Populate [GA + Friendly Explorers] The Stars Between Us | GA Populate of Resource Hex

[Bal Tal]

Bal Tal bowed his head to Caelan Valoren as they started walking to explore the temple, with the procession of guards and assistants remaining in step behind them. Raz's Kaleeshan nanny was the closest, to be on hand in case the child needed something. Bal was not worried about any kind of violence; if he wasn't safe here, in the center of the Jedi Temple, alongside a Jedi Knight, with all of his guards, then safe just wasn't going to happen - no amount of preparation or additional bodyguards was going to change that.

"There is so little preserved of who we are, that most Rakatans are as much strangers to each other as we are to the other species of the Galaxy, at this point. We've been kept in compounds, stashed away for our own safety by the Republic and the Alliance, that our physiology is all that remains. What few customs each of those compounds have are borrowed from tribes that were either friendly to our survivors and had taken us in, or had conquered our raider tribes and pressed them onto us. Only some of our aesthetics, pulled from archaeological digs and often highly classified, remains. Everything I am holding and wearing is a reconstruction, and much of its meaning has been lost to time. Even who we had been at the start of the Infinite Empire, who we could have been, is virtually unknown.

"Finding any kind of uniting principles for the Rakatans has been difficult. I am hoping that a return to our homeworld will be one. But it also makes our people - already highly vulnerable - a target for the Alliance's enemies, through no fault of our own. Reaching out to the Jedi risks being targeted by the enemies of the Jedi, the Sith in particular who might be envious of our artifacts. But I'm not about to reach out to them. History has already shown what the Sith will do to our people. And simply becoming a Galactic cosmopolitan people, speaking Basic and keeping up with all the latest trends, risks a sort of dissolution that we also cannot afford, nor can we afford not to. It is a balance I do not know how to find."

"Senator, the High Council chambers are up there," Bal's assistant said, gesturing to a large chamber with ramps going to an upper floor.

"I appreciate your walking with me, and for listening. It isn't often I get to speak frankly about our struggles. It will be known that you are a friend to the Rakatans, and always welcome on Lehon."

 

[Alicio Organa]

Deep Space, aboard the Benefacto
En Route to Tython
- Ashley Nevermore - Nathan Bloodscrawl - Open -​

Alicio felt off, as they continued to push the pirates back.

It didn't have anything to do with his form. No, he was fighting at his peak, slapping away red blaster bolts when they would hit him or the platoon behind him, and sidestepping others that sailed uselessly past. To an outside observer, he was entirely in control, each movement rehearsed, as if he'd memorized every beat of the battle.

No, it was something... inside. Every once in a while, when he let his concentration slip... Introspect inched closer to his throat, as if gently nudged by an invisible hand.

"Now. Draw your blade… and take your own life."

Alicio caught it every time, tightening his grip on his blade, forcing control again. Queen Mother Daaray's final command had yet to be completed. He'd fought it off in the moment... but the words still echoed in his mind, resurfacing if he lost focus.

A pirate raised their pistol point-blank. Alicio silently cursed himself, raising his cybernetic hand as the blast went off. He caught in in the metal of his fist, then used the Force to trip them to the ground, knocking their head on durasteel. He couldn't stop to think. Not when everyone was still in danger.

Across the hangar, Alliance forces were being pushed back. Marauders were overrunning them, beginning to split into the Benefacto, spreading like an infection. Alicio recieved a sudden, violent premonition.

"They intend to fix the hyperdrive, and micro-jump us away." Alicio turned back to Lieutenant Nevermore, catching a bullet from a slugthrower in his prosthesis, still warped from the heat of blaster fire. "How fast can we clear the way?"

 

[Corazona von Ascania]

A tremor crawled outward from the core of Ashla. The first jagged piece of rock had melded back into place.

The Force was alive, vibrant as the sun and thick as the churning oceans of Mon Cala. Within it lived Thurion, a man whose experience and wisdom radiated into the whole of the moon, a conduit of light guiding their efforts to mend.

The light would cast shadows, and they would have to face what lived in that darkness. The Padawans had been through much, but they persisted, even when facing harsh introspection. As Reina reached out to Azurine, Cora's own presence was quiet, but not silent. She was there, as a warm hand extended. One that would not seek to steer them one way or the other, but to support.

The shadows danced at the edge of her mind, and she let them. They twisted and turned in the periphery until they ran out of steam and began to dissipate. Regrets and failures were not uncommon among the Jedi, and it seemed that the higher she climbed, the more frequent they became.

Cora chose to see them as lessons. A way to reflect on her place in the galaxy. She was not a beacon, but a steady current.

Her lips moved in the shape of a silent prayer.

Azurine Varek Reina Daival Thurion Heavenshield

 

[Mykel Dawson]

FALSE MESSIAH #3​

Location: Heavy Cargo Freighter Auric Venture, Alliance frontier space at the Mid-Rim.
Objective (III): Stakeout (Pirate Hunting)
With: Jedi Knight Consular Kaldor Vexis (NPC), OPEN (DM for details before joining)

"Greetings, this is Captain Morisul of the Auric Venture. A engineering team would be more than welcome, Commander," Kaldor answered, not missing a beat. When he spoke, it was with a pained expression as he stood hunched over, clutching his stomach. "This freighter was quite beat up by gravitational warps during hyper transit. It was a miracle we made it...through."

Major Hurst had a harder time remaining composed, so the Duros soon drifted offscreen as if he was checking something, but Mykel could see he wanted to curse. Even the question of treachery had him seeing red, not at all what he had expected.

::Quite fortunate indeed, Captain. I'll have an assessment team ready to depart shortly. I also extend the offer to your non essential personnel: they could be transferred to the Righteous Flame along with the wounded as emergency repairs are made.::

"That would be...welcome," Kaldor wheezed. "I believe that I may take you up on that offer personally."

::I'm sorry to hear that, but I trust you will find the accommodations of the Righteous most comfortable.::

"I would delighted with a mere cot at this juncture," Kaldor said with a strained chuckle. "We await your shuttle. If you require nothing else, then I'll end the call now to conserve our power."

Thorne nodded, and with that, Kaldor shut off the communications, straightening up. "A tricky one, I felt no malice from from her. Can we confirm the make of the vessel? Perhaps this was just an uninformed GADF patrol that stumbled upon our operation by accident?"

Drifting far, far behind the Auric Venture was a single stealth drone trailing them. From the moment the pirates had reverted near the freighter, it had been scanning them with its powerful suite of sensors, invisible to the surrounding universe all the while. Relaying its information through untraceable quantum communication, analysts aboard its host vessel had quickly confirmed the identity of the ship. Their grave conclusion was relayed back through the drone to the Venture through a heavily encrypted burst transmission over blind band hypercomms.

Mykel was reading their findings at a console, expression growing pale.

"Analysts have confirmed that the vessel is indeed the ANS Righteous Flame, a Tython-class Cruiser. Commander Thorne is the real deal. " Mykel started, and Hurst growled. "However...the Righteous Flame was reported missing months ago, right around the time the Planeshift anomalies began and we didn't know better. In fact her whole flotilla was reported missing. Nearly 50k crew MIA in total."

This situation was getting stranger by the minute. Mykel was afraid they were GADF personnel turned traitor, but they had gone missing without a peep. Now they show up a few months later playing pirate? What was up?

"We need to pause the ambush," Mykel told Kaldor. "If I can get on that carrier and slice into their systems, then we can figure out exactly what's going on."

"No, no!" Hurst nearly barked. "We need to hit them now and figure it out later. Do you know the kind of firepower that single carrier has? And there may be a dozen more vessels out there like this right now. We're barely armed to take on a single GADF cruiser as we are - we expected pirates."

"That's precisely why we must exercise caution," Kaldor countered. "We in fact do not know how many other ships are out there in support of Thorne. Any kinetic action right now may cause an unwanted fight beyond our means, and even worse, we may scare off the rest of the conspirators when we are discovered. Let's see where this rabbit hole takes us."

The Duros grit his teeth, but he came around with a grunt. "Alright, we hold, but if any BS starts with their shuttle crew then I'm calling into Sector Command for the big guns. There may even not be be time for that."

With that, Mykel practically skipped away with Kaldor for the turbolift to reach the docking ports. His mechanic routine was going to have to continue until they had more information, but by waiting, they could only be spelling their own doom.

 

[Zaiya Ceti]

Outfit: x x x x x | Equipment: x x x x x x | Weapons: x x x | Companion: Domxite
Interacting with: Loomi

Zaiya's skin shifted to a warm, bright pink as she grinned eagerly, her eyes sparkling excitedly. She even bounced on her feet a bit as they continued their walk.

"Yes! I'd love that!" she exclaimed, her voice full of enthusiasm.

"It's been way too long. There's so much to catch up on!" She paused, a soft ripple of teal running across her skin at the thought of the most recent changes, including Aris. "Definitely a lot to talk about, especially with Aris..."

Zaiya gave a small, amused laugh. "So yeah, let's plan that! I've missed you too, Loomi. It'll be nice to hang out again. Got any ideas?"

 

[Mykel Dawson]

FALSE MESSIAH #4​

Location: Heavy Cargo Freighter Auric Venture, Alliance frontier space at the Mid-Rim.
Objective (III): Stakeout (Pirate Hunting)
With: Jedi Knight Consular Kaldor Vexis (NPC), OPEN (DM for details before joining)

"One shuttle and two X-wing approaching," Hurst told them over comms, though Mykel was still tied into the Venture and could detect the vessels well before the bridge crew observed the readouts. "Initiating docking sequence."

Normally, the news of X-wings would have been a source of relief, but in this unsettling situation their arrival only added to the dread of these rogues.

There came a rumble of servos as the docking ring extended, then a heavy thud with a successful connection. Through the viewport of the inner dock door, Mykel could see a fire team of Alliance marines forming up on the other side of the tunnel, all decked out in gleaming white and red armor. Behind them was a small group of engineers sporting civilian EVA suits.

Again, like with the X-wing escort, this was all standard operating procedure, but Mykel still felt on edge.

"Keep calm," Kaldor cautioned softly. "They had no reason to suspect us, or we them."

For now. Mykel was waiting to see who slipped up first.

Kaldor unlocked the inner dock door, flanked by Mykel on one side and another engineer on his other. "Welcome to the Auric Venture, or what's left of her."

One of the troopers broke off from the fireteam, extending a hand.

"Captain Morisul," the marine greeted. "I'm Lieutenant Yaran Keene. I'm here to escort the assessment team and assist with the transfer of your nonessential crew to the Righteous Flame. Commander Thorne sends her regards and hopes your crew recovers swiftly."

"Thank you, Lieutenant. We're fortunate that you came across us as soon as you did. Who knows how long we could have been drifting?"

Kaldor remained ever calm in addressing the marine officer, who seemed polite enough, but Mykel caught a ripple of unease from his master. He focused closer on the crew while pretending to observe his datapad. Outwardly the marines and engineers presented a front of discipline and orderliness as expected from GADF personnel, but their outer thoughts were much more disturbed. Their minds rang with an incessant buzzing between them, reminding him of insects - cicadas specifically. If he focused a little more, the buzzing started to vaguely resemble phrases, but the specific words were utterly alien to him. Alien, and grating, which almost made him wince.

Some insidious force held their minds in sway, but what exactly? He would have almost been relieved to find out it was the Sith. As vile as they were, he could understand them as best one could know their mortal enemy. However, as the Padawan had ventured deeper into the galaxy beyond his home, he was encountering new terrors that couldn't be so easily explained, like the Drengir.

One thing was certain: no one could be allowed to board the Righteous Flame.

 

[Loomi]

Tython
Tags: Zaiya Ceti

Epo-1, Lushi​

"So yeah, let's plan that! I've missed you too, Loomi. It'll be nice to hang out again. Got any ideas?"

"We should keep it simple," Loomi decided. "We'll find a nice forested area and all bring food... Maybe by a lakeside. I think I'd just like to sit and talk... be in other's company."

The Godoan let out a laugh, her antennae drooping down over her face as though to hide it, her cheeks flushing a little. She sounded so old just then. That was probably the sort of thing that Shan would enjoy. Then again, though, perhaps it wasn't bad to embrace something a little more mellow. There was something to be said about finding peace in the moment. She had been meditating a lot, after all.

Change was good... Yeah.

"Golly, I must sound like an old lady," she snickered.

 

[Zaiya Ceti]

Loomi

Zaiya's skin shifted to a soft lavender as she smiled warmly at Loomi, the corners of her mouth curling in understanding.

"I think that sounds perfect," she replied, her voice gentle but filled with enthusiasm. "A quiet, peaceful spot by the water sounds like just what we all need."

She tilted her head, watching as Loomi's antennae drooped and her cheeks flushed. The change in her friend didn't escape Zaiya's notice, there was a calmness about her now, a quiet wisdom that Zaiya admired. Her own skin rippled with a soft, reflective pretty blue.

"Old lady?" Zaiya teased lightly, her voice full of affection.

"If that makes you an old lady, then I suppose I'm a Jedi Master already." She grinned, giving Loomi a playful nudge, making the joke that Jedi Masters were old.

"But really, I get it. Change is good. It's nice to embrace a slower pace every now and then, especially after everything we've been through."

She felt a warmth in her chest as she considered how far Loomi had come, how far they both had come, and looked forward to the quiet moments ahead.

"Anyways. Have you heard anything about this forge? I researched a bit on it, but curious what you may know."

 

[Azurine Varek]

Pieces Of One Whole

Outfit: Clothing/Armor | Glove | Right Arm | Talisman | Purple Bracelet
Weapons: Lightsaber 1 | Lightsaber 2 | Hook Swords

Thurion's voice rang out again,

"Hallowed… be… thy… name!"

And the thunderclap that followed reverberated down her spine, making the scars etched into her back ache like old wounds reopening. Around her, the sand danced in celestial harmony, each grain a note in a grand symphony of restoration, of remembrance. Yet her own hands trembled with exertion and restraint. The Force pulsed at the edges of her senses like a tidal wave behind a dam, and she didn't know if the barrier was her own, made from fear… or the seal Kahlil had set into her to keep back the blackness. Maybe both.

Ashla's core rippled through the sand beneath her fingers. The first jagged piece of the shattered moon was knitting itself back together. A miracle, yes, but one exacting a toll none of them could ignore. Cora sat nearby like a quiet anchor amidst the swirling tempest of the Force. Her presence was subtle but unmistakably steady. A warm current beneath the crashing waves, but even that could exhaust the body.

She gritted her teeth. Reina's voice rang out across the bond between them. It wasn't a challenge or an accusation. It was a plea. And a confession. Azzie's heart clenched, a subtle ache for the weight the younger Jedi bore alone. She didn't want Reina to carry the burden of her failings. None of them should.

Azzie glanced toward Thurion, the weight of the effort etched deep in the lines of his face, his posture trembling just beneath the surface of his commanding presence. He was giving everything, to the point he might collapse.

She drove her fingers deeper into the sand until her knuckles burned. And then she felt it. Cold. A breath against the back of her neck. Her mind swam. The bright world around her faded, replaced by black fog and whispering static. It wasn't real, not truly—not the moon, not the others, not the song of the Force—it all faded into a void where only she remained.

---​

Well, herself and a blackened figure standing before her. The shape in front of her emerged from the mist like a ghost pulled from a nightmare. Its outline had the vague shape of what she saw in the mirror, like looking at a shadow cast on the ground, adorned with sulfur and red eyes. "You don't belong here," it whispered, its voice like the rasp of dead leaves. "You're a poison hidden under a mask."

The image of Reina, sweat trailing down her brow, struggling beneath the strain… Cora's steady, prayer-like hum… Thurion's sheer will as he poured himself into this task with the strength of a thousand lifetimes…

Azzie's jaw tightened. "You know what, maybe. Maybe they did break me. Maybe I am a coward because I know I can't get rid of this. But I'll be damned if I go down without a fight."

---​

Drawing a breath that trembled with uncertainty but hardened with resolve, Azzie reached deeper, beyond the familiar touch of the Force. Her eyes snapped open, blazing with a brilliant, neon purple glow. The world returned with a roar of sensation—the heat of the sun, the scent of wind-swept sand, the thrum of a moon reborn beneath her. And the Force.

It hit her like a storm. A surge. It started at her fingertips, weaving upward in tendrils of silver and gold, wrapping around her like a celestial cloak.

Her breath caught as her body lifted slightly off the ground. Wisps danced around her arms and legs, twisting upward like smoke, weaving around her chest and shoulders like ribbons of light. The energy grew warmer and stronger until a sudden rush coursed through her veins like liquid fire. Shimmering light wrapped around her body, extending outward to encircle Reina, Cora, Thurion, and the others—binding them all in a luminous web of strength.

She might not have the strength to pull the pieces they stood on back together, but she could hold them all together like a central pillar. Take their exhaustion as her own and hold it back. Be a lighthouse through which their efforts would be made easier and amplified.

"This is not the end. Not for Ashla, not for me, not for any of us. We... we can do this. We have to do this!"

Corazona von Ascania | Thurion Heavenshield | Reina Daival​

 

[Loomi]

Tython
Tags: Zaiya Ceti

Epo-1, Lushi​

"If that makes you an old lady, then I suppose I'm a Jedi Master already."

"Oh, come on..." Loomi giggled. "Talk like that and we'll be retired tomorrow."

Loomi turned her gaze back towards the path. She had almost forgotten entirely about the Forge. She had done her research before going, the ever dutiful student she was.

"Well," the Godoan began, "I believe that the Forge used to be where padawans constructed their own lightsabers. It enhances the senses to aid in the traditional construction of the blade, which is supposed to be entirely done through the Force... I'm not really sure how that effect is achieved. I wonder if it may be achieved through Force Crystals..."

She gave Zaiya a small smile.

"You're the engineer here," she noted playfully. "I'm sure that's something you could figure out, if you didn't already do your research."

 

[Thurion Heavenshield]

T Y T H O N
A S H L A​

Whilst the shattered shards needed to be stitched together, so too must the Moon Goddess be soothed back to life — two equally monstruous processes as part of the whole. Strong was he in the Force; a bond deepened with age and significantly boosted by his sacrifice at the Wellspring of Life, yet not even he could possibly hope to resuscitate a celestial entity all by himself. It required the collaborative effort of many, testing each of them in their own way. Feelings of inadequacy, regrets, grief, pain... Giving so much of oneself left one's soul receptive to even long-forgotten traumas.

Thurion knew well his traumas, inflicting the pain of their memory upon himself at every turn. His existence was built on loss in the most literal sense: His mother giving her life to grant him his in childbirth; his father abandoning and later redemption at the cost of his life; his older brother saving him by damning himself, not once but twice. Countless friends and comrades better than himself denied old age. And now, an entire population willing to fight and die in service of their liege lord.

His was a trauma built on the broken corpses of those he loved; a bloody throne sustained by physical pain and emotional torment.

But it all paled in comparison to his most recent loss. They vowed to remain together until the very end, never to be parted. They were supposed to enjoy the last decades of their life together — to grow old and grey. Yet, once more, he was bereft; abandoned to the horrors of continued existence. The times he should have met his end were without number, yet Fate refused to release him from eternal servitude. The thought of facing more decades without she who mattered most haunted his every waking moment.

Still however, Thurion Heavenshield clung to life yet. That inexhaustible, unquenchable desire to do good somehow persisted; his heart may be broken, but his spirit remained. Much like the Moon of Ashla herself. That is why it needed to be him. Spirituality aside, he needed Ashla healed to prove he too could be repaired, given enough time and care.

Tears flowed freely, suspended against the laws of gravity the moment they left him. More and more pieces of Ashla were fused together in flawless union, reintegrating with the celestial body, scarred and scorched as they were. Though weakened, Thurion pushed on with increasing zeal.

"It's all for you, my love," he whispered. "Everything I do is for you."

Once the final piece was at long last slotted into place, the Lion's body slackened, shoulders slumped and knees buckled. Physically and emotionally drained, Thurion beheld fields of blinding gold under a cloudless sky and a setting sun, with a lone figure waiting for him, beckoning him. He staggered forwards, feeling the tall grass graze his fingertips and the wind in his face. Had she come to take him home? Was it Ashla herself, come to thank him?

He felt a hand in his, and somehow knew the faceless being smiled at him. The figure reached up to wipe away his tears, then embraced him. Thurion returned the embrace wholeheartedly, accepting the divine light into his heart. He bit back further tears as little by little, grief was remade into the beginnings of acceptance. Even as the entity began to fade, he pressed his lips to hers in a desperate gesture of love. He felt it reciprocate the kiss before the end, if for but a moment.

In the blink of an eye, Thurion found himself back amidst white dunes beside those whose efforts had helped restore the Lightborn Twin. Balance had been restored to the world of Tython, and in so doing he was reborn.

Exhausted, the High King of Midvinter let out a bright laugh as he lay down on the sand, the abyss in his heart regrown.

Azurine Varek Corazona von Ascania Reina Daival ​

 

[Zaiya Ceti]

Outfit: x x x x x | Equipment: x x x x x x | Weapons: x x x | Companion: Domxite
Interacting with: Loomi

Zaiya's skin shimmered with a soft, glowing teal as she giggled at Loomi's comment, the cadence in her laughter dancing within the subtle ripple of her patterns. She paused, enjoying the moment of humor before her thoughts drifted to the idea Loomi had sparked.

It was nice to be able to do this again, she mused, the Lovalla Padawan fiddling with one of her cuffs, giving it a light jingle.

"Actually, I've been working on making more tech pieces like these," she mused, gesturing to the bracelets and cuffs she wore as they gave a delicate jingle.

"I've been tinkering with a few ideas, seeing if I can imbue the Force into them. Something that could help me, or come in handy when the time comes."

Zaiya's skin shifted subtly, a soft ripple of amber flickering along her arms as she contemplated and spoke aloud her musings that had been racing through her mind recently.

"I've had some practice," she continued, her voice more contemplative, "And while Domxite and Iris have helped me get better at handling, it's still a bit tricky. The really dark dark emotions, the ones that really fester within the Dark side of the Force... I don't know, Loomi.... sometimes I'm afraid that it could still overwhelm me. I'm not sure I'm ready for that. Not again. "

Her eyes met Loomi's, and Zaiya gave a slight shrug as she added, trying to lessen the somberess from earlier in that admission, "But, you know, I'm not going to stop trying. Maybe I'll figure it out eventually," flashing Loomi a playful grin.

 

[Razh Sho]

Objective: 1
Subobjective: Secure Forge
Tags: Aris Noble B Bal Tal
Location: Tython Wilds, at the Foot of the Forge

Razh Sho stood tall as the canopy above swayed and the cries of the Bah-Shi-Gan echoed through the trees. His cloak clung damp against him from sweat and rain, and the ache in his arm from the bout with Two-Skull pulsed beneath the skin — but he gave it no attention. His grip held firm on Two-Skull's wrist as he raised the champion's hand high for all to see.

He did not smile. But there was something settled in his stance — a kind of approval, quiet and earned.

"Two tribes," he said, voice low and deliberate, his Basic clear but edged with the heavy inflection of someone who had lived in the sound of Shyriiwook, Dosh, and a dozen other gutter tongues. "But one hunt."

He stepped forward as the Flesh Raiders parted, the warband's muddy trail opening before him. The echoes of ancient rites and fresh purpose rippled in the tension of every breath, every clawed foot shifting behind him. He paused once at the head of the path, his lekku trailing behind him like a pair of silent shadows, and looked to Two-Skull over his shoulder.

"You stand beside me now, not behind. Flesh Raiders — Bah-Shi-Gan — not beasts, but sentinels."

Then to the rest:

"The Forge belongs to no tribe. Not to Jedi. Not to Mo-Ko-Nan. It belongs to those who guard it."

He ignited his saber only briefly — a flickering blue flame against the wet green of the jungle — and held it aloft.

"We walk forward. Together. No more prey. Only protectors."

The blade deactivated with a soft hiss, and he lowered it to his belt once more. Then, without fanfare, he stepped onto the path and began the march toward the Forge — mud clinging to his boots, the hunters behind him, and the Force before him.