Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Private Humbled | Jend-Ro

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Jend-Ro Quill Jend-Ro Quill

"Are you there? We... need to talk. I need your help."

"As long as you don't ask me to put the burlap back on, anything you need."

The last of the Bryn'adûl remnants on Bimmisaari had only been cleared in the past month, but the wounds in the planet would heal soon. The Bimms's caretaking of their world had paid off -- even as the terraforming efforts began, the local ecology seemed especially resilient to the technology of the Bryn'adûl. The Bimms themselves were hardly as fortunate. A pacifist people, they lacked the means to resist for long without the direct support of the Silver Jedi; their homes were torn down, the Bimms sent to ground.

Auteme had been there before; not long after she'd joined the Jedi, she'd come to study among the Bimms for a short while, only for the Sith Empire to come crashing down upon the world. Meeting Kirie Kirie was probably the brightest spot of the experience. As much determination she'd gained from deciding she would fight to defend the Bimms, there was equally as much trauma. It had only gotten worse from there. Jedi or not, she wasn't indomitable.

Her arrival was quiet, even if she felt the difference almost immediately. The Core was a long way away; even under threat of attack by the Brotherhood of the Maw, there was still a sense of unity and stability. Here, in the city surrounding the Tower of Law, everything felt abandoned. Most of the homes she walked by were ruined. The ones that weren't were abandoned. A few locals milled about; some went with purpose, others without. And she, dressed in the sort of clothes that were fashionable on Coruscant, was out of place. She had forgotten what it was like in places like these.

Her hand wandered into her bag, finding the Solitude Stone. "I'm here," she thought, sending it to Jend-Ro. "Where should I go?"
 
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Prefab warehouse at the north end of town.

In a corner of said prefab, Quill and a handful of locals, all in spacer coveralls, ruminated over hard-copy maps. Everything was out of date, of course. Bryn'adul bombardment would do that.

Quill looked up from a scorched map and brightened. "Gentlemen, my old friend @Auteme." He took a moment to introduce the others: two Bimms, two bald humanoid archivists of unknown gender, a Barabel, and a silicon-based Hurikainian.
 
if they're watching anyways
Auteme bowed her head respectfully to the group, then introduced herself. "Auteme Denko-Durren, of- the Galactic Alliance," she said, catching herself.

"Like from the show? Totally Real Adventures?" One of the Bimms piped up, only for the Barabel to smack him on the back of the head.

"Not from the show, you idiot." The man turned to her and gave a respectful nod back. "Call this one Jaggo. This one has heard of you. But... this one is surprised you have come all this way." He glanced to Quill, as though wondering what he'd done to get another Jedi here.

The two archivists and the Hurikanian regarded her quietly, while the other Bimm paid her no mind. She hadn't been sure what to expect, but to find Quill among other people -- well, something must've gone terribly wrong. It was easy to forget what had happened here in the safety of the Core.

Safety. Ha.


"Well, I'm here, so -- how can I help?"
 
Auteme Auteme

The community reps glanced at each other and sized up their celebrity visitor. Normally when someone of her status showed up, well- intentioned preconceptions wasted everyone's time. Quill had assured them that Auteme wasn't like that, and he's been right.

"Escort, if you can swing it," said the Hurikanean in a voice that sounded too much like grinding rocks to really be anything else. He scratched at one of the purple crystals protruding from his silicon-based body. "Any number of half-rebuilt settlements on torched moons need supply runs or perimeter defense."

"We tried automated platforms and battle droids here and there," one of the Bimms added. "But since most Scar Worlds settlements are so diverse, target recognition programming can't keep up. Throw in a shortage of guns and good gun hands, and the average settlement looks tempting to any number of raider crews and hungry things."

A Selabite archivist nodded. "And other sites are at risk — seed vaults that should feed hundreds of settlements in the coming years."
 
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if they're watching anyways
Auteme moved in closer to the table on which the maps had been laid, the others giving enough room for her to see what they were looking over. A star map of the Scar Worlds, a few planetary scans, several settlements and some more isolated sites. The brief overview they gave was enough to tell her that this was not enough.

A few spacers, captains, archivists -- even a few Jedi -- weren't enough to rebuild this corner of the galaxy, to protect everyone there. Every manner of problem had followed them. Resource shortages, lack of technology and manpower, the threat of raids by the opportunistic and the armed; solving one without solving the others would keep the wounds open.

She did not yet have the power to command vast fleets or access to all the Alliance's resources. And even then, the diversity of the Scar Worlds meant the best solutions had to come from within.

Still, she could help, and that would start here.


"It seems we have quite a bit of work ahead of us," she said. Already she inserted herself into the group; they'd do things together. She gave a reassuring smile. "But that just means there are a million ways to help.


"We should start here, I think. My ship's stores- I'll give the locals as much food as we can spare, and anything else of use for rebuilding. The Tower of Law still stands-" she looked to the Bimm who'd mentioned battle droids "-ah, what was your name?"

"Toka."

"Toka, is the government here still operational?"

"The Law Elders... most of them were killed during the fighting," she said solemnly. "The few that are left have organized in the Tower of Law, giving out what they can. I think they've got a large soup kitchen running at the Tower, and they're employing people to clean up the market square and start rebuilding."

"I see." Auteme paused a moment, recalling the culture of the Bimms. "Perhaps handouts aren't the best idea."

"What do you mean?"

"A Bimm's day isn't done without some haggling. We'll sell the food in the market square, at a lower price, but give people the chance to haggle a bit." The food she had on her ship was more fancy-Core-luxury-travel sort of food, not easy rations, so there was an excuse to sell it. Plus, it'd be different from what they had at the soup kitchen. "A touch of normalcy. Then, we can give the credits to the Law Elders. It won't be much, but something is better than nothing."

Essential, cultural, and economical.


"Aside from that, I'm a resource as well. What's the most urgent thing that needs to be addressed?"
 
A workable idea, and one that showed Auteme Auteme had done her research on the actual people she'd come to help. As the Bimms broke off to confer separately, Quill and the Barabel moved to a futzing holo noteboard to address Auteme's question. The board's lines and nodes took the general form of a map: a handful of nearby settlements and the praedia that connected their host systems.

"Kubindi, I think," said the Barabel. "A ssmall ssettlement near a Sselabite sseed vault hass gone ssilent. I'm sstarting to ssusspect that the ssenior ssettler, Ssava Skajin var Imret Skajin var Imret , sservess ssolely hiss own..."

Quill grunted. "Professor var Imret? I'm told he crossed every possible line while fighting the Bryn'adûl. If Draelvasier could feel fear, the closest word might be terrorist. And he's the one in charge?"
 
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"Mm. Well, I suppose we can see what var Imret is up to when we get there -- and ideally, open up the seed vault for use once we're done. How quickly can you get us there?"

"No big hyperlanes, but my ship is quick," the Barabel said proudly. "This one can get you there in a few hours."

"Enough time for me to make some calls. Shall we?" She looked to Quill.
 
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(source)

KUBINDI
A FEW HOURS THEREAFTER

Dracha Settlement, population four to six hundred, lurked in the dark spaces of a dry canyon. Indigo shadows harbored delicious insects, even after the Draelvasier depradations. Here the Kubaz could go without their goggles, walk under their own blue sun. Around a third of the settlers were Barabels, well used to caverns and shadows thanks to their homeworld's daytime radiation. So while Dracha might not look terribly comfortable to, say, the presumably-humanoid Jedi in the approaching shuttle, the people here enjoyed it well enough. As well as genocide survivors could enjoy the world where the Drael had murdered their families.

That ache persisted, every day. But one step at a time, this place was becoming home again.

Unmasked, with his Scarpyen armor's battered helmet on his belt, Skajin came out to meet the shuttle. While he didn't have any particular animosity toward Jedi, that was a far cry from trust, particularly since they always got a feel for how far he'd gone and what he'd chosen to become. He kept his distance.

"Wellcome to Drrrracha, Jedi," he said as the ramp came down. "Sava Skajin var Imret at yourr szerrvicze."

Auteme Auteme
 
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Auteme bowed her head respectfully. "I am Auteme Denko-Durren, and this is my good friend, Master Jend-Ro Quill," she said, giving a friendly smile. "I admit, it's rare for me to come face-to-face with a scholar of such prestige, Sava var Imret -- and certainly an indicator of our fraught times that I find you here, and not at a university."

Sava was a rare rank; there were a few at the University of Coruscant, but all of Auteme's attempts to sit down with one of them had been denied.


"I do hope that our sudden visit to your settlement isn't a distraction, I understand how much work must be done in the wake of disaster. If it's alright, though, may we take a tour of Dracha?"
 
Quill struggled to read humanoids at the best of times, and Skajin var Imret was only humanoid in the loosest possible sense. The Force offered little: the dark side clouded much about the rogue academic. Not a Sith, not a dark Jedi, no known ties to any serious tradition — apart from a somewhat connection to the Io crew. No, Skajin was just what you'd get if you took absolutely everything from an experienced field researcher with a Force connection and a taste for revenge.

By reputation, anyway. They didn't exactly move in the same circles.

"Sava var Imret," Quill said in greeting, and nodded.

The Kubaz academic squinted — perhaps an affectation, given how comfortable he'd be in the blue light of his home star. "To what end, Jedi?"

Quill coughed apologetically. "I'm not a Jedi, for what it's worth. We've just been working with the local communities to see who needs what."

Skajin looked back and forth between the young diplomat and the hold hermit, neither one of them an obvious warrior. "Verrry well," he said at last. "Come along. The downsztairsz maggot farrmsz need tending."
 
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"Ah- sorry," she whispered. It seemed both their relationships to the Jedi were questionable. Even so, Jend-Ro did have that 'master' vibe. It was hard to shake.

The two followed the Kubaz into the canyon settlement. There were a few people out in the west side of the canyon, where it seemed more of the tunnels and canyon caves were being used. The other side seemed to be for storage and utility; a large speeder carrying a number of crates lumbered across to their left.

The Selabite seed vault was a few kilometers further down the canyon, close to the mouth of the now-dried river that led into a desert sea. Important as that was, the people of Dracha mattered more.

Those people cast curious glances as var Imret led them towards the maggot farms.


"There must be many difficulties in establishing this settlement -- though, I can see things are working out alright. Have you been experiencing any problems? Enough food, water?

"Any issues with communication equipment?"
 
"Innocent questionsz," Skajin said, "with tactical imporrtancze. I'm not szo blind asz to imagine thisz szectorr will alwaysz be a low prriorrity to the grreat powerrsz."

Down they went, into a cave that became a metal-grate stairwell and then a cave again. The depth muted the blue sunlight to just a notch above total dark. Skajin raised a blue glowrod to reveal an insectoid ecosystem that sprawled across tunnels and bunched chambers, a farm of sorts. Chitin rustled in the gloom. The farm was new but on track to flourish. To Skajin, it smelled pungent but appetizing. He had no idea what it smelled like to the two ambiguously-Jedi Jedi.

"What do you forreszee forr the Szcarr Worrldsz?"

Auteme Auteme
 
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It wasn't as though she didn't have things she foresaw. The New Imperials were expansionist -- militarily so, it was in the name -- and without a doubt willing to turn their eyes to the Scar Worlds once the Maw was dealt with and they sought new worlds to subject. The Silvers might try the same if they felt things stagnating. No doubt some other group would form and stake their claim to the place, starting from scratch; as in, ignore everything that had happened here, take all the intact worlds, and start building a fleet.

She didn't want to be pessimistic. She didn't want to tiptoe around the difficult things. She didn't even want to mince words or step carefully when speaking to the sava. Her pretenses broke, and she gave him honesty.

"As 'low priority' this place may be, I have no intention of leaving wounded worlds to rot and fester. A scar implies it has healed, even if there was once injury. Sava var Imret, you strike me as a man still wounded." Hard as it seemed, her tone soon softened. "But here, I think, there's a chance to heal.


"I've come here with the intention to find out if you're taking that chance, or preparing to wound someone else. I won't pretend not to know your methods, what they say you've become; I want to know if you're leaving that behind. And if you are, then I want to know what your settlement needs, so I can help get it for you.

"First, however, I must ask -- why has this settlement gone silent? The man who brought us here told me there has been no communication from here for a few days."


When had she gotten so confrontational? Maybe the smell of the bugs was throwing her off.
 
Skajin's proboscis clenched. "Brrave wordsz. Perrhapsz too brrave."

"Easy, friend," said Quill softly. Though the old man's posture didn't shift, Skajin found himself registering it as a threat on an instinctive level. The nearest maggots twisted nervously at the new tension in the cave.

Skajin stepped right up to the pair of humans, almost chest-to-chest, looking back and forth between them. "Thesze planetsz werre an afterrthought to yourr insztitutionsz, yourr valuesz and prriorritiesz. Kubindi burrned alone. All ourr homeworrldsz did. No Jedi, no human, hasz the rright to judge what we did againszt the Drrael."
 
Quill coughed. When that didn't break the tension—

"Agh, dammit, something bit me." He flailed and fussed momentarily, a complete lie.

Skajin took half a step back and broke eye contact with Auteme Auteme . "Maggotsz find you unuszually interreszting, Quill? Taszty even?"

Quill forced an awkward laugh. "Apparently so. Thank you for the tour of your food production, Sava var Imret, but I think we should get going."

The Kubaz darksider gave Quill a flat stare. "Yesz, perrhapsz that might be bezzt."
 
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Auteme was silent until they were out of the cave, and far enough away from the Kubaz, who stayed underground, presumably to tend to the farm.

"Sorry," she said, rubbing her forehead. "I feel like I'm rushing things. I just- he could be completely genuine, and I feel like I wouldn't be able to get a straight answer out of him anyways."

She groaned and rubbed her eyes, a latent, irritated reaction to the atmosphere underground.
 
Quill sucked his teeth in thought. "I have no idea. I tried to, ah, get a taste for any stray thoughts or intentions leaking out, but he's a closed book, a cold hard little knot. He's not as strong in the Force as you or I, not as experienced with it, so I'm not talking about training. Sava var Imret is certainly a darksider, but not the usual kinds. I doubt he even owns a lightsaber."

He glanced back at the cavern mouths, where a trio of Kubaz and a Barabel watched them go.

"This blue light's murder on the eyes. No wonder Kubaz wear high-powered sunglasses on human-normal worlds."

Auteme Auteme
 

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