Populate Ode to the Fallen | GA Populate of Vendaxa

[Caltin Vanagor]

“Those who have long enjoyed such privileges as we enjoy forget in time that men have died to win them.” - Franklin D. Roosevelt​

They were still walking among those who were there to remember. Maybe to mourn, but to commemorate and even celebrate the lives of those who had passed on. Of course Caltin didn't really need to do much else and had the rest of the day to worry about the rest of the galaxy. Right now it was just him and her, walking, bonding, and being able to tell stories. It was when they reached one of the Senate Plaza lawns that he decided to walk by a campus and look around. This was a day of remembrance for those on Coruscant for their guard, why not do something like that here?

So with that the massive Jedi Master walked around the quad, shaking hands and offering gratitude to stunned officers, sailors and pilots. After all, it's not everyday a Jedi would come and thank you for your service, right? When he reached the memorial spot set up once by his brother n law he dropped to one knee. He was reading many of the letters, the transcripts, everything. Then he saw two teenagers who were trying to sneak away from what looked to be their family. They didn't look like bad kids, just ones who seemed to be bored.

"Why do we even have to be here, I didn't even know him."

"Me neither."

"I mean no disrespect... he died... soldiers die."

Then Caltin rose to his feet, he saw the chain on the neck of one of them, it was an emblem of a religion. Immediately the two kids turned to notice him, recognizing by the clothes who he looked to be.

You're religious? There is a poem my father once told me...

The soldier stood and faced his God Which must always come to pass...
He hoped his shoes were shining Just as brightly as his brass.
"Step forward now, you soldier, How shall I deal with you?
Have you always turned the other cheek? To My Church have you been true?"
The soldier squared his shoulders and Said,"No, Lord, I guess I ain't...
Because those of us who carry guns Can't always be a saint.
I've had to work most Sundays And at times my talk was tough,
And sometimes I've been violent, Because the streets are awfully tough.
But, I never took a penny That wasn't mine to keep...
Though I worked a lot of overtime When the bills got just too steep,
And I never passed a cry for help, Though at times I shook with fear,
And sometimes, God forgive me, I've wept unmanly tears.
I know I don't deserve a place Among the people here...
They never wanted me around Except to calm their fears.
If you've a place for me here, Lord, It needn't be so grand,
I never expected or had too much, But if you don't, I'll understand."
There was a silence all around the throne Where the saints had often trod...
As the soldier waited quietly, For the judgment of his God,
"Step forward now you soldier,
You've bore your burdens well,
Now come stand with my honor guard,
You've done your time in Hell."

"That's neat and all, but what does it have to do with us?"

The other one felt a little emboldened by that claim. "Yeah, no disrespect, but you're a Jedi... you're a hero... anyone can be a soldier."

Caltin just smiled and pointed at the teenager. Exactly, sure not everyone can be a Jedi, because not everyone is connected to the Force in the level that we are. However I will tell you that the thought of someone serving a government, a planet, an ideal that is so important that they are willing to give their life? That's something heroic to me, and I will tell you there have been enough soldiers, marines and sailors, as well as pilots that have pulled my fat out of the fryer. including the man you are avoiding seeing, that I have nothing but respect for each and every person who takes the commitment of the uniform so seriously that they would willingly do this.

Okay, that caught the both of them, and maybe a couple of others. "Okay, that is something I didn't expect, a Jedi respecting soldiers as equals?"

Caltin just shrugged. We have the Force, we're expected to do what we do. Each and every person, be it here... he said pointing out everywhere around... or here... he said pointing inside the memorial has to do the same without it. You tell me who is more heroic.

Nearby, standing within the disorganized group of onlookers and those remembering fallen comrades or friends, Admiral Liram Angellus said a quiet thanks to those that he had served with that didn't make it home. Though his family had a long history of service. he had taken on a new appreciation for those in uniform. Not wishing for recognition for being in the Army for several years now, his ears perked as he heard Caltin's voice and moved around to the other side of the large memorial to see him talking with the two boys. They were young and didn't understand his points, but he did.

They went silent at his last statement and he grinned at him appreciatively, then to the targets of the amazing poem and object lesson. "What he's getting at is that everyone that's willing to lay down their lives for a cause is recognized here on this monument. They fought so that you could worship and believe the way you want, so that no one could come here and make you do or think another way. Too many have tried too many times and failed because someone was willing to put on a uniform and pick up a rifle and stand between them and you."

Nodding quietly, they both glanced back to the statue standing above the pedestal as well as the wall of names, which he guessed there were thousands.

Grinning, the Admiral offered a handshake and a headnod, an unspoken, "thank you", then turned and headed from the area.


Tag: Loske Treicolt Asmundr Varobalder /Anyone on Coruscant that wants to converse.

Spoiler: Personal effects

"Vanguard" (Secondary - Long Handle)

"CONSERVATOR" (Primary - Long Handle)
HK-88 Robes, Battle Armor,Toraynor-Henkan(mind crystal added) Advanced Jedi Utility Belt
Starship: Spectre, (Jedi Interceptor in the hangar, Dilorian, and Bike both in the cargo bay, the late Karki Eusith's Armor, Shield, Temple Guard Lightsaber mounted on the wall)
Sanctuary Island

 

[Kyric]

Earlier that morning...

Thunk.

Wood split in two as Kyric swung downward with his ax. Both halves thudded down into growing piles on each side of the stump with dull thumps. He raised his arm to his forehead and wiped the sweat away before it could drip into his eyes. The kiffar's arms burned from the effort, as did his chest, but he couldn't find it in him to stop. A few more logs sat nearby, all that remained of what they collected the previous day. Somewhere nearby, Kyric could hear Maynard as he loaded a rusty wheelbarrow with chunks of wood in preparation to roll them back towards the house.

"Whoo," Kyric exhaled a short, choppy breath. He set the ax against the stump and knelt down for another log. "Just a few more, pop," he said aloud, more to his benefit than anyone else.

By then, the sun had begun its slow ascent into the sky. Half of it peeked over the horizon, painting the sky in brilliant shades of orange and red. Kyric paused his work, allowing himself a moment to scan the distant clouds as if searching for the ships he knew would arrive later in the day. When nothing jumped out at him, he lugged another log onto the stump, raised the ax high, and chopped down with a loud grunt.

Thunk.

Two more chunks of wood fell to the dirt.

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.

Kyric finished the remainder of the task in a silence only interrupted by his occasional grunt. As Maynard returned, he slipped the ax into a harness, looped it around his belt, and turned to face his caretaker.

"All done, sir," Kyric scooped up several of the hunks of wood, keeping some in hand while he locked others between his body and arms.

"I can see that, kid," Maynard got to work loading the wheelbarrow beside Kyric. Within a moment, the two of them finished the task. Maynard tightened his grip around the handles, lifted the pegs from the dirt, and pushed off towards the half-built pyre across the field. "How're ye feelin'?"

"Sore," the kiffar admitted as he shuffled alongside him.

"You look more alert," the older Jedi said. "I haven't seen you zone out since you started choppin'. Keep that focus. Your siblings will be relyin' on you today, Kyric. Can't have you starin' off into space, bleary-eyed like you're needin' a nap," they stopped beside the half-finished pyre, and Maynard turned to Kyric. "Once we finish up here, I want you to take a shower and clear yer head. Shouldn't take me long to finish the mornin' chores."

"You sure?" Kyric began stacking wood chunks, leaning them against a layer already laid in place.

Maynard nodded silently. Kyric looked for a moment as if he wanted to argue, but he instead turned back to the pyre and continued the work in silence. By the hour's end, the duo had completed the pyre. Kyric made his way towards the house, whereas Maynard stomped off towards the barn to finish some other preparations for the funeral.

​

Sometime later, not long after the others began to arrive, Kyric exited his bedroom and joined the gathering as the likes of Auteme, Aaran, and Lucien entered the home. Kyric maintained a distance from his late father's companions. It was partially out of respect for their loss, partially out of a sense of embarrassment, almost. Already, heroes, the genuine article, joined together to mourn the death of Ryv Karis. These people fought in a war that deposed the Sith Empire. They scattered the Bryn'adul to the winds. When the Brotherhood of the Maw pushed deeper into the Core, each of them continued the fight in their own way. Just as his father would've wanted.

He noticed Loske and Ripley talking to one another and smiled. It definitely would do his mom some good to get out, speak to old friends, and hopefully remember some of the good times.

"Looks like they got the message, dad," Kyric muttered. "They sure as hell are doing something," he wiped away tears even as they threatened to spill out onto his cheeks. Even in death, his father managed to bring people together.

He shoved his hands into the old brown leather jacket that once belonged to his dad and tried his best to remain unnoticed amongst the crowd.

Auteme | Lucien Dooku | Aaran Tafo | Loske Treicolt | Ripley Kühn | Cotan Sar'andor | Asmundr Varobalder ​

 

[Iris]

A friend of a friend.

That's how she had gotten here. At the time the invitation had been enticing. She had lost someone on Typhon and the waves of grief came without consideration for the time or the place. She had kept it in. What else was there to do? Nea's energy was no longer around her, but life moved on. She would honor her soon.

Soon.​

​

Soon.​

The promise kept getting pushed out, until this address landed on her lap. It had felt right so she didn't question it. That was, until the shuttled stopped at the edge of an estate.

It's solidarity shocked her; as did the relatively small number of people she felt lingering inside. She pressed herself to the window. Was this... a private gathering? Oh force.

It was.

Her stomach sank as she stepped out. A little voice inside her head screamed at her to sit back down and go back home, but her embarrassment won out. Someone was standing besides her. They would see.

She blushed and gestured for Corin Trenor to walk first, wavering awkwardly in place. Maybe she could sneak in behind him.



Would it be rude to eat the food?

 

[Corin Trenor]

Stories.

Of the Sword of the Jedi, Corin had known no more than shared tales. Told with a heartfelt smile and a series of small chuckles, devoid of all the sadness and bitterness that fell over some faces now. He still lived, then. His Master, Kaze, had no more words on offer about the famed man that Corin shared a name with since the event that had taken his life, it was all storm clouds and doom since his demise; either from the troublesome scenario that involved the former student, or now of all this. It was all an ache, unlike one Corin had come to know, or so the Padawan assumed, or wished in some vain bid to think the heartache could lessen. But on that dirt road outside the Treicolt homestead, as a stare found itself off into the distant horizon, Corin could do little more than kick rocks and stuff his hands inside the leathers - not his leathers, no, rather old ones that Dagon had no need for now.

"How about we head inside now?" He asked, his voice in a soft almost tentative tone for once, before the two wandered in one after the other. Corin followed with a meek smile that teased at the corner of his mouth whenever he crossed eyes with someone, then lost it in the moment that came after. To be there in a flash, and vanish in the next. But Corin had not known them, in the home of someone he had not known, to mourn the loss of someone he had not known. It felt odd, foul almost, but he was there for someone that would be there for him. And so rarely had his attention shifted from Dagon.

Just some little brother in the clothes of the elder. To catch him should he fall, crumble beneath the pressure.

Even as Loske welcomed Dagon, Corin stayed his tongue and watched and listened.

Dagon Kaze Cotan Sar'andor Auteme Lucien Dooku Ripley Kühn Aaran Tafo Kyric Loske Treicolt

 

[Ishida Ashina]

GRATEFUL LIGHT
CORUSCANT | SENATE PLAZA | KYBER ARCH
THE HIGHEST TRIBUTE TO THE DEAD
IS NOT GRIEF
BUT GRATITUDE

​

It was an intimate sort of ceremony, even with throngs of people just tens of meters away.

"Ashina."
"You going to be long?"

Or just a few feet.

She opened her eyes, stared ahead at the spirals of smoke for a few beats, swallowed deeply and then turned to look over her shoulder. Warden Vilchis. It could have been no other.

With her hands flattened against her thighs, Ishida gave one final bow of her head to the soft curl of turquoise vapour. Her emotions since Tython had been pacified under the guise of distraction, and the more she pretended, the more she convinced herself she was honouring duty.

BECAUSE OUR DUTY WEIGHS HEAVIER THAN YOUR FAILURE

"No." She answered, and rose to stand.

Now, she faced The Warden in her entirety. Her stature was as impressive as Ishida had always imagined, through short stories and anecdotal references — But she looked worse than Sardun had ever described her.

Her observations were made in typical Ashina silence.

Atypical to Ashina, however, she was hesitant about how to continue the conversation. This big woman was Sardun's right-hand (ironic considering Vilchis' absence of one) — and now she was..what?

Silence stretched for a few heartbeats before Ishida folded her hands in front of her politely.

"Master Sardun asked you to deliver something?"

His name burned in her throat.

"Is here alright, or should I follow you elsewhere?"

 

[Damian Du Couteau]

Damian Du Couteau
Location: Coruscant, Senate Building
Action: Meet with Senator and offer gift
Outfit

​

​

Time moved forward, each second, each minute, each hour passed one after another before finally. . . well until finally there were no more observers. Damian remembered his father talking about an idea that things change when there are observers to perceive the changes. So would time end when there was no one to observe it? Would anything matter if there weren't anyone else to witness?​

​

Well there will be observers now, watching what we do with my father's estate. ​

​

The ship rocked once, signaling to him that they had entered the atmosphere, as well as reminding him of his purpose. The existential thoughts could be saved for later, Damian relaxed his clenched fists and readied himself to engage with the grand ceremony for the fallen during the Second Great Hyperspace War. The new young Du Couteau heir exited the ship and followed a pair of Senate Guards that led him through the Senate building and towards one of the observatories.​

​

A small display screen showed Damian that the Chancellor was honoring the sacrifice his Father made on Teta. A building was renamed to the Du Couteau building to serve as the main office for the Galactic Alliance Monetary Authority; to which Damien remembered his father endlessly complained of the piles of data-slates that only seemed to multiply whenever he returned back to his office here on Coruscant.​

​

The gesture was appreciated, Damian imagined his father’s possible reaction of having his name plastered on a building that only gave him sleepless nights of work. Even in death I have data-slates to watch over and file. A soft smile broke his thin line lips, almost breaking into a laugh even but the moment passed. One of his personal guards approached him and held out the gift box and Damian nodded in thanks. He turned away from the observatory and headed back into the Senate Building to find the recipient.​

​

His father’s will was a bit lengthy, the instructions were rather impressively detailed, and Damian was rather a stickler for following orders down to the letter. And his father’s instructions were regarded to an even higher level of deference and duty. Damien walked over to the private meeting room where he was to meet Senator Tagge and deliver his father’s gift.​

​

Entering the room he gestured to both his private and Senate Guards to hang back in the hallway and looked for Senator Tagge.​

​

Performing a full bow with the top half of his body, Damian introduced himself; “Senator Brama Tagge, I am Damian Du Couteau, the executor of my father’s will.” His voice, soft and unused, suddenly came out in what he hoped was booming and authoritative. “-A gift to serve as a token of his appreciation towards you and as a rememberance .” Damian stretched out the gift forward with both hands while maintaining his bow.​

​

The rectangle box was held up for Senator Tagge to receive and open to find a cape, one that held no real special properties for combat (except to dazzle opponents). The cape had come from his father’s true home-world of Abrion Major, created by an old family Tailor. The deep blue color accented with the golden embroidery were threaded and woven together by expert hands that only worked to produce excellence. His father often complained how long each cape took, but each and every time he went to grab them the complains somehow vanished from his mind. Only to return once he paid the tailor, but that was something else entirely.​

​

|| Brama Tagge ||​

 

[Auteme]

Lucien Dooku | Loske Treicolt Aaran Tafo Kyric Ripley Kühn Cotan Sar'andor Asmundr Varobalder Corin Trenor Dagon Kaze ​

Auteme managed a half smile for Loske, but not much more. Being inside the house was starting to make it a little more real. She didn't want to start bawling just yet, so she didn't say anything, and kept her words to a bare minimum. "Hey Loske."

She paused a moment in the doorway, not yet ready to greet the others, only for another to come to her.

She turned when he called, pausing only a moment before rushing into his arms. She kissed him, embraced him, failed to find the words. Her grief had been consuming her since she'd left Tython. She could feel how it was taking him, too -- paradoxically, it was more comforting than anything else. They wallowed in the feeling together.

"It's- it's okay," she murmured into his jacket. Of course she'd wanted him there, that layer of comfort knowing that he was fighting as hard as she was. Looking back and finding regrets would do no good.

"I'm just happy you're here." She held him a little tighter, not quite ready to let go.

 

[Brama Tagge]

THE SENATOR OF TEPASI
CORUSCANT || SENATE BUILDING || PERSONAL CHAMBER
Damian Du Couteau

It was normal for someone her age to go to funerals. The more she celebrated anniversaries of friendships, the more age and sickness slimmed her list of close companions.

But the war had her attending more funerals than her calendar could sustain, and they were for colleagues. strong soldiers she'd served alongside at one point, and then politicians who shared similar visions.

Aerarii Tithe 's speech for the young Du Couteau was appropriate, and with the service over, Brama had promptly retired back to her quarters within the Senate Building and poured herself a stiff drink. Boyce and Gido, her hounds, panted happily at her feet.

As bitter as the whiskey was, it went down too smoothly. And she was about to pour herself a second when her datapad buzzed.

"Confound it.." She muttered. Every time the damn thing went off, the vibrations rattled through her bones and confounded her for half a second. It was clear where the buzzing was coming from, the pocket in her overcoat, but for some reason every time she dug around for it the stupid little device was just out of reach. It buzzed again and hummed against her hand while she squinted at the too-small-type. Its message put a pause in her pour.

The blast doors hissed open, and a striking likeness to the deceased entered. Just a boy.

Boyce and Gido rose to their feet, tails wagging and eager to sniff the entrant. Brama held up a hand, palm flat, to gesture they withhold their advance.

“Senator Brama Tagge, I am Damien Du Couteau, the executor of my father’s will.”

Polite, as expected. Brama offered a polite smile, just a crack through thin lips, and tilted her head. The youth saw no gesture from the woman, he remained bent and extended his arms with a charming offering.

“-A gift to serve as a token of his appreciation towards you and as a rememberance .”

Brama was touched. Her age-hardened expression of stoic indifference softened and she reached forward to accept the gift. With hands on either side of the box, Damian was free to stand straight. It took no time at all for her to click the seal open, and withdraw the length of fabric contained within. It shimmered when it moved, catching the light from the window and ceiling. The gold threads glimmered from the setting sun, and the blue came alive under the fluorescents.

A cape.

Brama chuckled and held it up by the shoulders, peering at the detail with an appreciation for the handiwork.

"Your father was always a fashionable man." The elder complimented and rotated the view of the garment. Knowingly, she smiled to herself. She checked the tag on the inside for washing instructions, and her chuckle amplified again. Wrinkle-free fabric.

That had been one of her first exchanges with Seto, once upon a time ago.

To honour the gift-bearer, and show appreciation, she bound the cape around her shoulders and forced almost arthritic fingers to snap it closed.

"My thanks to you." In fanfare, she spread her arms to flash it off for Damian's approval. "And to your father.

But this is a sombre day to be running errands, Damian Du Couteau." Brama acknowledged and gestured to the open chair. An unspoken invitation to sit.

"Do you drink?"

He looked young, maybe too young — but the galaxy's laws were always changing, and if they weren't actively being discussed in the senate who was she to keep abreast of all the changes? Maybe they were letting younglings sip grapes nowadays.

"Or would you like to start?"

 

[Ripley Kühn]

:// Auteme | Loske Treicolt | Dagon Kaze | Kyric //:
:// all and then most of you, some and now none of you //:

​

Loske's embrace took the zeltron by surprise, but it was a welcome one. For just a moment, Ripley allowed herself respite, burying her face in blonde tresses. They smelled like strawberries and peaceful days. Ripley soaked in the woman's strength, stealing a small part for herself, allowing the tears to be shed where they were protected from the world.

"Lean on me. It's okay. Lean on the others, too. Loske would never turn you away, neither would Auteme or Maynard. The NJO, as fucked up as we are, are a family."

Ryv's counsel had fallen on deaf ears a lifetime ago, when pain and suffering had turned a youthful heart to stone. Time eased all things. She heeded them now, hoping that he was smiling on the reunion.

When she finally pulled away, interrupted by the scamper of small people, a smile swept the melancholy from her face. It had taken a tragedy, but they were all together- those who walked into the Stygian Caldera, and the new life and friendship which had been kindled since. The embrace that Ashla held upon the gathering made her think those who hadn't come out were with them, too. The change, as hard as it was to witness, was a beautiful thing.

With eyes reminiscent, her gaze swept the room, until they finally fell on Kyric. A slow blink brought her away from memory lane. The teen was more than a chip off the block; it could have been Ryv as she knew him when they had met, leather jacket and all. In a maternal pull, Ripley gravitated towards him, laying a hand on his shoulder.

"Maynard says you did good work today." She noted, looking wearily onto the party. "I'm proud of you for deciding to stay out here, at least for a while. It's hard work, but good for the soul. Your dad and I, we never really got to escape the core when we were your age... but we always wanted to."

Her arm stretched over his back, drawing him into a short squeeze.

"He would have been proud of you too, Kyric. You stay out here as long as you want. I'll take care of your sisters and the bar."

Her voice had grown deeper, but with a deep sigh and a swallow, she erased the threat of more tears.

"You should get out there and talk to folks. Your dad had an ocean to him, and these people... they knew other sides of him. It'll be good for you to learn about who he..." Was... "Is to the galaxy. I can introduce you to some, if you want."

 

[Zark San Tekka]

GOSHEN DUNGEONS
LAO-MON
Osarla Ridor Suri Vullen
​

Master San Tekka fell in and out of consciousness. He remembered the ritual on Tython. Alliance and Imperial dropships blasting off. Something called to him out in the desert. Trusting his feelings, the Jedi followed. Zark could sense darkness beyond the strange alien gate he found but there was no turning back now. Remaining behind was likely to be a death sentence.

"Asmundr..." he groaned in pain.

But there was no light here. Only suffering. Black gates and countless foes. His potential value as a prisoner alone spared him. Twisted spires loomed ahead. Cruel hands dragged him into the dark pits below. Mutant war beasts snapped at the Jedi and primitive marauders jeered Zark as he passed. Left forgotten in this dismal gloom he tried to meditate. Gentle shakes stirred him back to the light.

"Captain Ridor?" San Tekka wondered if he was hallucinating, "If this is a rescue...I have some notes on your technique."

 

[Vilchis]

Ishida Ashina

"Here is fine. He never stood for ceremony and neither do I." Vilchis said simply before revealing a wrapped-up package from the folds of her jacket. Instead of immediately giving it however?

There was a brief moment of hesitation.

Eyes narrowing as she looked down on the Padawan.

"I do not think this is a good idea." She warned while trying to suppress the feeling of greed. It was there, skin-deep, a greed that wanted to claim the ring within herself and everything that it represented. The power, the prestige, the sun of the light almost bursting in your chest when you wore it. She quickly passed the package to Ashina before it could consume her.

"But the Master was clear. This is now yours. You can wear it, or you can hold it, but I hope you will treat it with the reverence it deserves."

A load left her shoulders once she lost contact with the package.

The nagging desire slowly seeping away from under her skin. She straightened out. It was clear a weight had been holding her down since Sardun's passing.

 

[Ishida Ashina]

GRATEFUL LIGHT
CORUSCANT | SENATE PLAZA | KYBER ARCH
THE HIGHEST TRIBUTE TO THE DEAD
IS NOT GRIEF
BUT GRATITUDE

​

"Here is fine. He never stood for ceremony and neither do I."

Vilchis’ comment had teeth, and Ishida felt its bite. She almost flinched.

Instead, she tried to just nod in agreement. Vilchis, after all, had been the one to make a trek to The Core from wherever she and Sardun had been crusading.

"I do not think this is a good idea."

Ishida sucked the fragranced air in through her teeth, keeping silent while suspicion or agitation simmered beneath the skin. It was only her knowledge of the woman and her relationship with Sardun that kept Ishida’s petulance at bay.

After a few heartbeats of silence, the mega-woman handed over the tiny box. Ishida received it with both hands, instantly feeling the radiance from within. A small gasp hopped out of her throat, and she flashed a look down at the shape in her hands, then back to The Warden.

All the emotions she hadn’t sat with and sorted through threatened a tremble at the corners of her mouth.

“I will.” She promised both the ring and the warden. “Thank you for bringing it to me.” It seemed hard for Vichis to part with. What had Sardun left her, other than a half-useless prison?

She sighed and lowered her hands. Keeping the box in a grip between her thumbs. Something told her she might not want to open it and try the ring on now, in front of Vilchis. Ishida was also not..mentally prepared for that taxing exercise.

“Warden Vilchis,” Ishida began. “Why don't you think this is a good idea?”

 

[Asmundr Varobalder]

THE WARDEN
CONCORD DAWN | HARLAN | TREICOLT HOMESTEAD

"Let's agree to shelve it for now, Asmundr. We've got more important things to do now, and I've got a delivery to make."

It took a great amount of strength for the Warden not to comment on Cotan's effectiveness at lecturing from a hoverchair. After all, he was managing quite well to correct Asmundr while he was being hovered around.

He simply cleared his throat and maintained a smug expression instead. One that Cotan likely wouldn't be able to see through his beard and the base of his chin. Height's advantage.

That expression didn't last long, however. The more meters they crossed to get back to the group, the more the reality of the day hung in the air. It was as if the winds around the farm themselves were sad, whistling mopily over the heads of wheat that rustled around the pastures.

Asmundr pushed Cotan into the centre of the group, just outside the main home — and at a respectful distance for the mother and son to make their exchanges.

"Do you intend to complete your delivery before or after the pyre ceremony?"

A grim responsibility indeed.

---

Cotan Sar'andor | Dagon Kaze | Kyric | Ripley Kühn | Corin Trenor | Caltin Vanagor

 

[Cotan Sar'andor]

Even if Asmundr managed to resist saying any more, the moment of smugness could still be felt. Still, Cotan decided to stand by his suggestion to let the matter drop for the time being; between being stuck in the hoverchair and what they were actually here for, his normally-good humour had been replaced with a much shorter temper, and it wouldn't do any good to let that fuse burn down so quickly.

"After," he replied as they came up to the group. "Before isn't only not the right time, it feels almost cruel." Best not to drop any further responsibilities on Kyric's shoulders, or spring any major surprises on him, until after the most current and pressing matter had been dealt with, he'd decided before they'd even exited hyperspace.

It didn't take long for him to place everybody who was there. Only a couple surprises among them really stood out to him; once he was close enough, he reached out and tapped Corin on the elbow. "Try not to look too worried, kid," before nodding over at Dagon and Loske. "He's around friends, you can relax a little." Then his attention shifted in an instant, his eyes falling upon the Totally-Not-A-Miraluka standing off to the side from Auteme and Lucien.

"Aaran Tafo? It feels like it's been years. How've you been?"

Loske Treicolt Asmundr Varobalder Aaran Tafo Auteme Lucien Dooku Dagon Kaze Corin Trenor Kyric Ripley Kühn

 

[Dagon Kaze]

Dagon remained still as a tree, apprehension to draw his eyes to the pyre in the distance planted his feet. As if a mere glance at the wooden structure would truly and finally rip him away from that horizon he so yearned for. As if there was still a way back to those nights of wonder among his closest friends, a little younger, a little dreamier.

And yet, his friends were all here. Once more reunited by Ryv, the glue that had bound them together, alas for all the wrong reasons now. Was this what lay for them going forward? Would death be the sole reason that brings them together on a table that had no maps, no battleplans, no casualty reports? He could blame neither Maynard nor Loske for writing a new chapter for their lives. The pen had not been in their hands. It had been in the hands of the ungrateful few they considered fellow allies, the few preachers who'd welcomed their return from the Stygian as villains rather than heroes.

"Dagon," hearing his name yanked his senses back from his wistful spiral, "It's good to see you."

"Loske." he wasn't sure how long had it been but the dark circles of a caring mother beneath her eyes told him it had been too long, "Likewise -- been a while huh?" the Jedi mustered half a smile before he greeted her with a hug, "Never thought you'd ever replace a cramped up cockpit for a Mandalorian homestead." Dagon jokingly remarked before a shadow crept up beside him, "This is my apprentice - Corin. Corin, Loske." he nodded at the teenager looming about next to him, "Uh, you need help with something?" he asked, softly scratching the back of his head. Everyone seemed to be doing something and he wouldn't refuse an offer to keep his mind busy.

Auteme Aaran Tafo Loske Treicolt Ripley Kühn Kyric Cotan Sar'andor Asmundr Varobalder Lucien Dooku @everyonenshiz​

 

[Vilchis]

Ishida Ashina

She eyed Ishida as she took the box.

There was a measure of gratitude the young girl didn't immediately try to unpack and try it on. That might have been too much for Vilchis to handle, especially with everything still feeling so... raw.

Luckily too that the young Padawan kept herself serene.

There was a sense of turmoil flashing from her. True. But who didn't feel raw, wound unpatched, grim after what had transpired on Tython? Vilchis still felt angry about it. While she was wasting time in the Outer Rim, her prison had been breached, her prisoners stampeding and running buckwild. And now she couldn't even return to Tython either to sort things out.

Not with everything being so instable. They weren't even sure if there would still be a karking Tython at the end of this. Which... by itself... was almost too large to think of.

A holy world that was part of the fabric of their history for millennia and it was being torn asunder by the wound in the Force.

"The weight is too big to carry, Ashina." Again using her family name. Was that everything Ishida was to her? Or maybe it was just easier to immediately separate her from the combined legacy the Lord of Light had thrust on them with his untimely demise. "He shouldn't have put this on you." A quick shake of the head, cutting that trail of thought away.

"But he did. And so this blabbering is meaningless. Will you return to the Band and help us, now that he's gone?"

 

[Damian Du Couteau]

Damian Du Couteau
Location: Coruscant, Senate Building
Action: Meet with Senator and offer gift
Outfit

​

​

Damian felt the weight of the gift lift up from his arms, slowly he straightened back up and placed either hands down to his sides. He nodded in agreement with the Senator’s assessment of his father, fashion had always been important to him. And it extended to both my sister and I to an almost suffocating degree. Damian smiled inwardly as a memory of his father fretting over the creases on his pants and shirts, or the lack of frills on his sister’s outfits.​

​

“My father enjoyed fashion greatly and then some.” Damian agreed, as he watched Senator Tagge put on the cape and with near graceful flare it gently fluttered back down. He clasped both hands in front of him and clapped softly for a few seconds. “Wonderful!” A smile ghosted the corners of his lips, a moment later it dissipated quickly when he felt his cheeks strain in the effort.​

​

He slightly tilted his head at the question, a slight red of embarrassment but he nodded in the affirmative. “Yes, I do.” Damian spoke. He had enjoyed many drinks for social galas, Royal Balls and over assorted gatherings that required him to be polite. But his appearance gave a different impression clearly, Damian hoped to rectify it all.​

​

He was told he shouldn’t worry about his boyish appearance, it was explained that he still had some two years before his body officially finished growing. He walked over to the chair available for him and sat down, the previous comment of running errands made no sense to him, it was because of the somber event he journeyed to Coruscant. It was his duty, and demanded him to fulfill his late father’s final requests.​

​

“I am bound by duty to fulfill my father’s will. . .” Damian explained, his voice quivered a tad with uncertainty. Usually whenever he needed an explanation to Noble Etiquette and “Olden Unwritten Rules” he normally asked his father. ‘Rubbish’ he called them, ‘-but necessary rubbish we are obligated to follow’ he would later add. ​

​

“And truthfully, I have mourned quite a bit since. . . well. . . .” Damian cleared his throat, “-My father had a lot of confidence in the Alliance, and it was all because of people he met, people like you Senator Tagge.” Damian quickly explained. “I couldn’t pass up the chance to meet someone that my father looked up to. . .” He offered finally, forcing himself to remain still and project what confidence he himself still had to show.​

​

|| Brama Tagge ||​

 

[Loske Treicolt]

CONCORD DAWN | HARLAN | TREICOLT HOMESTEAD
TIME’S GREATEST CRUELTY
AND GREATEST BLESSING
IS THAT NOTHING STAYS THE SAME

​

Years and years lost materialized on the Treicolt homestead. A wayward spacer, now head of the Imperial nation. A meek Jedi, now a Senator for The Alliance. A balanced hero, a farseer who didn't see it coming, two Jedi who represented the future and a weary-eyed youth on the outskirts, watching it all.

Flesh, blood and bones of memories walking around and thinly keeping the emotions of the day contained. Loske felt her own simmering just below her skin, blistering hotly and vying for release. When Dagon hugged her, they threatened to squeeze out. She drew in a sharp breath, shoving them away just as he introduced the silhouette that sidled up next to him.

At the introduction, Loske's countenance feigned incredulity. White irises matched with Dagon's, and she turned those faux lines into something warmer, more welcoming on behalf of the Apprentice.

"Welcome, Corin. It's a shame this is your first experience of the farm but..nevertheless, you're always welcome." Maynard and Loske's selfishness ended when it came to making the choices to remain out of the war — their generosity continued with the extension of providing a sanctuary for anyone who may need peace.

"Uh, you need help with something?"

"We'll be lighting the pyre soon. Are you prepared to help with that?"

She glanced in the direction of Ripley and Kyric, and her expression turned neutral. The timing of everything felt so precious and sensitive. There was a sanctity to his eulogy that didn't match the carefree approach Ryv wished he had to his life.

"Maybe check in with Kyric, see when you'll want to start."

---

---

Auteme | Aaran Tafo | Dagon Kaze | Ripley Kühn | Corin Autem | Cotan Sar'andor | Kyric | Lucien Dooku

 

[Dracken Pryce]

THE LIGHT CAN NEVER DIE
CORUSCANT || SENATE PLAZA || KYBER ARCH
Ava Cartwright-Pryce

The light could never die. He watched the battle unfold from his office on Coruscant as updates trickled in from across the Deep Core and back to Galactic Alliance High Command. He had shouted for joy and kissed his wife and swung his kids around and around when he'd gotten the news that the Maw's superweapon had been thwarted, their forces routed. But as the day went on the names kept coming. Zark San Tekka MIA, Osarla Ridor MIA, Admiral Zahara Myneto killed in action, the Emperor, Rurik Fel killed in action, Ryv . Ryv. Dead. Where he had come from, he had no idea but a Jedi of his caliber was probably why the Maw had been thwarted.

When the Maw had cut straight through the Core he had thought that the Alliance at Tython would be next. But through the actions of those brave Jedi and the brave young men and women of the Alliance they defeated the Maw in the Alliance's first major victory since Copero.

When the Force closed a hatch, it opened a viewport, but what did it cost? Pryce had watched the astromech holo procession of the fallen earlier, though it was still going on to his knowledge. He'd heard from Auteme that a few of the Jedi were having a private ceremony to celebrate the life and passing of the Sword somewhere in Imperial space. The other Jedi though...They were here, along with thousands of civilians. The people and the Jedi had had a bumpy road over the last few years, but in this time of grief, it seemed everyone had lost someone.

Pryce held his own shard of kyber tightly in his right hand, his left hand wrapped firmly around the much smaller hand of his son.

His son's grip tightened suddenly as they walked closer to the arch.

"I'm going to be a Jedi," Gabe said. Pryce looked down and saw for the first time the fire alight in the young boy's eyes. His eyes were bright blue like his mother's. Brighter even. Something tightened in Pryce's stomach then. He'd always trusted the Jedi...But could he really trust them with his own son? His daughter if she said the same?

'You're getting sentimental,' he thought to himself. 'You only need trust in the Force.' His grip tightened around Gabe's hand, suddenly so large. When had he grown so much?

"You will should the Force allow." For now, all they could do was take the next step forward. That was the most important step one could take.

Forward.

​

​

 

[Ikenna Tahj]

REMEMBERING
ALDERAAN || ASCENSION || STARLIGHT VIEW ROOM​

​

Ike had been useless in this war. Old and stuck in his ways he was content to keep his family and his queen as safe as he could. But it wasn't enough. Burn him but it wasn't. He stared at his reflection in the transparisteel. Clad in his pristine armor, saber at his hip and helm in the crook of his arm. He looked all the fool now didn't he? Tython was saved. But at what cost? Despite the death of thousands of soldiers and dozens of good Jedi his mind continued to return to one tragic death.

Solipsis would go down in history as one of the greatest murders of this century and one of the most powerful and dangerous Sith lords to date. But Ike could not but help but mourn the Jedi that he'd once been. Strong. Loyal. He'd been a friend to Ike in their youth before they both left the Temple. He doubted that monster would have even recognized him in the state he was in. Should he have felt bad about the way he felt? He'd long since given up on that Jedi drivel about detachment and balance. But even still, could he really mourn the childhood friend lost more than the Sword of the Jedi?

Ike placed a big hand on the transparisteel and gazed out at the peaceful space around Alderaan as ships moved between the planet and hyperspace and the station, their lives unchanged by this profound day of loss. He felt a tightening in his chest and knew the tears were coming.

Yes. Ike would mourn the childhood friend today. Today he said goodbye to Kaigann Fossk.