Private We Have Forgotten What Makes Us Strong

[Placeholder 0128]

He hated sand. It was coarse and rough, and it got everywhere.

Even still, Kamar was a suitable staging ground. The planet had once been part of the Essonian Kaiserreich, and the Dominion of Ession after that. The native Kamarians had welcomed them with relatively open arms, though their once unified world had splintered into warring fiefdoms since the fall of the Dominion. One such Fiefdom, the Khanate of Karak, still had loyalty to the old crown. They sought to reunify the planet under the rule of a single Khan, and saw their former overlords as a means to that end. As such, they'd been keen to provide weapons and training grounds to sharpen what remained of the Essonian military in return for future help in national unity.

Both worked in Cedric's favor. As unpleasant as it was to look at a Kamarian, the insectoid race had long been staunch allies of the crown, and loyalty was a commodity in this age. Over a thousand men and women had already arrived to the Karak's capital of the same name. Their lodgings were little more than camps erected on the outskirts of the city, but that suited them just fine. Most had long since gotten used to roughing it.

"Lord-Imperator," Bishop Decius still insisted on using the title, "Another contingent of volunteers has arrived. Most of them are green." The elderly Bishop pulled at his long, unruly white beard. "Shall I send them to the tents?"

Cedric glanced up from the map he'd been pondering over. It was an ancient thing, made of paper like the books of the old ones. "Indeed. Have the MedTechs look them over, and send all that are cleared over to the training grounds. I need them battle ready as soon as they can be."

"Of course," the Bishop muttered as he turned to exit the tent.

"And Bishop," the old man halted, "Send any with actual experience to meet with me. The Khan has been cordial thus far, but if we don't start making moves to assist him, I doubt he'll continue to harbor our people. I'll take them on a scouting mission."

"As you wish."

Silence abated the room as Cedric glanced down to R3-D1 . He'd arrived with the droid to Kamar just a day ago after having spent one in a bacta tank back on Chandrila, and he was uncertain as to how the droid was dealing with the desert environment. "You doing alright? Not too much sand in your joints?"

Alyson Halle , Fiona Graehl

 

[R3-D1]

R3, the diminutive astromech of one P Placeholder 0128 , turned it's head to look at its master. The grinding of sand trapped in the gap between the head and body was grating, but it was a welcome reprieve from the screeching of rust from the last adventure. The repairs and refitting granted to the little astromech were welcome indeed!

R3 gave a disgruntled whistle and rocked one way and then the other, loose sand not uet trapped spilling out. Several of its tools, legal or otherwise, opened as well to release their grainy prisoners. This, R3 felt, adequately represented its feelings regarding this maker-damned desert.

But, R3 would suffer this injustice with a stiff upper... photoreceptor, for its one true purpose was to serve its master.

 

[Fiona Graehl]

Fiona had heard that Kamar was the place to be if one wanted to help retake Ession. She had little better to do, or really any other direction since the death of her family at the hands of the Sith. So, she made her way to the planet. It was much dryer and warmer than she would like, and the natives were...interesting, to say the least. Still, when she made it known she wanted to join the new army being formed, she was helped on her way to the camp.

There, she was lumped in with the rest of the new volunteers. Fair enough, she supposed. A medical technician looked her over, recording her weight and height, as well as asking her if she had had any health issues in the past. Luckily, she hadn't, and Fiona was sent on with a large group of the volunteers to speak with people who seemed to be more official, and far less polite than the medtechs had been. There, she was questioned about her past. Specifically, they asked about what skills she had, any previous experiences in combat, as well as a few other questions.

She mentioned her skills as both a mechanic and at making explosives, in addition to her experience planting bombs in Sith official's speeders. She was split off from the rest of the new volunteers, and asked to head towards a large tent towards the center of camp. She did not know what for, or if she had somehow already gotten in trouble, but she did as she was asked.



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[Alyson Halle]

Deserts were cold, not in the literal sense, though they were at night, they were cold in the force. The great strings which bound all life to fate were few and far between, the normally illustrious weave was reduced to something more akin to a spiders web. A few tight strands loosely bound to each other by happenstance.

She didn't know how it made her feel. On one hand it cleared her senses for the first time in a long time, allowing her to clearly see the calm serenity that pervaded everything. On the other, it felt empty, without the constant chaos of life as usual, the lack of background noise made her own thoughts all too apparent.

Those thoughts were pushed to the side for now. There was much work to be done, and very little time to do it. Alyson peered through the macrobinoculars out in the distance, waiting anxiously for the return of her men. The first Meridian Scout Calvalry were a well trained bunch. They had gone from riding horses to riding speeders in record time, but today they were allowed to return to their living steeds for the first time in decades.

Speeders were noisy, consumed fuel, and required extensive maintenance. They didn't have those luxuries right now, they were far from a proper operating military. Merides could supply these things but supply lines were stretched thin, with the imperial civil war making the usual methods of transport rather dangerous.

Soon the brown steeds came over the hill, two scouts. They pulled up next to their empress, removing their sealed helmets as they did so.

"All clear around the perimeter my lady." The leader said.

"Good, get some rest. You've earned it." The empress replied, Pulling the shemagh up over her face as she turned into the brutal sun.

The two saluted before making their way to put up their horses. Alyson had little to report, but one could never let their guard down. Not these days.

She made her way to the tent which contained P Placeholder 0128 pulling off the face covering as she entered. "Perimeter is clear. Nothing to report."

She paused for a moment. "I know that feeling. You're plotting something aren't you?"

 

[Placeholder 0128]

"When am I not?" Cedric asked with slight mirth after he'd turned back to peer at his map. Colored blobs lined the map of Kamar, each color indicating the sphere of influence of one Khan or another. The closest were the M'hur, and they were more than hostile toward the group's hosts. From what Cedric knew of them, they wielded primeval weapons, and would likely not be able to hold particularly well against a modern army. Unfortunately Cedric had no modern army - only a relatively modern mismatch of volunteers.

It would have to do.

"The Khan's been pleasant enough to allow us use of his land, but for how long? We need to prove our worth before he decides the price of feeding us is no longer worth it," The Essonian paused as he turned to glance at Alyson. Above all other, the Meridian Empress had been his closest and most loyal ally. That she still remained with him even here spoke volumes about her character.


It was that loyalty that urged Cedric to be truthful with her.

"I wonder of things Alyson," he reached up to place a hand over his mouth, brow furrowing as he continued to stare at the map in thought. "About what we are doing, and if it is the right course. Perhaps it would have been better to stay with the others, fight the Sith from the core. I'll admit my disdain for many of them, but our forces are more than a little stretched right now."

A pause as realization passed over his face. he gestured to R3-D1 . "Oh, of course, this is R3. I picked him up back on Chandrila."

The flap to the tent opened and a young woman stepped though. Cedric turned to face her, a brow lofted as he examined the girl. "Welcome to our temporary home. I take it you're one of the volunteers?"

Alyson Halle . Fiona Graehl

 

[Jack Anderson]

In low orbit of Kamar a small rag tag fleet had been gathering, here and there a large transport would appear with a couple small escorts, capital sized, but far from capital armed, but they were fast, for their size anyway, a single one and it's escorts peeled away from the forming pack with it's own miss matched escorts, an old, possibly even original production run, dreadnought class cruiser, and a carrier modified CR90 Corvette, the black silhouette of a bird in flight painted on each of them clearly viable as the flew low enough over the camp that their engine wash would warm the whole area a handful of degrees until the ships landed and turned their reactors to standby. Jack had resisted making his usual brand of theatrical entrance, the kinda that usually involved terminal velocity, but a normal landing, he just didn't have the restraint to do it, what was life if you weren't having at least a little bit of fun.

Jack stepped out of the smallest of the ships, completely failing to read the room, was wearing his Sith Battle Armour, Slugthrower Rifle, and his Tonfa Sabers, and strode up to the camp with a handful of his elite guard holding onto to a printed out version of the message looking for mercenaries, he recognized Cedric so he had to come, at least to see what was going on.

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[R3-D1]

To call the events surrounding Chandrila a 'picking up' was most certainly an understatement, not that R3 wanted to or even had the means to correct its master. Instead, the droid busied itself with self-diagnostics and merrily working away on ship manifests and streams of data received from incoming and outgoing craft.

As skilled as R3 was at data acquisition, its true strength lay in the organisation of said data. It was an astromech, despite whatever... highly illegal modifications its former, and hitherto unnamed, master added to it.

As the others discussed information pertinent to the current task, R3 happily shuffled along as it worked, only partially listening in so far as recording the meeting for usage at a later date.

Thus was the happy life of R3 the astromech.

Tags: P Placeholder 0128

 

[Alyson Halle]

"It is not my duty to judge the decisions of my liege, but if I must give an opinion, I believe that second guessing yourself is a pointless endeavor. Worrying about what has already been decided is a futile exercise that only serves to cloud your judgement."

She had just settled in to the conversation, finally began to let the rigid guards that she always kept up down, and then some useless piece of bantha fodder letting out a dark side force aura stronger than a conference hall full of sith acolytes landed right in the middle of their camp like it was nobodies business.

Whoever this man was, the absolute GALL he presented made her hope that she would finally get a decent fight out here. It had been a long time since she had a worthy duel. The second he popped his head through the tent door, a lightsaber was drawn and ignited, attempting to land just short of the neck of the sith who had dared enter her presence.

"Who are you and what do you want. My patience is thin for your kind, so be quick, Sith." She sneered

R3-D1 Jack Anderson P Placeholder 0128 Fiona Graehl

 

[Ryv]

Brilliant blue lights raced past Ryv at speeds he couldn't begin to fathom. The iridescent azure shades mixed in with stark white, morphing together to paint what is the infinite expanse of hyperspace. From the first time the young Jedi Knight experienced a trip through lightspeed, each journey somehow proved more beautiful than the last. While he hated being left alone at his apartment back home on Coruscant, something about the cockpit soothed his troubled mind. He didn't have to think about the people he'd let down. The faces of the dying failed to surface, nor did the memories of those who abandoned him. Ryv's mind didn't fall back on those who let him down either, a happy reprieve he hoped would remain in place as he went about meeting with his former mentor. Cedric always popped up at an odd time, leaving Ryv guessing when the Jedi Master might next appear. The Kiffar hated those feelings. He wanted a sense of security, to know the people who claimed to be there wouldn't leave. This opportunity before him, a chance to meet Cedric Grayson on his terms, it was the beginning. Ryv wouldn't let the opportunity slip through his fingers again.

A series of sudden beeps pierced the silence of the cockpit, rousing Ryv from whatever near-meditative state his mind slipped into. He looked down at the terminal as he wiped at his face. Green flashing lights signaled the conclusion of the trip through hyperspace a moment before the blues and whites fade away, replaced by the arid planet of Kamar. Having never visited the desert planet, he expected a dry wind, a hot sun, and a hostile environment likely out to kill him the moment his X-Wing set down. Each hand gripped tight on the sticks, directing the ship down through the clouds to the coordinated provided days before. Ryv's experience with the Grayson Imperium introduced him to what a war camp looked like. From above, he could make out the hundreds of tent-like structures through the dusty lowlands. Soldiers marched up and down the makeshift streets, weapons in hand, rigid posture carrying them from place to place.

"Not sure what the point of the Barash was, Cedric," Ryv grumbled, cracking open the cockpit as he scooped up his bag. He threw a leg over the side of the ship and dropped down, leaving the X-Wing behind as he wandered closer to the gathering. Cedric wasn't difficult to feel, his cold and imposing aura setting him aside from the elder Jedi Master, unknown red-head, and Bogan-bound soldier a few hundred steps ahead of him. Ryv's hand dropped to his side, taking hold of the Blade of Ruusan in his main hand. "Yeah, just come on over, Ryv," the Jedi Knight muttered, his amber gaze not leaving the back of the Sith's head. "It's gonna be fun! Yeah, yeah, invite a fucking Sith, why don't you?" his mocking question went unanswered, the rhetorical nature not leaving the Kiffar wanting. As the distance shrank between them, Ryv found it easier to make out the explosive dynamic taking shape. Those devoted to the Ashla appeared as receptive to the dark sider as he did, taking offense to Jack's very presence, their emotions flaring as the familiar snap-hiss of a lightsaber echoed ahead of him.

"Well then," Ryv hurried closer, picking up the pace as he broke into a jog. He cleared the remaining fifty or so feet before sliding to a stop behind Anderson's guard. Ryv's other hand fell to the relic weapon, his thumb brushing along the side, activating it without a second thought. Cyan light exploded from the thrumming blade, the calming touch of Ashla washing over them all, threatening those aligned with the shadows. "Can't say I'm fond of Sithspawn wandering around, the fuck are you and your friends doing here, chief?"

P Placeholder 0128 | Alyson Halle | Jack Anderson | R3-D1 | Fiona Graehl ​

 

[Fiona Graehl]

Fiona wasn't quite sure what she had walked into. When she entered the tent, a scarred man, a droid, and an armored woman were talking. She did not know or recognize any of them, but she guessed the droid was either a r-2 or r-3 astromech. R-3s...objectively worse than r-2s, but still very handy...and very fun to modify. The scarred man asked her a direct question, and she turned to respond.


"Yes, I came here just a few days ago. I'm Fio--"

She was cut off by the arrival of another person, dressed in full Sith armor. The armored woman activated her lightsaber, while another activated by a second new arrival. Fiona jumped in surprise, then quickly moved away from the two activated weapons.


P Placeholder 0128 R3-D1 Ryv Alyson Halle Jack Anderson

 

[Weyland Castril]

Silver Jedi. Galactic Alliance. Jedi Order. Grey Jedi, Grey Forces, something or other. Different promises from the same cut of the cloth.

He had been wrong. Jedi were not kin simply because of their alignment, in this Galaxy being a Jedi didn't mean a damn thing. No duty - no responsibility. The word Jedi was an empty promise, unless somebody actually tried to change that. Was that what he was doing? He'd heard of Cedric, of the Grayson Imperium. If he was anything like Ryv, perhaps he would be in good company and perhaps... he would not feel so alone. The Jedi tightened his coat, making sure all but the last two clips on the front of the jacket were fitted right; sliding the grey-brown helmet over his head as the X-01 Starfighter landed nearby where dozens of others had.

When the Jedi Knight left his X-Wing, his Shield was strapped to his left arm. His Lightspear grasped in the right. Of course, he didn't look ordinary nor incompetent. But he didn't look like a mercenary either, the massive lightsaber being the give away no doubt. Three insectoid like soldiers walked up to him, weapons raised. This was a camp, but he didn't yet realise it was a warzone. Not in the most literal sense, not yet anyway.

The Jedi Knight set down the Lightspear, unbuckling his Shield and dropping it as well. He raised both hands over his head. He didn't know why he expected a welcome of any kind.

- Ryv | P Placeholder 0128 | Fiona Graehl | R3-D1 | Alyson Halle | Jack Anderson

 

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"You're correct, of course, as you often are," Cedric mumbled to his lifelong friend. Doubt was the shadow of failure, and he was keen to stand ever in the Light. The actions of his former companions had allowed its seeds to spread in the dark corners of his mind. The Essonian did well to ignore them, but no matter the heights he ascended to, be it in faith or wisdom, he was still a mortal man. The failings of the human mind would plague him for the rest of his days.

"There is no path ahead save for the one we are already on. I thought the Imperium would be the tool we needed to wipe out the Sith and their ilk, but the people lacked our conviction. Those among us here," Cedric gestured out toward the tents beyond, "They do not."

He turned to greet Fiona Graehl properly. The girl had the look of a soldier about her, though she lacked the stance of one that had seen much of war. That would certainly change soon. "I-"

His words died in his throat as Jack Anderson and his band of mercenaries touched down just outside the tent. Their arrival was followed by two X-Wings, each of which carried the presence of those deeply in touch with the empyrean.

The snap-hiss of lightsabers being drawn made him loft a brow. He recognized the target of their hostilities immediately. Jack Anderson had served the Dominion of Ession in its darkest hour, though his loyalty had been to the coin the Essonians provided, rather than their cause. Even still, the soldier had been presented with the opportunity to profit off the betrayal of the Sith within their ranks, and had elected not to partake.

That had earned him a modicum of trust.

Cedric strode out of his tent, a hand resting on the helmet that hung from his belt as he took the mercenary's measure. After a few moments of silent staring, he held up a hand, and waved it down, signalling for those around him to stow their weapons. "Very unwise to show up in Sith battleplate Anderson. Very unwise. If I did not speak for you these soldiers would have killed you," Cedric shook his head as he regarded the man. "I take you've come to fight for our cause. This is acceptable, though you and your warriors will need new war gear. I'll not have men in Sith colors marching in my army." He spoke with a tone that brooked no disagreement.

The pilots of the X-wings each disembarked. One was as stranger, and the Kamarians nearby regarded him as such, weapons raised. The second Cedric knew quite well, though he'd not expected to see him here. "Ryv?" The Essonian blinked, "I thought you'd be back in the core with your alliance."

The second man ( Weyland Castril ) was an unknown, but the Ashla clung to him like a cloak wrapped tight about its wearer. None with such a presence would pose any threat to his people, and so once again, Cedric waved down the guards.

"It seems we have quite the gathering," he mused aloud as a minor dust storm began to sweep through the camp. Cedric scowled as he eyed the pillars of orange dust clouds that were swiftly moving toward the camp. "The Kamarians will see your men to their quarters Anderson," Cedric nodded toward Jack Anderson . "As for the rest of you," his gaze would jump from one individual to the next. "Meet me in my tent. My tea is getting cold, there is a storm coming, and there is much to discuss, least of which whom some of you are."

Rather than await any form of response, the Jedi Warmaster turned about, and strode back into the air-conditioned luxury of his command tent. He wasted little time in retrieving his cup of tea from his bedside, and posted up at the edge of the command table in the center of the room. Once each of them had joined him, he would speak again.

"Some of you know me, and some of you don't, as I am the same with you. I am Cedric Grayson, the organizer of this endeavor. If you know of me, then you know what I want, and why my people have come to Kamar. We intend to make war upon the Sith, their constituents, and every other scion of the Bogan this side of Coruscant. We have no allies save for ourselves. Those we uplifted and readied to stand against the coming storm have marked us out as zealots and fanatics. They claim we seek power for power's sake, and with such statements they prove their total lack of vision."

Eyes like pinpricks of flint would jump from one face to the next. "The galaxy is on the brink of death. The veil between reality and the Netherworld is tearing itself apart: the Sith, the Bryn'adul, the Eternal Empire, the Confederacy, and all whom worship the will of the Bogan work to further this coming apocalypse. Every kill made in the Bogan's name is another hole torn through the fabric, every ritual an ember cast upon the cloth, every planet destroyed a knife through the flesh. If you wish to stand with us and see this to the end, you must be prepared to sacrifice everything. We must rely on one another, loyalty above all else, and stride into the dark places of the galaxy as brothers and sisters beneath the guiding light of the Ashla."

Once again, he would look to each individual, even little R3-D1 for good measure. "What say you?"

Weyland Castril , Ryv , Jack Anderson , R3-D1 , Fiona Graehl

 

[Vaemond]

There is no emotion, there is peace...
​

The ancient axiom resounded through Vaemond's mind as he sat on the old transport ship. For months now he had meditated on the truths and failures of the Jedi code, on the ethics it espoused, and how it had caused so much strife and destruction from its failures. The absence of emotion somehow leads to peace, yet peace is not just if its onl1y for the self. How could there be peace if people are still enslaved, if people are still oppressed by subjugating warlords? How could he sit and meditate and ponder on the Force while millions died around him? To Vaemond, the Jedi had become once more weak willed and arrogant, filled with those who 1believe peace is a personal endeavor rather than a goal for the galaxy. Disillusioned was not the correct way to describe him, but rather searching. He sought answers to his questions within the framework of the Jedi, within the framework of the light side. Because of that, he had found himself on this transport shuttle. He had heard whispers, rumors around the temples of Jedi who were similarly questioning the place of the Jedi and ways to end the stalemate and the ch1aos gripping the galaxy. The destination was Kamar, a planet that clearly did not receive much traffic given the size of the shuttle. In his time as a pathfinder and an explorer Vaemond had heard little of this planet, though in a galaxy of this size it was impossible to know every small detail.

The captain spoke to the few passengers aboard as the ship landed at the site, telling them the usual message of keep safe on non-aligned worlds and make sure all belongings are taken off of the ship. They most likely had little idea why Vaemond was here, nor did they care, the others were refugees or vagabonds as Vaemond had deduced. Otherwise, he would've felt their force signatures. As a former professor an scientist Vaemond was skilled in reading people, something he prided himself in. The area resembled an encampment, similar to those he would stay in during his missionary days. As he was processed his mind wandered around the area, looking at how others were being trained or working out all around the facility. The examiner asked Vaemond a series of questions and preformed a midichlorian test, discovering quickly that Vaemond indeed was a Jedi Knight, though relatively older than normal. As a result, the examiner instructed Vaemond to find his way to the command tent where a gathering was taking place. As Vaemond approached, he saw the group moving to the primary command tent and quickly joined them, quietly joining the crowd as they gathered around the command table. Vaemond listened to the man speak, clearly the leader of the group, and was fascinated by his words. The Force itself was at stake; it is not a tool but rather a living entity. This was indeed the group Vaemond had been searching for. As the man finished, Vaemond spoke.

"Indeed. Though I do not know any of you gathered here, what I can tell is that we are tired of the hypocrisy and stagnancy of the Jedi Order. We see the mutilation and destruction of the galaxy all around us, we feel the death and sadness that permeates the Force. We know this can be stopped. This must, and will end. While I know little of this talk of Ashla and Bogan beyond the ancient texts, what I do know is that I am willing to put everything behind to make a stand against tyranny, against the forces that maim and destroy our life giver, our friends, and our families. Let them tremble at the sound of our horns."

Weyland Castril , Ryv , Jack Anderson , R3-D1 , Fiona Graehl , P Placeholder 0128

 

[R3-D1]

R3's answer was as expected as winter on Hoth or humidity on Zelton; an immediate acceptance. With a happy little chirp and a wiggle on its primary legs, R3 hobbled closer to its master, P Placeholder 0128 . The little astromech was as cheerful as it always way, unaware of the snide condensation directed towards it from one or more members of the present company. Even if it did, it wouldn't have much cared. It was happy serving, and it served to live.

The droid's answer might have been expected, but the care Cedric took to ask it touched the little droid's motivator. It might not be independent, not even on the path towards such free-thinking, but the fact that Cedric cared to ask his droid was a nudge in the right direction.

Tags: Weyland Castril , Ryv , Jack Anderson , Fiona Graehl , Vaemond

 

[Alyson Halle]

It seemed who ever this sith was, he was welcomed. Honestly this was the last thing she expected of Cedric, but he always had a way of throwing her off when she least expected it. She retracted her blade and holstered it, purging any thoughts of violence from her head. She would need to be on guard though, you could never trust Sith, she learned that the hard way.

The other arrivals were much expected, it was not her duty to acquaint them with each other not that she knew half of these people. Ryv she remembered, he had made quite a name for himself before the Imperium fell in on itself, the others, were new to her.

"Be mindful sith, and i believe we will have few problems." She jeered.

The newest arrival appeared to be an older man, clearly a jedi, or a former one for that matter. He seemed to have a penchant for speeches. She would have to keep that in mind when she spoke, she preferred things kept shorter.

The young woman seemed promising enough, she would make a good solider at the very least.

Ryv was still very much Ryv, even though he wielded the blade of ruusan, she could still see the padawan in him. That was good as far as she was concerned. Most knights had their heads so far up their posteriors that they lost sight of what truly truly mattered.

Finally, Cedric spoke himself. Her response would be short.

"I should be offended you even felt the need to ask."

 

[Jack Anderson]

Jack held his hands in front of him in a mock lazy surrender, and why out of everyone pointing weapons was he not the first among them Jack didn't know, these were some strange times if Jack wasn't the most hot headed in the room, nevertheless he kept his cool and his guards followed his example, once again oddly making Jack's crew the least trigger happy in the room, it was either that or the fact that Jack told them that they weren't allowed to shoot first under pain of being keel hauled in hard vacuum. "Look, I ain't 'ere to karkin' start a riot, I heard that there was an open merc position, an' last time I was with this crew Sith were welcome, or at least distrusted behind closed doors and not to their face." Jack said doing very little on his own behalf to disarm the lethal tension in the air, but at least he wasn't trying to fuel it farther, yet.

"Look if it make's ya'll fell better about it I ain't exactly married to the ideology, but did you hear me bad mouth their armour? The armour is cool, I keep the armour." Jack said in response to being told off for being a Sith dressing like one. "But I don't intend on causin' trouble, well not for you guys, just the guys you point me at."

Jack followed into the tent, not comprehending much of what Cedric said, but it sounded like there was things to kill, so that meant that Jack was interested in what came next.


Alyson Halle R3-D1 Vaemond P Placeholder 0128 Weyland Castril Fiona Graehl Ryv

 

[Erasmus Amson]

Erasmus had been tending to new arrivals for days at this point. Whether he was checking disease immunities or taking x-rays he had to check every single volunteer that came through, those were the orders.

Some days he asked himself why he still did this. He'd watched his people be slaughtered, he'd watched them wither abandon each other, and he'd watched those leftover wither away... most of them at least. Yet, after all of those terrible experiences, he still stood by the idea of Essonia. No matter what he had gone through, no matter what he had seen, he still believed it could happen, or at least he told himself he believed it could happen. On the days where he questioned his own actions, he couldn't help but think that everything they were doing was the most lost cause anyone could ever be part of. How many times had he seen the galaxy screw over the Essonians? Too many times for his taste and he was just about done with it. After all this time being beaten over the head with bad luck, he was just about done. One more failure and he'd stop patching up his people and start shooting them, he was sick of it all.

Just as he finished up screening another batch of greens an interesting set of events played out before him, near the command tent. He had a hard time processing exactly what was going on but he thought he saw a billion and a half people try and interact with Cedric all at once, ranging from the ever-present Alyson Halle, to what appeared to be a sith lord, to another half dozen people he'd never seen before. "What the hell..." he mumbled under his breath. This time around seemed to be going as well as he expected.

Alyson Halle R3-D1 Vaemond P Placeholder 0128 Weyland Castril Fiona Graehl Ryv

 

[Placeholder 0128]

It went as well as he could expect.

The loyalists reaffirmed their oaths, and those with doubt either spoke of their faith in what was to be, or simply left the tent. Cedric paid no mind to the latter. Theirs was a fair decision, for the path they now walked would see many of them dead. Perhaps all of them. Only the Ashla truly knew what awaited those gathered in the dusty tent.

"Replace the insigna of your warriors with that of the Ashlan Eagle, Jack, and you may fight with us. I will see your coffers filled appropriately," Cedric said evenly to the mercenary. There were others present too. Those whom he did not know, but bore the mark of the Ashla all the same. They had been called to serve, as he had been, and for that they were his kin.

The Jedi Master's gaze fell upon Vaemond. "You speak wise words my friend. I would be honored to have you fight at my side, and eat my table," some of the Essonians gathered whooped their approval. Cedric allowed their fervor to leech its way into his own heart. For a moment, he felt the surety of their purpose as if God himself had given him the task.

In a way, she had.

"I hereby announce our formal formation. From henceforth, we are not solely Essonians, Jedi, soldiers, or any other creed. We are the Ashlan Crusade, sons and daughters of the Ashla, the Light's will made manifest. Furthermore, I reject the revocation of titles by both the Galactic Senate and the Sith Empire. I shall adopt the ancient mantle of Warmaster, as my ancestors did when they lead the Essonian armies against the Sith tyrants in the ancient times, but now we are not alone."

He held his arms out wide.

"We are not only Essonian, but peoples of all races and worlds. We shall forge a new culture, and a new people beneath the light of the Ashla. In the future, we shall refer to ourselves as Ashlan in honor of the goddess. Let our enemies learn to fear the name!"

He struck his fist high, and once again, many of those gathered roared their praise. Cedric's gaze keenly fell to Ryv . "I name Ryv Karis my second in command, the heir to my throne, and heir to all my further titles. Henceforth you shall be Ryv of the Grayson, son of the Ashla, sword of the Jedi, and by all legal accords, my firstborn son."

It had been something he'd planned to do for a long time now, but the right occasion had never presented itself. Now it had.

He looked to Alyson Halle . "To the Empress of Meridies, I grant the title of head of my Kingsguard, and general of my armies. As you have for decades, you will be the bearer of my will, my most trusted confidant and friend."

Again came the roar.

"There is much to be done, brothers and sisters. Kamar must be conquered before we can look to the greater Tingle Arm, and there is little time to waste. The Kamarians have need of us to the north and south. Two Khans oppose our benefactor. Both must be removed. Our forces shall be split down the middle. We will march with the armies of the Khan of Khans, our benefactor, to claim both the mountain fortress of the north, and the subterranean kingdom to the south. The Sons of Ession will be equally divided and spearhead both assaults."

He paused to glance between those gathered. "I shall lead the armies to the north. I appoint the Empress of Meridies to lead the assault to the south. Organize yourselves and prepare. An equal distribution of experienced soldiers and Jedi is paramount to our success."

Erasmus Amson, Alyson Halle , Ryv , Jack Anderson , R3-D1 , Fiona Graehl , Weyland Castril , Vaemond

(I know some of you aren't in the discord, so please join our faction page here. I will be posting sign-ups for both assaults, and would prefer to get an equal distribution of characters. The threads will be going up tomorrow, and I will be DMing both of them.)