Senate Guard
OBJ. 1: I Hate Sand.
Atmosphere III.
PONEMAH TERMINAL
DESERT REFUGEE CAMP NEAR LOADING BAY
Tag: Elpsis Kerrigan | Kalie Alverez
Equipment: Gorthalon's Greataxe, cortosis forearm guards, IB-series blaster, a single radiation grenade.
TLDR: Elpsis draws the flames that have resulted from the explosion into herself, subsequently extinguishing them. The explosion was a distraction by young refugees to steal speeders and look for riches in the Sea of Sand.
Atmosphere III.
PONEMAH TERMINAL
DESERT REFUGEE CAMP NEAR LOADING BAY
Tag: Elpsis Kerrigan | Kalie Alverez
Equipment: Gorthalon's Greataxe, cortosis forearm guards, IB-series blaster, a single radiation grenade.
TLDR: Elpsis draws the flames that have resulted from the explosion into herself, subsequently extinguishing them. The explosion was a distraction by young refugees to steal speeders and look for riches in the Sea of Sand.
The flames rose. The stormy winds became even fiercer. A terrible shadow of unease loomed over the horizon.
Without hesitation, the great beast drops to all fours and races towards the ongoing flames that are bent almost in half by the shrieking winds, leaving Elpsis behind. Rude, yet from his point of view understandable, given that lives might be at stake.
Each of his four limbs tear holes in the soft sands as his gallop thrums deeply, sounding like kicks to a large, hollow leather drum. Racing past the dignitary and her escorting guard, he omits any form of greeting. Upon arriving at the camp grounds, he gradually slows down and stands up straight, receding into a light jog and then a slow crawl through the masses, so as not to topple the frightened refugees. All of them are blindly funneling out through the only entrance that the makeshift camp has, while Gorthalon is struggling to advance against the flow of people. His menacing height now an advantage, he hones in on the epicenter of the inferno. Repeatedly sniffing the air, he tries to ascertain additional information as to what could have contributed to the dangerous combustion, yet the oncoming tempest diffuses any olfactory knowledge to be gained.
With each step come more and more questions; with each step the temperature rises. How could this terrible accident happen? Or worse, a question that he did not want to face... yet it festered in the back of his mind all the same; was this a deliberate act? But if so, by whom? And why?
The Yuzzem stands helplessly, as the three tents in front of him are engulfed in flames. The peacekeepers are doing what they can, but the heat pulsing from the middle is so intense, and so unforgiving, that any attempts to douse it are rendered meaningless. The dignitary and her escort arrive. Gorthalon heard their coming and voiced his suspicions of this sequence of peculiarities; with his pitch black eyes still gazing deep into the foul, dark flames, without turning back, he shouts over the cacophony of air and fire. – Interesting, to meet a dignitary down here.. Ma'am. – Ominously, he turns back to face the delicate lady, but before anything could be reciprocated, Elpsis arrives.
Still with a slight limp in her gait, she emerges from the entropic crowd and as if it were the most natural thing in the sector, she walks past all the guards, preacekeepers, and the Yuzzem, and into the hellish inferno ahead. – What the --- - Gorthalon is utterly dazed by the sight. He had heard about the magnificent exploits of these so-called Jedi since he had enlisted in the Galactic Alliance Army, yet what he saw here, defied all logic. Elpsis became one with the fire. The cracks on her skin now lit up like an erupting sun shimmered; her hair a crown of light, blazing beautifully.
The fire, as mind-numbing as it is, seeped into her; locked behind the white-hot eyes and smoldering frame. In the mind of the Yuzzem soldier, it was nothing short of a miracle. With all his might, all his cunning, and all his experience, in that moment he truly, and finally understood what terrible power the wielders of this Force carried; and how insignificant he is in the face of such a thing. It was a brilliant gift; and a dangerous burden.
Mouth slightly agape, the Yuzzem watched speechlessly as those around him slowly took in what they just saw and resumed their investigations; for the reason for this apparent accident was still a mystery to be solved. Taking a few steps towards Elpsis, Gorthalon spoke up. – I… have never seen anything like this before. – The Yuzzem turns his head for a moment to watch the dignitary and her escorting guard begin to prowl the camp grounds, looking for answers. The sight of the fair dignitary with a blaster in her hand made the soldier raise an eyebrow. He turns back to Elpsis. – Thank you for this.
As they stalk the premises in the following hour, looking beneath every nook, inside every tent, they conclude that no skeletal remains or important clues can be found in either demolished or still standing tents. As of yet, it seems no casualties can be confirmed. – Was this a lucky accident? – He shakes his head. - My instincts tell me otherwise. – He says, lowered on one knee, with an elbow on the bent knee, and the other hand sifting through the smoldering ashes.
And then, a young peacekeeper comes running back from the direction of the entrance, panting with anxious excitement. Everyone present turns towards him. – They stole the speeders! - He exclaims, frantically. - They only left one speeder behind!
Arriving at the entrance, he is not his usual, stoic self. The foreboding, dark sandstorm behind him that is inching ever closer frames his brooding, robust outline. Drawing in a long, hard breath, he motions his right arm in a sweeping arc, non-verbally shackling the attentions of all refugees in front of him, and in his frighteningly deep, furious voice, he shouts. – If you know.. anything. Step forth.
Without hesitation, the great beast drops to all fours and races towards the ongoing flames that are bent almost in half by the shrieking winds, leaving Elpsis behind. Rude, yet from his point of view understandable, given that lives might be at stake.
Each of his four limbs tear holes in the soft sands as his gallop thrums deeply, sounding like kicks to a large, hollow leather drum. Racing past the dignitary and her escorting guard, he omits any form of greeting. Upon arriving at the camp grounds, he gradually slows down and stands up straight, receding into a light jog and then a slow crawl through the masses, so as not to topple the frightened refugees. All of them are blindly funneling out through the only entrance that the makeshift camp has, while Gorthalon is struggling to advance against the flow of people. His menacing height now an advantage, he hones in on the epicenter of the inferno. Repeatedly sniffing the air, he tries to ascertain additional information as to what could have contributed to the dangerous combustion, yet the oncoming tempest diffuses any olfactory knowledge to be gained.
With each step come more and more questions; with each step the temperature rises. How could this terrible accident happen? Or worse, a question that he did not want to face... yet it festered in the back of his mind all the same; was this a deliberate act? But if so, by whom? And why?
The Yuzzem stands helplessly, as the three tents in front of him are engulfed in flames. The peacekeepers are doing what they can, but the heat pulsing from the middle is so intense, and so unforgiving, that any attempts to douse it are rendered meaningless. The dignitary and her escort arrive. Gorthalon heard their coming and voiced his suspicions of this sequence of peculiarities; with his pitch black eyes still gazing deep into the foul, dark flames, without turning back, he shouts over the cacophony of air and fire. – Interesting, to meet a dignitary down here.. Ma'am. – Ominously, he turns back to face the delicate lady, but before anything could be reciprocated, Elpsis arrives.
Still with a slight limp in her gait, she emerges from the entropic crowd and as if it were the most natural thing in the sector, she walks past all the guards, preacekeepers, and the Yuzzem, and into the hellish inferno ahead. – What the --- - Gorthalon is utterly dazed by the sight. He had heard about the magnificent exploits of these so-called Jedi since he had enlisted in the Galactic Alliance Army, yet what he saw here, defied all logic. Elpsis became one with the fire. The cracks on her skin now lit up like an erupting sun shimmered; her hair a crown of light, blazing beautifully.
The fire, as mind-numbing as it is, seeped into her; locked behind the white-hot eyes and smoldering frame. In the mind of the Yuzzem soldier, it was nothing short of a miracle. With all his might, all his cunning, and all his experience, in that moment he truly, and finally understood what terrible power the wielders of this Force carried; and how insignificant he is in the face of such a thing. It was a brilliant gift; and a dangerous burden.
Mouth slightly agape, the Yuzzem watched speechlessly as those around him slowly took in what they just saw and resumed their investigations; for the reason for this apparent accident was still a mystery to be solved. Taking a few steps towards Elpsis, Gorthalon spoke up. – I… have never seen anything like this before. – The Yuzzem turns his head for a moment to watch the dignitary and her escorting guard begin to prowl the camp grounds, looking for answers. The sight of the fair dignitary with a blaster in her hand made the soldier raise an eyebrow. He turns back to Elpsis. – Thank you for this.
As they stalk the premises in the following hour, looking beneath every nook, inside every tent, they conclude that no skeletal remains or important clues can be found in either demolished or still standing tents. As of yet, it seems no casualties can be confirmed. – Was this a lucky accident? – He shakes his head. - My instincts tell me otherwise. – He says, lowered on one knee, with an elbow on the bent knee, and the other hand sifting through the smoldering ashes.
And then, a young peacekeeper comes running back from the direction of the entrance, panting with anxious excitement. Everyone present turns towards him. – They stole the speeders! - He exclaims, frantically. - They only left one speeder behind!
Arriving at the entrance, he is not his usual, stoic self. The foreboding, dark sandstorm behind him that is inching ever closer frames his brooding, robust outline. Drawing in a long, hard breath, he motions his right arm in a sweeping arc, non-verbally shackling the attentions of all refugees in front of him, and in his frighteningly deep, furious voice, he shouts. – If you know.. anything. Step forth.
Now.
For a few seconds, the gales of Ponemah are all that can be heard. Each refugee present is silently gazing at the terrible beast in front of them. Right as he draws in another breath, an old, Boosodian lady steps forth.
- We have lost everything at Jedha. – She utters in galactic basic, her voice cracking under the forced shout that she has to exert because of the loud weather. – Many of the young ones have been ... bewitched by old, old tales… of riches in the Sea of Sand… to the South. – Her numerous eyes revealing genuine concern. – Many of us begged them not to go… But they are foolish… and stubborn. Nothing to lose. – A single tear wants to roll down her cheeks, but is forbidden to fall by the angry winds. – Please. You may still reach them. They might not have gotten too far… The tales also include… mentions… of terrifying dangers lurking beneath the dunes.
Please. Bring back our children.
They are all we have left.
They are all we have left.
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