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Jalen gave a slight sigh as he felt the wave of anxiety from her reach him. Her aura was speckled with doubt. It was clear that either due to him or due to her she was worried that something was going to go wrong. Probably due to him. Still, the girl stated she was ready, and Jalen didn't exactly have time to be a worry wort and tell them to get their nerves in order. All they had to do was use a pair of pliers to get the thing out. The padawan drew a laser scalpel from the nearby work bench, sitting down and beginning his cut.
It was percise, almost as though a machine itself were making the incision. He carefully cut a flap in the tissue, making a doorway from which pressure on the nail could be relieved. Blood oozed out of the wound for a moment but later stilled, clearly not next to a major artery of any kind. It was almost as though Jalen could see through the body itself, even in his blindness.
"Okay," Jalen exhaled, "Easy now. Rotate the nail fourty-five degrees to the left to unhook the bend. Remove it slowly. Move to fast and you may tear open more of the tissue. We don't want any rust getting trapped under the skin any more than it already has."
He spoke with a confidence that implied experience, like he had done this hundreds of times. Jalen had, of course, but it would certainly be reassuring to hear it like that, he thought. With some care and percision, they could likely see this man patched up and back to his family, wherever they may be.
"Master Si! I could use a lil more stone o'er here!" Stretching, Wulrenkit let out a happy groan as his back popped then went back to his work, ensuring that everything was level and even. "Unless theres somewhere else you'd rather have me workin, ma'am."
As another Ladybug zoomed overhead, Jonyna heard the sound of a padawan speak to her over the commotion. She hadn't met the boy before, and yet still the title of 'Master Si' made her do a double take.
"Um..." The Master paused, scanning the area. "Take a peek over inside the great hall, we'll need to make sure the roof is supported if we're gonna start adding things inside."
It was a start, but it would mean the great hall could be made livable again.
Sixty three patients, ranging from Stormtroopers, Troopers, Civilians, were the ones who made it.
Out of nearly 300 brought in.
Raylin had triaged most of them himself- but most of them arrived in such a state that it was hard to imagine how they managed to even make it to the temple to be triaged in the first place.
Raylin took a break- he had to.
His cigarette wasn’t to be enjoyed, but to delay the return to duty. His sleeves were rolled up, and he would have to change uniforms for the third time. He took a long drag, using a sanitary wipe while smoking to clean the blood off of his hands and arms.
Supplies were thin already, but it the day pressed on, the triage would only get worse. He sat far, on a large piece of rubble a ways from the triage area. He took a deep breath, his mind briefly wandering to where many of the Raiders were, if any of the others survived or had regrouped in the chaos of the battle.
He took a deep breath, and another deep drag. The cigarette was bad- tasted like fire and ash. That’s what he got for going cheap. He looked over, at the triage area. More and more were coming.
She could still feel the reek of sewage on her despite having taken several of the most thoroughest showers of her life, gotten herself a check up, spent a day in care to monitor any risk of infections, and then a fresh change of new clothes. Colette was about as clean as one could get, and yet a queasy grimace was still etched onto her face as if she had only just gotten out of that particular hellhole.
A sigh blew past her lips. She disliked Coruscant immensely, but at least it wasn't a space station stuck in the void. Valery had heard Colette's complaints about it a million times by this point. If they decided to put her training halls in an environment that Colette despised, then Colette wouldn't be heading there for practice. They could get her to live on a dead planet, but there was not a fucking chance in hell that she would ever set foot on a station where a single fracture would kill her and everyone aboard.
So what options were there if she was so disinterested in rebuilding something she disliked? Decorating it, she supposed. Colette's creative spirit had been applied mostly to learning how to play string instruments since she had won one at a Gala. Maybe sculpting could prove an equally liberating outlet?
At the very least it was worth an effort.
"Greetings, Master Farr." She signed and bowed. "I've never been to this part of the temple before."
The sigh she drew from Jalen staggered her for a moment - was she really that frustrating to work with? Perhaps he wasn't the kind of person who liked it when others were encouraging, or maybe he was annoyed that she was all he had to work with. He had rather seemed put out by the fact that she was the only spare pair of hands readily available when he'd gathered her into his wake earlier on. Maybe he'd prefer a whole team of qualified medics instead of just one student trying to adjust to chaos. Well, in some respects, it was tough: he was just going to have to get over it.
She wasn't about to express that fact to him, though: now wouldn't be a good time to distract him, at any rate, though part of her did feel like she'd need to grab him by the hand and at least guide him towards making the appropriate incision, so he didn't end up bisecting the patient they were trying to save. Then again, he still moves with that quiet confidence that almost suggests he's not blind at all - and, had it not been for his eyes, Teynara wouldn't have thought him blind at all. Remind me to ask him how he does that, if I can figure out a way to do it without being insensitive. If he already had a poor opinion of her, she wasn't about to compound that by pointing out his disability.
Still, the way Jalen held the laser scalpel and moved it with such precise care suggested that he knew what he was doing - far moreso than Teynara did, in truth - so she held her tongue and simply observed, waiting for the moment when his work would be done, and hers would begin. Just don't overdo it: there's no need to let the adrenaline of the moment make you over-react. Calm and easy, just like you learned at home. Nothing was worth panicking for, her parents had always told her: if you stayed focused on what you needed to do, rather than the problems that might arise if you screw it up, everything would work out fine.
The cut, when it came, was exact, moved with a steady and practised hand, instantly cauterised as the laser scalpel did its work. No gushing of blood or the need to clean it out of the way so that you could see what you were doing: modern technology really was a marvel, when you looked at it. Taking a deep breath, Teynara took her cue, and slowly turned the nail, knowing that she might be causing more damage to the soft tissue surrounding it as she did so, but that wasn't something that could be helped now. As Jalen said, you couldn't leave it there: the risk of infection would be much too great, and leaving your patient to die of sepsis was hardly the right way to go here.
Drawing upwards, she felt the nail start to come free - though the suction of the nail against flesh made it harder to withdraw than she might have hoped, and for a moment, she thought it might snag and cause even more injuries. That would be a great way to screw it all up - not to mention making a first impression on someone that's trusting you to help. She took her time, applying just enough pressure to bring the nail upwards, but not so much as to simply tear it through flesh, just in case she hadn't put enough of a turn on it earlier.
As the nail came up, and the blood-covered end started to retreat from blue flesh, she gave a soft sigh, releasing the deep breath she hadn't realised she had been holding. With a slight shudder, she dropped the nail into a small container of clear fluid that rested next to the surgical table - it immediately changed colour as the blood started to diffuse, diluting it. Better that than getting blood all over the place, particularly if they need the table again soon.
She glanced back up at Jalen for a moment, then realising that was foolish since he wouldn't exactly be able to see her doing that, so she focused again on the patient, ready for their next step.
"That's right," Valery confirmed, as her senses swept through the area, "The ones I'm after are further away, but we're going to have to fight our way to them." She reached for the hilt of her double-bladed weapon but did not ignite it yet. The trolley continued to move but as soon as they were getting close to the ground, it came to a stop with a loud mechanical grind. Years of poor maintenance would bite them in the ass today.
Here they come.
Valery hopped off the trolley and both violet blades ignited. She looked around, Keshian eyes piercing through the darkness. Three pairs of eyes stared back, red as flame and full of darkness. Shrieks echoed through the night, and from the sky, the Hex Devils came down upon the three Jedi.
"Incoming!" Valery called out, as she jumped aside to dodge the claws of one such beast. Each of the Jedi was immediately under attack, but not just by claws and teeth.
They conjured fire, made of the dark to burn the Jedi.
[Any text in brackets signifies comm-link usage and not face to face conversation]
Objective II: The Depths Below
(PvE Objective)
The GADF 209th Special Forces unit, also known as Omega Squad, was a force to be reckoned with. Led by the fearless Michael, the squad was made up of some of the most skilled and deadly soldiers in the galaxy. Their mission was simple - hunt down and eliminate any Sithspawn and Sith affiliated soldiers that threatened the peace and safety of the galaxy.
On this particular mission, Omega Squad found themselves deep in the lower levels of Coruscant, the dark underbelly of the city-planet. The streets were filled with danger and chaos, but the squad moved with precision and stealth, their footsteps barely making a sound as they stalked their prey.
Michael, Gabriel, Remiel, Uriel, Sariel, and Raguel moved as one, their weapons at the ready and their senses sharp. They knew that the Sithspawn and Sith affiliated soldiers they were hunting were ruthless and cunning, but Omega Squad was determined to bring them to justice.
As they crept through the shadows, they could hear the sounds of battle in the distance. The screams of innocents mixed with the roars of the Sithspawn, creating a cacophony of chaos. But Omega Squad remained focused, their eyes locked on their targets.
Suddenly, they spotted a group of Sithspawn soldiers ahead, their red eyes glowing in the darkness. Without hesitation, Michael gave the signal and the squad sprang into action. Blaster bolts and slugs flew, vibroblades clashed, and the air was filled with the sounds of combat.
The Sithspawn soldiers fought fiercely, but they were no match for the skill and determination of Omega Squad. One by one, they fell to the ground, defeated by the relentless onslaught of the elite soldiers.
As the last of the Sithspawn soldiers lay dead at their feet, Omega Squad knew that their mission was far from over. There were still more enemies to hunt, more battles to fight. But they were ready, united in their purpose and unwavering in their resolve.
And so, Omega Squad continued their hunt through the dark streets of Coruscant, their shadows blending seamlessly with the night. They were the hunters, the protectors, the saviors of the galaxy. And no Sithspawn or Sith affiliated soldier would escape their wrath..
"In my experience,
when you think you
understand the Force,
you realize just
how little you know"
[COMM TRAFFIC]
He has yet to really feel comfortable here. Such a big and drafty place, unlike Jakku’s Enclave. It is a rather ugly facility, and a target for anything and anyone that has even the smallest issue with the Jedi.
That doesn’t excuse what happened, not at all.
There are civilians that live and work here too. What of them?
Walking around the rubble, looking for a starting point. Debating on whether to stay here and do the work, or get his aggressive feelings out and see if the rumors are true of Sithspawn and Darkside soldiers still lying in wait, Connel looked around. He didn’t feel “at home” here, but others did, others do, and that just made his nostrils flare.
Connel was aware of the looks he had been getting lately. People are afraid he’s going to go nuts on somebody, like he did on Master Katarine Ryiah
a couple of days ago. He owed her an apology, but she invaded his mind, that was out of line. Still, he would not apologize for what he said, or how he felt, but it was not the time or place to do so. He had more respect for the station of “Knight” and “Master” than that.
Most Padawans around here need to have that as a part of their curriculum…
Picking up some debris, there was the scent of the Dark side… somewhere out there…
Hyperspace,
Personal Diplomatic Vessel
En route to Coruscant
The aide placed a hefty briefcase on the table, unclasped its locks, and opened the lid. A bright, golden glow emenated from its interior.
"I hope that is enough for the down payment?" Zsinj asked. The inflection in his voice didn't rise the same way it usually might for a question. Instead, he delivered the sentence flat, like it was merely a formality.
His nails seemed more interesting than the gang boss he'd invited aboard one of the diplomatic vessels. He had been picked up on some backwater world on the way to Coruscant. Normally he would avoid letting rabble from the Underworld dirty up his legitimate ventures, but this man had enough sense to keep a public-facing front for his deals, which provided enough plausibility that the mobster's visit to his ship was merely one of convenience. They were both headed for Coruscant, after all, though for wildly different reasons.
"Obstruct the reconstruction of Coruscant as much as possible. You'll get a list of the companies involved; just keep it secret. If anyone finds out Fondor's office is leaking sensitive data, it would look rather dirty on my record, and I might have to wrongfully fire one of my PAs," Zsinj continued.
To his left, the aide gave a quick glance to Zsinj before he looked away again, acting invisible again.
"Do whatever you need to, just keep your hands, and by extension, mine, clean of it."
Dragica “Little Drago” Ferasi sniffed at the glittering pile of credits in the briefcase as if to make sure the money wasn’t counterfeit. He took a long, deep draw from his cigar as if contemplating on the offer but nearly choked to death with both thinking and the cigar’s smoke.
It was hard emulating his cousin Dragica “Big Drago” Ferasi. The man had the lungs of a krayt dragon even if he was twice shorter than Little Drago. Perhaps it was his wide berth which stored all the oxygen, Drago concluded in deep, existential thought.
“Ooh, silence is expensive, my friend.” Drago leaned back in his seat, quoting a favorite phrase of his smarter cousin. “Especially with the war and all that.”
He pointed a long slender finger at the briefcase. “Another quarter of that and my cousin on Coruscant’s going to keep those workers off-site.”
The Trade Federation had donated a considerable sum of raw material and resources towards the reconstruction of Coruscant, in partnership with the InterGalactic Banking Clan. As the bustling city-planet slowly emerged from the scars of war, its skyline punctuated by scaffolding and the hum of construction droids, Senator Lodd Grimmin observed from his shuttle as it slowly touched down on the restored landing platform of the New Jedi Temple.
The shuttle was cluttered with datapads displaying reports on resource allocations and progress updates. The Trade Federation's involvement in such a massive project, would be quite controversial among some factions, despite not being the sole corporation offering support. Currently, Si Tech stands as the primary contributor, possessing the necessary construction technology for the project. Their presence was solely for the purpose of unloading supplies and equipment needed by the repair team.
Upon ascending a couple of stairs within the temple, the Neimoidian found themselves in the grand hall, where they felt compelled to halt and contemplate the extent of the destruction. "It appears that you have everything well organized, Master Si. We would like to extend our congratulations on your rapid promotion to the Jedi High Council." Lodd said, towards Jonyna Si
as they were busy organizing the great hall's restoriation and support beams.
"I await the day when men like you do not try to nickle and dime an honest politician like me for each and every credit," he sighed.
He snapped his fingers, turning to his aide.
"Get this man what he asked for."
The aide disappeared to the next room for a moment. While they waited, Zsinj picked up the glass of wine he'd been enjoying. Just one glass for the flight, he was trying to watch his figure. He glanced to the mobster, gesturing to the untouched glass of wine on his side of the table.
"It's Alderaanian White. Not as rare as it used to be, but still just as flavourful. Go ahead, I won't take it out from your cut. I doubt you'll see another bottle of it within your lifetime."
Zsinj sipped some of his, letting the zesty, fresh armoa roll on his tongue.
No offense was taken. Drago had long been used to the constant ridicule he faced at home, mainly because he never comprehended insults laced with subtlety. He simply sat staring at the man with an innocent and dumb smile on his face. His mind was still on his cousin's inexplicable capacity for smoking cigars.
The mobster took the bottle as clumsily as a buffoon would and poured its contents in his empty glass of water right to the top, almost spilling it over.
"Say, you're a politician, huh?" his thoughts drifted away from his cousin to a topic that had kept him up countless nights. He leaned forward, eyes warily glancing left and right before he whispered. "Psst, Coruscant was an inside job, right? SIA work, eh? To get us into war. C’mon, I won't tell anyone, I promise."
"In my experience,
when you think you
understand the Force,
you realize just
how little you know"
[COMM TRAFFIC]
Connel stood amidst the rubble of the upper corridors of the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, his heart heavy with the weight of the destruction that had befallen his home. The once grand halls and chambers lay in ruins, a stark reminder of the darkness that had swept through the galaxy. He wondered how his father had gotten through this. The man had seen this place sacked more than once.
As he worked tirelessly to assist with the reconstruction efforts mainly with moving in items and cleaning up, Connel couldn't help but feel a sense of isolation. While other Jedi worked together in harmony, he found himself alone. He wanted to be a part of the group dynamic, but it was increasingly clear that the feeling was not reciprocated. Maybe it was him? Maybe it was because of father and his last name, which is exponentially unfair, he was his own person. It was not worth dwelling on until another time, but the young Jedi Knight could not help it. Amidst this, his senses were almost constantly picking up on the lingering presence of the Dark Side. It weighed heavily on his spirit, threatening to consume him with despair. They were out there, somewhere.
But despite the constant temptation to give in to his inner turmoil and run them down, Connel made a concerted effort to continue his work. He knew that rebuilding the Jedi Temple was not just about restoring its physical structure, but also about rebuilding the hope and unity that had once defined the Jedi Order. It was about showing that light can shine even in darkness.
As minutes turned into hours, Connel poured his heart and soul into the reconstruction efforts. He worked tirelessly, his muscles and concentration straining as he cut through debris with his shield and cleared away rubble. And slowly, but surely, the Jedi Temple began to take shape once more. Make no mistake, there was still a lot of work to do, but “step by step” right?
But as Connel worked on building frames in the corridor leading to his quarters, his heart sank at the sight that greeted him. There, amidst the chaos and destruction, he could see Buster's destroyed bed. Buster, his loyal companion and friend, who had stood by his side through countless adventures and trials.
Tears welled up in Connel's eyes as he realized the full extent of the loss he had suffered. Buster, who had been a constant source of comfort and companionship in his darkest moments, was gone, at least right now. What of Ryana, the Padawan watching him? Was she? Where was Pip? Who else had fallen? He had heard of “Aunt” @Romi Jade… how will Cortana Jade
have to deal with that? As he stood there, surrounded by the remnants of his shattered past, Connel felt a deep sense of grief wash over him.
But even in his sorrow, Connel knew that he could not give up. He had a duty to fulfill, a promise to keep. And so, with a heavy heart and a renewed sense of determination, he vowed to continue the work of rebuilding the Jedi Temple, in honor of all those who had been lost. He would just press that grief, those feelings down further into his mind and away from the surface.
And as he raised his head once more, Vanagor knew that he would have to carry on. For in the darkest of times, it was the strength of his spirit and the bonds of friendship… even if his only friends were Buster and his astromech, that would see him through. And so, with a heavy heart and a resolute spirit, Connel Vanagor continued his work, knowing that the Force would guide him on his path.
The archives had been Gabriel's home away from home for years when he'd returned to Coruscant all those years ago. His office was adjacent to the section on kyber and lightsaber designs. Somehow, throughout the battle, that section of the archives had sustained minor damage. That didn't matter much, considering the bulk of the holos were aboard the Prosperity now. It seemed only half the shelves held the faint blue light of holobooks and datachrons. Through the window in his office, he could see the massive and ancient EVS construction droids hard at work rebuilding swaths of the city planet alongside a jungle of cranes and floating repair barges.
He heard the clatter of stone from outside and quirked a brow. Was the ceiling about to cave in somewhere again? He stepped out and wandered in search of the sound and instead found an open door. The newest member of the Jedi High Council sat working on a new bust, though whether it was for her own sake or to replace one of the smashed busts in the Temple museum was a mystery to him.
"Remarkable likeness," he said, stepping into the room. "Master Farr." Gabriel bowed his head. "Congratulations on your ascension to the Council."
A deep frown curled the corners of Zsinj's lips. This utter moron had nearly spilled thousand credit wine all over the carpet, which itself cost several hundred times that sum. He opened his mouth to answer the sheer stupidity of suggessting the extent of sabotage this half-wit had concocted, when the door clicked open behind him and his aide walked in with a credit chit in his hands.
"Ah, there we are, the rest of your payment. I do hope you can keep your," he gestured in the air as he interrupted himself, instead searching for a word that wouldn't insult the mobster quiet as much, "business out of the public eye? I'm expecting anything from strikes, delays in resource deliveries, to health and safety violations, and beyond. But no deaths. I don't want the Alliance press coming down on this, you got it? Absolutely no deaths."
The shuttle dropped out of hyperspace above Coruscant with the gentlest, smoothest shake a hyperdrive could manage. Yet it was still enough to sway the contents of the overfilled wine glass enough to make a few drops spill over the side. Zsinj followed the droplets with his eyes as they slowly ran down the side of the glass and along the long neck.
"That's the only rule," he murmured with cold disdain in his voice.
Matthew decisively engaged the creatures, conjuring a light shield that sparked to life with a radiant golden hue. Stepping forward with the shield, he executed a powerful shield bash, forcing the creatures back. Without hesitation, he advanced further, brandishing a golden sunsaber imbued with the attunement and focus of the Light Side.
Positioning himself between Valery Noble, Aris Noble, and the Hex Devil, Matthew demonstrated his commitment to their protection. The sunsaber hummed with energy as he deftly parried and struck at the present threat.
Matthew was no stranger to protective tasks, especially on the fields of battle. His presence was a bulwark, as he took point ready to take the brunt of the enemy's attacks, keeping them at bay and giving his companions a chance to strike from safety. The light of his shield and saber illuminated the area in a golden glow.
Jalen was quick to apply an antiseptic spray before procuring a sterile wet rag, cleaning out the wound to the best his abilities. When he was satisfied, feeling the presence of no further debrees, the young man let the flap of tissue fold back over. His hand went over the wound, beginning to fill the patients body with a radient energy that would be easily recognized as Force healing. Now that the injury was clean it was safe to seal up to stop the bleeding. A gentle exhale escaped Jalen's chest as he pulled his hands away, the wound now properly closed up, the cells themselves influenced to weave themselves back together.
The young medic turned, picking up the container of fluid his assistant had placed the nail within. He drew it close, feeling the aura within the container to get a read on what could potentially lie in the patient's blood.
"Blood seems healthy," he noted as he muttered to himself. "Oxygen presence is normal despite a weakened immune system. Lung damage is likely minimal and temporary. Inhilation of dust doesn't seem to have caused any critical harm..."
The younger Kai'el sighed, turning his head back to Tey. It was a formality more than anything. He couldn't see her, but she could certainly see him. It was easier to talk to someone when looking directly at their face, at least for folks who had their vision. Jalen set down the nail, returning the container to the workbench.
"Thank you for your assistance," Jalen told her. "Sorry. I've been told that I'm terribly blunt. I hope I didn't cause too much distress. You felt uneasy. I should have been more clear before we began the process."
Auras told you a lot about people, and your own actions in the process. It was easy to tell when you messed something up.
Dragica "Big Drago" Ferasi, the prime mobster of CoCo Town, lounged on a sunbed, his eyes hidden behind a pair of dark sunglasses. His enormous belly, gleaming with a meaty gloss, bulged out from beneath an unbuttoned short-sleeve shirt, catching the full glare of the high noon sun. An unfinished reconstruction project loomed behind him equally idle, bathing in the rays of sun without a construction worker on site. Beside him two of his top goons played sabacc, ranting about politics, the price of gaba'gool, and how it used to better back in the good ol' days.
Under the hefty motivation of a suitcase brimming with credits, Drago had made a few calls here and there: Red Vinny slipped some cash to that union leader over at Fifth and Raggus, got a quarter of the district's reconstruction efforts halted by organized strikes; from First and Selonia all the way up to the Tagge-Kuat Park, equipment and materials had gone missing, stolen by Fat Chiko and his crew; Wise Weiser had a cousin at the district pull out some thick red tapes, halting necessary permits for reconstruction efforts. Hell, Drago had even made a few calls to the Qennto Family at Senate District, see if they could slow some of the big projects going on.
