Faction The Scars of Kintan (SJO and any/all jedi)

[Jend-Ro Quill]

One doesn't just show up unannounced at another's home. When the eighty-kilometer sphere of Peace Station materialized over the rocky, sun-drenched, war-torn planet Kintan, it did so by prior agreement. Many of the Jedi who called Peace their home - Ryv , Wyatt Morga , Aaran Tafo , and other familiar faces - had just helped the Silvers defend Kintan by the skin of their collective teeth. Now this place needed healing and protection, and the Jedi stood united.

Shuttles and personal vessels of every kind began moving between the huge station and the Kintan surface, traveling up and down the gravity well. One such ship was the Visitor, Quill's old freighter. He wasn't quite sure where he was going yet, at least after he dropped off his cargo of humanitarian supplies: prefab shelters, water purifiers, food synthesizers, and field medical droids. They were expecting that cargo in the bombed-out streets of New Kalandra. If the Force didn't suggest an alternative destination, he'd probably stay here and get healing.

The Visitor touched down at the outskirts of New Kalandra, in a zone of cramped landing sites rimmed by refugee tents. Quill unbuckled and got unloading. The Force was oppressive here, stained by pain and trauma and fear that the Sith would come back.

OOC/ Tagging some more of the defenders of Kintan: Jerek Morrows Kyra Perl Valkren Calderon Reggie Faayare Beltran Rarr Acaadi Elise Jessica Med-Beq Judah Lesan Jr. Kat Decoria Cenric Marus Tyluko-Kai Kaimana Nick Dragovalor W Wagyl Kingsley Victor Akani

 

[Sera Inkari]

Location: Burning Moon Range
Objective: A test of silence.
Tags: Syn ? | @Any
*Good Possibility of fire.

The priestess of Kintan had missed the battle.

Missed the war.

The devastation to her home had her almost drifting across the sands where she used to live. One foot in front of the other over dry cracked and forgotten paths. The breeze on her old amber robes and fiery hair shifting slowly in the wind. Dryness at the back of her throat parched her thirst for she had neglected the lifeblood of water that she so relied upon.

Every spirit that would no longer walk almost echoed its last cry, but there was no sound, not one person remained in this isolated location. The crumbling ruins of what she had loved lay bare, but there was worse to come as she ascended upward. There was the order of the burning globe where she had been raised, what had been their fate?

The burning moon range was an active range of volcanos and several nearby desert peaks where the order was located. The heat as you got closer to the nearby volcanos would make the average woman sweat, but it was home. To the desert below the temple was often a place locals would come to trade water and be offered solace or shelter if the volcanos should erupt more forcefully, located behind a sheltering mountain peak. The locals... When she walked through the local village at the foot of the temple it was entirely in ruins. The sith must have realised the old army of light stockpiles here and associated them with the Jedi, hit it by chance or just taken no chances with an old force order.

Her steps had her in a trance of sorts, drifting towards her answers. There were no bodies, no movement, just the wind rustling the sands in the background behind the priestess. She righted an overturned table outside someone’s bombed-out house, pulled a street sign straight again and then continued, arms folded inward beneath her amber robes. Pausing at the side of two hastily erected graves, nameless they had not time to etch even a farewell before the evacuation, there was however a drying desert flower atop one of them.

 

[Jerek Morrows]

When the Sith pulled out, they left behind a reeling city and many wounded. Jerek could feel their pain radiating in the Force, perhaps even more vividly due to his unexpected and sudden usage of Force Light. It was an art one did not idly employ, and one that exacted its own tax.

He felt lightheaded, and there was a dull ache in his temple. The sensations all around finally caught up with him. The Shadow staggered and stumbled through the ruins of Kh'aris, dumbly shifting about rocks and rebar for any sign of life.

More blood and rent flesh greeted him than cries for help. Sith did as they pleased. They went where they wanted and killed where they would. More than ever, the Galaxy needed Jedi.

True, proper, Jedi.

Wars had a penchant for escalation. The Sith thrived on that easily manipulated fact. Those with the mentality of "necessary evil" or "bringing the fight to the bad guys" were often twisted into the agenda of the other side.

A Jedi needed none of those things. A Jedi existed solely to protect, to serve, and to preserve the balance. They were keepers of the Peace. Not Warriors.

Many would see this as a failure. Some would see it as a victory, where the Sith fell upon the Jedi and were rebuffed. Jerek saw it as a humbling lesson.

As he lifted the frail, broken form of a small child from the rubble the man cradled her ruined head in his hands and bowed his head. "There is no death," he whispered, gently closing her eyes. They were frozen in eternal terror, but now she could rest. "There is the Force."

Jerek hugged the corpse to his chest, unperturbed by the viscera that clung to it. Dirt and grime did not dissuade him from compassion. "Let me lay you to rest, child."

 

[Jessica Med-Beq]

Saving civilians was the most important part of the engagement, but whatever defenders couldn't be extracted, could be saved only because the Confederate reinforcements arrived before time ran out. Of course, Kintan wasn't the highest-priority world along the Silvers' eastern border, and conflicting procurement procedures made it so that, while there were surface-to-orbit MIRVs, the rest of the anti-aircraft was mostly fixed quad-laser turrets, with some light MLRS units used in an anti-aircraft role. Yet, this was the most Pyrrhic victory of her life as a commander, outgunned and outnumbered, and, yet, the Eternal Empire proved to be more dangerous than the Sith on a per-combatant basis, especially since the Sith still were tunnel-visioned. For now, whatever survivors there were, combed the endless fields of rubble in search of people trapped beneath. Pain could be felt, overflowing, all across the ruins, especially for the unlucky that neither side could get to. Yes, she knew that so many were reluctant to take the fight to them but with some civilians being relocated, rebuilding the city would be a lengthy process, with the spaceports being deemed essential. Winning, even a Pyrrhic one, was of little comfort for the survivors still trapped in the city. Still, with molecular furnaces being brought in, building materials are less of an issue.

 

[Ryv]

Kintan was a catastrophe for the Silver Jedi Order. So many had died when the Sith marched on the desert planet that even Ryv could feel it, regardless of his damaged connection. Yet somehow, the Order managed to pull through and claim victory. It just came at a cost most would consider too high to pay. Ruins were all that was left of both the fortress and its surrounding city. Beneath the rubble lay perhaps thousands of dead, both Jedi and Sith forces. None of them would awaken again, none would smile or laugh, and none of them would cry. The more devout and stalwart Jedi believed there was something greater for these people after death, but the kiffar couldn't bring himself to believe it. Not after the atrocities committed before his very eyes only days prior.

There was no surprise when Peace appeared above the planet, bringing aid to what remained. While some of the order had fought in the planet's defense purely by chance, the rest would bring much-needed relief to the injured and exhausted inhabitants.

Ryv needed to rest. Since the battle's beginning, he hadn't stopped moving. Rushing behind enemy lines, trying his damndest to save as many lives as possible, holding off a Lord of the Sith alone, the following days; it all blurred together in a mess of pain, tears, and exhaustion. His dreams were assailed by nightmarish visions of the battle. Those innocents lost replaced by Ryv's loved ones. Wyatt, Cedric, Loske, Autume, Aaran, and so many more were lost to him over and over again. It drove him to the point of choosing sleep deprivation over another night of screaming. It truly showed as well. Bruise-like bags decorated his eyes, he moved sluggishly, and he even appeared somewhat gaunt.

But he had to keep moving.

Ryv could not slow or risk allowing more to die. If a Jedi's life was one of sacrifice, than the young kiffar had given his fair share and more.

 

[Kei Amadis]

Location: Undisclosed Base Camp XA-5.
Jessica Med-Beq | @All
NPCs: Wildcard Engineers

Multiple signatures had been hyperspacing in for some time. The Silver Jedi Wildcard detachment had several transport, engineering and logistic ships moving into orbit. Dependably the wildcard’s engineers began arriving in droves, most of their available manpower had been redirected here. Unavailable and out in the rim for the fighting, this would be the hundredth battlefield they rebuilt, feeling like the millionth city they had picked up from rubble. These days they were all old, retired soldiers, civilian engineers, or older jedi looking to serve in reconstruction efforts. One more planet on the edge of a warzone ruined by Sith advance.

More used to it than most. That was the reality of life on the Sith’s border. No matter what others wanted or wished it to be. The Guardian lamented not being here for the fighting, and for how strong the Sith had become. He’d seen it coming when Voss had fallen, that they would eventually become an overwhelming threat. Waiting for them to attack again and devastate another world would be foolish to his mind but the guardian served where he could, when he could.

That was all you could do, your best to protect, to serve and to shield. Today to rebuild.

Boots soon on the ground, logistics experts began plotting out where the teams were most needed. A temporary base camp was being erected at the landing site to handle the unloading, and Amadis was there in full armor once more, headset on, hands on with them as always. No box was safe. A grim grin tried to emerge but it was firmly squashed by the devastation around him, the hellish landscape he once again found himself in.

Holo plans were laid out on the table ahead, and they began their work. One house, one generator, and one family at a time. Food was coming but it wasn’t here yet. Time to call in on an old friend. Jessica’s communicator would soon come online. “Master Med-Beq. Wildcards here. Where do you need us most?” Jessica Med-Beq

OOC:

Spoiler

Kei here for limited posts, mostly posting with Sera

 

[Elise]

Elise's return was a hard one.

The reinforcements had arrived a moment too late-- New Kalandra had already fallen to the orbital bombardment of the Sith, but the rest of the planet had found itself spared from the same fate.

There was a blessing in there somewhere, though Elise could not currently reach it. She walked with slow steps down the debris covered streets, following the familiar path back towards the arena. The Sith had made a show of coaxing frightened civilians into its belly, a fate she had discovered too late as well. Fire had been rained down upon the gathered crowd, silencing countless with one press of a button.

She had been in that arena moments before it had happened. She had created a distraction-- a means to flee.

It had not been enough.

Those words echoed inside her mind --toxic, she knew-- haunting her.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Beyond her, the first piece of arena rubble lifted into the air. She opened her eyes, a sense of resolve strengthening her features as she directed it to the side and let it clunk to the ground.

There was a young man she needed to find. She allowed herself this selfish moment, this singular chance to feel. Grieve. Act. It was only when, piece by piece, she had reached the collapsed arena entrance that she knew it was time to stop. Emotions drove her forward, demanding she break her way inside. Perhaps he had run back in there, perhaps he still lived. What if he needed aid?

She quieted this voice, taking another breath in to ground herself. The only thing she felt beyond her was death. She didn't want to accept it, but she could at least accept that that feeling was normal. Compassion was healthy. It was what made her different than the Sith that did this.

She turned from the area with no answers, fatigue clear in the drag of her lips. There were still many people, alive, that needed aid. She felt the force pull her towards the outskirts of New Kalandra, and she obeyed.

The refugee camp bore heavily down on her, thick with the trauma of those that had survived. She made an attempt to sooth it, the calm she projected around her a mere pebble to the lake of pain. She continued to do so anyway. Sometimes, a pebble was all it took. A ship landed as she walked in, a singular man taking to unloading the supplies. Older in years. Jend-Ro Quill . Elise turned her attention towards him and wordlessly started to help, grabbing a crate from the edge of his dock and taking it deeper into the camp.

He didn't seem one for words, or perhaps she was just projecting.

She returned for the next one, this time granting him a tight smile. "Thank you."

 

[Jend-Ro Quill]

Elise came back, which he didn't expect. A lot of folks in these situations took a load for individual needs - one family, one injured person, themselves - and left it at that. Quill wouldn't have judged: he'd been poor and in need before.

Kintan's baking heat was nothing like Hoth. Around the time Elise thanked him, the first stages of heat exhaustion were setting in. He stopped and sat on the ramp, in dubious shade, drinking water and using the Tapas technique to moderate his body temperature.

"What else do we need here? When we heard how bad it was, we just loaded what we had on hand."

 

[Elise]

Elise has nearly stepped away with the next crate, intending to help the man disperse the supplies amongst those in need. She hadn’t considered that it might have been right to ask first.

She sensed it would have made no difference either way to this stranger, but the moment did serve as a small reminder to be mindful of those around her. More than Silvers stood among them today. She paused, rubbing sweat off her brow and smearing ash in its wake. “I...”She turned, looking around her, trying to find a small bite out of a larger problem that she could pass on.

“Medical. Or ... hands, for the lives still trapped inside buildings.” A grim reality. She looked back to man, then his ship, swallowing against her dry throat.

“Transportation to a safer spot. We’ll be relocating... thousands. ...Where do you hail from?” Came the curious add-on.

Jend-Ro Quill

 

[Jend-Ro Quill]

Elise

"Jedi enclave on Hoth." Quill stood up too fast and sat down again. "Not taking a break," he explained. "My dumb old self gave me heat exhaustion. It's not what I'm used to healing, can't just wave my hand and be done."

He was about eighty percent sure she was a Jedi too, but the Force was too much of a mess here to know for sure. Never one for people at the best of times, he was trying to hold off the sheer scale of their feelings and needs.

"I didn't realize folks were still buried. I can help with that, or I hope I can."

 

[Victor Akani]

Location: Main Bridge, The Ki-Adi-Mundi, Kintan, Gyosycronus Orbit
Objective: Asses the Situation

"We did it!" the enthusiastic Nikto cried. The young Captain threw his hands into the air in celebration. It was called for as it wasn't every day, that the Silver Spacey survived the onslaught of the Sith Imperial War Machine. Kintan did not fall, and the Jedi Master was grateful.

However, there was a reason he had chosen this profession. Any Invasion had to start from space, and in space there had to be something protecting the planet from invasion be it a massive space construct or a man in a spacesuit. Either way, the defenders would do their best to defend the world. It was the very principle that spurred Denerian to command fleets rather than Starfighters or Troopers like the majority of his wartime counterparts.

"Yes. Captain, prepare to recall the Transports. Call in the medical ships from the Auxila Fleet and begin evacuating the war area so we can tend to the civilians. Also, get me whoever is in charge of the ground forces. We need to coordinate with the Fortress if we are ever going to coordinate a proper relief effort."

@Defenders of Kintan

 

[Auteme]

K I N T A N
​

She'd been afraid.

Not very Jedi-like of her, to fear, to worry. While everyone had been fighting bravely here, staving off the Sith attack, she'd been lounging around on Peace. Even when they received word -- from him, no less -- she'd stayed behind. Even when a few of the Masters packed up and headed to Kintan, she'd stayed behind. Even when the reports got worse, she couldn't bring herself to step up, to head there. She wanted to help, but she was just a padawan. Every time she'd fought, it ended poorly. She couldn't really do it...

After the battle, though, her worry simply ramped up. He hadn't been heard of yet. With all of the people dead, missing, or otherwise unaccounted for, it was understandable. Still, she worried. Worst-case scenarios filled her head, buzzing like mosquitos, flickering into her mind every time she closed her eyes.

Auteme was understandably frantic when she ran through the streets of the ruined New Kalandra. And yet as she moved she felt the Force move with her, as if it were showing her the way. Right, then left, keep going until she hit the ruined building there, then another right, and then...

"Ryv? Ryv!" Her voice threatened to break after just speaking his name, so she shut up until she reached the gaunt young man. As soon as she did she pulled him into a hug. "I'm so glad you're okay." Maybe he wasn't okay, but he was alive, and Auteme was more than overjoyed just to see him breathing. She cried a little bit. "I was so worried."

Was it selfish of her to feel happy that her friend survived, in the midst of such death and destruction? What if he felt responsible, that he hadn't done enough? Would her reaction make him feel worse?

Sometimes Auteme thought that she thought too much. She just hugged the Kiffar tightly, almost afraid that if she let go he'd disappear.

Sometimes fear was a powerful motivator.

 

[Zara Tate]

New Kalandra

Zara stood in the shade and sand of a refugee tent. Her whole body wrapped in a very thin brown cloak. Her head covered in a thin white shawl. Her mouth covered from the dust and the smell. Only the thick black mascara surrounding her bright blue eyes gave any hint as to who she was was. Only those bright blue eyes under a thick swaddle of the desert could tell the difference between her and any other suffering local.

She looked around and saw something different from the others.

Here, she saw all of Hutt Space.

Repurposed, but still bleak with desolation. Here she saw the Mara Corridor. A flood of trade, ships, and vibrant new discoveries. Here she saw war. A new flavor of death sprinkled on top of a mountain of dust and dry bones. A flood of stupidity. Not a flood of benevolence nor waves of lush green grass. Not oceans, nor modern cities, nor even a clear blue sky to gaze upon. Here she saw desolation. And dry emptiness anonymous. Both before and after the Sith had come.

She mused at the smell and heat of the desert sun. Grimaced, under a mask of questions and laments. Why? Why was this world even worth saving? These... Alien tribes, these alien peoples. These sick and poor, that inhabited this desolate world. Why were they even worth saving? Were they even real people? Real citizens. Or were they just dust farmers, tribal laborers, rock scavengers, and green-skinned pirates. No. She didn't see a single human face among the sea of refugees. Not a single familiar engineer, student, nor lawyer, nor doctor, nor body of fair skinned providence in all of them. Just a bunch of brown dirt peasants, who'd always been brown dirt peasants, and would probably continue to breed as brown dirt peasants. For years and years to come.

This wasn't Silver Space. This was a wasteland. Before the SJO, this place was a hole. After the SJO, it would probably remain a hole. Now. Just with more food, technology, and white plastic toilets for the local water farmers and alien mouth breathers to live in. Gods. ...Maybe the Sith had done them all a favor. Maybe "New Kalandra" had needed a good honest burning to the ground, anyway.

She stood their in thin brown cloak and thin white shawl. Mourning for the true noble dead. Mourning for the soldiers and sailors and mightier born Jedi who'd given their lives for this horrible, horrible, terrible place.

Kark the Sith. But kark Kintan too. At least war had brought this cesspool planet some closure.

She stopped and turned to see all people who'd come to help. All the Jedi, the soldiers, the pilots, the medics, the builders, the sages, and the wise councilors too. And she wondered if this was the greatest crowd of 'good' people this planet would ever see.

Kark the Sith. She hated all of this dramatic nonsense.

Because who ever cared about Kintan anyway.

 

[Ryv]

In the battle for Kintan, Ryv pierced far behind enemy lines. His dash to save the citizens of New Kalandra led him into the heart of the Imperial war machine. Wave after wave of artillery strikes drove him even further into the empire's clutches and directly into the path of Braith Achlys. The Sith Lord had thought nothing of the padawan as she toyed with him, tearing down everything he'd been told to believe. Still, Ryv fought on to survive. When the call to retreat had been ordered, he knew there wasn't a way he could make it to the evac-zones. He chose to take shelter in a partially standing building, perhaps a former cantina or shop. The last few hours of the fighting the kiffar even struck out from safety, collecting those he could find still alive. There weren't many, but the two he did find were thankful.

It wasn't enough, it wasn't anywhere near enough. The deaths numbered in the thousands for sure, potentially higher. He wasn't familiar with Kintan, but the young padawan was quick to assume the worst given his surroundings. Not sure what to do, Ryv continued gathering the living and dead alike after the Sith were forced to retreat. His jacket had been stained with the blood of his labors up to the elbow, the crimson fading quickly to match the dozens of other stains it collected over the decades. By the time Peace appeared in the sky, the dead lined one side of the street. Ryv had managed to collect just under thirty corpses, all of which were mostly recognizable. There was no distinction made between imperial or Jedi forces. The same could be said for the living. While he only found a total of eight survivors, two of them wore the armor of imperial legionnaires.

It was on another excursion to find more wounded when Auteme called his name. Ryv turned around to see her racing towards him. His arms were heavy, though he raised them to wrap around her waist. His back leg slid back a bit to keep them standing, but the kiffar did not hesitate to pull her close. Tears welled up in his eyes, one even beginning to roll down his cheek during the embrace. He was sure he wasn't ever going to see her again. Yet, here Auteme was a thing of beauty surrounded by a grotesque slaughter.

"Yeah, I'm okay," Ryv kept his voice even as he gently pat her back with his gloved hand. Her worry confused him momentarily before striking hard at his heart. When he radioed Wyatt and raced into battle, it didn't occur to Ryv anyone would worry. He suddenly felt like a selfish fool. "I'm sorry, Auteme. I just couldn't leave these people, you know? They rely on the Jedi, plus, I kept you, Bernie, and Loske off the board. You guys were safe too," he pulled back a bit and cupped her cheek. "I'm just sorry I messed up and worried you."

Auteme​

 

[Jerek Morrows]

Kh'aris lay around them in shambles, a broken fortress failed in its duty. Those who remained swarmed in a multitude of emotions, still heightened in the hours immediately after the battle. What Jedi could give comfort, gave it. Those who could heal, did. And those who had done their duty, solemn though it was, rested.

For some, there was no rest.

He dug in the dirt with his bare hands. There was no need for tools. A Jedi was a tool. They spent their lives training for moments just like this one, and as he had told the young Kyra, it was never enough to prepare them for the real thing. Experience was the greatest of mentors, callous, cruel, and rarely fair.

When he was a boy, the Shadow survived on Ossus where many others had not. It was that moment forever ingrained in his mind that gave Jerek the resolve to continue. If he did nothing, others would find the same fate he had.

An enigma among Jedi, Shadows were the light that seared into darkness and routed out its secrets. They were Knights who gave all so that others could be prepared and have a fighting chance. At their core, they were still Jedi.

A sizable pile of dirt amassed at his side. His hands were blackened with soot, ash, and smeared by sweat. It was not nearly the depth she deserved; yet, it was the most he could manage.

He laid the child inside and watched over her for a time. Though he could not see it, he could feel her spirit linger. Often those who were ripped away from life prematurely were hesitant to move on. The Shadow placed a hand on her cheek and whispered a few words, shared between them and no one else.

Jerek began to replace the dirt, slowly covering her body to ensure it would decompose cleanly, and without exposure to the air. Her death may not have been clean, but her memory would be.

 

[Zara Tate]

New Kalandra
P2

Zara turned from her reminiscence to find a tall desert Ranger striding toward her.

"You." He frowned and took off his muddy sunglasses. Revealing a very dirty and very tired soldier. "...You're with the new volunteers, yes?"

"Um. Yes. From the station. We just..."

"You just got here. I know." He nodded and put back on his dark sunglasses. Then he held out his wrist and activated a holo-map so Zara could see it clearly. The kind of map a soldier might use to digi-fy a battlefield. The small map glowed a pale blue as it hovered hover his forearm. Then he spoke again.

"We're still looking throughout the city for our people. Survivors or people buried in the rubble. We need a Jedi on each team. See. Here. And... Here. We're good on manpower and droids but..."

"...You need somebody to help them find the people without scanning equipment. Right. Yeah, I get it."

She jumped in and gave him a solemn nod. No problem. She could help with that. Zara spoke again,

"Emily. Err, the Lieutenant told me to wait here for B Squad from support? I was supposed to help them with supplies. Or something?"

He shook his head and waved it away, "B Squad's already on their back to orbit. We'll have somebody else help with the unloading process. Somebody without magical talents. We need Jedi elsewhere, anyway. Not just handing out water bottles and blankets to the locals. Here. Take a comm."

He held out a radio for her.

"Head inside the city and find Corporal Vale. Circle Company. She'll take it from there. Or, well... I guess you will. Finding people. I mean."

"Right. Sure."

"You can give it back to Vale when you're done. The comm, I mean. Here. And good luck. This place is a mess. Jeez."

"Right. Thanks. No problem. And good luck to you too. Erm. Yeah. And stuff."

Zara took the radio and then nodded to the bustling post. The Ranger then gave her a tired thumbs up and finally took his leave. Moving on to help coordinate the relief effort elsewhere. He disappeared into the crowded alien tents. Leaving Zara all alone with her thoughts again.

"Okay." She sighed. Looking down at the radio in her darkly gloved hands. "I guess we're finding survivors now. Great. Fine. No problem. This, is what volunteers do, I suppose. Just. Call for backup or whatever. Mm."

She frowned and squinted off at the ruined city just beyond the road.

"I guess. Well? Here goes nothing."

Then she reached down and grabbed her satchel. Trudging off towards the towering debris. Hating every moment of it.

 

[Weyland Castril]

The vessel, Peace Station had been his home for a little more than a week. The assault on Kesh had left him with various burns and a stacked set of ribs splintered by the flippant thump of a Brute. He had seen saved by a kiffar and his Jedi companion, he couldn't remember much else after being dragged from the heat into the cold. That stark shift of temperate hurt more than the fires themselves, even when he was unconscious - his senses ran automatically, even in the tranquil hold of the bacta tank, he still felt everything going on beyond him. He'd heard that very same kiffar hadn't returned from the fighting below.

Guilt for Baros, Formos, Eadu, Kesh and finally Kintan. All worlds attacked, at least Kintan had survived. The others had not been so lucky, so many entire systems destroyed. Trillions dead, silenced forever. He dwelled on that in the tank, perhaps too much. Once out, the fresh faced Knight gathered his things and deployed on one of the last supply ships of this run to the planet below.

When the loading bay doors opened, there were at least a few hundred people gathered; refugees, jedi and military forces working together to unload and distribute the supplies. Their uniforms reminded him of the solid forest green battle gear of the Deep Space Coalitions forces, in composition - not colour. A flash of fields of fallen soldiers crept up on his passive thoughts through the back of his mind. He quickly checked his hit, finding the lightsaber still attached. With a sigh, he watched.

An old man with a thick brown beard with feathers of grey in it walked up to him; looking the blind Jedi up and down. Weyland could feel his presence, old but genuine in heart.

"You.. one of the wounded boy?"

It was an insulting presumption, but not one he hadn't dealt with before. "No. I may be blind, but I'm here to help."

"Then you can help me unload some of these crates."

"Sure." Wey replied, rising from his seated position and walking over to the closest crate alongside the older crewmen. Each disabled the magnetic-locks on the bottom of the crate before wheeling it out, this process was repeated half a dozen times before their share of the work was done.

"Do you think you could help me find someone?" The Knight asked, standing beside the now sitting crewmen as he drank from a small tubular container. After all he'd helped, maybe he could get some assistance back, yet he couldn't help but feel bad for searching out of self-interest. The old sea-dog smelled it.

"Everybody on this planet is looking for something or someone, boy."

He didn't reply much verbally, simply nodding instead. He understood, he could feel it. Waves of depressive energy came from those who survived in waves. But at least some had. Where he had come from, Formos had been his home for a long time and nobody survived bar a few on shuttles. But that didn't last long, Kesh and Eadu both had been taken by the Bryn'adul. He couldn't focus on that now though, he had to find his one night stand saviour.

Weyland made his way into the ruins, following the faint familiarity of the Kiffar's force signature.
- Ryv Auteme

 

[Elise]

Elise gave a small blink, concern washing over her brows. She pushed towards his side without hesitation, taking a seat besides him and reaching out for his hands.

"Here," she offered, her voice subdued.

There were surely more apt candidates for her time and healing, but the concept didn't cross her mind as she let her thoughts fall still and focused on his ailments within. She was here for a reason, and she let that be her direction as she guided the Force into the man's body with the intent to invigorate and heal.

Every pebble caused a ripple.

"We'll be arranging search parties, shortly. Now that we have the hands." A mindful pause was taken, the woman focusing on the task at hand.

"My thanks to your enclave, for sparing you and these supplies."

Jend-Ro Quill

 

[Kyra Perl]

Kyra had not wanted to come back. It was hard to say why. The fortress was lost, and efforts were directed towards the streets and refugees that needed assistance. She would not have to stare down the place of their encounter. She wouldn't even have to think of it.

The urge to avoid and run lingered strongly in her gut, and that was why JJ insisted she come back to face the remains of her first battle. It was easy to feel helpless if you didn't step up to help. Perhaps she would be able to overcome the trauma of the events if she made a physical effort to move on.

She could feel his logic through the bond, and in some way she could understand his reasoning.

It still didn't make stepping down from the drop ship any easier.

Having been inside the fort for the battle, the padawan was spared the destruction that occurred on the streets. Seeing it now was disjointing. Unfathomable. Mind blowing. She felt herself pulled forward, her feet trudging steps through the sand and the ash. Behind her, JJ stepped back, giving her her space to process.

She had never seen such horrors before. She barely knew death. She could only stare numbly, pushing through the streets. She didn't mean to walk towards the rubbled fortress, but a draw in her chest pulled her there anyway. She nearly didn't recognize it as she found herself standing before it. It was sad how such a grand place could be reduced to a simple pile like all the rest.

It was the echoes rippling through the force that tipped her off.

Oppressive darkness, ferocious and corrupting.

Pure force light, dissipating into the wind.

Screams.

Fear.

Pain.

She could feel her own echo, resounding back at her. She only stared at the pocket of rock she had been pulled from, void of a response.

 

[Jend-Ro Quill]

Elise's expert Force healing wiped away the heat exhaustion. He sagged against the ramp's hydraulic strut. "Much obliged," he said. "Can think a lot clearer now."

He tried tapas again, and this time it took hold. His body temperature wouldn't creep up that hard again, but at some point he would need electrolyte fluid.

"Hoth enclave's just me most days - I'm Quill, kind of a hermit. The supplies aren't mine; I happened to be on Peace Station when it jumped." He pointed up at the faraway sphere, like a tiny new moon, just barely visible through the haze. "A lot of the Jedi who spend time there fought here, so we got the call pretty quick."

He stood up, sans dizziness, and went up the ramp for another crate.

"You're a Jedi too? Silver?"