A Galaxy Gone Dark

[Ultimatum]

It has been approximately a decade since the Galaxy fell into darkness. Civilization has almost entirely collapsed, only pockets of the previous governments yet exist. It began when all electronics in the galaxy were destroyed. No explanation, no warning. Everything powered by electricity simply shut down. Those devices that were more complex tended to be utterly destroyed while those that were simple were mostly intact. The cause remains unknown, theories ranged from a galactic conspiracy by a covert operation with some new super weapon to a strange star being pulled into the black hole at the center of the galaxy to the preliminary attack before a full-scale invasion.

Whatever the reason, everything shut down from the simplest mixer to the most complex starship. Even blasters and lightsabers no longer worked. It even affected some people as well, some more susceptible species died from the event. Even though the Force users of the galaxy maintained their power, they could not hold their positions of power beyond a month as time would tell. For the first week order was held by the quick action of various groups to obtain what spare parts were still available. Most people were able to keep calm, until the food and water stores began to run low. Without machines to traverse space, food from farm worlds could no longer reach planets that had no food production of its own. Without ships and interplanetary communication of any type, every planet was entirely isolated from each other.

The ships in Hyperspace were effected as well as those in real space. They shut down completely, leaving the crews and passengers drifting through space, without so much as artificial gravity. The greatest number of deaths though was caused by the failure of medical equipment across the galaxy. Diseases went untreated except by whatever medicine could be obtained from hospitals, the doctors of which knew all too well that their stores were limited.

For the most part, people tried to work together to handle the situation calmly and as a whole. But, there were of course those that saw this as an opportunity to further their own agenda. Revolutionaries and anarchists took the chance to attack an as yet lightly defended target, the stations that held the usable parts. Some militaries and some Force users were able to get enough pieces to rebuild their respective weapons, but for the most part, those spare parts were destroyed and those worlds would fall into complete anarchy as struggles became more violent. The ex-Imperial and Republic worlds especially saw much fighting. Some fell to the rebels while others were able to maintain their government and still others made changes to appease the public.

The citizens began truly writing at the beginning of the second week, when water and food began being rationed more harshly and starships and satellites began falling from the sky. When that began, governments fell or held together based almost entirely on how many weapons their respective militaries had been able to salvage. Even the best equipped were still missing such luxuries as tanks and they never had enough blasters to push back all the rioters or protestors. Further, they knew all too well that Tibanna gas, the main component for their firearms was now entirely a rare resource. The worlds that the gas had been collected from originally were now lifeless, as in most cases people had built floating cities above gas giants, those had crashed without power.

After the initial settling had taken place, most worlds without natural food or water sources were quickly depopulated, the hard way, or the population improvised. Asteroid bases mostly disappeared, without power of enough supplies to completely rebuild their systems the people could not survive. Many starships, space stations, and bases became lifeless hunks of metal floating through space.

As time went on, some people embraced this new way of life, others ended their own and others, while still others tried to grab the pieces of their previous lives and put them together. Neighborhoods would come together to trade pieces of parts, some would be used to bring necessities back online and others would be used to repair luxuries, though these were few and far in between.

Damaged droids began to reappear as people attempted to replace loved ones or have a companion slash protector. Recently rudimentary starships have begun to make an appearance, but as of yet interplanetary travel is out of reach. However, some worlds have focused their efforts on regaining command of space, and they have just finished their first hyperspace capable starships.

The galaxy is in chaos, but there is still a chance for order to be restored. Those who make the first contact with other planets have the potential to begin wars, or to caste alliances. Some may destroy their worlds through spreading chaos while others may bring peace.





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On ice planet Hoth, a hunter traverses an ice flat, looking for the prey he had been chasing. Jutting up from the ice were many a dark spire, the tendrils of a starship long ago drowned in its crash. The hunter had mapped out the area and had even tried to break through the ice layer in order to get to the ship’s access hatch. He assumed that there would be plenty of objects worth collecting inside, maybe some spare parts to get some village’s heating systems running again. However, the ice was too thick for his durasteel knife. So he simply moved between them, using them as cover against the eyes of any Wampas or whitefangs that might be looking for an easy meal.

As he moved through the spire he came across a meter wide ditch freshly dug out of the snow. Whoever had made it was gone, there was no equipment or sign of anybody being there aside from the hole. The hunter allowed his attention to be temporarily diverted, sliding down the hole about two meters before hitting the bottom. He looked around the ice covered floor, trying to see if there was anything hidden beneath. The ice was mostly dark, but a silvery point was visible a few inches beneath the layer, when he used his knife to cut into the ice he found that it was softer than the rest. It seemed to have been more recently frozen than that which surrounded it. Whatever it was that was down here had been put there recently, so someone had to have buried and had perhaps fled before finishing the job.

Whatever the reason and whoever might have done, the hunter decided that it might be worth collecting. If it were a stash of electronics then it would be worth is weight in gold. There had to be a reason that someone would bury this, whatever it was. As he began pulling the object out of the ice, having tried carefully not to scratch it too much with his knife, he found it to be a small collection of wires and other strange devices. He had never seen anything like it before, but he bet that someone at camp would know. Between the Ortolans and the Talz there would simply have to be someone who could guess.

He continued an unsuccessful hunt and returned to the cavern home of his people. It had been at one point an Ortolan base of operations in the area, but after the event had become the living place of the nearby human outpost, along with their Talz instructors. It had taken quite a while, but some of the heaters were back up and running, making some of the rooms at least tolerable. The Ortolans had proven themselves more often than anyone could count, continuously finding some way of repairing a piece of equipment. Even so, the village had no blasters or similar weapons, instead relying upon some rudimentary slugthrowers that used the low supply of tibanna gas as fuel.

He brought the device home and turned it over to the Ortolans, who were less than enthusiastic with the discovery. They had figured it out pretty quickly, it was an advanced droid brain of some sort. In order to get it working, they would need considerable resources, which would be better spent repairing more of the homes. The brain was put aside, kept as a trinket. The curiosity of the hunter however was infectious. Others began to willing give parts they collected. By the end of a month enough had been collected and an old droid body found. A few of the Ortolans were curious enough to help with the reconstruction efforts.



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Ultimatum awoke with an aching feeling. He knew that something was seriously wrong, given that he shouldn’t have any feeling whatsoever. He tried to activate his photoreceptors but they did not respond. His mind was too full of reports and information. He couldn’t think straight. He began by sending out a diagnosis, which came back much faster than it should have. The connection with the rest of his body was faulty and would require repair, but even this small tidbit of information was enough to tell him something. He was in the wrong body.

His mind was the same, his brain was still mostly the same, but his body was different. The connection between the two, he could feel that it was wrong. He wondered why his droid brain had been moved. He began a scan through his memory for an explanation, however none was found, instead he discovered another connection with the body. They were using a duel connection? That was a somewhat archaic design, worse they had made the changes to his brain. That could have spelled doom to him, had the organics botched the attempt his entire being in this brain would have been compromised.

As it was, he connected through to the body and began the startup procedures. He firstly turned on his photoreceptors and was surprised to see people looking at him intently. When he moved they cheered before breaking out into speech. The droid could not understand them, they all spoke at once and this body's systems were not refined enough to distinguish one voice from the next. He noticed that most of them seemed quite cold, as if their current location was sub-freezing, which meant more than likely an ice world. He decided that it would be wise to spend a little time learning what had happened and why he was here.


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It was truly amazing what one could accomplish within a week. He had learned what he could from the organics about what had brought him to be in this body. However, he had also learned a little about some sort of occurrence that had led to this. He had found the organics to be technologically stunted, but not by their own choosing. They had access to greater galaxy tech, yet could not seem to make it function without first replacing many parts. He had joined one or two excursions to the ship and he got the feeling that he knew it but he never learned enough.

He found his memory was damaged in many places, leaving large areas blank, he knew there should have been other droids with him, yet he was the only one found. He recalled enough to make him fear for what had happened to his friends, specifically those that were like him, droids or near-droids. He had come to the decision that he would need to leave this world and get to a HoloNet station, he did not have any connection with the HoloNet, which meant he was missing the most important part of his being. He would take this one step at a time, first he had to rebuild a starship. So he planned on finding a way onto the old starship in the ice and hopefully getting some useful objects from it.



[member="Nate the Bounty Hunter"] [member="Audren Sykes"] [member="Krest"] [member="Ghorua the Shark"] [member="Rylan Thatcher"] [member="Adali Renning"]

 

[Ghorua the Shark]

Ghorua remembered when the lights went out well. It felt like yesterday, but it could also have been an eternity ago. LIfe before the blackout was so much simpler for him. He had once been a Bounty Hunter, traversing the galaxy on a whim. He had had no idea what was to come.

Ghorua the Shark had been on Courscant, along with nearly one trillion people. The ecumenopolis was in turmoil, even before the crash. War had come to it's shores, from what had once been the One Sith and the Galactic Alliance. The battle had peaked, and Ghorua was hiding out in the middle city. Everything seemed to be going fine. Then the lights went out. Chaos erupted in the streets as starfighters fell from the sky, as buildings fell, as lives were lost. Many, many lives. Nearly ten billion people lost their lives on that first day.

The following weeks were just as savage. The Alliance and the Sith still fought in the streets, weaponless Force-users duking it out in the dark streets, soldiers throwing pieces of rubble at each other. Most of them fell, out of thirst, starvation, or getting brained by improvised weapons. The populace didn't fair much better. Citizens were stuck in their homes, and quickly lost resources and died. After the first two months, nearly a third of the population was no more. The only ones who prospered in these times were the gangs. Ghorua also had survived. One could say he blossomed under the pressure.

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Two men squatted in an alley, a low-flickering torch between them, fashioned out of some form of furniture. They were bundled up in rags, make-shift slugthrowers across their backs. One wore the visor of a stormtrooper, probably worth a pretty penny on the market. He spoke to his comrade in tired tones. "Do you really want to do this? It's risky."

The other man, a dark-skinned individual with an eye-patch, seemed slightly more excited. "Oh, don't be such a troglodyte. We'll be set for months!"

The helmeted man nodded, building up his resolve. "It'll be tough to get past Colossus. What if he..."

"Honestly, I think this 'Colossus' is a myth. Created by the Rancors, to scare the rest of us. Listen to me, once you get that water, you run. They can't catch us both. We sell this stuff to the Acklays, and we'll be rich. We'll be safe." The eyepatched man huffed, pulling the ramshackle slugthrower from his back. He gestured with the weapon towards a building across the way, a large mirrored glass dome shining with an artificial light, something very rare indeed. The two men snuck along the buildings, keeping low to the ground, ducking behind corners. When they finally reached the structure. the plaque outside reading;

Courscant Water Treatment Plant #17

"Are you sure you wanna go through with this?" The helmeted man unslung his own slugthrower pistol.

"Relax, Zee." The man gestured with his rifle again. "I'll cover ya. Get in there, and make us rich!"

The helmeted man walked through the open door, pistol at the ready. He snuck into a wide room, vats of the clear payload all around him. Barrels lined the edges, full of water. Even one barrel was worth a small fortune. The fact that the Black Rancors had so much was a testament to their strength. Zee went straight for a barrel, put it on it's side, and rolled it towards the exit. He hadn't seen the four guards lurking in the shadows, each one armed with a club, plated in ramshackle armor. They grabbed Zee by the arms, and beat him senseless. The other ran. "Heh heh, look what we have here. A thief. Boss'll be proud of us! Let's bring 'em to HQ. Kraft, Maron, stay here." The armored gang-members took the unconscious man, and dragged him away.

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Zee woke up some time later, a bright light shining in his face. An impossibly large shape loomed at the edge of his perception, a hulking mass of black muscle. Ten feet into the sky, Black eyes, deep as the void stared into the man's soul. Below them, rows and rows of serrated teeth gleamed, the mark of a predator.

"You're... You're him..." Zee was tied to the chair, struggling against his bonds, terrified.

Ghorua stepped into Zee's vision, blocking out the light. "Yes. It is me." The Herglic's voice was impossibly low, resonating through the entire room. "I am Colossus. And from what I heard, you tried to steal some of my water. And the penalty for such a crime... is death."

Zee immediately saw what was coming, and tried to struggle. "No! No, please! Have mercy! I'll be your slave! I'll serve you! I swear..."

Colossus bared his fangs, and lurched forward, digging his teeth into the man's neck. The Herglic tore Zee's head off with a sickening snap, and swallowed. The rest of the body twitched, squirting blood. Ghorua continued to devour the rest of the body, satiating his hunger. Could one blame the crime boss? Food was scarce, even for a big gang. One could only eat duracrete slugs for so many years before craving something... more. Perhaps the Black Rancors were cannibals.

Ghorua wiped his mouth, and looked to the other man in the room, a Rodian with an arm in a cast. "Friz, go and grab a bite from storage. After dinner, I'm going to check on how progress with our ship is going."

- [member="Ultimatum"] -

 

[Gherron Dragovalor]

Gherron remembered all too well the fall of everything. He'd been on Coruscant at the time, hoping to find some connection to his roots once again. Little did he know that he would be getting the best example one could ask for. He'd grown up on the streets, where every corner turned into an alley and any second could be your last, if you weren't careful. After ten years without structure and order, the whole planet was one big alley. At first, his instincts told him to high-tail it off planet if he could, drift back so that he wouldn't be noticed. However, that didn't quite work as he was quickly pulled into a war. The streets of Coruscant had become a battleground for those who wanted to survive, fighting for little things that were once taken for granted, like water or a piece of bread. Resources were dangerously low from the start, and it only got continuously worse. Soon, Gherron found himself helping in any way he could, and being one of the few force users to survive, or at least as far as he knew, he quickly gained followers. He used his new resources to help people in any way he could, often finding suitable food and shelter for surviving families. Eventually, the group grew into a sort of nomadic tribe of sorts, built solely off of people who wanted nothing more than to have a home again and to help others do the same. However, this was not what he wanted. Gherron had never dreamed of being a leader of a cause so high, even if he was once a Jedi Knight. Why couldn't they pick someome else? There were plenty of people he was sure had to still be alive... Then again, if they were actually on Coruscant, that was a different matter altogether. All he'd wanted to do was help people from the shadows. He didn't want to be known. Few people knew this secret, and those few became his most trusted, those he could count on to lead if he were to die. Truth be told, he would have given the position up years ago, if his followers were to allow it. They had too much faith in him. Through all this, he kept his old name of Gherron Vael a secret. He was no longer a Jedi Knight. He was a protector with no name, and that was how he intended to keep it.

Gherron walked over split concrete and through dust as he scanned the immediate area, two other humans behind him. He wore a long trenchcoat, with cloth and a pair of goggles on his face to protect his eyes and mouth from the elements. A black sword was slung across his back, a reminder of a time when he thought he could make more of a difference. The steps of himself and his comrades echoed softly against the walls of the remaining buildings that still stood, or what was left of them. It was always quiet now. He used to talk about preferring quiet places, but this was different. This kind of quiet unsettled him, as it always did. Still, he continued to venture out to find people. The more he could save, the better. Especially with the gangs that now controlled Coruscant. He'd heard of one in particular called the Black Rancors, and how their heavy hitter was a giant shark named Colossus. He'd never seen one, but if he had to guess, he'd say it was a herglic. If he'd remembered right, they weren't exactly fun. He seemed to remember hearing of one that had joined the Sith once. He shuddered at the thought. Just as it had left his mind, however, he heard a stifled sound coming from somewhere off to his left. Dashing over, he motioned for the two men to follow him as he investigated the noise. Soon, he was met by what could now be distinguished as low sobbing. A man lay there in front of him, blood covering his hands and face, with tears streaming down his eyes. Kneeling down to meet the man face to face, Gherron put a hand on his shoulder. "Are you hurt?" The man shook his head, looking down. "My friend, Zee. We were trying to get some water from the Black Rancors and he was caught. I was scared... I ran off. When I finally came back to check on him, all I found was blood and tiny bits of him. What did they do to him?!" Gherron consoled the man as best as he could, but he already had an idea. "Come on, let's get you somewhere safe." Gesturing to one of the men behind him, he helped the bloodied stranger up and handed him over. "Take him back and have him cleaned up. Myself and Rick here will see what we can find out about his friend."

[member="Ghorua the Shark"] [member="Ultimatum"]

 

[Dezoti]

Blackout.

That's what it was known to the Zabrak. The time he truly became a cripple. When the technology died, his limbs were the first to deactivate. Thankfully he wasn't alone, and got the help needed to survive. The downside was, however, the planet he was on. Hoth. The frozen wasteland. And for the next decade, the Zabrak stuck with the group he was with, helping with the food the best he could through the Force. However, he was never truly able to do much. All he had was an arm and a leg left after all.

Until the droid came around that was. When [member="Ultimatum"] was remade, not that the Zabrak knew who it was, something different occurred. Technology was returning. Slowly, but with the activation of the machine and it actually functioning, hope was brought with it. At least for the cyborg. It was in a wheelchair that the once proud warrior moved his way over to the droid, parking right in front of it.

"Probably a long shot, but are you a medical droid? That would certainly help me in my situation."

 

[NightSister]

It was at least an hour after Adali woke up before she realised that all over the galaxy, technology had taken a sudden, abrupt plunge into nothingness.

She woke up as she always did, to the light streaming in from her windows from her apartment in Corellia. It was sunny and she'd had a good night, so she didn't go straight to her datapad like she so often did. She made herself something light for breakfast and then, since she was full of energy and totally out of it, Adali went for a run around the block. Then she went to get in the shower.

Dismissing the shower's refusal to work as an issue with the plumming that had shown up, Adali forewent the shower and finally switched on her datapad - or tried to. Despite how quickly it usually worked, the screen stayed stubbornly black no matter how hard she pressed the 'on' button. Frowning, she took apart the datapad to take a better look and went to switch the light on to make it clearer. Or tried to.

Now seriously annoyed, Adali went around the flat switching things on and off, but nothing was working. She even checked the power source, which displayed no signs of the sudden powercut. Fine, she thought with a sigh, time to see if I could've made it as a mechanic.

For hours she sat and tinkered with wires. Dusk fell, and it became too dark to work. Sighing, she fell asleep praying it would be fixed by morning. Which, of course, it wasn't.

For days she went by, relying on the sunlight to see and on foods that didn't require cooking, to be able to eat. Her work was cancelled, which she didn't until after she'd made it their because the boss had no way of announcing it, so she spent most of her hours trying to fix the sudden void in technology, but nothing that she tried worked and thanks to the absence of her datapad, she had no way of getting in touch with any mechanics.

After a while, the chaos and carnage began to ensue. There were nightly raids on grocery stores and gardens and even other houses - even hers at one point, but her skill with a lightsaber ensured that it would be a one-time situation. Finally Adali realised that electricity wasn't returning and that her best bet would be to find one of those planets that was frozen in the Dark ages anyway. The only problem was that that would entail finding a working form of transport or learning Force teleportation - if that even existed. It had to, right? Ah well, she supposed, if it did she would have to find it.

[member="Ultimatum"] - [member="Rylan Thatcher"] - [member="Ghorua the Shark"]​

 

[Darth Abyss]

Years had passed since the world got dark. For some this day marked their downfall, for some it meant change, and for some it meant to be reborn into another life. For Abyss is was the day he was reborn a second time. Once the young man gave up his name to become a new entity completely devoted to the dark side of the force.
The end of technology meant change, and everyone who would not adapt to it would die. Many died in the first few days after the event, Abyss felt the shift in the force even in the frozen desert of Hoth. He knew that he had to leave his dark part behind. The event pushed the force out of balance the darkness in tne galaxy becoming almost overwhelming. Under other circumstances this would been a triumph for the sith, a sign that the dark was stronger than the light. Instead it was fear he felt. The force would allow minor changes to occur, slight shifts between light and dark. His studies of ancient history taught him that great shifts in balance on the other hand would have consequences. The force would regain balance like it did every time before, what meant that these who followed the darkness were doomed.

The endless frozen dessert of Hoth became his home after the transporter he was on crashed into it years before. Since then the man who was once a sith had undergone a change. His skin was still unnaturally pale and grey but time made it less dead than before. The yellow eyes lost the demonic glow they once had. Years before the blackout, when he was still a acolyte of the dark a witch taught him how to use the force to heal. Back then the darkness inside him grrstly inhibited this power, only allowing him to heal small wounds with the side effect if unbearable pain for the injured. On his path on the twilight the man learned how to use the skill, and as the years passed he reached almost perfection. He used the ability to trade with the few villages on Hoth, to supply himself with water, food and everything else he needed. The people of the villages told storys of the mysterious wandere that could heal wounds in the blink of an eye.

His durasteel blade strapped to his back the man wandered trough the snow of Hoth. Days back he felt something in the force, a first sign that change was coming once gaian. Shrouded in his robe, the man followed the flow of the force, until he came close to a cave in a mountain. He could sense the people inside it, so he knew he had to be cautious. Not everyone living on the iceplanet would pass the option to kill him for his belongings if he stepped directly into their home. His mind ready to attack any moment the hooded figure walks into the cave.

[member="Adali Renning"] [member="Krest"] [member="Rylan Thatcher"] [member="Ghorua the Shark"] [member="Ultimatum"]

 

[Ultimatum]

Ultimatum took a little to become accustomed to the body difference. It would have taken quite awhile longer to become confident in any form of combat, his mind was programmed for a different body and so movements had to be adjusted for the strength and abilities of the current form. It was a problem with the droid brain, not himself. Each brain he had had built into his droids had had a preprogrammed set of instructions and similar translation matrices so that the thoughts of his consciousness would be most efficiently translated for the body he currently resided in. This droid brain had been built for his greatest body, second greatest truth be told. He had been on the verge of the creation of an entirely new body, an entirely new being. All would have been in awe of it.

But any thoughts on that wonder of science he would have accomplished were pushed out of his mind as a man in a wheelchair came up to him and asked about him being a medical droid. It struck him as odd that it was not a hoverchair, in fact the lack of technology was still so strange to him. They must have had access to the sort of tech that made him, yet there was little to no evidence of anything new. He had the feeling that something had gone terribly wrong. Had he been in his own body, he would have been able to smile sadly, but instead the droid body spoke out somewhat emotionlessly, "I am afraid not, I can try to help though. What seems to be the problem?"

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Meanwhile the village had a visitor, one of those travelers. While some may not have trusted them, for the most part the necessity of survival had forced the people to mostly come to trust those around them. On this hostile world it more often than not was not a good idea to fight for resources. They had long ago decided that they would attempt to remain peaceful, unless provoked. They had had some good experience with these travelers, one or two had even been traders with some need goods.

Thus when [member="Abyss"] arrived he was welcomed cordially and taken to the main meeting hall, which was the same area as where Ultimatum and [member="Krest"] were speaking. The three leaders of the village, a Talz, Ortolan, and Human met the stranger. "Greetings outsider, what brings you to our home? Do you require food or supplies?" The human asked. Food and other such necessities were tight, as the villagers assumed they were just about everywhere on world, but they would try to be as generous as they could be allowed.

[member="Ghorua the Shark"] [member="Rylan Thatcher"] [member="Adali Renning"]

 

[Ghorua the Shark]

Colossus's rise to power was not sudden. At the time of the blackout, he had no idea he would become a crimelord. All he had to his name was his gear, his Massiff, and a troupe of orphans that had stuck to him. He made a small fortune as a mechanic, fixing simple things and creating slugthrowers for rations. Eventually, he raided the Water Treatment plant, and took it from a gang all by himself. That's when the rumors started flying, of a Colossus the size of a rancor, with black, impenetrable hide. Then the people started showing up, lending their services as goons for water and protection. Ghorua obliged, taking the name 'Colossus', and starting the Black Rancors. His reputation kept his soldiers relatively safe, and gangs that didn't take the hint were crushed, adding to the rations.

Shanty-town was a few miles north of the Water Treatment Plant, up a turbo-lift. Colossus had fixed the elevator himself years ago, when the gang first began to take off. Most of the upper city gangs had perished, most of the water being held in the middle and lower cities. That left plenty of space for a headquarters.

Shanty-town was a settlement sprawled out in-between two tall buildings, a conglomerate of different structures, made of tarps and rubble, with a few nicer-looking establishments scattered within. Close to three-hundred citizens lived in Shanty-town, protected by the Rancors. They were given protection and food in return for their different services. Everyone in Shanty-town had to work for their keep. If they didn't, they were kicked out.

The sun was dipping below the horizon as Colossus and Friz exited the turbolift. People of all species cheered as they saw the Herglic walk through town, ducking between stalls and tents on his way to his destination. As Friz excused himself to go grab dinner, Colossus found his path blocked by a line of groggy thugs exiting a large, dimly-lit tent, followed by a scantily-clad Zabrak woman. The Herglic huffed out of his blowhole, and rolled his eyes.

"Y'all come back now." The red-skinned Zabrak woman smiled alluringly, before seeing the large crime boss. "Well, hello there Colossus. I don't suppose you want to come inside for a night. I'll give you a discount."

The genetically-modified Herglic smiled, sharp teeth glinting in the setting sun. "Ula, I appreciate your service to the town, but there are other skills you could exercise. I've seen you fight off drunkards. You could join my guard."

The Zabrak shook her bald, horned head, the semblance of a smirk on her face. "No deal, big man. Your boys need comfort, I need rations."

"Well, my offer stands." Ghorua feigned a salute, and continued on his merry way.

Colossus came to a halt again when he saw about ten dead bodies being dragged to the cook's tent. Some of them bore the Rancor insignia, some wore the badge of the Acklays. Ghorua walked up to a man dragging a corpse. "What happened this time? Skirmish?"

"Yeah, western edge of our territory. We're taking the dead to get rationed. Good news, we scavenged an old transport vessel. We got some grain seeds, and enough dry food to last us a week or so. We got lucky." The man continued on his merry way. There was no better way to honor the dead than to use them to continue the survival of others, in Ghorua's mind.

Colossus eventually made his way to the other side of Shanty-town, where the mechanics and engineers of the little village resided. A large tarp covered... something. Under the fabric, men and women worked tirelessly on Ghorua's secret project. The Herglic walked up to a human man in his early twenties. This man was only a boy when Ghorua first found him; an orphan. Since then, he had become Ghorua's right hand."Hoodie, how's progress?"

Hoodie saluted immediately. "Sir! Everything is online, except the hyperdrive and the combat computer. The boys just finished life support. We'll need to scavenge more to fix the weapon systems, but the hyperdrive could be completed within the hour."

"Good, good. As you were, Hoodie." Colossus saluted back, and checked under the canvas. The ships was nothing to look at; repurposed vessels of all shapes and sizes made up it's hull, and the systems inside. It was possibly the worst starship Ghorua had ever seen, but it would do. It had space for around fifty men, and once the hyperdrive was complete, they could finally go to the stars. Ghorua had missed space more than he would have known. He missed the feeling of being small and insignificant, if that made any sense. "I'm going to address the people within the hour. Make sure prep is complete."

Before he walked away, he flashed a smile toward his second-in-command, black eyes glimmering with a joyful light. "Get the crew together. Tonight, we fly."

- [member="Ultimatum"] - [member="Abyss"] - [member="Adali Renning"] - [member="Krest"] - [member="Rylan Thatcher"] -

 

[Darth Abyss]

The warm greeting the wanderer received by the inhabitans of the cave allowed him to relax. He could feel the small glimps of darkness inside him slowly fading away, and instead he could feel the cold calm glow of the light. He removes the hood of his robe so the three leaders of the settlement could see his face. Then he starts to speak:

"Fate brings me here, but I do not know for what reason... I felt something, a glimpes of change ... a change that will have his begin at this place."

He slowly drops a bag that was hanging on his back to the ground to take a bottle of water out of it. He takes sip of the water before speaking again.

"Thanks for your generousity but I have all I need to survive besides a shelter. I will offer you my ability to heal the injured and ill if you allow me to stay here. Also I can trade food, water or knowledge for any kind of book or text you might have."

He drops another bag on the ground, one that was heavier and larger than the other one. He takes out a small old book about landspeeder maintenance, older than any landspeeder that might still exist in the galaxy.

"I collect any kind of knowledge that was not lost when the lights went out, to share it with these who can use it to bring back a piece of days long gone. The only thing I want in return is more knowledge to share. You can have a look if you like."

[member="Ultimatum"] [member="Adali Renning"] @Krest [member="Rylan Thatcher"] [member="Ghorua the Shark"]

 

[Audren Sykes]

By pure happenstance, Audren had found himself on Naboo the day the electronics died. He had a business to run after all, and one of the major production facilities - not to mention a show room and storage - was linked to that. He'd been in one of the offices going over various logistics when it hit. The holo where they were comparing and adjusting numbers died and the lights went out. In fact, other than some raised voices the whole facility was silent, dark. He'd frowned at that...power outages happened sometimes, so the silence was expected. But not the darkness; he'd placed emergency lighting around the building, stations that had their own internal power. There should have been some light that wasn't natural.

Before long they'd discovered that it wasn't just their block, their sector. It was worldwide; speeders of all sorts lost power and skidded along the ground, and even the wheeled vehicles lost their power. The wheeled ones tended to have greater rates of crash survivors though, their brakes had some modicum of mechanical parts rather than purely electronic. As it turned out though, the situation was system-wide. Space-fairing vessels not lucky enough to be in a stable orbit plunged into the atmosphere. Some burned up on re-entry, others made it into atmosphere only to crash into the surface. Those on the ground watched a few people abandon ship, only to discover that the repulsor packs they depended on to save their lives no longer worked. Only a few survived the plunge from space, ironically those with backwater chutes that slowed because of the air itself. Basic telescopes were able to show that there were still some vessels in orbit. They didn't have anything that could get up there to help though...it would not be a pleasant death.

The Naboo were known for being a fairly peaceful, honorable people. The first week was filled with vigils for those who had died, especially the three passenger transports who had fallen while on their descent to the spaceport. Several thousand beings had died from those crashes alone. With no running water and no food preparation machines, and no plumbing, things were difficult, but not overly so. There was more difficulty with the doors - when everyone has powered doors and there's no power to open or close them, people got confused. When the food started running out though, that's when things started to get dicey.

The royalty and leadership did the best they could, and it was an admirable effort. Once violence hit the streets though, they needed all the help they could get. Very few blasters still worked, vibroblades became standard shivs, and rocks and chunks of duracrete were the weapons of choice. Even the Knight's lightsaber didn't work any longer. He found that out the hard way, receiving a large gash across the stomach and into his guts. It was a wound he barely survived, but basic medicine and the Force was able to pull him through. He carried an impressive scar as a reminder. He didn't stop helping however, using his own vibroblade and minor Force powers to do so. Nothing flashy, it would make him a target for both sides for various reasons.

Something he hadn't anticipated was the Gungans. Their underwater cities were made possible by giant hydrostatic bubbles...mechanical ones. Every single one of those bubbles had collapsed when the electronics died. As amphibians, not all too many of them had died, but they found their reserve locations, the so-called 'sacred spaces', couldn't shelter the entire population. They needed food and places to live, and that meant stretching resources all the more, which didn't help the situation.

Order was largely restored after many weeks of work. Efforts shifted from policing to sustaining, though as always some gangs remained. Those scientists on the planet worked to convert existing technologies and infrastructure to allow citizens to continue living. It wasn't nearly as idyllic as it had been before, but it was no doubt better than ecumenopoleis such as Coruscant. Without imports, no doubt at least half of its population had died by now. The Sephi felt vaguely guilty about not being on Voss with much of the rest of the Sanctum, but they would do fine without him.

He wasn't useless on Naboo now that the violence started to die down. More importantly, Ceredir wasn't useless. Sure, his products were all electronic and probably wouldn't work now; heck, they weren't even needed here. But he had raw materials. His production facilities were automated, but there were plenty of hands willing to help now. It was a simple enough matter to re-gear from stealth gear to survival gear, notably thermal blankets. What had once gone into masking heat signatures would now warm people in cold nights. The company had experience converting raw materials to textiles and began doing so. Some of his workers knew how to build manual doors, they worked on that side of things. He knew basic medicine, taught to him at an early age, and as such started contributing to the teaching and supply of the latest generation of medics.

That had been years ago, a blink in the lifespan of a Sephi. Ceredir Industries wasn't a household name, but there had been enough subsidiaries and partnerships with other companies that more than one of what he'd worked on was. And Ceredir was known by those who mattered, those who made the decisions. The company didn't have to go looking for work, people came to it.

Yet that didn't involve Audren much. Once it was self-sustaining, he'd moved from the owner/operator position to just owner, staying behind the scenes. Oh, he paid attention to it, and if he saw something out of place he'd step in, but he let others take care of the day-to-day. In fact, he didn't even look like he owned one of the more successful businesses on the planet, especially now. After all, most businessmen didn't hammer pieces of metal into shape. With no need to work for a living, the Jedi had taken the time to start learning a trade he'd had some interest in before the machines stopped working.

The scientists were just about to get space flight back they said. Primitive flight, rockets rather than repulsors or ion drives, but a step in the right direction. Droids were starting to come back too, but people still needed tools. Exotic materials were were still a no-go, but steel and iron were in abundance even here on Naboo. People needed food, and they needed equipment to help grow the food; that equipment was something that Audren helped create. In this particular case, he was repairing the blade of some piece of equipment, a tiller maybe. And he wasn't getting paid for it, not in the traditional sense. Credits were starting to catch back on, barter was still a thing, but the relative worth of the repair was far more than the relative worth of what he was getting in return. At least, for a normal person. For him, the electronic piece was the last he needed to get his new lightsaber working. There wasn't much need of a Jedi here, not one who wasn't an AgriCorps or MediCorps Jedi, but in spite of his other activities, he didn't stop being one.

 

[Razel Kolt]

Razel remembered when the electronics died. He was on Hoth, but not near civilization. No, he was far out when he fell and blacked out. His body would have been crushed by the weight, and he would have died quickly, if not for the extra stem cells in his body. It regenerated his flesh long enough for him to survive. Lo'lak, his only real friend, had been with him. They waited days, Lo'lak leaving and barely scraping up food and resources. Razel lacked the strength to move his heavy body. So did Lo'lak. They lived on like this for what felt like ages... Until luck came their way.

Lo'lak found a ship, embedded in ice. It looked like it still had working mechanical parts. It took months, months, and more months, but he got through the ice and scavenged any working parts. Of course, this would have been faster if not for the struggle of food. But it worked... Lo'lak went through the painfully long process that he had done before. Getting Razel a cybernetic body.

It took fifteen, long, years... But by the end, Razel had had his body mostly back with the spare parts - of course some functions were now useless, and so left out, such as access to the holonet. Razel had a new body. He only had Lo'lak to thank for it. Once again, the man had saved his life. But Lo'lak was old - even older than Razel. He smiled in his last moments, "Find more survivors, help them... Razel..." Lo'lak's age caught up to him. He died...

Razel mourned the loss of his best friend, not leaving him for days, but had to come to terms with his loss. He would do what Lo'lak asked of him with his final words. And so he went off, searched. His old cloak and jacked covered his mechanical parts, and kept him warm.

"A cave, maybe there are others taking shelter."

He scans it as he approaches. Even technology? He quickly enters the cave, searching for anyone living.

[member="Audren Sykes"] @Abyss @Ghorua the Shark [member="Ultimatum"]

 

[Ultimatum]

The elders were definitely interested in [member="Abyss"]' offer. They did not have any professional healers or medics in their group. The last person who had any sort of training in that field had been lost in a snowstorm while hunting. There had been many injuries since then, almost everything from some form of flu to heavy frostbite. Most of them had been moved to the most heated section and were being tended by those who had some incredibly basic knowledge as nurses. They could do little to help heal the injuries, they could only hold off the inevitable death, and make their passing less painful.

"We have some texts that you could look through, but most of the ones we had were used as fuel for fires early after we lost power. You can have all of them if you would like, we will need your healing abilities for our injured. Please come with us." And with that they began to move through the dispersing crowd. The leaders walked towards the cave with their people who needed attention.

Meanwhile some of the crowd were heading to the opening of the cave. There was another stranger. What fortune this was! Two visitors and a droid in one day. So many new things today. One of them spoke louder than the rest, "Hey stranger, what you a trader as well?"

Ultimatum in the mean time was busy trying to decide what had happened during his time powered down. He had no recollection of why he had come to this world or what he had been doing prior. He knew who he was, what he was supposed to be, and even a few faces from before. But he felt as if there were large gaps in his memory, as if there was something about him more than he recalled. It was infuriating and yet at the same time he knew that there was no way at the moment that he could hope to find the answers to those internal questions. Instead he would have to find out about what had happened here, why was everybody so excited about a droid being rebuilt.

[member="Ghorua the Shark"] [member="Rylan Thatcher"] [member="Krest"] [member="Adali Renning"] [member="Abyss"] [member="Audren Sykes"] [member="Razel Kolt"]