. It is obvious that she has gained back only a little of the weight she has lost. She shifts, barely containing nervous energy. When she speaks, her voice is low and urgent, none of the controlled professionalism of the first entries.

“I don’t have time to do the final tests. This might be my only chance to make this work.” She pauses, licking her lips nervously. A quick glance over her shoulder, she reaches over, hitting a series of commands on a console just out of sight of the video.

“I don’t know why I’m even recording this,” she says softly, turning back to look at the screen. She frowns. “I’m going to wipe these records before I go. So recording this is less than pointless. I can’t risk them knowing I was here. That I survived. Maybe they already know. But if they did, they would have done…. something…. by now, yes? If they know, they know. But I won’t leave this here to tip them off if they don’t already.”

She leans in, her face filling the screen. “I do know why I’m recording this,” she whispers. “Even if I’m going to destroy it in three minutes. Recording it makes it real. I will get away from here. And I will discover who is responsible.”

She stops, drawing back. “I’m going to get away from here,” she repeats, her tone hard, hazel eyes glittering. “And I am going to destroy whoever did this to my people, to my planet. They are going to die a slow, painful death. Or a quick painful one. I’m not picky,” she practically growls, teeth visible as her lips pull back. “I will not give up justice for vengeance. I owe them that. This recording is my promise. I will find them.” Breathing in raggedly, she smiles, but there is nothing pleasant in it.

“And I will end them.”

He sat thoughtfully for a moment after the screen went black. He felt certain that going back a few entries (after all, he intended to watch them all), would reveal what she was talking about in regards to getting off planet. And how she had survived five months alone on a dead planet, when she shouldn't have survived five days of the virus. But first.

He pulled up the file that the computer had found. Yes, this was she. Short, dark hair. Hazel eyes. Healthy and smiling. At least ten kilos heavier. No pallor or bruising. Just enough to give the system a challenge it would seem.

Irajah Ven.

It meant ‘fearless’ in an ancient tongue. Fitting.

He read the rest of her file. Her family history. It mattered to him. Her clan, family, previous life, they were dead to her now. He recognized the crucible she had been through. And he didn't doubt that she had survived getting off of the planet. Not after surviving all of that, to die in any other way? No.

Irajah. Good.

​Jonathan Patches nodded to himself, keying up another entry and sat back, listening to Irajah Ven's voice explain more about the virus, and how she had survived. It was inevitable that she would of course. After all.

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Seven Days After Viral Event

The same medical lab bay. In the background, on one of the tables, is clearly a body, covered in a sheet. No details can be seen, but it was not there in a previous recording.

"It was easier to isolate the virus in my own body than in the computer system," she says as she sits down after turning on the recording. "But doing that doesn't help me figure out what it is. The limits of the computer system are pretty, well, limited. And I'm not really a computer person. Whatever it is doesn't match perfectly anything in our database."
​She sighs, running a hand raggedly over her face. The bruises on her wrists are vivid and angry, and each movement is clearly painful for her.

"But does that mean it's something completely new? Or something mutated just enough from the base that the computer can't extrapolate? I don't know yet. If I want to know that, I'm going to have to go through the data base myself and compare them, slide by slide. That kind of comparison will take months, maybe years of work. I don't know if I have that kind of time."

​Her tone isn't defeated. Just tired.

"I'm still hoping someone will respond to my calls. It's only been a couple days. Even if there is a 99%-" she stopped, swallows hard. It takes her a couple of seconds to gather her thoughts again. "There must be someone else out there. I realize that I have an edge thanks to dad. But. Dad at least has the same edge. And there may be others who were resistant for other reasons. This isn't a good sample of the population. Seventy percent of the people in this building were sick when the virus hit. It's not a fair sampling."

Who is she trying to convince? There is no one there but herself.
​Leaning back in her chair she seems to come to a decision.

"Tomorrow I'll leave the hospital and see what I can find. No more waiting. There must be other survivors. I'll find them if I can. The search for the virus can wait."

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Fourteen Days After Viral Event

"Everyone's dead."

She'd said that already, two weeks ago. But the way she says it now rings of utter certainty and conviction. And the numbness of complete despair.

"I spent seven days," she says quietly, numbly, "Looking. All I found were corpses. I went home."

She reaches over, turning off the recording suddenly.

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Fifteen Days After Viral Event

"The virus has a 100% casualty rating," she says quietly, no trace of emotion in her voice. She's in shock, or has simply shut down. Not uncommon in experiences like these.

"My situation is unique. I am not immune to the virus. I am putting this information here so that someone may find it and perhaps be able to use it to combat an outbreak like this in the future. It seems the only responsible thing to do."

She speaks calmly, concisely. She has obviously practiced what she is going to say here before recording it.

"I am Force Sensitive, though largely untrained. I chose the path of medicine, rather than the path of the Jedi. But when I was a child, my father taught me a technique to help ease the suffering of others. I don't know it's name, but it allows me to use the force to contain the virus within my own body. When the damage the virus does in one organ gets too great, I move it somewhere else and use the force to repair the damage done. It's a constant process, requiring constant vigilance. I can sleep of course, but were I to cease paying attention to it for more than, I estimate three days, the virus would kill me and infect others. The timeframe is only theoretical of course. But based on the timeframe of how the disease works, it seems to be a good guess, with a reasonable margin of error of up to a day. So let's say two days would be the greatest length of time to risk."

She breathes in deeply, letting it out in a long, low whoosh. Raising her arms, she shows the hollows of her wrists, of her elbows, where deep, livid bruises seem to constantly be renewing themselves.

"Despite this ability, it is not without draw backs. I have never had to use this on myself before. I hope that with time I will get better at it. I suspect that I am missing small internal bleeds each time I move the virus around my body. Not in my major organs, but in the routes along the way. I don't have the training in the Force to fix them. But other than some pain and bruising, it doesn't seem to be causing any serious side effects. I believe I can survive the presence of the virus in my system. Perhaps indefinitely."

Looking down, she is silent. The silence stretches on for a long time. Long enough that it seems she may have fallen asleep. Until she speaks again, very softly.

"But eventually I will die. And when that happens, I will infect whatever world I am on. And that would be a heinous misuse of the skills of a doctor. I think. So. I don't intend to do that to another planet. It's a very simple thing to avoid." She looks up at the screen, her eyes wet. "I am leaving this here, so someone, someday, might find it, and keep this from happening again. My name was Irajah Ven. I was a Doctor. And my world was destroyed. I hope you find who did it."

Slowly, hesitantly, she reaches over, turning off the screen.


The fact that he had seen another entry, dated almost five months from this one, and that there are more entries after this, are the proof he needs that she did not, indeed, commit suicide as she intended. But clearly, that was at this time at least, her intentions. Something must have changed.

------------------​------------------------

Twenty Days After Viral Event

She doesn't look any better than she did the last time she recorded. If anything, she looks worse. But she is alive, and that counts for something. But there is something there that wasn't before. There's a certain animation in her eyes, a certain fire. It's the same fire burning in the very last recording. It hadn't been there before.

"I found it. I don't think I've slept more than an hour or two at a time in the last five days, but I found it."

She shifts uncomfortably, pulling a series of files on the screen in front of her, overlaying the images over her face in the recording. It's not really clear what it is we're looking at right away. Two slides of two viral bodies, very similar, but with minor enough differences too confuse a computer, glow with an eerie translucence over her visage as she speaks.

"I said it would take me months, maybe years to compare the virus, slide by slide, with everything in our database. And I was right. If I had been a fool and started at the beginning. But that's ridiculous. Whoever orchestrated this wouldn't have started with a benign virus, or one that gave people the sniffles. They would have started with something big. Something already incredibly virulent. So that was where I started looking. I started with viruses that had a 75% and higher mortality rate. Then I excluded any that had less than three symptoms in common with our mystery virus."

She is sweating, her hair is plastered to her forehead. There is a certain glassiness to her eyes. Fatigue? Or fever?

"It still took five days to find. And why anyone would have altered the original virus I don't understand. I didn't even consider it at first. It was on my list of rejected options. After all, who would alter a virus that already has 99.9% fatality rate?"

Tapping the keys, she has the computer line up the viruses, making it even more obvious that indeed, the two are closely related. But it also makes the differences stand out.

"The capsid is thicker, protecting the virus. And the lipid envelop is huge. Part of what made the virus so large. The modified virus is nearly 100 times larger than the original. But it's not all in the outer coating. That wouldn't change the density. No, most of the changes are inside the virus. The sheer amount of DNA that's been packed in to this thing is staggering. Normally, a virus is the most stripped down organism that can even be generously considered 'alive', and this virus was already a pretty complex one, as far as viruses go. But the new version- the top image is shrunk to show the match- the new version has multiple slight variations of the virus's genetic material contained within it. I'm going to have to deconstruct the genetic code before I can learn anything about it. But, I guess I have all the time in the world."

She leans back, closing her eyes for a moment.

"I don't understand why anyone would alter the Hive Virus that wiped out Firrerre, over 800 years ago," she says, finally naming the virus. "But they did. And they used my planet as it's testing ground." Her voice is thick and bitter.

"I'll keep researching. The more I know about the virus, the more maybe, just maybe, I'll learn about it's creator."

She makes no mention of her previous entry. Nor will she ever.

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Twenty Five Days after Viral Event

"I buried my father yesterday."

It's a different room this time. It looks like a small office. No medical supplies, and gurnies, but there are diplomas on the wall with her name on it, and assorted interesting odds and ends, bits and bobs from a lifetime of strange and assorted interests. Just in sight of the camera is a picture of a dark haired little girl, hugging a woman who closely resembles the one in front of the camera now. Resembles, but is clearly not the same person.

Irajah is sitting in a comfortable, spinning chair, her head in her hands. All the screen can see to start is the top of her head.

"I can't bury them all. I didn't think I could. I mean, I didn't even think I could try. But I thought maybe I could do more than just him."

She shakes her head, her sleeves falling to the sides. The bruises are deeper, alarmingly violet and almost swollen as if the blood is pooling just beneath the skin now.

"I'm weak. Too weak. It took me all day and half of the night just to bury him. I did it, but it took so much. I don't think I can do it again. I thought the virus had taken everything. But now I'm finding that it's taken even more."

Her voice is tight, and it's clear, though her face is hidden, that she is holding back tears. "I'll have to do something. I have to clear a section out. A single hallway. Even if this virus doesn't kill me, there are other disease concerns with the dead bodies. I can wear a containment suit when I go out, but I need a place that's clear to work. I just. For now I think I'll rest. Tomorrow. Tomorrow is soon enough to start."

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------​-------------------------

64 Days after Viral Event

She looks tired. But then, she always looks tired. It has been over a month since the last entry. What has she been doing all this time? Unfortunately, only part of that is revealed. The part she thinks is the most important at the moment.

"I know why the altered virus is so large now," she says without preamble.

She is sitting in her office again, but some things have changed. There are more holographs on the walls- images of an older man with dark hair and tattoos on his face, images of the woman in the first holo, images of the pair of them, sometimes will a child and sometimes just the two. Happy, smiling. Family to watch over her shoulder. Obviously she has returned to her home since the last entry, but she makes no comment about it.

The office also has more of a lived in quality. Though neat, it's possible to see a hammock slung in a corner, clothing hung on makeshift hooks. The desk isn't dirty, but there is more clutter on it, including the remains of whatever she'd been eating last.

"Whomever created it including the genetic coding for every small variation of the Hive Virus that.... well, perhaps ever existed. Including mutations not in the system at all. Rather than a single, mutated virus, this pathogen contains every mutation within it. A virus like this would naturally mutate over time. But this version has the potential to mutate much faster- more data, more chances for corruption over each generation. It could eventually mutate in to a less deadly form- many viruses over the course of history have done that. After all, if it cannot replicate in a host enough before the host dies, that's a maladaptive strategy for most pathogens. Being spread, copying itself, that should be the goal. But the original version of the virus never did that- never became less deadly. But with all of the additional genetic material here, there's a chance of that happening. But over what kind of time frame?"

She leans back, haggard but thoughtful.

"There's no way to even guess. But I would bank on not within my lifetime. The virus spreads so efficiently, the usual stop gaps that would encourage a less deadly mutation aren't there. It is able to replicate and spread to new hosts before the old one dies, so there is no pressure for a less destructive version to succeed."

Irajah sighs, rubbing her hand over her face.

"It's already as good as it needs to be. Any further mutation will likely not be in my favor."

Her shirt cuffs slip, revealing that the deep bruising from two months ago is still there.

"It's not mutating as any rate beyond what would be expected in my own body. It's replicating because it can't help but do that, but the individual viroids aren't long lived. In my body at least, because it's not killing me, the rate of replication and cell death have reached a balance. I don't think the creators of this ever expected to be studying it in such a manner."

Her face hardens.

"Nor will they. I am a little surprised that, after all this time, no one has come to look at their handiwork. I have been expecting company in some for or another for two months now, but all of the airspace around our world has been as dead as the planet itself. But no one has come. It seems as though the destruction of my people was enough of a show."

Teeth grit together, Irajah's face darkening.

"If I'm ever going to find who did this, I will have to find a way off planet. I've never piloted a ship. I don't even know how to start one up. But I can learn."

Leaning over to switch off the recording, she whispers, more to herself than anything else.

"I can learn."

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104 Days After Viral Event

In the beginning, the entries had been professional, clipped and precise. Even when she had been barely surviving the initial throes of the virus, she had been the Doctor. But slowly, with no one to talk to but the computer, the entries had been getting more informal, more familiar.

"I went home today," she says, her voice quiet and distant. Though she is sitting in the office, facing the computer screen, her eyes are staring off somewhere above it.

"I spent a couple hours going through everything. I'll go back tomorrow. Or the day after. Yes, I have to work on the ship tomorrow. Well, I suppose I don't have to. I'm the only one keeping track of my progress."

She pauses, chewing on her thumbnail for a moment before finally looking at the recorder.

"I guess I'd been hoping to find something. Some trace of his life as a Jedi. Maybe some idea of why he'd left. But it looks like he didn't keep any of it. If he hadn't told me himself....." she trails off, leaning back in her chair, looking tired. "He really wanted nothing to do with it. He didn't keep any holos from before marrying mom, or a robe or....."

Irajah shakes her head, actually chuckling, but there's no mirth in the sound.

"Come on Irajah, nothing to hide here. How silly was it to hope he'd kept his lightsaber? What would I even do with one if he had? Carry it around? Use it to open canned goods? With my luck, I'd probably cut my hand off trying to get in to a can of Nerf-stew."

She sighs, leaning forward and putting her elbows on the desk. Resting her chin on her hands she murmurs softly, her tone distant again.

"I did find his old medical text books. Nostalgic, but not particularly useful. And mom's paintings. He'd kept all of them. Both of ours. Mine from when I was a kid, as neatly filed as hers were. The Jedi didn't matter to him, but we did."

Softly, she smiles, but it's a sad smile. "That's something at least, right?"
 
[member="Irajah Ven"]

Possibly. Allara's backstory is that her parents gave her up at an orphanage. She only knows the last name because of the official papers they had to sign in dropping her off. She doesn't really know any of her biological family.
 
[member="Allara Ven"] Yup, I saw that in your bio, which is why I don't think siblings works. But I don't see why not related. Irajah's father is half-kiffar. If you want to be cousins, but don't want to have mixed blood, one of your parents could be her father's half sibling, or whole sibling if you want to have a mixed heritage? Up to you :)
 
[member="Allara Ven"] We can definitely do that eventually if that's the route you want to go. I'm cool either way (my character's back story not involving a lack of family as a pivotal role, after all). I'm not quite ready to do a family reunion style thread *right now*, but if you want to do a family tie I will put you on my dance card for sure! And even if you don't want to, maybe we do a "We have the same last name, are we related holy moly wait, false alarm but you're still cool" kind of thing?
 

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