A Strange People[Naboo]

[Aela Talith]

Naboo-Southern Swamps​

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Naboo.​

​

She had been here before, though her reasons had been far more self indulging then. It was nearly a decade ago now, when she had just turned sixteen and her Great Oma had first given her The Rising Tide. She had come to this planet for one reason and one reason alone, to follow the tradititions of her Oma. Quietus had taught her many things about the creatures of the galaxy, and one of those creatures had been the Titavians or Naboo.​

​

Massive creatures they were, birds with a wingspan of nearly one hundred and twenty meters. They were larger than Drexl and smart enough to hide themselves away from modern society. The quest had taken weeks, three of them to exact, but eventually Aela had managed to track a nest of the creatures to a swamp very much like this one. They had been a beautiful sight, and in the end Aela had met her goal. She had tamed one of the beasts, no, that was wrong, she had befriended one of the great Titavians. She smiled slightly at the memory, stalling upon the ramp as droids shuffled past her.​

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"Marshall?"​

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A voice carried her from her memories.​

​

"Yes?" The young woman that had said her name was holding a datapad, her face was rounded, somewhat chubby but the rest of her form was far more lithe and well defined. She was a padawan, eager to have gone on this mission and even more eager to prove herself as worthy of the Order. She was here of course, like the rest of them, to help the Gungans of Naboo.​

​

They had suffered recently under the hands of the Techno Union. They had seen slaughter and genocide like no people should. It was a horror, one that she and the others of the New Jedi Order simply could not stand by. That was why they were here today, why they had taken The Rising Tide and three other stealth ships into the Naboo system. They had cut through the jungles and landed near one of the southern cities that the Gungans were in the process of repairing. Otoa Binks, it was called. A silly name, though Aela had no idea whom it was named after.​

​

"The Gungans will be here soon to meet with you and the others."​

​

Aela offered the padawan a small nod, then wandered forward towards the center of the three stealth ships.​

 

[Isha]

Waiting at the center of the three stealth ships, stood Isha. Her luminous large eyes would peer up at the statuesque Master [member="Aela Talith"]. She kept her hands lightly set over her belly, with her large ears moving forward and back as if curious.

"Many thoughts you have, Master Talith." her soft alto voice would murmur towards the blonde, a small gesture of her forefinger pointing lightly at the woman. The Yodaling wore light robes of a pale blue hue, embroidered with silver thread. The decoration was done by Isha's own hands, the delicate needlework a pass time for the Padawan.

Others would soon join them, but for now it was she and Master Talith. "What say you this meeting will bring?"

 

[Jacen Voidstalker]

The Gungans he had seen cast furtive glances at the strangers. Their unease permeated the Force and was hard to block out. Jacen couldn't blame them, they'd suffered horrendously at the hands of outsiders in the last year. The Techno Union had devastated their armies in their failed attempt to wrest the planet out of the Protectorate's control. When they had finally taken it back the slaughter of the Gungan people had been horrific.

Yet they persisted. Jacen could appreciate that. They were a proud, warrior people who had retreated to the corners of Naboo. Deep underwater, their remaining stunning cities no longer seemed to attract Union attention.

"Remember Katash, no diplomatic incidents," he said quietly to his apprentice. He adjusted his heavy robes, as he often did when he needed to wear them over his Vanguard armour. Perhaps it sent the wrong message, but in his mind a warrior race who needed military aid would perhaps be more receptive to the image of a Jedi fit for battle.

[member="Ayme Katash"]

 

[Elaine Thul]

[member="Jacen Voidstalker"] [member="Isha"] [member="Aela Talith"]

She had come to here with the Galactic Alliance, to help the gun gan people from some sith proxies aka Techno Union. She had understood that they been a little bit unfriendly, towards these once proud warriors. She had come alone, she was setting up a new city for own people after appears Organa have gone sith. Though she did come bearing gifts of some weapons, in her ship. She figured if they could not reach a settlement for them, well she could help them defend themselves. She was little bit further back than the rest of the group, she was still unsure where she fit in with everyone, as she was different, though they had same goal, seek and destroy sith.

She had only her light armour, and her lightsaber to hand. She did wonder what they day would bring for her, after all they where on a hostile planet.

 

[Sal Katarn]

"Are the preparations proceeding?" A high, nasally voice in the dark, smooth and sly as a snake's tongue. Oil on the water. Masked features lit only by soft, flickering light.

"Yes, everything is moving according to plan. Mephirium's followers are none the wiser. The Disciples grow in number."

A number of figures shuffled past, bearing crates that they began stacking in a series. Offloaded from the nearby shuttle.

The two conversing stood across from each other, swaddled in brown garments, features masked by balaclavas.

"The Master will be pleased."

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

[member="Aela Talith"] [member="Isha"] [member="Jacen Voidstalker"] [member="Elaine Thul"]

Standing away from the group stood a seven and a half foot metal monstrosity. Massive quarter-spheres were set upon broad shoulders, the metal etched with ancient teachings of the original Jedi Order. At it's side, held in one hand, was a halberd as long as the man was tall - it glowed, faintly, the Force emanating from the weapon like a flame wards off ravenous beasts.

Force Light had been fed into the weapon, creating an aura around it that repelled Dark Siders by causing their nerve endings to light afire. Some liked pain, but this was a special kind of pain. The sort of pain that said everything about your existence was an affront to the universe - he'd yet to meet a Sith who could stand near it without wanting to retreat to a safer distance.

A crackling hood, inlaid with a pair of crystals he'd gotten from HK and Cater, crackled with energy. The last time he'd come across the Techno Union, Sith had swelled their ranks, and so when the New Jedi Order had come to help the Gungan's, the Lord Inquisitor had come with. For those who had followed galactic events, the rescue of Cira had featured the armor prominently, and it had been made known that the man behind the gunmetal was Sarge.

But for those who didn't, he was confident they'd not know who he was.

Talking filtered in through his aural receptors, letting him know they were discussing the upcoming meeting. Anxiety hung in the air, surrounding his mind. Inhaling slowly, he continued to scan the forests.

It was impossible to monitor a whole planet with 100% efficiency. But even stealth ships could show up from time to time on sensors. And he knew better than most that sometimes, just sometimes, routine patrols could ruin missions like this. Patrols you didn't know occurred.

So for now, Sarge kept his back to the group, maintaining silent vigil. A silent vigil joined when he was flanked by a pair of warriors in similar armor - smaller, more compact and agile, but similar nonetheless.

Theirs was painted in the digitized browns, greens and blacks of the Protectorate military, and the large bore weapons in their hands said they were carrying souped up bolters. Not exactly the sort of welcoming committee anyone would want, but the Gungans would be able to tell the soldiers weren't here for them. After all, the Gunmetal Knight had fought the Techno Union off the first time.

Before Akala had returned, that is.

 

[Nyos Val]

A distress call had been sent out from Protectorate Command. A call that Nyos hasn't answered for some time. It was a trying time as of late, his business wasn't as flourishing as it had been the last cycle, which cause Nyos to stay and try to sort out what he should do. Now, too long had he'd ignored the call, it was time to resurface as a member of the Protectorate military and medical corps.

Nyos loaded up all four of his freighters with medical droids and supplies and made the jump across the galaxy from InVal HQ to Naboo. A lush green planet with vast oceans that sparkled like sapphires from the view in space. The Protectorate fleet was there, after giving the appropriate call sign, he and his small fleet made to land in the fields of a once ancient battleground. The Trade Federation had once laid siege to this land and the Gungan army came to the Nabooians aid. So too would Nyos aid the Gungans.

Once landed, the teams of droids, Melacini and humans began the task of setting up tents and supply speeders to make trips where needed.

 

[Cira]

[member="Sarge Potteiger"]


"You ever wonder if perhaps 'One is not like the other?'" it was as much of a joke as the dreadlocked woman hidden beside the former Lord Protector would state in what passed as dry humor. The woman would be invisible to all, bent-light making her nigh impossible to detect. Only one who would be attempting to search for her would be able to discern; and even then it would require the abilities of a master specialist to detect the ripple she gave.

Wonder of wonders, Cira actually managed to step outside of the cabin. Would miracles ever cease?

She had her arms crossed under her breasts, the slash of her dark auburn brows furrowing forward as those ethereal golden eyes would peer out towards the first glance of what the Galactic Alliance had to offer. This would be her first impression of the government, of what they stood for and what they could do.

"Or do you just enjoy the clanking sound your boots make when you walk?"

 

[Verona Chroi]

For a group that professed to be so politically neutral, the Executive Council of the Techno Union had been bent decidedly less so. Through their investigations on Ruusan and Dressel, the corruption within the ranks of the upper echelons of the TU government had authorized some truly heinous deeds and questionable projects. Profits and scientific advancement aside, the methods of driving that success had to have limits. When it came to the subjugation of Naboo, those limits were apparently nonexistent.

Verona was still new to the Net Zillo, but the few things she had managed to learn so far considerably helped the young woman come to grips with the gifts she possessed. For one so scholarly most of the time, she preferred silence, and contemplative thought. When in the throes of her death sight, her speech became muddled and archaic, something that unnerved the stoutest of warriors. She was still regarded strangely by the Legion but the Obsidian Order welcomed her in and put her on a path towards greater understanding.

Verona was on the bridge of a Lucrehulk when it popped out of nothingness on the edge of the system, her blue eyes staring out the windscreen towards the peaceful looking planets orbiting the golden orb in the middle of it all. She had not been to Naboo before and she did not relish the task at hand here.

If the intel they garnered from their hunt so far was correct, the surface of the beautiful blue green planet were turned into killing fields. The Legion had gone to some pretty great lengths to hunt down the evidence needed to force change on the Executive Council. Now that brought them here. It was possibly the worst kept secret that the TU armies had visited atrocities upon the populations of Gungans. Verona was tasked to use her unique talents to confirm them and then collect whatever evidence they could in order to make a case against the ones responsible for it.

She looked up to the massively armored man next to her, a glimmer of a smile tugging the corner of her mouth.

"If we must go underwater, are you going to rust solid?"

Their approach did not carry them past the stealthed ships in the orbit of Naboo, but something felt different to the acolyte. She shrugged it off. Sites of war and massive casualties always felt wrong to her. So much life lost created a wound whether one could feel it or not.

[member="Delam Mairev"]

 

[Placeholder 01]

Delam knew all too-well of what had gone on here. His parents had both taken part in the genocide, his mother often speaking proudly of how the Techno Union had eventually brought Naboo into line. Delam looked at it from a neutral point of view. He understood that force was often necessary, especially with non-humans. Some could be difficult, and many would only understood the violence.

Had that been the case with the Gungans? Perhaps not, but Delam couldn't bring himself to care. The war had ended. His people had been victorious. That was all that mattered.

Yet still, the massacre might not have been entirely needed. Delam was not one to shy away from the horrors of war, but he could never condone wanton slaughter. It was a waste of resources, people, and more importantly, morally wrong. He could easily justify wiping out a warrior race that would not accept defeat, but the Gungans? From what Delam had read, not so.

"If I do, then I will sink. We'll have to use your breasts as an emergency flotation device, unless you wish to see me dead," came the brusque reply.

Drawing in a deep breath, the High Lord turned away from the green world.

"A shuttle is awaiting us Verona. My brothers and sisters do not know what we do here today - they cannot know. Not unless these war crimes are confirmed," he began walking toward the hanger, expecting the sorceress to follow him, "It will only be the two of us. I trust you can do some of the talking? I don't relate well to aquatic races."

[member="Verona Chroi"]

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

By this point, Sarge knew when [member="Cira"] was around without needing to see her. The husky tenor of her voice floated to his ears, and he could tell she was looking the opposite direction he was. As they had done since he'd first stepped into her office, it was his job to guard the wall - it was her job to guard the people inside of it. In this case, she was studying the gathered Jedi, likely appraising them to see just what the Galactic Alliance had to offer.

The crisp baritone of Sarge's voice was made harsh and grating by the vocabulator set within the gorget of his suit. "The day I have no wall to guard is the day my boots cease to march upon war torn soil." It was as esoteric an answer as she was going to get from the man, who likely appeared to be talking to one of the two armored soldiers on either side of him. One turned his head, but realized quickly that neither he nor his compatriot was being spoken to.

"At least you could join us. It's a nice day."

 

[Cira]

"And you say I make things difficult to comprehend." another dry twist of humor.

A quiet pause would drift between she and he within the subsequent compliment at her presence. Truth be told, her fingers were subtly twitching in apprehension. While there weren't as many sapients around, it was far more than she'd been used to for quite some time. Cira had always had an issue at being watched. At being in the spotlight. While she blended into her surroundings to prevent that, the tension of actually stepping out into society, even in this small gathering, was enough to unsteady her nerves.

"Good thing we are in the swamps." finally came her dry statement, a purse of her lips pressing them as she would lay those ember eyes upon [member="Aela Talith"].




[member="Sarge Potteiger"]

 

[Joy]

Location: Naboo, Southern Swamps.

Abel stepped off the shuttle and grimaced as his boots squelched in soggy soil. All around him were big trees with gnarled roots jutting up from scattered puddles and ponds. Some parts of the ground looked almost like grass, but Abel knew that was just a bog waiting to suck him in and get him good n' stuck.

The Agricorps Jedi wrinkled his nose at the putrid smell of rot and decay.

"Ain't no jungle," he muttered, mood somewhat dampened.

Swamps were wet, smelly, deceptive places. Every step in 'em was a practice in not breakin' ankles. And it wasn't really a question of preventing bacterial infection so much as seeing how many you actually wound up with at the end of the trip. No sir, not his favorite terrain by any means. Still, if you drained 'em it made good farmland. Some peat too maybe. But that would be terrible for the ecology. And for the Gungans.

Speakin' of Gungans, weren't they supposed to be here at some point? Abel couldn't really fault 'em none for being cautious-like. Techno Union had done some awful, awful things to them. Probably didn't trust outsiders farther than they could throw 'em.

Abel preoccupied himself by looking around for his pilot friend. The mission roster said she'd be here. He nudged one of his friends from the praxeum.

"Hey, you seen Loske?"

"Who?"

"Blonde pilot?"

"You know a pilot?"

"Well," Abel scratched an arm. Mosquitos, or midges, "not really. Met her on a mission once. Figured I'd ask."

"Sorry, Abel. Don't know anybody by that name."

The young man nodded and slogged over to just a bit behind Voidstalker, boots squelching. He wasn't sure if the Jedi Marshal even knew who he was, but Abel didn't mind being in the man's shadow. Seemed a safe place to be for now.

[member="Jacen Voidstalker"] | [member="Aela Talith"] | [member="Loske Matson"] | [member="Ipsy"]

 

[Sal Katarn]

Location: Ancient Battleground | Protectorate Relief Freighters

A human man wearing tan and sepia garments with leather wrappings on the forearms and a brown and black balaclava synched his belt tight as he emerged from the bushes. A fellow human noticed him and busted out laughing.

"Couldn't wait until we'd finished offloading the supplies?"

The other man shrugged, voice high and nasally. "When you have to go..."

"Aye, I know it. Should've gone on the ship though."

"That's what my father always told me," the man in the balaclava said, adjusting the glow torch on his belt. "But I always have issues in space. Something about the cold."

"Should probably get that looked at, friend," said the jovial merc, suddenly frank. Prostates were no joke. "What'd you say your name was?"

"Shikar. Came in from Procopia."

"Oof, don't envy those noble house dealings. Name's Rags."

"Oh, I stay well away from them. Not my cup of tea. Well, Rags, I guess we better finish offloading those supplies before the affliction strikes."

Rags winced, but nodded and together the two of them moved inside one of the freighters and seized a crate. They began to move it down the ramp, slowly so as not to injure a back muscle.

"What's with the face mask?"

"Oh it's not really a mask. Just some cloth. I heard there would be mosquitos and I'm very susceptible to swamp based diseases. Almost didn't take the assignment. But my heart broke to think of starving Gungans, so I came anyway. Damn those Techno Union bastards and their murderous ways."

Rags nodded. "Aye, serial killin' jackdaisies, the lot of 'em."

They continued like that for some time, berating the Techno Union and praising the strengths of the Protectorate as they moved crates and supplies off the freighter. Eventually they paused for a moment to rest, stretching their backs and remarking loudly on whether or not they would receive a lunch break.

Shikar patted the canteen at his hip. "Fresh water. Not gonna trust anything that comes from Naboo swamps."

"Ha. Probably because blokes like you run around peeing in 'em."

"Truth," Shikar smiled behind the balaclava, eyes crinkling.

[member="Nyos Val"]

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

[member="Cira"]

"Well, love, there's nothing to comprehend when staring at darkness." His helmeted head rotated, torso twisting so that those sharply glaring eyes of vibrant polar blue could settle upon her hazy silhouette. That had been him, once upon a time - a shade, a heat haze in the air. Except this time it wasn't a timid boy with a rifle behind the curtain, but a dangerous beauty with a mind as sharp as any vibroblade. But just as with daggers, she did best when kept out of sight.

When thrust into the spotlight, she often felt outnumbered, over-encumbered by social anxiety in a manner reminiscent a Mandalorian child putting on his beskar for the first time. Heavy, wearying, but one day the weight would ease.

She was only know still building that social muscle to support the armor she needed just to get through the day. It was a process, but he was here. He was always here. "It's not Lake Country, but it's our home all the same, yeah? Have to keep the wolves at bay." To say nothing of the bloodwolf that patrolled his home - Ashai, all coarse rust colored fur and saber fangs. A purchase from one Miss Arceneau. Or Mrs. Kuhn. Whatever. Danger.

"Always did enjoy the calm before the storm. There's something beautiful in the promise of impending violence."

 

[Cira]

"You are ever the masochist."

Came her flat exhale. A forefinger would tap along the crook of her elbow. As she appraised the the Jedi, Cira began a concise listing of descriptors for the man encased in metal to detail those around her.

"Blonde hair. Strange orange eyes." lips would thin. He would likely get a riot off of the next bit. "Emanates your favorite nickname for me." The one he so enjoyed stirring her ire for all the Force chokes he could claim.

It was far more humor than normal; well not quite as much humor as pointed emphasis and notable terse fragments of sarcasm.


[member="Sarge Potteiger"]

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

"I have to be to stay around you." There was a smirk hidden on that voice, and on that harsh vocabulator warping his tone.

"And to be fair, I haven't called you that in almost a decade. I just liked to get under your skin."

[member="Cira"]

 

[DHK-51]

HK-51 stood with the others, having been brought to provide translation if any was required. It also helped that if need be, it could defend itself. It carried its E-111 Stealth-X Saboteur Blaster Rifle on its back. It turned its head before saying. "Query: In the event of conflict, however low, what is my directive?"

[member="Sarge Potteiger"] [member="Cira"] [member="Elaine Thul"]

 

[Nyos Val]

Once all the materials had been offloaded, speeders equipped and staffed assigned, Nyos got onto one of his cargo speeders and the teams headed for the swamps within the tree line. Reports said refugees had gathered there to get away from the main Gungan city as it was to obvious of a target.

There in the ancient ruins of old Nabooian structures were hundreds, if not thousands of Gungans. When Nyos and his teams arrived, some feared that the Techno Union had returned, since over half of Nyos' staff were droids.

"Do not be alarmed. I am Nyos Val of the Omega Protectorate Medical Corps and CEO of InVal Cybernetics. My team and I are here to give aid in any way we can. If you are wounded please line up here if you can. If you are sick, line up over there with Blue team. Children line up with Green team and once you've been treated, Gold team will hand out rations."

Slowly, those who were able to move, made their ways to the appropriate lines. There were so many who needed help, it felt like Nyos was back on Bespin after the Bando Gora attacks.

"Let's get started, MD-13, get my kit. This woman needs antibiotics stat."

([member="Cultist"] -Join any team you think you're capable of handling and help out. Or even become my assistant for the time being.)

 

[Loske Treicolt]

LOCATION: Swamp stomping
OBJECTIVE: Gonna work with the Jedi! Woo

There was something calming about this planet. As soon as she'd broken its atmosphere, memories collided and bubbled; silent reminders that this was not something new and yet she couldn't clearly place her last visit here. Clearly she had no idea this is where her accent stemmed from.

This wasn't about her though, and she was brutally reminded of that every time she walked past the medical tent that was ready to be set up. In terms of first aid, Loske wasn't overly useful. She knew the basics for mending personal wounds and friends, the type that might incur from a crash and thus she had been offered to plunk into the wrapping section where bones and bruises were to be bandaged before being sent to see the real deal. Gore and guts were beyond her knowledge capital, and there could be other places where she’d be more useful. One thing was for sure, that even for a pilot, she was keeping busy with The Alliance. They were a good people.

Trees that started off taller than her forked out of the ground, their large roots sprawling and twisting beneath the mud. Green, spongy film coated the rigid bark; almost getting lost in the amount of hanging vines that draped from the branches high above. It might have just been her, but Loske felt like the forest was breathing; except it sounded as though it were suffocating. A tragic thing had been done here, she couldn’t put her finger on it, but she felt as it the swamps themselves were sad.
A medley of crunching and sloshing occurred beneath her soles, and thick brown sludge crept over the tip of her short boots and into her socks. The cool feeling made her groan in absolute displeasure. “Okay, you know what Naboo.. I am this close” she muttered mostly to herself, curving her fingers to scoop out a heavy weight of mud from the tips of her socks.

“Land further off, you said. Don’t go so near to everyone else you said.” Loske was swatting at random flying creatures that buzzed hungrily about her swishing blonde ponytail. “You need to stop being so paranoid. I mean,” she gestured arms out in front of her desperately “We’re working with these people for goodness sakes. Jedi people! How neat is that.” As usual, Loske didn’t pause for [member="Greyson Terrik"]’s reply. “So neat.”

Long legs skittered her to a more grassy area, more elevated above the muck and it seemed to be supportive - not buoying too much. Thankfully too, she hadn’t landed her ship-for-two too far from the actual touchpoint, and they could actually hear the conversations from up ahead. But there was a large puddle between here and there.
“Okay, this isn’t going to work. Grey, can I get a boost?”