Dominion Re:Storation [CIS Domion of Rodia Hex]

[Eternal Bones]

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One of the founding worlds of the Confederacy, Rodia was yet another site of battle between the Confederacy of Independent Systems and the terrorist organization that has attacked it again and again. A small team of enemy agents infiltrated the planet, bypassing whole fleets and armies to accomplish their objectives. Regardless of the immense Confederate presence both on and above the planet, enemy operatives were able to infiltrate the Capital City of Rodia and, while there, engage, bog down, and hassle Confederate forces while Terrorist Operatives detonated a charge on the dome surrounding the City, destroying it and forcing a military withdrawal of the area.

However, the losses sustained were, remarkably, low both military and, primarily, civilian. Thanks to advanced warning the enemy issued, the order to evacuate the entire planet had been given by the Vicelord himself. A herculean effort for any nation, to be sure, but one the Confederates undertook well in advance of the attack, due to the arrogant warning by the enemy. Very few innocent lives were in the crossfire. Hurt pride and bruised egos proved to be the majority of Confederate military casualties for the skirmish. That isn’t to say lives weren’t lost. Several soldiers did lose their lives in defense of Rodia, but as CIS forces re-enter and restore Rodia, it is plain to see their sacrifices were not in vain. Now the task of reconstruction began. Reintroducing the Civilian population following their evacuation before the attack, was the first step.

But it would not be the last.

The city had suffered severe structural damage both from direct fighting and from the destruction of the dome, and would require extensive rebuilding. Much work would need to be done. There were homes to be rebuilt, repaired, or replaced entirely if the damage was too great. Debris had to be swept from the streets, holes caused by explosion, repaired. All evidence there ever was a fight to be removed and those lost, remembered.

Any trace of the terrorists would be removed.

Memorials to those lost would be erected

It was time to Restore Rodia!

Spoiler: ”OBJECTIVES”

The population of Rodia was safely evacuated long before any fighting took place on the planet. And now that the danger has passed, it is time to bring them home. Reintroduce the billion plus misplaced Rodians to their planet.

Bring them home.

The damage caused by war is ever apparent in the streets and buildings of the Rodian capital city. Discarded weaponry and bits of droid still litter the streets, as well as debris caused by explosions or other weaponry. Many buildings are damaged, others downright destroyed. These are the homes and businesses of loyal Confederate citizens.

Repair them.

Rodia was just another battleground in a war against evil. It wasn’t the first, it wasn’t the last. Memories of the small battle can be found on the streets, in many forms. And with the devastation caused by the dome, many things would need to be changed for the City. Indeed, for the planet as well.

What will you do?

Spoiler: ”TAG LIST

Alban Roble
Ettiene Kharne
Amelia von Sorenn
A Arisone
Archon Xris
Alaria Telwith
Aston Jacobs
Aya Clarke
Bastille Rommer
Beric Layne
Bentil Mortop
Bullwark
@BX-1335
Caesar Kenway
Corvus Dravere
Colton Renth
Damsy Callat
Jayce Pryde
Decious
Eli-Mae Forrest
Eryneth
Fawn Alzi
Faye Malvern
FN-1138
Gerwald Lechner
Holt
IG-65A
Ingrid L'lerim
Joannis Campbell
John Locke
Karlie Lynn Destat
Kasca Fen
Kathryn Foster
Kayla Wylen
Kiff Brayde
Krystal
Kurenai Yumi
Kyber
Lady Moll
Luna Terrik
Lyla Quinn
Maani
Maple Harte
Mathieu Brion
Fury of Aerðs
Rabbit
Rann Thress
Maria Savilia
Maur
Millu Lee
Muad Dib
Myrrdin_Emries
Nine Lives
L LGMForever
R4-AUD
Razelle Breuner
Redd
Roy Americus
Ryk Gaelir
Rylan Kordel
SC-A1
Srina Talon
Startorn
Subject 73 Red
Talon Rahl
Talak Jenste
ToKola Bakari
Tess Valnora
Tyran Numeck
Valencia Hadley
Vanric Dannon
Veronika Fleischer
Visanj T'shkali
Kyyrk
Vyse de Valorous
Vytal Noctura
Valeria de la Vallée
Uxagi Xatash
Rayne Centaris
Ryk Gaelir
Taiia Locke
Sabine Delacroix
Vess Sadragen
Anashla Deshal
Lesya Kosarev
Jordar Varcskel
Julra Repraj
Ashelia Solidor
The Monster
Draconis Sederius Wolf
Karlie Lynn Destat
Easy-G97
Jason Farkas
Cypher Rage
Danielle Mueller
Nimue
Anakwor Farlorn
Lyra Vent
Teyla Sal-Soren
Corran Watts

 

[Darth Metus]

R O D I A​

Tag: Srina Talon

Rodia.

The homeworld of the reptilian Near-Humans was one which held special significance to the Confederacy of Independent Systems. Decades ago, when these very worlds first united under the first attempt, it was Rodia who was among the founding worlds. Now, it stood proudly as a member of the successor - a stronger, bolder Confederacy. Yet, as was the reality of any nation, the strength of their borders would not remain uncontested. An insurrection rose by hands who were once aligned with the Southern Systems.

Their weapon was terror. Yet, unlike Ryloth, Rodia was prepared.

In advance, the world had been evacuated in anticipation of the battle. The domed cities were picked clean of civilian life so that the Confederate armed forces could do battle in earnest. The result was a shockingly low loss of assets. And, most importantly, the billions of Rodians were left unscathed from the attack. Though the battle itself was not the most ideal, hope was on the horizon. In the here and now, it was time that the people of Rodia make their return to that place called home.

The energy in the air was electrifying as the dropships surged out of Hyperspace. Given how monumental an occasion this was, the Vicelord himself was among the dropships - among his people - as they entered the world's orbit. He sat upon the frigid floor of the vessel, playing a children's card game with the son of the Viceroy. There were laughs. There was joy. The weapon of the enemy had not penetrated the people: Fear and Terror were nowhere to be found aboard the vessel.

Only a hair's breath away from the Vicelord was his stalwart apprentice. She was the moon to his sun. The winter to his summer. Opposites in every way conceivable, yet betwixt them ran a kinship thicker than familiar blood. Bound, were they, by even the Force. And as the Sith wrapped up his card game, her thoughts were open to his mind. His presence would brush against her own, a simple greeting that she was fully accustomed to. Together, they would shepherd the people home. Together, they were at their strongest.

The dropship lurched as the landing finally took place. The landing ramp extended, and the light of day poured into the vessel. Darth Metus rose, shielding his eyes as the Rodians aboard began to file out. The Viceroy's immediate and extended kin to be exact. Theirs was a dome not too far removed from the capital, and at a glance it seemed destruction had not fallen upon them. Now it was the time to see them home. The Sith reached out, gingerly grazing his fingertips against the arm of his Apprentice.

"Shall we be off?"​

 

[Rience]

Tag: Cordelia Malkavian

Terror was an Effective Tool.

To instill fear in an adversary is to render their best defenses obsolete. Fear is the crack which manifests in the wall. The chink in the armor. The break in the enemy line. To successfully sow this seed can spell the difference between Victory and Defeat, regardless of odds. In the case of Rodia, it seemed, the seeds had failed to take root. For as out of the loop as Rience was, even he could not ignore the buzzing in the air. Though he was the furthest thing from an empath, the Force itself was alive with a whirlwind of sensations.

Hopes. Joy. Excitement.

It was like watching a horde of children on Life Day, rushing towards the tree at the crack of dawn for presents. Thus, the man was unable to keep his lips from curving into the beginnings of a smirk. Partially due to the mad dash of Rodian bodies past him as his vessel settled down. And partially due to the presence of one who had tarried behind. She, like the Titan, was no stranger to the realities of sowing fear. In fact, it was her favored weapon. A tool which allowed her to secure her next meal with ease.

Fortunately, Rience was not on the menu. At least, not the edible one.

"You ready?" he asked, turning back to settle his gaze upon her. It was almost surreal to see her pale features. Dreamlike. There was a small part of the Titan who truly believed his eyes were playing tricks on him. But Delia was here. And if their reunion was any indication, she was not going anywhere, anytime soon. Neither was he. "I know that being a protector sounds boring on paper, but I'm certain we can make it entertaining."

After all, there was never a dull moment when Delia was about.​

 

[Rann Thress]

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Tags: Open​

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It wasn't too long ago that Rann was last here. He tried as much as he could to shorten that time. He strove to be the first one here, as soon as he heard the CIS were going to reassert their presence on Rodia. He had to be here.​

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Specifically...​

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Here. First. Before anyone else got here. The building overlooking the area.This was the street. This was where Eight Knights Obsidian met up to fight one Agent of Chaos. This was where Damsy Callat 's Omega met their end because of friendly fire. This...​

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This was a bad spot. Why did he come here? He clicked his tongue and looked down. The new Viceroy pin sitting nicely on long flowing dress robes. He didn't become Viceroy until after Rodia. It felt...hollow. He felt he didn't deserve it. He raised his eyes up, observing the scenery. The buildings were way more damaged than he remembered. Parasteel, and glass littered the area. The rooftop he was sitting on was caved in from the damage itself, he found himself balancing on the edge. He sighed and dropped down to the street below as other CIS ships began arriving around him. Cleanup crews. He sighed again in frustration and looked forward. This is where he charged Gabriel.​

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He leapt forward off the roof, front flipping through the air once before hitting the ground and beginning a sprint towards Gabriel as Voph shot Force Lightning at him.

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Foolish. ​

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"But I deserved it. I still do. A fight. A Real fight. Not cowardly tactics. Not running away. They.... ANNOUNCED. THEIR. ATTACK. AND THEN SHOWED UP WITH A STRIKE. FORCE. WHAT. THE. HELL?" His voice began rising until he was practically screaming. He raised his arms, picking up the destroyed droid parts, rubble and debris, and launched it at the building behind him. The added pressure onto the building caused a collapse, and dust shot out from it and covered Rann as he fell to his knees.​

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He sighed. "I guess... I'm not over it. I don't know if I ever will be."​

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He closed his eyes and grit his teeth.​

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"I swear. I swear with all of my heart. I will kill every single member of that group. Every one. Then I'll feel a little better." He rose to his feet and took a deep breath, turning around as CIS troops rushed onto the scene, blasters raised, coming to check out who or what caused the building collapse. They lowered it when they saw Rann.​

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"I won't be ignored again, I swear it." He said under his breath as he began walking towards the troops, identifying himself as Viceroy Thress, and ordering them to move on from this location to make way for the clean-up crews.​

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He turned back towards the building.​

"I wish you could hear me, Agents of Chaos. I really wish. I do. We'll fight again. And again. But the next time? The next time. No amount of men, of fortifications, or vehicles, or ships, will stop me from reaching you, and killing you. I will kill every single living creature on board your little station if that's what it took. All of you. Traitors. And you deserve to die a traitors death. By my hand, and mine alone. I will not allow anyone, not my Father( Darth Metus ) , Not Kyyrk , not Gerwald Lechner to stop me. No one. Not a one of them will take the vengeance I have claimed. I won't be ignored. And I won't be stopped. I promise."​

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[Srina Talon]

Location: Rodia [Dropship]
Tag: Darth Metus

She envied him.

Despite the things that they had seen throughout their days fighting for the Confederacy of the Independent Systems, side by side, he seemed entirely unscathed. She didn’t know how it was possible. When they had first met on the dingy streets of Coruscant the young Echani had already been shattered. Mere pieces of a being that could, if nurtured, become so much more. When she’d joined the fight for Rodia she had done so at the side of her fellow Exarch. Adron Malvern was someone she had come to trust. They had done their best. She knew that; he knew that.

But the Agent Wars had only begun.

Srina watched Darth Metus play a card game with a youngling in earnest. Silver eyes were sharp and inscrutable. The child kept glancing at the woman seated just beside them in a chair that was secured to the floor. Her attire was plain, respectful, but in a soft shade of blue. Flowing cloth gave the idea that this would be a non-combatant effort while the gentle colors offered humility. It was thankful. Grateful that the people of Rodia had overwhelmingly listened to their pleas to evacuate.

All it took was one look at Ryloth and Siskeen. One moment of seeing the terror, the fear, that had been seeded amongst wanton death. Rodia had not escaped unscathed. There had been a murderer among them for weeks that the local authorities hadn’t been able to catch. They hadn’t known the significance. The Knights Obsidian had been able to piece things together after the fact. It was more bloodshed on behalf of their attackers.

How was it that they arrived claiming to help when the precursor to their actions was drenched in blood?

Srina’s thoughts filtered to the Vicelord unfiltered and with abandon. He would see her apprehension. He would feel the cool metal of her light-saber hilt that was tucked away in a hidden pocket along her spine. He would know how she felt about the Agent Wars. About this homecoming. How her limbs were tense. Ready, and waiting. She half expected a bomb to go off at the spaceport.

It would have been a fitting move, for terrorists.

Beyond all of the tactical and logistical items that she busied herself with he would also feel her envy. Her shame. That she could never enjoy a game with a youngling the way he could. So free—So careless. He was a father to so many and yet she was a mother to none. His smiles came so freely. His gestures so open and easily read. She remained closed; cold. The night to his day. Frozen and anchored, trapped, in the battle that for her had never ended. He could move through it.

Srina would ensure the memory, the moment until it could be rectified. This was the reason he was the Vicelord. The reason so many called him Father, Master, and leader. He could see a brighter day no matter how bleak the outlook. He could welcome his people home.

The Dread Queen simply remained steadfast and motionless.

Ready.

 

[Yusha]

RE: DESIGN​

Tag: Rann Thress

Debris littered the Earth.

In the wake of the assault on Rodia, the damages were not catastrophic to say the least. However, there was quite a bit in the way of droid remnants and other debris that needed to be attended to. Between the worker crews and fresh droids which had been dispatched for this purpose, there was not much the King of Beggars would allow himself to do. However, it would not do if there were valuables that were carted away alongside the debris. Oh no no, that would be such a waste!

Especially when said proceeds could be lining his own pockets.

It was rare that Yusha utilized his ties to the Knights Obsidian to join their active ventures. He was content to live the life of a Squire - learning, honing his skills, and putting his new abilities to use by pilfering wares across the southern systems. He kept his spree small, of course. He was no dragon sitting on a treasure trove. But there were plenty of elderly women who were missing their pearl necklaces because of him. And, in his mind, the jewels were better off serving his interests than theirs.

For the most part, the King of Beggars was content to spend his time sifting through the remains...until he heard the bold proclamations of another. This, of course, caused his instincts to raise - and the guise of a Squire had become his priority. He turned, raising the hood of his uniform to obscure his features...before pausing. This man was familiar. Where did he know his face from? Ah. Ah. Netra'yaim. This man was the son of Darth Metus. This man was the son of the Vicelord. And by that right?

Rann Thress was his Uncle.

Larceny would have to wait, for the words of his relative caused a chuckle to bubble forth from his lips. Striding over, he offered a hearty wave. "Uncle!" he exclaimed, knowing full well the man would not recognize him. "It's good to finally meet you!" He paused, finally coming to a halt a respectable distance away from the Viceroy. It was then that his hood was lowered. "My name is Yusha, I saw you in passing in Netra'yaim."

"And if you don't mind my asking...are you looking for a fight?"

​

 

[Darth Metus]

R E : S E T T L E​

Tag: Srina Talon

The Waters had become Ice.

There were no secrets held between the Master and Apprentice. No locked doors. No secret sentiments or quiet shames. Before the alabaster woman, the Sith had been laid bare. When their relationship was in its infancy, she had witnessed what had taken decades for others to glean. She had seen the suffering of a man yearning for his place among the stars. She had seen the quiet conflict he kept from view - of a Mandalorian heart warring with a Sith mind. Of confronting the reality that his home and his people deserted him. And yet his heart beat iron.

As time moved ever forward, this struggle became manageable. It became something that Darth Metus overcame; but it was not by his efforts alone. No. There was a gentle chime which rang in the back of his mind. A touch that would grace his arm in passing. An embrace after the battle. The apprentice had become more integral to the man's success than she would ever know. And as her envy bled through their bond, she would see a midnight seed. T'was something miniscule. A spec. Yet, if allowed to take root, it would fester into something terrifying.

The seed was a mirror to her envy. It was guilt. The guilt of a man who had been given so much by the wintry woman - yet he had failed to save her.

When she came to his doorstep in the rain, he had shielded her from the assaults of her past, yes. He had educated her in the Force and augmented her ability to defend herself, yes. He had even brought his armies to Eshan in the hopes of saving her people from the lash of Mandalore. But, for all the paracausal might the Sith wielded, he could not save her from the blast. He could not prevent that precious gift - the mantle of motherhood - from being stolen during the Battle of Kuat. In an instant, he gave his all to save her from the jaws of death.

But though she lived, so much of her died. He failed. And for as much joy and peace as he was able to exhibit, that seed still existed in the back of his mind. Kept at bay by the fleeting hope that he would somehow, someway, make amends for his failure. Yet, there was no time to rest upon such thoughts. The time had come to fulfill the duty and promise he had made to the people so long ago. The vow offered when he had ascended to the mantle of Vicelord. He would be with them. He would guide them. And in the wake of such terror, he would personally protect them.

With the Rodians now off the dropship, the Sith took a moment. He reached for one of the cards that had been at play - his winning card in fact - and placed it within her palms. A dragon of the purest white stared back at her. "I'll have to teach you how to play on the way back." he said. He would teach her how to remedy that envy. One step at a time. For now, he led the way off the ramp and followed after the Viceroy's kin.

Upon setting foot upon the pavement, the Sith immediately opened his senses. He reached to the furthest corners of the dome. Hunting. Searching...And he found no signs of Life that were not accounted for. This was a positive sign, but not one that would see him lower his guard. They had to be ready. Despite how auspicious a day, they had to be ready.

And so they shall.​

 

[Amelia von Sorenn]

R E : B U I L D​

When the Confederacy First Mandate had initially been declared the wider Galaxy at Large had collectively lost their minds, with rumors abounding of how the Confederacy was abandoning the Galaxy with a selfish desire to look inwards towards their own people. Then the dominoes seemed to fall one by one as the insanity gripped otherwise once sane minds; an exodus of corporations fled from the Confederacy, leaving many of their former employees without a future - however, that was when she had stepped in and ensured that the citizens of the Confederacy would be looked after. Now it was time to bring that same mentality to Rodia, a planet whose people had fared better than Ryloth - though they were in the same dire straits now that the Twi'leks were facing. Though their people had survived, their homes and businesses had been destroyed, damaged, or outright reduced to rubble, and now was the time to Rebuild.

The woman stood immovable on the silent street, golden hues slowly surveying the damage of the buildings that lined the vista. For many she was a notable figure of the Confederacy - despite her efforts to remain rather unknown and ambiguous - though it seemed difficult to shake the notoriety given her position as the Grand Marshal of the Navy. Bringing her hands up, she quietly removed the heavy helm that she so frequently wore, a soft hiss slipping from the hoses as she removed the helm and tucked it away under her arm. White hair cascade down over her shoulders like a glacier coursing over a darkened land, and those golden hues were fully visible now in all their brilliance.

A tug pulled at the corner of her mouth, a soft smirk upon her lips as she looked over her shoulder at the thousands of workers that she had brought with her. In the time that the multitude of Corporations had fled from the Confederacy, it had left a void that she had stepped in, and now it was time that she would utilize the profits of Von Sorenn Industries for a greater good beyond their construction of vessels for the Confederacy Defense Force. Their hired workers - and newly established Rodian Employees - would be unleashed upon the Capital, their effort singular in its goal. They would rebuild the Capital, block by block.

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[Srina Talon]

Location: Rodia [Dropship]
Tag: Darth Metus

Ice so cold—It never melted. She, never melted.

It was true that she had seen his darkest hours. It was true that the Exarch had seen his agony whilst Mandalore burned. It was true that she had, more than once, encouraged him to forsake his Mandalorian heritage. It was neither here nor there. It held no benefit to the nation he was tasked to serve. It was a sacrifice they all made. Srina tried to support her family on Eshan as much as much as they would allow it; but in truth?

If she could not see the Six Sisters for herself? If she could not pray to bright one?

She was scarcely an Echani at all.

They all gave something. They all carved some piece of themselves from betwixt their breast and offered it to the pyre. The iron heart that he held was the furnace that kept the Confederacy alive. He kept the lights on. He kept them safe. He guided, cared, and kept the Viceroyalty from falling into oblivion with policy and rhetoric. It was a delicate balance. All he had to give was what mattered most.

His iron heart.

Srina did what she could to mitigate this loss. It wasn’t much. Her presence was all she could truly offer when the threats along their borders, within them, seemed to eclipse all. The loss of Ryloth and the subsequent darkness that had temporarily stolen the Siskeen Systems had been a cross that few could bear while keeping their sanity intact. He managed. Between his black goddess and her quiet counsel, the Vicelord managed. That—Was why he was rarely opposed.

As her envy wove through him like a swift poison, she could feel her thoughts drawn deep into his. Drowning, momentarily, until the light-hearted card game he played was lost to the wayside. She could feel his smile slip. She could feel him falter within; and feel the fire fade. It was a strange feeling. To see and not see. To feel and not feel. She was aware of her surroundings and yet entirely immersed in the Force Bond that had existed for what felt like an eternity.

It had not existed when either had been born—But it felt as if it had. As if it had always been there. Always would be.

Through the façade of perfect happiness and genuine joy of the return of the Rodians to their world she could see a glimpse of something different. Conflict. Ash. Guilt. It was not the simple feeling of failure. It was the type of emotion that left one feeling small, crushed, and wishing for a black hole to open beneath their feet to swallow them up. Grief that would leave a lesser being shaken and questioning the very next breath they might take. As if it would be too much.

As if the very air could shatter.

She pulled back from that truth. It was ugly, harsh, and she found herself drawing breath for the first time in several moments. The Exarch felt as if she was breaking free of a surface of the unfathomable. She could see again. There was color, sound, and it all came back with the joyous laugh of a youngling playing cards with a Sith Lord. Silver eyes shot toward the sable-skinned man.

Man. Just, a man. Not a god. Not immortal. Not invulnerable.

“We can’t always win.”

Her words pierced the room like a dagger to the heart. The child looked up, startled, before glancing down at the hand that had given the Vicelord the victory. “Well…No, ma’am. I’ll just do better next time!”

Next time.

The Agent Wars were far from over. There would be a next time. There always was.

“…Best of luck.”, she murmured, coming to stand, as the dropship landed. She followed the group out as a silent sentinel. Her pale flesh was exceedingly pallid, as it always was, and the sunlight that filled the doorway almost seemed to shine through her. Just as she was about to follow their group, she felt a metaphysical reason to stop. A pull that made her look back toward her Master.

Metus placed a card within her hand and her eyebrows knit together for a moment. It was true that she had a fondness for beasts aplenty, but, she didn’t think he wanted her to simply appreciate the art. Silvery orbs trailed over the imaginative lines and soft glows that brough the ivory beast to life on pressed tree pulp. Her jaw set tight at the notion of learning to play.

Ah.

The proverbial light went off and the Echani understood.

“I do not know if this is a game I can learn.”

But, he was already moving onward. She breathed deeply before emptying her lungs in a slow exhale. This was to be a time of happiness. Joy. A return of people to their rightful homes where safety should be assured. Everyone had the right to live the way they wished to without fear of persecution or death, simply, because they were different.

Noticing that one of the Rodians was struggling to carry their luggage Srina fell alongside them and took the top most rucksack from the precarious pile. There were droids around that could provide aid, but, Srina needed to do something. Anything. Even if it was small. “Allow me to aid you, please.”

The Rodian looked back at her with bulbous eyes that were full of shock before nodding slowly. Srina, surprisingly strong, slung the back over her shoulder and helped guide the rest on the repulsorlift. “My home…We’ll pass it on the way to the plaza. Are you sure you can manage, Lady Talon?”

Srina didn’t respond but instead passed the green-skinned fellow a ghostly smile. It was pale and secretive, enough, that the tips of his cheeks turned a slight shade darker. He stumbled but found his way soon enough. It was a relief, such a relief, that their home was still standing. Rodia hadn’t become Ryloth. It wasn’t much to hold onto, but, it was something.

“Thank you, ma’am.”

The Exarch assumed it was for helping him carry his things. It wasn’t.

 

[Jalan Riyadosh]

LOCATION: Aboard the Stargazer
CURRENT COMPANY: Hester Shedo & HRD Jalan Riyadosh

Jalan looked out of the ballroom view port as the ship dropped into real space over Rodia. They had passed through Viceroy Shedo's space, and given a ride to whatever could fit aboard the empty vessel. The HRD had intended to offer the ship up as temporary housing for whoever could come aboard. To offer reprieve for those working to rebuild. Provide a hot meal and a place for those wishing to do so, a chance to remove themselves from memories with whatever amenity they pleased.

Rebuilding was a difficult task, and the droid was not unknown to it, having rebuilt the wealth of her creator for his child. The droid watched from the balcony overlooking the casino floor that was barren of usual civilian patrons save for the patrol of security droids passing though in pairs. Silently, it watched the young woman staring over the planet in the ballroom as it turned towards the elevator and assigned a pair of security droids to her.

Burgundy eyes watched as the ship came close enough to deploy it's supply vessels, signalling their arrival to the confederate ships around them of their purpose, and who they were carrying with them. They had workers from Scarif, materials, droids. The lot of it, and the HRD had made it plain they were willing to carry them all as best they were able. Loaded to capacity, the ship came to rest and began unloading it's cargo.

There was a curious stare from the young woman, directed to the surface. Felt the remnants of something a familiar being had done here. Recalled the lesson she had attended, and the words spoken there. This was the planet the nightmother had spoke of. Unable to distinguish if it was the woman's lingering presence she felt, or if something else had left its mark, the decision to investigate was made.

The quick run to the supply vessels was the easy part. A droid sent to fetch her suit as she moved quickly to catch a ride to the surface to investigate that strange sensation before meeting the assigned droid in the docking section of the built in supply vessels. The personnel manning the vessels gave her a quizzical look before shrugging and letting her pass.

It wasn't stowing away if people saw you.

Spoiler: What's Being Done

The HRD Jalan is staying aboard the Stargazer and is more than willing to discuss plans/actions to be taken. The ship is being made available for Hester and Scarif worker's to operate out of and for reprieve for anyone that requires or wants it. The real Jalan however is headed to the planet surface in her suit to investigate.

 

[Danielle Mueller]

Representing: Adron Malvern - Office of Exarch, Viceroyalty.
Inventory: Knights Obsidian Leathers, Dee's Combat Gloves, Tonfa Sabers.
Objective: Grunt Work - Clean Up Crew.

​

Danielle Mueller had not been within Confederate Space when the terrorist cell had hit Rodia and targeted the civilian populace in an attempt to incite rebellion against the Office of Viceroyalty and the good men and women who fought to protect the peoples interests. It was only by weeks, yet it was a regret of hers that she had not been present to help combat the threat to good, honest and hard working society of Rodia and the Confederacy of Independent Systems.

In the days that followed her admittance and gaining citizenship within the Confederacy, Danielle had been exposed to many new faces, people she hadn't known from a bar of sanis-clean, yet had been welcomed and even made some really lovely friends for the first time in her life. Not people who smiled through their teeth to get their way, or to pursue any sort of ulterior motives, but real genuine friends that she could actually trust and rely on. It had taken some time to let herself open up to others, yet she had come into herself and it was thanks to the influence of moral and ethical justice which the Confederacy stood for in a Galaxy gone so bad...

She supposed that it was only natural that they'd eventually be targeted, out of resentment for what they were, what they stood for and their success in all that they fought hard and yes, some regrettably died for. A better tomorrow.

Dani had arrived on Rodia alone, absent of her mentor and employer, yet having been brought here by a shuttle sent from Naboo with the IFF Codes of the Exarch's own, a statement and security clearance allowing the escort crew to bring her straight into the system of interest in order to assist with the humanitarian project of rebuilding and reestablishing Rodia as a home for those who had been previously evacuated.

Informing Adron Malvern of her intent, and her absence for the duration of this project, Danielle had invested herself in seeing this through. It wasn't a pursuit for personal gain, yet it could give her Employer some positive personal representation should he wish for it. Regardless, Danielle was there to do something good for others, to make use of her time and doing the only real thing that mattered while living in the moment.

Helping others.

 

[John Locke]

Location: Rodia
Tagging: Gianna Aegis
Wearing: This

​

The evacuation of an entire planet had been a massive undertaking, one which had stretched the not inconsiderate resources of the Confederacy to their limit. They’d risen to the occasion, vessels of all kinds converted to ferry people away from the planet, camps and settlements set up. They’d emptied the planet, created a battlefield one which they could engage the enemy without having to worry about the loss of civilian life, and it had work.

The forces of the Confederacy were able to storm across the planet, to do what they needed to do. Then the war ended leaving the planet shattered, the detritus of war littered the streets, houses reduced to rubble, to burnt husks. This was the sight that greeted the citizens of Rodia after they returned home. It wasn’t a joyous return, their lives, their homes had been reduced to wrecks leaving them to pick up the pieces. How could a Confederacy that had asked them to leave in the first place let them face this alone?

When he’d first seen the plans for the evacuation John had sworn that he’d make sure that there would be a home to return to, if he had to rebuild it himself. There wasn’t a member of the Confederacy who didn’t feel the same way, who didn’t want to help the citizens of this devastated planet. So they’d come in force, as the first wave of the refugees arrived so had the members of the Confederacy who had been unable to protect their homes from this wave of devastation.

They’d brought droids, supplies and engineers to help rebuild, a feat of logistics that rivalled the initial evacuation. Across the planet Rodian and Confederate worked side by side to tear down what had been ruined through the war and replace it with something new. New houses to make memories in, new house to make a home. It wouldn’t replace what was lost, but they were alive, and they had a future.

In the midst of all the construction there were injuries, no project on this scale could ever be accomplished without them. The crews might try their best to avoid them but it was inevitable that a tool would land wrong, a girder would slip Yet, the crews weren’t the only people populating the medical centres, there were the refugees, many of whom had been living with worry and stress for months now, those who had fallen sick, or those for whom the repeated moving had proven to be too much.

John had found himself at the hospital, falling into the role of assistant to a certain red-haired Jedi. He was no healer, no doctor, but he could help to tie off bandages, fetching supplies. It was a comfortable routine, a partnership they could fall back into. For a moment everything was like it used to be, the two of them moving back and forth in unison. John had no idea how long they’d been at it, but there was something about watching Gianna work, the way that she’d treat her first patient or her 500[SUP]th[/SUP] the same.

That smile, the small talk to set her patient at ease as she diagnosed them. John was a master of his craft, could make technology bend to his will but the Jedi’s ability to manage so many different stands at one, treating a patient, talking about their family and life while watching and co-ordinating the staff around her was…it was always breath-taking. Gianna was in her element, the light she always seemed to imbue touching everyone around her. The nurse and doctors seemed to stand a little straighter, smile a little more and the patients, they seemed happier, in less pain, the liens of worry etched across their faces smoothing away. It was always the way, the more time he spent with her the brighter the woman seemed to glow.

A deep breath, a sigh as he turned back to the engineer whos hand he’d been bandaging, tying off the knot before reaching up to rest his hand on the man’s shoulder.

“Keep it away from water and dirt and you’re gonna be just fine.”

A small smile and a nod before he stood, hands pressing into the small of his back to stretch before he stepped away for a moment before returning, two steaming cups of caf held in his hands, holding one out to the woman.

“You look like you need a little break, don’t want you passing out on me. Careful, it’s still hot.”

 

[Taramaz Arcturus]

Mark-V Centurion Battlearmour
Hellfire Assault Rifle, VG-01 Revolvers, Pride and Freedom


Eight tall figures stood within the dropship, their blood-red visors sweeping through the enclosed space, never neglecting their duties to be ever watchful for the safety of the Vicelord. Even in such a protected place, in a flock of ships just as similar as the one they were in, one could never be too cautious, not when the life of a nation's leader was at stake. Though the Viceguard swore supreme loyalty to the Vicelord above all else, it would be a mistake for them to neglect the extension of their oaths that swore to protect the Exarch's in such a time as the Vicelord is incapacitated and they would take office per the Order of Succession.

That was not, however, to say that they placed equal importance on both lives. Afterall, why save the Exarch's life over the Vicelord's, when the former wouldn't be necessary if the latter survives?

One figure, however, stood taller than the others, not by any significant amount, less than half a foot in reality. But it was the authority he radiated that made him a true terror, a freak of proportions. This one figure directed his gaze constantly at the Vicelord and the child with him whom he sat and played with. He held his rifle the same as all the others, the only thing that set him apart, however, were the two, large revolvers on his thighs, and the extra saber dangling from his belt.

A father would be a father, even with a child that wasn't his, it seemed. Strange for Taramaz to think that when he himself had a child. One whom he alone had cared for for over eighteen years. A daughter that, to him, shone brighter than anything in the world, matching the elegant, ever existent darkness that exuded from her mother. Both beautiful in their own right, that claimed a half of his metaphorical heart each.

The Heart was for loved ones to claim, and the Soul was for siblings, both blood and battle. Without a doubt, the Vicelord held a large part of Taramaz' soul. He had been there when nobody else had. He had come looking when his own knighthood abandoned him. The circumstances did not demand a life debt, rather, he served Isley out of gratitude. To perhaps, one day, be able to say that they were equal.

Taramaz had the great fortune to not be present for any of the so-called 'Agents of Chaos' attacks against the Confederacy, his duties to both his knighthood and Vicelord calling him elsewhere. He had, however, seen battlefields, tragedies and slaughters a plenty throughout his life. Enough to prepare him for Rodia. It held no special place for him, it was just more ruins, debris left over from a war. It quite couldn't compare to having your DNA changed, being able to feel bones grow and shrink in long, slow minutes, feeling your skin and muscles pulled taut, as if they might snap before they loosened back up, growing over the new bones.

There simply was something about seeing a battlefield that you hadn't fought on that lowered it's emotional value, particularly when you'd seen your entire unit crushed under concrete slabs, then having to fight with sweat and blood to save their loves from with them. It was one of those experiences you never forgot, and put everything else into scale.

The Lord Marshal quickly shook those thoughts free of his head, however. Reminiscing wasn't something one could safely do, not on a battlefield, even if it was empty and dormant. The Viceguard formed up around the Vicelord as the dropship landed, opening it's doors to disgorge it's occupants and their luggage, other dropships following suite.

Silver eyes watched Isley closely as he idled closer to the Exarch Talon, exchanging a slight touch and a playing card. One that Taramaz did not care to see exactly. As the Vicelord stepped off the dropship, he would find himself quickly surrounded on all eight main directions by the Viceguard, his brother leading the charge. Each step they took was in perfect unison, forming a shield of white and red marching with deadly authority and severity.

The Exarch had left to go assist a native, but that was of little concern to the Viceguard Captain. Taramaz could not worry over an errant Exarch. His grip tightened slightly on the rail of his rifle, readying it should the time come when he would need to fight. Through the corner of his eye, he could see the Exarch Talon shouldering a native's luggage. A kind gesture, and a necessary one. One that the Viceguard could not risk. Every hand off their guns lowered the safety of the Vicelord, every burden they carried a load that might topple the camel, that would be the deciding factor between Dear Brother's Death and Life.

Srina Talon Darth Metus

​

 

[Gianna Aegis]

Location: Rodia [Field Hospital for New Arrivals]
Tagging: John Locke | Daegon Corvinus | Seraphina Corvinus
Wearing: XOXO

The flame-haired Jedi held the hands of a Rodian child between her own while they sat patiently on the exam table. Gianna had arrived with John Locke to the field hospital in the early hours of dawn. The citizens were already arriving home. Little by little. At first, essential personnel, like medical professionals and local law enforcement. Then came civilians of all kinds. They were tired but more than anything they wanted to see what had become of their homes. They livelihoods. Each person seemed to be a little more at ease than the last.

For that, Gia was grateful. The hardiness of the Rodians was not to be diminished.

“Just a few more minutes. You’re doing so well—Just stay with me.”

Her voice fell to the ears of the youngling with all the kindness she could muster. All of the traveling had left some of the younger population with colds. It was running through them like wildfire, but, it was easily mitigated. Either through oral medication, herbal teas, or a little application of the Force. Gianna typically chose to heal first with conventional medication and second with her abilities—But some of the children had odd lung sounds. Wheezing crackles. It made her too nervous to let it go.

What if it worsened?

She focused on repairing the damage, reversing the symptoms, and her eyes remained closed whilst a soft glow wrapped around her hands and faded into the Rodians skin. Her name was Zhe. She was a pretty shade of turquoise than Gianna found unique and lovely. Her speech was advanced for a child that young, but more than anything, she seemed to be an incredible trooper. “It must have been so hard for you to breathe. I’m so sorry.”

So hard—But the youngling never complained. Not once.

As the glow faded from her hands Gianna slowly let got and brilliant jade orbs glimmered with tenderness and care. She brought the back of her hand to Zhe’s forehead and waited briefly. Much better. No fever. The sigh of relief that ran through her was palpable and a smile slid across her pale pink lips. “That feels more like normal doesn’t it?”

The Jedi Knight tugged out a stethoscope, which, was traditionally used to detect a patient’s heartbeat. In this case, it could also be used to determine the quality of lung sounds. She pressed the cool end to the youngling’s chest, just inside the dressing gown, and listened.

“Can you breathe in for me deeply? Then let it out slowly?”

Zhe obliged and did her best to follow everything that Gia asked for.

“Good, good, that’s very good—Thank you.”

When Gianna was able to send Zhe back to her parents with only a small bottle of vitamins to help boost her immune system—It was a good feeling. The near ethereal Jedi moved over to the sink to wash her hands before drying them carefully. She could feel John Locke nearing and a gentle smile pressed into soft features. She accepted the cup of caf he offered with a slight inclination of her head. “Thank you, John.”

“I’m all right so far. But, I’ll not say no to this.”

This? And a quick five-minute break. She knew that she needed to pace herself or she wouldn’t be able to help anyone. Gia tried not to think too hard on the man that had brought it to her. They had been strained, of her own doing, but the little things made it seem not quite so awful. Sometimes, it even gave her hope. It wasn’t much—But she could hold to it. It strengthened her spirit and that was the great equalizer when it came to her talent in the Force. “You seem to be adapting to this setting well. Do you have any questions?”

“Or is there anything you might like to learn?”

 

[Gerwald Lechner]

Wearing: xxx
Tag: Naedira Darcrath

Debris, rubble, glass, and metal shards, littered the area where the Obsidian Lord stood. Gerwald could barely recognize the building where he had dueled Scherezade, or met with another that he felt he should have known, and yet did not. Redd had been with him, and once again another he cared about had been hurt. Gerwald did not understand why it was the people he cared about were always getting hurt.

The wolf walked about the rubble, looking upon the devastation his own hands had caused. This building did not fall because of any explosion or falling beams. Gerwald had brought the building down with a touch of his hand, a weak point exploited through the force. It was almost as if the ruined building was a testament to what his legacy seemed to be. Gerwald Lechner left a trail death and destruction in his wake, intentional or not, and he would spend the rest of his life using it to his advantage.

He should have been bothered by it, but rather the words of his former master seeped into his head. Gerwald needed to use his own pain, the passion and the emotion, before another could exploit it. This was the path he had set himself to. No longer would he allow his feelings or emotions to be a weakness, something he could exploit. No, As Gerwald stood and looked at the devastation he had caused he knew the parallel, the lesson, it held for his own life.

Never again would Gerwald Lechner be shattered so easily.

He breathed in deep. The air smelled musty. It was humid as ws the muggy swap air filled the capital dome. How had the terrorists succeeded to blow the roof? With so many forces, so many to capture them all, and yet they had managed to cause carnage again. Even the Confederacy seemed to have a weak point, something that could be exploited. Was it hubris? Were they too large to be effective? Gerwald did not have an answer, but what he did know was they stood at a crossroads. While he could not make a decision for the entire Confederacy, Gerwald could choose for himself.

A ring hung by a chain from his neck, something Gerwald would spend his life defending. The day he traveled to the jungles of Vylmira to keep a promise, he had failed. Something had gone wrong, and the Lupine could not explain. All he knew was that his master was gone, and the ring which his friend had been bound to was now his. It was ironic that it hung close to his heart considering the depth of his feelings, and yet the weight of it brought its own burdens. Would he be able to keep his promise? Would he be able to bring her back?

Gerwald took in another deep breath and let it go. Quietly he bent down and began to clear the debris. He was strong, his massive frame boasting the strength one would assume from his size. There was no one there, he was alone with his own thoughts. As though his work was symbolic, Gerwald set to the slow work of restoring what he had broken. It did not matter to him how long it took, the pile of rubble would be cleared so something stronger, better, could stand where nothing but ruin sat instead.

“It’s a shame you aren’t actually here to help,” Gerwald chuckled as his mind drifted off toward thoughts of his friend, Naedira. “You were always stronger than people gave you credit for.”

He had always known from the day they met. Their minds had melded for battle, and for a brief moment they had shared something of each other Gerwald had never shared with someone before or since. She had been able to use his senses, touch the wolf inside in a way that no one had, nor likely ever would again. It had been an odd sensation at first, but what had remained had been unexpected by them both.

She had said nothing would be permanent, and it had seemed that way at first, but the more they interacted, the closer they found themselves in proximity, it could not be denied that they remained bonded in some way. She knew when he was lying. He knew when she was near. Just one touch and she had given him her memories of Eshan, and she had known the guilt he felt over his mistakes with women.

Now that she was “gone,” Gerwald could no longer feel her. There were times when he had seen her ghost that the faintest of residual echoes of their bond could be felt, but Gerwald knew it was one sided. How could a dead woman sense anything? What he felt was certainly nothing more than a memory, a phantom sensation. In the end what he felt more than anything was an emptiness, a void of what should have been there, but no longer was.

“You would be proud of me. I’ve come so far.”

Who was he kidding. Gerwald was just talking to himself anyway.

 

[Cordelia Malkavian]

​

Tags: Rience ​

Attire: [X]​

​

This very trip went against everything Cordelia had ever stood for. At no point could she seem to recall every being a defender of the people, or a protector of them either. In fact, on more than one occasion she had been quite the opposite; a force to be reckoned with, an embodiment of fear, the very stuff that nightmares were made out of, all the way up to quite recently in fact. Just her very appearance, the alabaster skin, her feminine features, and the sharp contrast of her red locks warranted one of two reactions in most cases; awe or terror. And oh how she revelled in it. She was a creature of habit, after all, and as the saying went old habits die hard.​

​

However, she had promised to be good, or rather as good as Delia could ever be. She was a wicked thing by nature after all, at least to those who she did not deem worthy of her time much less her effort. Rience was one of those who was fortunate enough to have always remained on her good side, even on the bad days. Hells, even when she could not remember who and what she was, she had remembered him. The creature that always crawled just beneath the surface of her skin had even recalled him, and he somehow managed to keep Delia's clear mind at the surface even when she didn't want it to be. It was hardly a fair ordeal, but it's not as if she had much say in the matter. He appealed to her, all parts of her, and that was merely that.​

​

So when he had informed her that they would be taking a trip, and why, she had of course agreed. And then she had begrudgingly agreed to be on her best behavior, though in retrospect Cordelia's best behavior was still questionable.​

​

And seeing all of these people, these Rodians who were clearly so pleased to return to their shabby little planet brought a foul taste to her mouth. Or...perhaps that was the dryness of her throat creating a distasteful burn as all of these bodies flit past, eager to return to their dwellings and loved ones. Whatever the case, her gaze shifted to Rience and she gave him a very tolerant look. "Try to keep in mind that the very last thing you want from me here is for me to make this trip entertaining." That at least brought some amusement to the redhead's lips in the form of a smirk. ​

​

"Perhaps I could spend the day keeping you on your toes, never quite sure if I'll behave myself or not. That would certainly be interesting, hm?" Oh yes, she could make the day most interesting if she put even the slightest bit of effort into it.​

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[Kobi Fesser]

TAG(S): Asaraa Vaashe | Open​

Rodia had suffered. She had been brought to heel by radical extremists supported by the virulent terrorist organization that called themselves the Agents of Chaos. Their name fit the bill; there would be nothing anyone could do to deny that fact. They came to planets and dug in to uproot whatever established order there was only to bring about utter terror, pain and suffering. And for what gain? That was a question the young Jedi apprentice had no answer for. He only hoped and prayed that the actions taken by the leaders of the worlds these evil people targeted had, and would continue, to use whatever means necessary to protect and defend the peoples of their systems from the sheer death and destruction this enemy sought to reign down upon them. And to deter future transgressions still yet to come.

But as it was now, Rodia cried out. It pleaded for help. For assistance. For some semblance of normalcy to be bestowed upon it once again. And it was here that the young padawan hoped to assist in ushering in just that which Rodia so desperately sought.

“Master,” Kobi began, his emerald eyes not turning from the utter destruction that littered the street of the capital, “there’s such pain and anguish here.” He reached down deep within himself, tugging on the very ebbs and flows of the Force. It was dark. Cold. Filled with pain and the emotions of contempt filled the young boy almost tenfold. An effect of his natural gift in Force Empathy. “Rodia, herself, cries out.”

He paused. It was still hard for him to believe such people existed in this galaxy that lavished amid the pain and anguish of others. Yet that’s exactly what the situation was here. That’s exactly how he had come to perceive these terrorists that continuously struck out against the innocent. A very sad truth.

“How is it people could do this? How is it they can levy so much hatred toward the innocent? The ones that have done them no wrong?”

 

[Ettiene Kharne]

Re:Build​

Tags: John Locke | Amelia von Sorenn | Caesar Kenway | Open ​

​

Rodia stood now as but a fraction of its former glory. Debris littered its streets. Embers still smoldered beneath charred carnage and the sheer volume of the destruction was evident. That as few non-combatant civilians died as they had was truly a testament to the comprehensive workings of the inner machine of the Confederacy and its desire to bring the best to its many citizens. And given the advanced notice of the attack by their overly prideful aggressors, the Confederacy had done everything in its power to shield the citizens of Rodia from untimely harm and even death. For the most part they had been successful in their endeavors, however, they had underestimated the abilities of the terrorist organization to slip through numerous Confederate fleets and ground patrols, supplanting themselves among the citizens of Rodia that had not yet been able to escape. Further, there were extremists planetside that fought, even against their own, for the lie the foreign terrorists had fed them. And the violent extremists group of Rodia, which called themselves ‘Freedom Fighters’ had brought the capital city to its knees. Going as far as to critically damage the dome whose purpose was merely to protect the city’s inhabitants from the planet’s naturally adverse weather conditions. ​

​

So much completely unnecessary death and destruction predicated on the lies of an outside perpetrator that seemed to desire nothing more than the damnation of the sanctity a peaceful people once observed. But in hindsight it went to show that no one was safe from the dangers of violent and rueful extremism. From the lies and obscenities that one offered in a feigned aid to the very planet which they, themselves had wrought such a calamity on. ​

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And now Alden stood here in a different position than that which he’d held at the time Rodia had come under attack. His days as a High Marshal in the Confederate Defense Force Naval Command were now a part of his past. His duties as a Deputy Minister both his present and his future. There were certain aspects of his new position that offered him a slightly enhanced influence and ability to get certain things accomplished where he hadn’t been able to before. But still his time in the CDF would forever hold a place in his heart. But now . . . Rodia is what mattered. That is why he was here. It was the people of Rodia and restoring the City to the haven it was previously.​

​

Alden fumbled around a moment with his comlink before opening a channel to the Exarch, John Locke . “Exarch Locke, the damage here is extensive but I believe it is repairable.” Alden paused a moment, turning his gaze to the ruptured wall of the dome where the largest of the explosions had occurred. “The west wall will need to be replaced, though.”​

​

He thumbed another few commands and sent a message to the Grand Marshal, Amelia von Sorenn , signaling the start of bringing in crews to help patrol and offer assurances. The battle for Rodia itself may have passed, but there was always a danger present when violent extremism was allowed to sprout and blossom. Even more so now that the governing structure of Rodia stood in shambles. ​

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[Jorik Valnora]

TAG(S): Isla | Tess Valnora | Daegon Corvinus | Seraphina Corvinus | Open​

Time was the greatest catalyst of change, but it wasn’t just time that had swayed the demeanor and conviction of the Viceroyal from Druckenwell. Where at one time Jorik would look inward and only look to satisfy himself, now he sought out ways of improvement among others. Isla had been a huge influence on him, but even so, he was far from perfect, and even further from the ideal spouse. But that was the goal of an arranged marriage. At least not theirs. Their marriage had been arranged in a kind of power move. And why not? Her family held a political prowess, same as his, and having such ties would certainly lead to the further development, marketing and expansion of the corporation which his family have built from the ground up.

The growth was a constant struggle for the man, and he still struggled to fully separate his own personal wants from his actions at large. He did a much better job at veiling the intentions now, having seemingly mastered the feat, but they were still there. And likely, they would for a long time.

But Jorik had come this day. Not as the Viceroy of Druckenwell, but as the CEO of Valnora Enterprise, with what resources and technology could be spared to help with the efforts of Rodia’s recovery. Ships brandishing the emblem of the corporation had already begun to slip through the planet’s atmosphere and toward the damaged capital city. With them, they carried rations of food and water. And a plethora of materials that would no doubt serve a critical role in the repair of the city which, in turn, would pave the way for a happy and long overdue return of the Rodians to their home.

 

[Darth Metus]

S E R V E​

Tag: Srina Talon , Taramaz Arcturus

The Dive was Too Deep.

There were no secrets between the Master and the Apprentice. The way between them was as open and as clear as the Heavens. Thus, as the alabaster woman traversed their Bond, she found that black shame that remained in the back of his mind. The seed which laid in wait. The seed which was suspended in the deep. The seed which had not taken root - but very well could. She, like a moth, was drawn to the black; for she was at the epicenter of its existence. Her life - his failure - had given rise to the burden of guilt.

He managed it well enough. His Dark Mistress and His Apprentice were daily fixtures, allowing him to focus upon the joy of daily life. They reminded him to worry about what he could impact with his hands, and not to fret over that which he could not control. They reminded him not to play the game of pointing fingers - a game which his political peers loved to play. Day after day, they helped keep that seed at bay. But in the moment, Darth Metus was keenly aware of its existence. Intimately aware that she had seen.

The Dive had proven too deep. And soon, they returned to the present. To the innards of the dropship. To the auspicious return to Rodia.

Before they had descended onto the planet's surface, Darth Metus presented a gift to his charge. A playing card from his duel with the child - a depiction of a mighty drake. She would appreciate the beast, of course. But the underlying message? She understood. And her response - that she was uncertain if it was a "game" she could learn - was one that drew a chuckle from the man. "You will learn, because I will teach you." came his simple response. Yet the weight was colossal.

For if he guided her, could she fail? Such was the faith they placed in one another, was it not?

The time for ruminations came and went as the disembarked. Srina, straightway, busied herself in lending a hand to one of the natives as they moved along. Despite her appearance, there was might within her bones. Enough so that she could carry a bag over her shoulder with ease. Yet the principle was one that defined them. They did not consider themselves Gods. They did not come to be served - but to serve. Exarch? Vicelord? They were servants of the people. And that was what made their nation great.

As Srina set off, Darth Metus became intimately aware of the armored persons which fanned out about him. The Viceguard - his immediate shield - were always within arm's reach. They would dive upon a grenade if the situation demanded, all in the name of shielding him from harm. Accepting this reality was one which contrasted with the man's iron heart, for he always relied upon his own strength. His skill. His might. And if he fell, it was because he was far too weak to stand.

But, with the responsibilities of office came concessions. Thus, the Viceguard had been established. Thus, Darth Metus tasked his sibling with leading them. A man he could trust completely.

Yet, in this moment, their presence was needed to an additional purpose. They were needed to be as the man who played cards with the Rodian child. Should a threat come, they would be ready. But today, they would serve the Vicelord by serving his people. "Brother." he said, tilting his head back to view the towering man. "Have your men help carry the peoples' belongings. You're with me." With that said, he moved in the direction of his apprentice - catching up with her and the Rodian in a matter of brisk steps.

"Do you have everything you need?" he inquired. Asking not of the man's immediate belongings, but of the needs that may come after. Funds, security, work. The worries which come after returning home. They would not abandon their people as their adversaries claimed. No, they would care for them. Always..
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