Mission The Healing of Ukatis [Open to Donors/Relief Workers]

[Danger Arceneau]

U K A T I S
OBJECTIVE: The Main Tent | Aiden Rennek | Open for interaction
The Eve Foundation | Outfit | x | x | x | x | x |

​

Well, if that wasn't a pick-up line, it sure as hell sounded like a Corellian one, Danger mused to herself. Having heard more than her fair share of interesting verses to perk her interest beyond dealing business, the Queen of Trade had become an expert at navigating around them without causing any ill will or sting of rejection. After all, being recognized for one's blessings was a compliment. Compliment right back, ease into casual conversation, redirect to one where both parties can come out mutually satisfied with the results, and there you have it.

After all, it was Danger's reputation that had brought Arceneau Trade Company and her so far -- that reputation said she would be fair if fair was dealt to her. It was all about coming up with a mutually beneficial arrangement. For men, business is war. For Danger, business was like lovemaking. At the end of negotiations, all parties should walk away satisfied.

Much like the good Alliance Marine walking alongside me now, Danger mused, the rubenesque woman's full lips curving back again in humor with Aiden's daring wink.

Indeed, a Corellian lad through and through.

Amused, and not one to go easy on such an eager Corellian Hound pup, Danger's lips drew back into a knowing grin and added, "Well, reckon if you stick 'round a little longer, there be plenty of clever pla for me to teach you." the redhead deliberately using the Olys Corellisi word of pla for 'play.'

As if aware of how that tongue twister would land, Danger's round shoulders gave another quiver in mirth, and her eyes shone with devilry. It was a bit of humor in such terrible and harrowing circumstances found in the refugee and medic camp. Laughter was a sort of medicine. Much like bitterness, it had the ability to infect those around you, uplift, and bring just a little more cheer. Beggers couldn't be choosers in these kinds of situations.

"Nah, we got a couple of cargo speeders for that. " Danger assured the Lieutenant, giving a small wave of her hand in a soothing gesture as if to smooth any potential fears of being worn out that fast by Danger's demands.

"We need some arm muscle to help out sortin' them onto the loaders themselves. The ship's crew is also helpin' with loadin', but another pair of hands only gets this done faster. After that, ya'll just got a smooth walk back to triage." Danger assured him, drawing nearer to the landing pad where the Krakkis had landed with her rolling gait.

In the meantime, what that meant was that the good folk 'round here were going to have a nice view soon enough.

"So, tell me about yourself, Lieutenant. Why's a young, handsome Corellian boy like yourself take up soliderin'?" Everyone had a story to tell. Some might be good, some bad, some fake, some true. Either way, life had a way of setting up waypoints that led to one decision or another. How they turned out, well, hindsight twenty-twenty, and by that point, one either settled with the Sabaac hand they've been dealt, or they go all in and do their best to claim the outcome they would rather have.

 

[Aiden Rennek]

​

Aiden's eyes practically jumped from his sockets, and if he had been drinking anything, it'd have been spat across the dusty road. Instead, he just cleared his throat and looked at her, "Ma'am?" he asked with some emphasis on the word. "You mean, like, right here?" He was at a loss for words and tugged on his collar, as heat traveled up his chiseled chest, and touched those sharp cheekbones again.

What was happening?

He picked up on the devilry in her eyes and his mind started to wander. Only for a moment, before he snapped his head back to look ahead of his own feet. Calm down, Rennek, he told himself but it wasn't easy with the way she seemed to pull his strings. Something, he knew, she did on purpose.

But why?

He dared to look her way again, and found some relief when the topic switched to the work ahead of them for a moment. He was to carry some things around, but at least not across great distances. Sounded simple enough — he could do it. Aiden had plenty of brain, but even more muscle.

"That sounds like a plan. Happy to help," he said with a smile again, and even her question about him was one where he'd retain his composure. "It was very much a family thing, you know? Dad was a soldier, my grandfather was, and I just fell into it. Signed up with a bunch of childhood friends too, actually. Some joined the army, others became pilots."

"These days, after everything I've seen, I just feel it's where I can make myself useful for other people." That polite smile finally turned back into a grin, as he added, "Though carrying crates of supplies with some good company isn't a bad way to be useful either, hm?"

Danger Arceneau ​

 

[Noah Corek]

Noah sighed as his gaze fell upon the damage that a people who shared his culture and religion had brought upon the planet of Ukatis. It had been for this reason, and his general want to do good works, that he had donated a significant portion of both his companies and personal wealth to helping the planet recover. It was also for this reason that Noah had also brought himself and about a thousand support personnel from the Galactic Foreign Legion to help.

Doctors would help to heal the wounded, engineers to help rebuild both dwellings and , munitions experts to help deal with any dangerous remnants from the battle and many more different types of specialists the Legion had at its disposal. One of the major resources, besides the personnel brought, that the Legion provided was temporary housing in the form of prefab huts.

These huts were usually used by the Legion to act as everything from barracks to administrative buildings to armories but were now donated in the dozens to the citizens of Ukatis to act as homes, storehouses, medical clinics and administrative outposts.

Noah was currently in one said outposts, pouring over datapads and notes from both his Legionnaires and the people of Ukatis. Putting down the pad he was currently reading he sighed and signed off on it, a request for the few pediatricians that he had to help deal with a rash of child illness that had struck a particular section.

Looking out one of the few windows of the hut to observe the damage once again he shook his head and stood before making to the door, quickly opening it and stepping out, intent on finding something to do rather than just read reports.

 

[Alicio Organa]

Alicio looked on with attentive eyes as Jasper explained the process, his eyes traveling down to the guides drawn out on the roof, imagining the work he'd be doing. It seemed simple enough. Alicio gripped the device as it was handed to him, a light smile traveling across his face. "Well, I doubt we have to account for the vaccuum of space here, but I'll keep it in mind."

With a silent nod, he got to work.

Nail gun in hand, Alicio began bolting down the bottom row of tiles, a steady hand and a quick study. He was still smiling, though his good mood slowly cooled, replaced with a contemplative look. Physical labor often had that affect on him.

The body worked, so the mind wandered.

"Were you here?" A vague enough question, but one with an obvious implication.

- Jasper Kai'el -

 

[Jasper Kai'el]

Ukatis
Tags: Alicio Organa

​

"Were you here?"

"Corazona's my sister," Jasper stated plainly. "Well, spiritually anyways. I came to protect her people."

It was the least he could do. After all, he had wound up not being able to protect her from the clutches of the Sith. That wasn't his fault ultimately, but that didn't stop him from feeling guilty about it. Still, he had been here to evacuate civilians from the warzone, even going to blows with a Mandalorian warrior.

"I hate war," the man said in a matter'o'fact tone. "But I hate people dying for no good reason more. I think for that reason I'll be on warfronts till the day I die."

Cruel irony. The fate of a Jedi.

"Where did you wind up?" the Sentinel asked. "I know you wound up in their cusdody for a bit."

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

"I can't imagine that you're wrong." Cora murmured with a measure of good humor. The same yarn could be spun a hundred different ways across Ukatis' varying regions. "But I hesitate to imagine just which parts are true."

Blue eyes met the tempered view of a Y-visor in a silent acknowledgment of the shared understanding between them. It seemed that Jenn had emerged as a leader of her clan out of necessity - Cora was curious, but didn’t know the woman well enough to press her on exactly what meaning she hoped to create.

"Hm," Her lips pursed in thought at the idea of a tournament. Ukatian men - and perhaps a few women - prided themselves on their martial prowess, violent as their conduct could be among one another. "That would be rather far in the future."

She didn't dismiss the idea outright, but Jenn's next question visibly startled her. Surprise simmered in Cora's expression for a few moments before it settled.

"When I first became a Princess - through marriage - I left the Jedi to attend to my duties here. I went back to Coruscant after my husband passed, in mourning."

The longer she thought about it, the harder she felt the question was to answer. Actually, that wasn't entirely it; the answer was there, she just didn't like it. Both stations demanded total dedication, something that couldn't be balanced.

"King von Cholmondeley leads Ukatis - his station is more akin to your own, I'd imagine. This," She gestured widely to the camp. "Isn't entirely outside the purview of a Jedi. There are even a few others helping out, now."

"But to answer your question,"

She leaned forward a tad, lowering her voice to a wry whisper.

"I don't sleep."

Jenn Kryze

 

[Jenn Kryze]

​

| Location | Ukatis
| Objective | Wisdom of the Owl

"That is not for us to say", answered the Alor simply. "A pessimist would tell you that the more fortunate ends to those tales are the greatest fabrication - that only tragedies can be rooted in reality. I would have agreed with them, once. There is beauty, in a tale where myth and truth are married together."

​

Although she simply did not have a poet's soul, the Alor's voracious appetite for grand tales was insatiable: a quality, among clan Kryze, for they ever-sought to remember the past and learn from it, finding harsh lessons and glorious reminders of all that they could achieve. Although foreign tales of chivalry and courtly love were naturally less likely to keep them interested, some among them found interesting parallels, and great virtues exemplified through popular folk tales.

Whenever she doubted herself, Jenn thought of those moments spent around a fire with her warriors, eating a hearty meal and listening to whichever tale they were being regaled with by one of their members, a smile splitting her face as she raised her fist to the air and called out a joyously powerful "OYA MANDA!", often relayed by her clan but a moment later. Sometimes, they uttered the words at the same time. A fond memory, to be sure, that brought her warmth and comfort.

Corazona's own story, however, evoked a certain contemplation. Although largely unaware of the intricacies of Ukatian culture, Pollux had briefed the rest of the squad on the way to deliver the supplies - evidently, the Mandalorians had no desire to kick up more of a fuss than their presence already would, and so they were given a crash course on their social norms, if only to avoid unintended offence. Not that the sheer anger she felt when he pointed the inexistence of lady knights was worth lingering on, to be sure, but the knowledge imparted unto her gave her a grater understanding of just what kind of situation the Princess had found herself in.

Or how painfully it harkened back to her own. Silent as she was, her Y-visor betrayed nothing of her expression or thoughts, she beckoned the Jedi to follow within the dropship's hold, sitting herself down onto one of the large crates inside. A little more privacy than outside, if only so that her counterpart might not be heard by anyone passing by.

"I have my own misgivings with the Jedi Order. But I know they do not force you to join them, and so I assume you chose to become a Jedi, only for you to abandon that path in the name of duty to your people." Her words lingered in the air, and she waited patiently for the young woman to either acquiesce or deny her sagacious observation. A pause that allowed her to collect her thoughts, and bring forth an olive branch of sorts - baring a wound that had not quite yet healed, as it were.

"There was... a woman I loved, and dearly so. Some mechanic out of Coruscant, who settled down on Hefi back when the Enclave first came into being. When the war began, I spent every waking moment I had within my forge, tending to the armor of the fallen and inventing new weapons of war. When called upon to serve, I served. I fought, risked my life, killed. And our relationship grew strained because of it. I realized I had a choice between love and duty, and I chose... poorly. Now, duty is all I have."

Although she never said the words Do not make the same mistake I did, they were more than implied in how she kept the intense stare of her visor locked onto her.

​

Corazona von Ascania ​

 

[Alicio Organa]

Alicio didn't look up from his work- but it was obvious he was paying attention. He treated the task before him with genuine care, each roofing tile laid with more confidence than the last, but his back was straight, and an ear was always turned Jasper's way.

"Amani was here, too," he offered with a thoughtful scowl. "But I was not. I was at home with the twins." A reflexive, nervous grin broke his face, before he fell back into ponderous stillness. "I told them Mom was out being a Jedi, saving the day. But, honestly? I was terrified for her." There was a pause in Alicio's work, as he stole a deep, calming breath.

"I know you wound up in their custody for a bit."

"Senator Natasi Fortan had been abducted in the raids. I struck a deal to get her home safe. Part of that deal was me." His eyes were distant for a moment. Natasi had a checkered past, he knew. But she still deserved to be looked out for. The Alliance would not abandon her, or anyone it had sworn to protect, as long as Alicio had a say. "I'm just glad she's okay, now."

"I was hoping my... captivity... would offer a chance to open a line of communication with the Enclave, but... Clan Kryze has since departed Kestri for good." Some vain part of him wondered if his open honest communication with Jenn Kryze had swayed her decision at all. "It's given me perspective, maybe a lead to help end this war, but... nothing more."

Alicio thought a moment. "I don't hate it, you know. War."

- Jasper Kai'el -

 

[Danger Arceneau]

U K A T I S
OBJECTIVE: The Main Tent | Aiden Rennek | Open for interaction
The Eve Foundation | Outfit | x | x | x | x | x |

​

Danger's auburn brow would arch in curiosity but knowing query as the poor Alliance Marine blushed some more and was so adorably flustered. The woman had to tell herself to keep as much of a straight face in her response, confirming for him, "Yes, here." she gestured towards the ship.

The crew had already lowered their loading ramp and steadily rolled down pallets of crates to be set on the loading speeders.

"We will be moving those crates from there onto the loading speeders here," Danger instructed, aware that the Marine's mind had wandered. Perhaps she had too much fun at his expense. It was best to rein herself in and focus on the work needed.

Thankfully, there didn't seem to be any hard feelings at her teasing; the Marine had slipped into detailing why he became a soldier.

" Well, glad to hear you're of the sort lookin' to lend a helpin' hand. Hard to find that out in the black the further from the core one gets. At that point, reckon the only folk you can trust are those who have your back." They walked the last few steps until the pair approached a tall Houk in Saeva Security gear. The aurabesh label on his jacket said his name was Pinka, while the rank identified him as a Captain.

"Captain Pinka, glad you were able to get here in one piece," Danger called out, a broad grin on her face and extending her hand to greet the Houk. The massive Pinka looked at Danger, then gave a double take, offering his large hand to take.

"Miz. Ar--" Captain Pinka began, only for Danger to smile and shake her head. "It's okay, call me Danger here."

"As you wish, Danger. " The Houk replied in a deep tone. "I have everything ordered getting unloaded."

"Perfect, Lieutenant Rennek is here to assist the crew with gettin' these crates onto the loader. I'll be happy to help in any way as well."

 

[Rayia Si]

@ Dear lord there are so many of you
Location: Ukatis
Mood: Reminiscent

---

Rayia had arrived late for the relief efforts. 'Then again, is there really any such thing as late when one is talking about a rebuiling of civilization from the ashes?' She asked herself, staring at the rubble strewn about what were once carefully cobbled streets. One clawed hand covered her mouth as a faint trail of dust wafted on the wind and filled her lungs. Rayia coughed, eyes watering, and thought back to how the gas the Mandalorians attackers had used had burned her throat in much the same way. Flecks of blood dappled her hand, indication that her throat was still healing from the burns it had suffered as a result. And in fact, Rayia's voice was still sore from the pain. But she owed it to these people to try and rebuild what her efforts to defend had only partially saved. 'That, and you owe the people of Ukatis an apology. After all, you rampaged a bit at the end there,' Rayia thought to herself.

This was why Rayia had bundled herself up within her thick, red, leather cloak that shrouded her features and was working with the removal and restoration of the debris. The less people that recognized her the better, but also she could put her full Felacatian strength and speed to work. Hefting and tossing large chunks of debris into a previously cleared area, Rayia began to work on deconstructing the debris into more manageable piles that the builders of Axilla could make use of. 'I was definitely caught up in protecting my small area. I mean, I stopped Hilal and her band but what good did that really do?' Rayia chided herself, looking around at the carcass of the once great city around her. Broken buildings like bared ribs having been picked clean by scavengers and broken for the juicy marrow within. A shattered water fountain slowly spilling across the tiles, ebbing erratically like the beating of a weary heart.

What made it worse was the image of another city overlaid upon the ruins of Ukatis in Rayia's mind. A city that was not too different from the city of Axilla. The City of Vossport where Rayia had fled to after leaving her tribe. The Trade City of Vossport was one of the most prominent port cities on Weik, with loads of cargo offloaded from windships daily. The city where Rayia had first learned the blacksmithing trade and apprenticed to a member of the Guild. 'We're not so different, perhaps,' was all that Rayia could think and her heart screamed for the people who had been so impacted by this devastation.

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Cora lingered behind Jenn for a few moments before rolling her shoulders and following along. Taking a break for a few minutes wouldn't hurt - and hey, she could play her curiosity up as diplomacy.

She hesitated in answering Jenn. The word abandon was harsh, if accurate. The noble was used to dancing around ugly truths, preferring flowery niceties instead. The Mandalorian did not mean to offend - and she hadn't - but was simply blunt by nature.

"I was sent to the New Jedi Order at the behest of my father, but it was a task I was eager to pursue."

Marcel had handed his daughter over to the Jedi in order to ease the Alliance's newfound relations with Ukatis, and had pulled her back when he found a greater purpose for her to serve. Until then, it hadn't been her place to question her father's decision.

The Mandalorian spoke of something Cora hadn't expected - of the clash between love and duty. In truth, she assumed her kind incapable of affection and tender feelings.

Just as many had assumed of Ukatains.

There was an intensity to the way Jenn's unseen gaze honed in on Cora. It wasn't malicious, but the point she'd been trying to convey had become clear. She’d suffered for her duty.

The Jedi’s nails picked idly at the crate beneath her, creating splinters of wood beneath her fingers.

"A Ukatian noble - be they man or woman - lives for the good of their people. We're taught that there's pride in that. And I do have pride in my duty but…"

She'd lost Makko once, twice even. First to duty, then to her own selfishness. It was a miracle that they'd been able to find their way back to one another amidst all the pain.

"…if you had to do it all over again, you'd choose love?"

It was an unusually direct question, but they were in relative privacy.

Jenn Kryze

 

[Jenn Kryze]

​

| Location | Ukatis
| Objective | Converse, Reconcile, Instruct

Jenn was a hunter, and a warrior. Always had been, ever since she reached the age of thirteen and chose to remain among the Mando'ade, rather than chasing the remnants of the life she once had when Clan Kryze saved her from certain death. But the words she now uttered within the relative privacy of the dropship... they were the words of a woman, and a lover. Someone who was both more than the Alor of her Clan, and less.

To her credit, she listened to the Princess' words, careful not to interrupt her - no matter how ardently she loathed this example of just how stifling a monarchy was. Mandalorian culture was, as far as she was concerned, incompatible with the very notion of rulership granted through hereditary means. Try as they might to decry her kind as brutish berserkers driven by a "might make right" philosophy, they were fair. Or, at least, they had been... once upon a time. The anger she felt slowly ebbed away from her, but that sharp "gaze" from the Y visor did not lose its intensity.

That question, however, was akin to a knife in the gut. There was nothing malicious about it, she knew that much: what she felt was of her own making, and not borne of a taunt from the Jedi, or a subtle desire to see her in pain. There was nothing underhanded about it. But it still hurt for her to look back, and see all that she had lost. The gentle embrace of someone who cared for her so very deeply, granting her solace from the war, the forge, the responsibilities. Oh, how she missed it...

"Yes", answered the Mandalorian breathlessly in another show of emotional vulnerability, her voice finally giving away something more than firmness for the first time since the two had met. "Yes, in a heartbeat. I would choose her over the burden of leadership. Someone else would have stepped up to lead the honorable among us away from the Enclave, I am sure of it. I am not a savior, or a prophet. Merely a wise voice amidst a sea of madness. But I made my choice, and I suffer for it every day."

​

Corazona von Ascania ​

 

[Samara Raine]

RESTORATION
Ukatis
Refugee Camp - Makeshift Medical Clinic
TAGS: Jalen Kai'el | Shan Pavond | open for additional interaction

​

Samara let out a little sigh as she walked through the refugee camp looking for the medical station with a droid floating on his repulsurlifts closely behind. The Master Jedi was wearing her usual outfit; a berry-colored jumpsuit with a matching long tunic jacket. On the woman's utility belt slung low on her shapely hips was an attached lightsaber and a small medpac too.

The refugee camp itself was a sight the field doctor had witnessed time and time again while working with non-profit galactic organizations (NGOs) doing humanitarian missions across the galaxy though mostly in the Scar Worlds after the Bryn had destroyed countless planets on their terror campaign.

The Jedi Healer had learned long ago when serving with the Silver Circle to harden her mental shields otherwise all the pain and angst of those who were suffering from either disease, a natural disaster, or man-made war would eat her sanity alive. Even with that precaution, each tradegy still weighed heavily on Samara's heart, and for every patient lost it took a little bit of her soul each time...

But, one needed to be hopeful and to be a light in the darkest of times for those less fortunate. So that was the Lianna-born's goal here --to lift up and help as many as she could whether it was simply to comfort the dying or to heal the sick and injured, to be a friend or even a teacher when needed. That was Sam's dedication to the Force and to those she cared for... but at what personal cost, hmm? Time was starting to tell.

The honey blonde passed by a blue and gold tent that looked to be where the headquarters for the camp's management seemingly was located. It was a hotbed of activity so Samara continued on until she spotted what looked like a makeshift medical clinic. And as usual, the mobile hospital was swamped with patients and few caregivers.

Approaching, Samara sensed two Force-sensitives just ahead who were knee-deep in patient care. From their age, she surmised they were probably apprentice healers, skilled though in field medicine from what she observed from afar.

Samara and the IM-6 battlefield medical droid stopped at a marked red-cross tent, then she called out to the two young males nearby, a Human, and a Mirialian, who appeared to be in charge.

"Hello... I'm Doctor Samara Raine," the Master Jedi greeted in a friendly manner, then tipped her golden head to the side. "And this is Stitcher, my medical droid companion. We're here to help. Where would you like us?" she asked, then shifted a large medkit carried from one shoulder to the other while waiting for their orders.

 

[Judah Dashiell]

Walking along with Zej, both men came to a stop as a massive piece of wall debris was about to be dropped into the street, pushed over by labor droids and workers who had deemed the section far too unstable to work with in the traditional manner.

Dust and small bits of grit and debris kicked up with the loud crash.

"Looks like we'll be able to start landing closer to the actual debris fields by the end of day. Should make the process go quicker."

Judah nodded in agreement. Once they had the city block clear it would be a decent staging area for all of their operations, allowing for more salvage to be sorted on the ground rather than taken up to the processing facility and going from there.

"I'd think so. Perhaps we can re-divert more labor droids if needed, or another processing facility. I'm thinking we're going to need to expand our mobile processing soon ; too much shit-stirring going on in the 'verse again."

"I'll see what resources we can move around."

Meanwhile, Judah pulled out his comm and sent a message to Noah Corek .

[[ Hey Corek, hows it been? You have any type of tent-housing system for my workers thats better than a tent? Looks like we may be stuck on Utakis for a bit. ]]

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Cora stilled immediately after she'd asked if Jenn had regretted her decision. It was a deeply personal question, and she wouldn't have faulted the warrior if she'd chosen not to answer, or told her that it was none of her business. Because, in truth, it wasn't.

Mandalorians were faceless creatures to many, and with that sometimes came dehumanization. Cora still struggled with this, to separate Jenn and her clan from those who'd brought ruin to Ukatis - but here, she began to understand that the Alor was not some emotionless automaton. She was a person, with hopes and dreams and fears.

Yes, in a heartbeat.

Her answer, and the feeling of genuine remorse behind it was startling. In a good way, after it sank in. That Jenn had experienced the pull between duty and love, suffering for her decision, was something that linked them in a galaxy of differences.

"You are human." Cora murmured, her voice low and gentle in commiseration. "At least, er, I think- humanoid." She added awkwardly upon the realization that she had no idea what Jenn looked like. There could have been a Rodian beneath that visor for all she knew.

"And your clan?" She asked out of genuine curiosity. Cora knew that Mandalorians organized them into clans, but she wasn't sure if they were structured out of a familial bond like Houses on Ukatis. "What do they mean to you?"

Jenn Kryze

 

[Jenn Kryze]

​

| Location | Ukatis
| Objective | Converse, Reconcile, Instruct

Although the matter clearly weighed heavily on the Alor, she felt an odd sense of peace coming over her. The decision she had taken was the wrong one, just as she had been wrong to support the Enclave's Crusade in the naive hope that she might preserve her home and offer a dissenting voice from within the organization, pushing back against the rampage in her own way. The desire to brush off the Princess was present, of course: they had gone from glaring at one another to speaking of grave and personal matters, and she was entirely within her right to draw a line in the sand when the topic of love came up. Nothing was more sacred to her.

Perhaps that was why she chose to speak, and share her knowledge with this radiant Jedi. If she could learn from the mistakes of others, she might very well just avoid repeating them... and she would be happier for it. Why the happiness of one of her people's ancestral enemies mattered to her did not matter. Her duty as the Alor of her Clan was to instruct the next generation and guide them towards greatness - and she recognized the Princess as someone in need of any guidance she could get, given how precariously she balanced her duties.

"Nothing in this galaxy is greater than love", affirmed the Mandalorian firmly, although her voice still betrayed just how deeply she grieved for what could have been. "There is no power that can outshine it. Duty, honor... they are dear to us Mando'ade, but the meaning of those words can be argued. Love is raw, and powerful. There is beauty in that." Pitiless and dehumanizing as the Y visor and the scratched owl eyes above them might be, they were more than the faceless visage of a warrior. They evoked wisdom, and she could only hope that the girl before her would listen, and take her words to heart.

It was then that Corazona called her human, before correcting herself hurriedly. The thought would have claimed a warm chuckle from her, if not for the circumstances behind what she had become. "Ersansyr", corrected the Mandalorian, the Sith tongue feeling all the more foreign and wrong coming from one such as herself. "Or, if you prefer Basic to the Sith's tongue, Songbird. Not that I am as graceful as the name would suggest." A complete lie, of course, but then again, she believed it wholeheartedly.

Slowly, almost languidly, turned to look at the ceiling, deep in thought. "A difficult question to answer. In our tongue, Aliit means both Clan and Family. Some would argue the two cannot be dissociated, and I tend to agree. Clan Kryze was shattered when Manda'yaim was conquered by the Sith, and those who survived thrown into mines to work until they died. Those few souls who survived, such as myself, held on to the name... and now, with so many people from many different Clans answering my call, I have seen fit to bestow that name upon others. My surviving siblings would say that I am diluting the bonds we share by doing this, and perhaps they are right... but I know who and what I am. I am Jenn Kryze, Alor of my Clan, Mother to all within it. They are my kin, my people, my family. There is nothing I would not do to see them safe, and set upon the path to a bright future."

​

Corazona von Ascania ​

 

[Samara Raine]

RESTORATION
Ukatis
Refugee Camp - Makeshift Medical Clinic
TAGS: Jalen Kai'el | Shan Pavond | open for additional interaction

​

Before the two apprentice healers could answer her question, a commotion from behind got the Liann's attention. Samara spun on her booted heel to see a frantic-looking man carrying a small boy in his arms. People in the camp were partying ways for him as he headed towards the mobile medical clinic in a mad dash. One did not need the Force to sense a father's desperation to save his child. She did though percieve the ill nature of the little one's well-being.

A snakebite, poisonous. There was no time to lose here.

Sea green orbs took a quick look around for a free exam table or cot to do her assessment and treatment upon, but none were open so she improvised. Stepping over to a stack of crates, the blonde dropped her med kit down to the ground, then moved a couple of the large containers off the top to make a flat surface about hip height. Samara motioned the man to come to her and set the ailing child down on the makeshift exam table. The father looked like he might have a medical emergency any moment as he was red-faced, out of breath, and sweating like a pig, but the child was her first priority.

"Save my boy, please!" he cried out with emotion, and then the man collapsed down upon one of the moved crates nearby, relief and agony on his face.

"We will do our best," Sam assured with a small smile, then she got to work, determined to do everything within her powers to do just that.

The snake had bitten the boy on the forearm. The area around the two puncture wounds from the fangs where the venom was injected already showed signs of tissue necrosis. The boy was pale, incoherent, and breathing was becoming labored.

Shock is setting in. Neurotoxin is spreading. Organs will shut down soon.

"Stitcher... Give a hypospray push of FavAV antivenin now as the snake was probably of the pit viper variety knowing this region, then start supplemental oxygen, and give a bolus of normal saline. I'm going to try and extract the poisonous venum directly. There's not enough time to wait and see if the antivenin works. You have patient care now."

"I have this, Doc. May the Force be with you," the medical droid acknowledged as his longtime Jedi partner would now do her healing thing.

With that said Samara stood over the boy with her hands held just above the snake bite, fingertips splayed open, and then she took a deep breath in and let it out slowly as her eyes closed slipping into a trance.

The extremely concerned father looked confused and dismayed, wanting, no, needing answers. "Someone talk to me. What is the woman doing? Is my boy gonna be alright?"

The IM-6 zipped around the crated table on its repulsurlifts, administering care here and there to the incapacitated child. "Doctor Raine is a Jedi Master. She is going to use the Force to help heal your son along with the conventional medical treatment I am giving him. It may take a moment to know the prognosis."

The man looked a bit bewildered, but just nodded in understanding with a new hope slowly filling his eyes as he noticed between the female healer's hands and the boy's arm where the snake bit him something was going on... The wound was starting to look less angry.

 

[Aiden Rennek]

​

Oh.

Oh.

Aiden smiled sheepishly and cleared his throat when his brain finally caught up and figured out what she had actually meant. Maybe it had been intentional teasing on her part, or maybe he was reading too much into something harmless, but it had certainly made things just a little awkward for him. Luckily, she didn't seem to want to completely embarrass him, and some light teasing and playful behavior certainly did not bother him.

There was something fun about her.

"Aye, that uh, makes sense." He flashed a brief grin and practically fell in line like a true soldier. Without context, he'd look like he was a personal guard or at least someone assigned to follow her orders. Which in a way was true, he supposed. Together, they met up with another one of her people — a Houk who had done all the preparations for them to get to work.

It was time for hard labor now.

"Happy to help, Captain," he said with a respectful dip of his head. "If I can get a hand or two, we'll have these crates moved in no-time. But I don't mind handling it alone either if you're short on people." He glanced at Danger, who had offered to help however she could, too. Aiden was too polite to request her help carrying around heavy boxes. Call him traditional, but he wouldn't have a Lady break her back for something he could easily handle alone.

Even if she was strong herself.

"So," Aiden began to make some conversation while he'd fetch the first of the crates, "Where you heading off to once work here is done?"

Danger Arceneau ​

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

Of all the places she could've been, of all the conversations she could've had, the last thing Cora had expected was to be aboard the ship of a Mandalorian she'd reviled during their first meeting, listening intently as Jenn spoke of love and duty.

She was tired of being angry. It took up too much time and energy, resources she'd rather put towards building a future for her home.

Cora did startle at the word Ersansyr. She'd recognized it as a Sith word, but wasn't aware of its meaning until Jenn informed her. The Princess stared at the Alor, or where she imagined her gaze to be behind that Y-visor, and was suddenly struck with the intense urge to see what Jenn actually looked like beneath the helmet.

"I see."

Her tone was low and reverent. Cora did not know Jenn's feelings on being a Songbird, nor did she even know what that entirely entailed, but her response was crafted to acknowledge and not offend. A few quiet moments were spent simply studying the detail of the beskar helm in front of her, noting the coloring, symbols, and their placement. Blue eye shifted back to Kryze as she spoke of her clan and their bond. She nodded slowly, offering no interruption.

"I envy that." Cora paused, waving a hand to the side briefly. "Not…the difficult circumstances you've survived. I mean, I envy your surety. You know who you are and what you want to do."

That hand pressed against her knee, fingers curling into the fabric of her trousers. How strange that she'd despised this woman a few months ago, and here they were discussing a topic near and dear to their hearts.

"I suppose we are similar in the sense that we both want to secure a future for our people. Even if that means breaking ancient traditions and customs. Ukatis isn't exactly the paragon of modernity, nor does it need to be-"

She smiled faintly, as if the thought was exhausting.

"- but some things do need to change."

Jenn Kryze

 

[Danger Arceneau]

U K A T I S
OBJECTIVE: The Main Tent | Aiden Rennek | Open for interaction
The Eve Foundation | Outfit | x | x | x | x | x |

​

"So," Aiden began to make some conversation while he'd fetch the first of the crates, "Where you heading off to once work here is done?"

"Me?" Danger glanced up from the datapad manifest she'd received from Captain Pinka, her green eyes studying Aiden Rennek as he started stacking cargo crates. Deciding to lend a hand, she joined him, offering guidance on which crates to load first to make triage easier.

"Well..." A touch of sadness washed over Danger's face, her thoughts drifting back to the Farm back on Orran III and the children there.

"Figured I'd pitch in with the Eve Foundation some more... see what else folks 'round these parts might need a hand with," she said, her voice tinged with determination. Keeping busy was key; idle hands were the devil's playground, and she couldn't afford to let her mind wander too much.

She managed a faint smile, though the sadness still lingered in her emerald gaze. "There's a lot of hurt folks out there who could use some help." Taking a deep breath, she squared her shoulders as if trying to shake off a lingering ghost.

"What about you? You stationed here on Ukatis for the long haul?"